The Grand Tribunal Chamber of Arcanum Academy had never been this crowded. Floating candles illuminated the domed room, reflecting off marble floors that shimmered with layered enchantments. Professors from all Houses lined the sides. Students stood at the edges, held back by silent warding spells. The whispers alone could've created a storm.
Lucien Drex stood alone in the center. Calm. Unbothered. Lazily brushing lint off his sleeves.
Above him, Headmistress Elenora, Professor Mirein, Professor Alther, and a panel of senior staff watched from their elevated seats. They looked grim. Especially Alther, whose eyes hadn't left Lucien for ten minutes.
Marcus Vale stepped forward dramatically, voice booming.
"Lucien Drex is guilty of academic fraud, magical sabotage, and violation of Class-A spell restrictions. I submit my evidence—"
He waved a sigil stone, projecting images into the air. Faked reports. Twisted spell diagrams. A doctored scene of Lucien tampering with a ward.
Lucien yawned.
Renn whispered nervously from the side where students were gathered. "He… he planned this… right?"
Seraphina bit her lip, whispering back, "He better have."
Then came Virella Nocteyn, with flair and flair and more flair.
"I was there. I witnessed him bypass barriers. He forged sigils. He disrespected the duel system. And most of all, he corrupted the noble order of House Libra."
Lucien scratched his neck. "Ah, yes. The noble order. Very sacred. Like a chicken nugget."
Gasps echoed.
Professor Mirein: "Lucien Drex. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
Lucien stepped forward. Smiled.
"Absolutely. I confess."
Shock. Complete, deafening silence.
"I confess… that I once swapped Professor Alther's tea for a truth serum. That I occasionally take naps inside the Archives. And that I may or may not control the weather using a grumpy squirrel named Gary."
Mirein blinked. "Excuse me—?"
"But more importantly," Lucien continued, "I'd like to present my evidence."
With a snap of his fingers, a small metallic cube rolled across the floor. It struck the tribunal dais.
Magical projections burst to life—recordings of Virella and Marcus in the ruins.
> Virella (on recording): "Trust me. He'll fall for it." Marcus: "We ruin his name. Then we break him."
The crowd exploded. Screams. Murmurs. Laughter.
Headmistress Elenora slammed her staff. "Order!"
Lucien smirked. "Trap three. Activated."
Professor Mirein stood up, stunned. "Where did you get that recording?"
Lucien: "From a bird. Probably a magical bird. Maybe a pigeon with trauma."
Virella shouted, "This is doctored! You fabricated that!"
Lucien: "You said that on recording too. But I trimmed it for drama."
Just then, Professor Mirein stepped forward. Eyes downcast.
"I have something to confess," she said. "Virella asked me to rewrite his record. He used emotional blackmail. I allowed myself to be manipulated."
More murmurs. Even Marcus looked shocked.
Virella growled, "You spineless—"
"Silence!" Elenora's voice echoed.
Professor: mirein that explains why you refused to accept Lucien's previous evidence right ? Because the evidence clearly pioints he was innocent but seems you're afraid of being exposed , wow that's so interesting more than I thought
In the end, Marcus and Virella were suspended. Their rank privileges revoked. Public disgrace sealed.
As Lucien strolled out, hands in pockets, he passed by the crowd.
"To the rest of you," he called cheerfully, "if you're going to frame me, bring better actors."
Renn whispered, "You absolute demon."
Lucien winked
That night, back in his room, Lucien found a letter slid under his door. No name.
"Obsidian eyes are watching. The fourth trap is not yours to build."
He stared at it. Then smiled slowly.
"Interesting.
– Midnight. A hidden chamber lit only by arcane blue fire.]
Five figures sit in a half-circle, draped in dark robes and chrome-lined masks. No names. No ranks. Just voices.
> Whisper: "He could have erased them. Both Marcus and Virella. His magic was pre-loaded. His traps were already primed. Yet he stopped."
(voice smooth, unreadable)
"Why?"
> Glass (analytical, sharp): "De-escalation. Emotional regression. Pattern not previously observed. I ran predictive models—this doesn't fit."
> Ashen (harsh, cold): "Has he gone soft? The Drex we built didn't know the word mercy."
> Fang (chuckles darkly): "Mercy. What a delightful little crack in his armor. That's his weakness. He's humanizing."
(leans forward, whispering)
"We didn't build him to be human."
Silence falls.
Then, a long exhale.
> Whisper: "Should we exploit it?"
> Glass: "Theoretically possible. Psychological tethering. Stimulus-injection strategies. Controlled collapse."
> Ashen: "We should just use him. Bend the beast before he knows he's on a leash.
> Chime (silent until now, voice soft and female):
"Or perhaps... he's already being used."
A flicker of tension.
> Fang: "Do we send the usual notes? Veil-style? Misdirect him with missions like they do?"
> Whisper: "No. He'd sniff it out. He's not that dull. We watch. We let him fall for himself."
> Ashen: "And Professor Mirein? She was supposed to be our eyes in Arcanum. What happened?"
> Glass: "She failed. She was blackmailed. And then... demoted."
> Fang (smirking): "Which means… she's useless.
> Ashen: "Then she dies. Trash has no second purpose.
> Chime (voice barely a whisper):
"Wait too long... and we'll have to kill more than professors."
They all stare into the arcane flame, reflecting fragments of a sigil—broken, reshaped, impossible to read.
> Whisper: "He wasn't built to hesitate. Someone is changing him."
> Ashen: "Then we burn the hesitation out."
> Chime (last line, soft and lethal):
"Mercy… is a lie we taught him to forget."
A distant glyph glows briefly behind the flames: a reversed architect symbol.
> Glass (just before fade-out):
"The beast we raised… is waking up."