Morning – Fort Varion Academy Grounds
The day began like any other in Alpha Division—with noise, sweat, and a generous helping of bruises.
"Cadets, into position!" barked Instructor Renna, a lean woman with silver-streaked hair and a voice that could cut through steel. She stood atop a rune-etched platform, overseeing the training yard. "Today's focus: tempo coordination and combat synergy. No powers unless I say so. Let's see if you can fight without blowing each other up."
Lyle fell into formation next to Rika, who cracked her knuckles like a boxer about to enter the ring.
"Great. More running, more punching, less glory," she muttered. "How's your mana-panic situation, by the way?"
"Stable," Lyle replied with a faint smile. "No more surprise explosions, I think."
"Damn. I liked the firework show."
The class split into trios for simulated group combat. Lyle found himself partnered with Kerrick—who still hadn't spoken more than six words to him—and a new recruit named Soren, a soft-spoken sensory-type with near-perfect perception skills.
Their objective was simple: capture the flag from a central pillar while defending their base.
But nothing at Fort Varion was ever simple.
"Three, two, one—begin!"
Immediately, Thane's squad charged the center with brute force. Rika vaulted a stone wall with no powers, landing a roundhouse kick that sent one opponent sprawling.
Lyle played his role perfectly.
He moved just slow enough to blend in.
Just clumsy enough to be ignored.
When he "missed" a binding trap by inches, the instructors marked it as poor aim—not restraint.
By the end of the drill, their team lost—but not terribly.
He'd left no trace of the real him.
And that, as far as Lyle was concerned, was a victory.
---
Afternoon – Theory Hall C
The lecture room was shaped like a descending amphitheater, stone seats half-enchanted to resist heat and mana surges. On the circular stage, a projection of a mana core hovered in the air—rotating slowly.
"In today's lesson," droned Professor Driem, "we examine the theoretical upper limit of elemental control in mixed users."
Lyle listened while jotting nonsense notes. The real focus was in the system's interface flashing behind his eyes.
> [Passive Imbuement Slot: Empty]
[Suggested Integration: "Minor Veil Rune" – Arcai Version]
[Effect: Slight mana masking and memory fog to nearby sensors]
He mentally filed it for later. Could be useful if someone tried scanning him during a surprise inspection again.
Around him, cadets snored, scribbled, or whispered.
And yet, everything felt strangely… calm.
For the first time since coming to Fort Varion, Lyle didn't feel hunted.
But he wasn't about to relax.
---
Night – Barracks
That evening, lights dimmed earlier than usual.
Even Kerrick seemed too tired to float his dagger, and Rika knocked out mid-sentence complaining about rations.
Lyle, however, didn't sleep.
Not really.
He descended.
The moment his head hit the pillow, the Codex flared in his chest like a heartbeat out of sync with the world.
> [Memory Fragment: "Before the Fall" – Decoding Initiated]
[Warning: Vision Stability Uncertain. Anchor Mind or Risk Fracture.]
Too late.
---
Dream – A World Long Dead
He stood in the center of a towering city of spires and light, where floating platforms ferried robed figures between shimmering towers. Every building breathed magic—runes drifted through the air like dust, and great rings orbited overhead, aligning with the stars.
He wasn't himself.
He looked down—female hands, pale and steady.
His reflection in a nearby pool showed her clearly: white-silver hair, eyes like golden flame, robes marked with the same sigil now hidden in Lyle's soul.
> I'm seeing through her eyes, he realized. The one from the last vision.
A name surfaced: Lysera Arcai. Archwizard. Last bearer of the Codex.
She turned from the pool, face solemn.
At her side stood a council of six, each one wearing different attire—warriors, summoners, elementalists, even bloodforged hybrids.
"We can't win," said a man with burning tattoos on his arms. "Their numbers are beyond counting."
"We were never meant to win," Lysera said quietly. "But we were meant to remind them what power really is."
The council fell silent.
Lysera stepped toward the balcony, overlooking the sea of magic-touched land below.
"They fear us because we refuse the Seal. We don't bend. We create."
"Which is why they'll erase you from history," someone muttered.
She didn't flinch.
"Then let history forget. But the Codex will remain."
---
The vision trembled.
The sky began to split.
Armies surged across the horizon. Soldiers with uniformed crests, magic suppressors, enchanted weaponry—all descending.
A war cry.
A blinding light.
And everything—burned.
---
Back in Reality
Lyle bolted upright, gasping, sweat soaking his shirt.
The room was dark. Silent. Untouched.
His hands shook.
His heart pounded.
And a single new line appeared in his system:
> [Codex Memory: "The Fall of the Wizard Cities" – Part 1 Complete]
[Emotional Anchor Established: +5% Codex Sync]
[Arcai Legacy: Confirmed]
Lyle stared out the barracks window as the first hints of morning light crept into the artificial sky.
> They weren't just wiped out. They were hunted. Erased.
> And now I carry the last piece of them.
He lay back down, but sleep never came.
Only the quiet certainty that something ancient was watching again.
And this time, it was watching through him.