Chapter 24
[Embercrown 31st (8th month), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 7:30 AM |
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[Celestara, boys' dormitory, Room- 305]
Cornelius drifted over my bed, his shadowy form flickering with starlit edges. The new glasses didn't help; they only made him look like some dead professor grading me from beyond the grave.
"Rise and shine, kid," he rasped, voice slicing through my last scrap of sleep.
"I'm Oliver, stuck in Kyzen Ashford's body. And yeah, my brain's wired weird. When I was seven, I thought kissing made babies. At eight, I kissed a girl and spent a week convinced I'd accidentally fathered a child."
"Back off, Cornelius, I'm awake!" I snapped, throwing myself upright, heart thudding. "One of these days, I'll dig up dirt on you. And when I do, I'll plaster it across this whole era, you smug, four-eyed phantom."
Cornelius just smirked, lenses flashing.
I staggered to the bathroom, toothbrush and paste in hand, my head a bloated anvil from using Oneiric Step.
Cornelius hovered by the sink, that smug shadow of his outlined in the pale lantern light. He looked like he was stifling a secret—glasses catching the glow.
Then it hit me. "Wait—why can I see you out here? Not in the mindscape?" I nearly slipped on the tiles, toothpaste foaming on the brush.
Cornelius hovered by the sink, grin too sharp in the pale light. "Inheritors see their contractors," he said, voice like smoked glass.
I scrubbed at my teeth without realizing I was grinding the brush to foam, half the paste dripping down the sink. The idea that Cornelius could step out—even halfway—gnawed at me. It made him feel less like a tool bound to me and more like a roommate who never left.
"You mean I can call you out of my spirit-sphere into the mortal realm?" I spluttered.
He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Yes. I'm part spirit, so you can manifest me out of your soul sphere into the mortal realm—but the me in front of you is not here because of a summon."
"Like an illusion played on my eyes, not your true form, but an illusion. Same method you used to show me that system-style profile?" I asked.
"Exactly." Cornelius spread his hands like a showman. "You can summon, but I will not be able to use all my power and will be in a weaker state. With the spirituality you've got stored, that will only bring about five to seven percent of my power."
My mouth went dry. "So I can pull you out… but not fully?"
Having Cornelius, who was probably a pretty powerful spirit, beside me would help a lot, but right now, he was both a weapon and a liability if he was only a fraction of his true self.
Hot water splashed my face; steam loosened the headache like a fist unclenching. "Kyzen's main soul chunk is gone," Cornelius said, his voice low. "I can't sense it."
The words tightened my chest.
I understood what he meant — it was an answer to the question I asked about Kyzen's situation when we first met. Yesterday's conversation replayed in my head.
If Kyzen's memories are deeply imprinted in my soul sphere, then isn't there a chance I'm nothing more than a fabricated persona? As impossible as it sounds, a small seed of doubt had already begun to bloom.
Could I be a fake imprinted into Kyzen's soul-sphere memories?
"Is he alive?" I forced the question out, voice small.
"No clue." Cornelius's usual snark softened.
I forced a grim smile. "I hope he is. If he's alive, that would prove I..... I , too, am alive as my own self.
I toweled off. Not worrying, Felix would catch me undressed — he slept like a corpse, his icy presence turning the room into a freezer.
I shrugged into the new academy uniform, the weight of it striking me. A black robe with a touch of crimson at the bottom trailed behind like liquid fire, its presence announcing me before I even opened my mouth. Beneath it, the rose red of my ruffled shirt cut sharply against the black of fitted trousers and gleaming boots. I was elegance and menace entwined — a noble draped in shadows and authority.
I fixed my hair, whispered a Tier-1 fire charm, and let a small flame flicker in my palm — the only thing that reliably roused Fuyuki's icy aura.
I leaned close and waved the ember at his face.
"Hot! Stop!" he yelped, jerking upright, frost-streaked hair wild, pale-gold eyes blazing. He blinked, twig-ears twitching; the lantern light caught the faint frost on his lashes.
"Don't be late," I smirked.
"Out early, then?" Felix yawned, voice still thick with sleep. "We've got time before orientation."
"Checking something. Catch you there," I said, slamming the door behind me.
Time to check in on our favorite senior. Lotar's nightmare should still be chewing at him, even if he's too proud to admit it. Good. If nothing else, starting his day in ruins makes for the perfect distraction.
Walking through the 2nd-floor dorm corridors, I caught whispers drifting like smoke.
-"Heard Lotar went nuts last night—screaming in his room, nightmare or something."
-" Won't even come out. Hah, guy's reputation's toast after yesterday's flop."
This should make him shut up. I don't think he would want to make a bigger scene of this.
growl..
"I'm starving."
Wonder what's for breakfast. They switch the menu every semester based on student surveys—the mess secretary oversees the entire operation.
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I stood by the dorm window, frost curling lazily from my fingertips as I watched Kyzen stride toward the dining hall below.
We'd shared this room for four years, and yet… something about him was off. He wasn't the same quiet, hesitant guy anymore. Too bold now. Too deliberate. Every step seemed to carry a plan.
It was unsettling—like I was staring at Kyzen's face, but the person behind it was playing a different game entirely.
The curtains stirred with a faint draft, fluttering as if the room itself sighed. A ripple of frost spread across the glass, and from that shimmer, Eira appeared.
My little sister stepped into the world like she'd been hiding between the folds of air all along. Barely reaching my shoulder, but carrying that same Hyokiju spark.
Her pale golden eyes glittered with mischief, catching the faint light. Frost-streaked hair swayed in a loose braid down her back, strands catching the cold glow like threads of ice.
Her twig-like ears twitched at every sound, alert in a way mine rarely were. Small and lively, her whole frame seemed to hum with cheerful energy—a softer, warmer echo of me, though far more vibrant.
"Sooo, big brother Felix," she teased, sing-song, her voice curling around the space like it had been waiting there all along. "He's not Kyzen, hmm? You'd know, living with him for so long."
My eyes narrowed. "Yeah, it's weird," I said in a serious tone.
"Yup, Lita's buzzing about it! Her instincts are sharp." Eira tapped her chin in thought, then looked back at me. "So, you think he's the prophesied guy?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. It's too early to tell, but something's off."
She suddenly poked my side, grinning widely. "You're so serious, brother! Loosen up. How's your day been? Ready for classes?"
I smirked. "Hardly. You know I'm not the scholar type."
Her tone turned scolding, hands planted on her hips. "You gotta study, brother! Always teetering on failing. Do it for your poor little sister—I can't keep getting away with changing your grades!"
I groaned. "Yeah, yeah, quit nagging, you shorty."
Eira giggled and, without warning, plopped herself onto my lap, leaning back comfortably like she owned the spot. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help patting her head, the tension easing from my shoulders as her braid brushed against my arm. For a moment, the frost in the room felt warmer.
Then she leaned closer, her voice softer. "For real, though, what's he like now?"
I sighed. "From what I can tell, after following him the whole day, he's sharp—calculating. Not the quiet Kyzen I knew. It's like he's running a game."
Eira's eyes widened. "Creepy! Has he done anything odd, like weird spells or secrets?"
I shook my head. "Not yet, but I'm watching."
She nodded, her braid bobbing. "Good. Keep watching."
Her grin vanished, replaced by a chilling stillness. Her face hardened, all warmth draining away until it was as cold and sharp as a frozen blade. Even I—someone long accustomed to the cold—felt a shiver crawl down my spine as her voice dropped to a whisper, each word edged with ice."If you sense anything dark in him—anything heavy or evil—you kill him."
Before I could reply, her form shimmered and broke apart, dissolving into frost. She was gone in an instant, leaving only the faint glitter of ice drifting down like snow. The air grew colder, settling deep into the walls. I stared at the window, its edges glazed with a thin film of frost.
"Guess I'm getting less sleep from now on," I muttered. My real work starts now.
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The Celestria Academy's dining hall buzzed with noise, the scrape of forks and the clatter of plates tangled in a hundred overlapping conversations. I slouched in my chair, poking at the food on my plate more than actually eating it.
Across from me, Dain leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, that familiar spark of eagerness lighting his eyes—the look he always wore when a scheme was brewing.
"Kyzen," Dain said, raising his voice just enough to cut through the chatter, "what's your idea for getting newcomers to join the Glyph Society? We've gotta snag a few transfer students this time."
Victor, who had been quietly picking at his food until then, finally chimed in, his tone flat but edged with dry humor. "We could just give them the standard brief introduction of what our club does… but honestly, that's boring."
Orientation was split into two halves. The morning session, running from 11:00 to 13:30, covered the formal introductions for new students and curriculum updates for those returning after the lunch break. The second half—from 15:00 to 18:00—was reserved for students' club presentations.
Beside him, Liam sprawled lazily in his chair like he owned the place, fork dangling from his fingers. He let out a short, derisive snort, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and scorn.
"Transfers?" he scoffed.
He shoveled another bite of food into his mouth before going on. "Sure, the academy admits transfers every year, but those exams the professors cook up? Brutal. A third-year transfer has to ace a test built for a level above ours. If they can't measure up, they're done."
Liam chewed noisily for a moment, then shrugged, speaking around his next bite. "I wonder how many we even got this year."
"I might have something better than the usual pitch," I said, pulling a napkin across the table and fishing out the pen Anna and Charles had gifted me.
"New blood—first years or transfers—they won't be able to resist this."
I began sketching across the napkin, runic symbols flowing into lines, shapes twisting into a pattern even the Glyph Society hadn't seen before.
Ten minutes passed before Reis finally froze mid-bite, his spoon suspended in the air. His eyes went wide as the realization sank in.
Five minutes later, Dain caught up. His jaw dropped open, sweat breaking across his forehead as if he'd just run a mile.
Across the table, Liam and Victor leaned in, their brows furrowed. They didn't understand the specifics, but even they could feel the weight of it pressing in.
"What… is that?" Victor muttered, voice low and uneasy.
I smirked, folding my napkin neatly and setting it aside. "You'll see at the auditorium presentation. Trust me—whatever you're picturing doesn't come close."
Reis lowered his spoon slowly, his tone hushed, almost reverent. "If this works in practice the way it does on paper…" He swallowed hard, disbelief warring with awe in his expression. "…then you've created something the world's never seen before."
Breakfast wrapped up in a blur after that. We made our way to the club room, running through a quick rehearsal of the presentation. Our leader listened, nodded, and gave us her approval.
Nothing in the plan changed—except my part. All I had to do was slot in after Dain and Reis finished their explanations, dropping the reveal at the end.
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The auditorium buzzed with chatter, lanterns casting a warm glow across the benches. Felix slouched into the seat beside me at the last second, yawning wide enough to make his twig-like ears twitch.
Before I could rib him, Tina's voice cut through the noise sharp as a whip.
"Ah, there they are. Wow, you really don't care about us, do you? Hey, Dain, you trash—why didn't you come meet us? Forgot how to greet your leader?"
Dain barely looked up, lounging like he owned the place. That lazy grin on his face always meant trouble. "I already met Linda at the club," he said smoothly, then added, mock-sweet, "And you look great. Very cute."
Tina blinked, caught off guard—until Dain ruined it.
"Of course, I meant cute like a kid," he chuckled. "Embarrassing, isn't it? You haven't grown much. Height or—"
Her fist buried itself in his gut before he could finish. Dain doubled over, wheezing like a broken kettle.
"Oh gods—" he gasped, clutching his stomach, "you're getting stronger every—"
Her fist met him again. This time, Dain slumped sideways in his chair, groaning like someone had kicked the soul right out of him.
A ripple of laughter ran through the rows behind us. Those familiar with the duo's antics tried—and failed—to suppress it, while newcomers just stared, unsure if they should step in or sit back and watch the chaos unfold.
Dain, half-slumped over the armrest, groaned louder, clearly playing it up for the audience. He clutched his stomach with theatrical flair, voice breaking into a pitiful moan. "I'm dying here," he wheezed, more melodramatic than realistic.
Reis leaned forward, golden-brown eyes glinting with amusement. "You two—enough. Save the love-hate comedy act for after orientation. Some of us would like to survive the morning without Dain turning it into a stage play."
"Love-hate?" Dain croaked weakly from his half-slumped position. "Who'd love a shorty like her? Anyone who does has to be a—pedo—"
Tina raised her fist again. Dain immediately went limp, groaning.
Reis sighed. "Aaand that's three. He's officially out."
Like a director, Reis continued, "And that's—that cuts."
I shook my head, grinning. "These two…"
Turning to Tina, I gave a small wave. "Hello, Tina."
Laughter spread through the auditorium, blending with the general hum of students shifting in their seats, anticipation building.
Slowly, the chatter faded as the lights dimmed with a soft hum, plunging the room into darkness. A hush fell over the crowd, thick and expectant, as the presentation began.