The Royal Academy of Magic was alive—or rather, alive in the sense of a slightly unhinged orchestra where every instrument had decided to improvise simultaneously. Mana threads stretched between towers, flickering and crackling. Floating walkways tilted unpredictably. Even the pigeons were panicking, zigzagging through gusts of wind, fire sparks, and rogue ice shards.
Lucien lounged atop a giant hovering book, teacup in hand, observing the chaos with the serenity of a cat watching a particularly dramatic mouse opera. "Ah… exquisite," he murmured. "The city below, the academy within, chaos, comedy, and a hint of impending disaster. Truly… my favorite palette."
Rorio sprawled beside him on a levitating cushion, licking his paws. "Mostly exquisite. Slightly catastrophic. Excellent breakfast ratio. Do you think we'll get pastries after this?"
Below, citizens paused in their morning routines, staring at the floating nodes, sporadic explosions of harmless mana, and students careening through the air. A street vendor shouted, "No refunds if your churros catch fire!" while a group of children cheered as a rogue ice shard bounced harmlessly off the town fountain.
Even the high-ranking Council of Mages had taken notice. From their glass spires, they observed the academy courtyard like scientists watching a live experiment. One mage whispered to another, "Lucien again? Is it… intentional chaos or… just chaos?"
"Both," the other replied dryly. "And I think someone's laughing at us in that parasol."
Darius hovered in the center of the courtyard, his frost forming elegant, dangerous lattices in the air. He was calm—too calm—but his icy composure now faced an unsettling development. The black mana tendrils that had appeared the day before had formed a humanoid figure, radiating immense energy.
"Lucien," Darius said, his voice sharp, "this… presence. It's unnatural."
Lucien sipped his tea slowly, smiling faintly. "Ah… natural, Darius. Chaos, unpredictability, theatrical timing… and perhaps a little villainy. Perfect ingredients for progress."
Rorio barked. "Mostly villainy. Slightly threatening. Excellent snack ratio. Can we feed the Ice Cube now?"
Darius's eyes narrowed. "I am not a snack."
Lucien chuckled softly. "True… you are more… dramatic tension with a hint of frost."
Aria, flames dancing dangerously along her fingers, glared at the black mana figure. "So… that thing just showed up… because of me?"
Ryn Althas, still calm and silver-eyed, hovered beside her, shield raised. "I don't think it's personal… but it is definitely here because of the threads converging."
Kellen tripped over a wobbling water platform, his voice squeaking, "I… I think it's here because of Lucien!"
Myra floated beside him, wind currents stabilizing him just enough. "It's always Lucien."
Lucien, with the faintest smirk, gestured casually. "Correct. But also… highly entertaining."
The students' combined powers spiraled outward—fire, water, wind, and frost colliding, weaving around the rogue nodes. Darius, ever precise, intercepted every burst, trying to maintain order and control.
"Predictable chaos," Darius muttered, ice sharpening into crystalline spikes. "But… Lucien's improvisation… it's… infuriating."
Rorio barked, wagging his tail. "Mostly infuriating. Slightly thrilling. Excellent snack ratio. We're winning, right?"
Floating down from his perch, Lucien extended his hand and flicked it lazily. Mana spiraled in impossible arcs, weaving through the courtyard like a dance choreographed by mischief itself. Platforms tilted, obstacles shifted, and even the city streets below reflected the glittering chaos above.
"Observe, Rorio," Lucien murmured. "Chaos is the soul of education. Comedy… the seasoning. And Darius… my frozen little prodigy… the perfect foil."
Rorio yawned. "Mostly educational. Slightly entertaining. Excellent snack ratio. Are muffins considered curriculum?"
Lucien smirked. "Only if they survive until the end."
Suddenly, the black mana figure shifted, its form coalescing into something distinctly humanoid—but taller, broader, and brimming with an aura that made even Darius hesitate.
"Students, faculty, citizens of the Royal Academy," the figure's voice boomed, reverberating across every corner of the city. "I have come for the one the threads have marked… and for the chaos that sustains your fragile little sanctuary."
The courtyard fell silent. Even the rogue fire and ice nodes seemed to hesitate mid-spin.
Lucien's golden eyes glimmered with delight. "Ah… perfect timing. Chaos, comedy, spectators… and maybe a smidge of apocalypse. Let the entertainment begin."
Rorio barked. "Mostly thrilling. Slightly catastrophic. Excellent snack ratio. Snacks… after the world doesn't explode?"
Lucien leaned back, swirling his tea, and chuckled softly. "Always, my dear Rorio. Always. Now… let's see who survives, who flies, and who ends up with a singed hairstyle first."
From the towers above to the streets below, the Royal Academy braced itself—chaos, laughter, and peril entwined—waiting for the storm that Lucien had so gleefully unleashed.