The world beyond the Academy did not welcome Aster.
It observed him.
The moment he stepped past the boundary gate—an invisible threshold only those marked by higher causality could feel—Aster sensed it. The air grew heavier, not with mana, but with attention. Like walking into a room where a conversation had stopped just a second too late.
Behind him, the gates of the Academy sealed without sound.
Ahead stretched the Outer Expanse—a land of fractured geography and layered history. Mountains rose at unnatural angles, their peaks bent as if pressed down by invisible hands. Rivers flowed uphill for miles before surrendering to gravity. Cities shimmered in the distance, half-real, half-remembered.
This was not a normal world.
This was a world that had been edited too many times.
Aster adjusted the cloak around his shoulders, the fabric faintly reacting to his presence. It was a gift—no, a precaution—from Headmaster Seraphine. A veil woven from probability-thread, meant to blur his presence.
Meant to, being the key phrase.
His shadow lagged behind him by a fraction of a second.
Still.
Always.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Aster murmured under his breath.
The shadow rippled faintly but did not answer.
---
The First City of Arc Two
The city was called Virellion.
At least, that was the name it used this century.
Tall spires of blackstone and silver lattice pierced the sky, connected by bridges suspended in midair. Clockwork constructs patrolled the streets alongside flesh-and-blood guards. Above, floating glyphs adjusted the city's spatial integrity in real time.
Aster felt it immediately.
The Chrono-Weave here was unstable.
Every step he took sent faint ripples through the unseen fabric of causality. Most people wouldn't notice. Some would feel unease. A very few—
A girl standing near the city's inner gate turned.
Her eyes met Aster's.
And widened.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then she looked away, forcing her breathing steady.
Aster stopped walking.
She saw me.
Not his face.
His thread.
He continued forward, pretending nothing had happened, but his awareness locked onto her presence. She wore the uniform of a Weave Registrar—those responsible for monitoring temporal inconsistencies.
So the world already has antibodies, Aster thought grimly.
That didn't bode well.
---
Echoes of Familiar Pain
Virellion bustled with life—vendors shouting, children running, mana-engines humming beneath the streets. And yet…
Aster felt hollow.
Not empty.
Hollow.
Like something important had been carved out of him and replaced with silence.
A laugh echoed nearby, light and genuine. A girl leaned against a railing, smiling at a companion.
For a split second—
Aster's chest tightened.
Not because of longing.
But because of absence.
There had been someone. Once. Someone whose presence made the noise of the world feel tolerable.
He couldn't remember her face.
Only the ache.
His shadow stirred more sharply this time.
"You're thinking about her again."
The voice wasn't spoken aloud.
It echoed directly in his mind.
Aster's jaw tightened.
"…I don't even know who 'her' is."
The shadow's presence pressed closer, cold and intimate.
"That's the cruel part," it replied softly.
"You chose to forget."
Aster stopped in an alley shadowed by hovering bridges.
"I didn't choose anything."
A pause.
Then, almost gently:
"You did."
The words cut deeper than accusation ever could.
---
A World Bigger Than Fate
That night, Aster stood atop one of Virellion's highest spires, gazing out at the horizon.
Beyond the city lay territories ungoverned by any single power—ruined empires, sealed domains, wandering gods, and regions where the sky itself was considered a hostile entity.
This was the true scale of the world.
Not an academy.
Not a prophecy.
But an endless system of competing truths.
And somewhere out there—
The Throne of Mirrors waited.
Not calling.
Not hunting.
Simply existing.
Patient.
Aster clenched his fist.
"This is Arc Two," he whispered to no one.
"The point where the story stops protecting me."
The wind answered, carrying distant whispers—names that had been erased, wars that never officially happened, and futures still arguing over whether Aster Vale should exist at all.
Behind him, his shadow finally aligned perfectly with his feet.
For the first time.
And that scared him more than anything else.