The headmaster's office was not located in any tower.
That alone unsettled Eryon.
He followed the silent attendant through a narrow corridor hidden behind the academy's main hall. The walls here were smooth, unadorned, stripped of the runes and symbols that defined the rest of the academy. No magic lingered in the air.
Or rather—magic was so tightly contained that it felt absent.
The door at the end of the corridor opened without a sound.
"Enter."
The voice was calm. Measured.
Eryon stepped inside.
The room was smaller than he expected. A circular chamber lined with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, filled not with spell tomes, but records—ledgers, reports, sealed volumes marked with dates instead of titles.
At the center stood a single desk.
Behind it sat Headmaster Alaric Thorn.
He looked ordinary. Middle-aged. Dark hair touched with gray. No visible enchantments, no aura pressing down on the room.
That was what made him terrifying.
"Eryon Vale," Thorn said, folding his hands. "Please. Sit."
Eryon did.
The moment he crossed the invisible boundary around the desk, the system reacted violently.
[External Interference Detected] [Signal Disruption: Severe] Warning: System responsiveness reduced.
The text flickered.
Then dimmed.
Eryon's pulse quickened, but his expression remained calm.
"I won't take much of your time," Thorn continued. "I'm sure you're wondering why you were summoned."
"Because of the mission," Eryon said.
Thorn smiled faintly. "Partially."
He tapped the surface of his desk. A projection flared to life between them.
Mission logs.Medical reports.Ranking fluctuations.
And at the center—
Eryon Vale.
"You entered the academy as the lowest-ranked student in its history," Thorn said. "Within two weeks, you advanced nearly one hundred and twenty positions."
The projection shifted.
"Without sponsorship. Without formal tutoring. And without producing a single sanctioned spell."
Eryon said nothing.
Thorn's eyes sharpened. "Do you know what that makes you?"
"A problem," Eryon replied.
The headmaster chuckled softly. "An honest answer."
He waved his hand. The reports vanished.
"The Arcane Academy exists to maintain balance," Thorn said. "To identify, cultivate, and—when necessary—contain magical talent."
Contain.
"That word matters," Thorn continued. "Because not all growth is acceptable."
Eryon felt the pressure then—not magical, but conceptual. As if the room itself was narrowing, limiting what could exist inside it.
"You resonate with unstable environments," Thorn said calmly. "Your mana adapts by discarding structure. By embracing deviation."
The system attempted to respond.
[Data Analysis Incomplete] [Control Signal Detected]
Eryon clenched his jaw.
Thorn leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Mr. Vale—do you believe magic should be allowed to change freely?"
The question felt like a trap.
"I believe," Eryon said carefully, "that magic already does."
Silence followed.
Then Thorn smiled again. This time, it did not reach his eyes.
"An answer I've heard before."
He stood.
For the first time, Eryon felt something shift.
The air bent—not with force, but authority.
"Your upcoming participation in the second-phase exam has been approved," Thorn said. "In fact, your evaluation parameters have been adjusted."
A new projection appeared.
SPECIAL OBSERVATION STATUS: ACTIVE
Eryon's heart sank.
"You will not be ranked solely by performance," Thorn continued. "But by stability. Control. Compatibility."
Eryon looked up. "And if I fail?"
Thorn met his gaze evenly.
"Then we will know what you are."
The system flickered weakly.
[Warning] Classification Event Approaching.
Thorn returned to his seat.
"You are not in trouble," he said mildly. "Not yet. But understand this—this academy does not fear powerful students."
It fears unpredictable ones.
"You will continue to attend classes. Continue missions. Continue exams," Thorn said. "But from this moment on, you are under direct observation."
Eryon stood.
"Am I dismissed?"
"Yes," Thorn said. "One more thing."
Eryon paused at the door.
"If your power continues to evolve," Thorn said quietly, "you will eventually be asked a choice."
"What choice?"
Thorn's voice was almost gentle.
"To be corrected."
Or—
"To be removed."
The door opened.
The pressure vanished instantly.
Eryon didn't stop walking until he reached his dormitory.
Only when the door sealed behind him did he allow himself to breathe.
The system reappeared, faint and unstable.
[System Status: Compromised] External suppression detected. Operational capacity reduced. Note: High-authority entities can interfere with evolution pathways.
"So you can be silenced," Eryon murmured.
That was worse than any warning.
He sat heavily on the bed.
If the academy could interfere with the system, then his growth was no longer his alone.
But neither was it theirs.
Another line appeared.
[Countermeasure Pending] Requirement: — Increased anomaly exposure — Higher-risk failure environments
Eryon laughed quietly.
"They want stability," he said.
Outside his window, the spires of the academy loomed against the night sky.
"Then I'll give them instability they can't contain."
He lay back, eyes open.
The second-phase exam was coming.
And this time, failure wouldn't just hurt.
It would define him.