Chapter 4: The Iron Maw
The air beneath the Argent Academy did not circulate; it stagnated, thick with the scent of wet iron, ancient dust, and the sharp, metallic tang of dormant magic. The Labyrinth of the Iron Maw was more than a trial; it was a living, breathing entity of stone and gears, a subterranean gauntlet designed by the academy's founders to strip away the veneer of nobility and reveal the raw survival instinct beneath.
Rowan Caelum stood at the precipice of the descent, his boots crunching on the gravel path that led into the throat of the maze. He felt different today. The right arm that had been shattered by Lucius was now a conduit of terrifying potential. Beneath the sleeve of his new academy tunic, the skin felt hummed with a silver resonance—the gift of Seraphina's excess mana, now refined and settled within his Vacuum Core.
In his past life as Aris, the Saint-Knight, he had navigated the abyssal rifts of the Demon Realms. This Labyrinth, though daunting to the sixteen-year-old heirs trembling around him, was child's play compared to the horrors he remembered. Yet, he knew better than to be arrogant. This body was still a vessel under construction, and the Vacuum Core was a greedy, temperamental engine.
"The rules are absolute," the Head Proctor's voice boomed, amplified by wind magic to reach every corner of the staging area. "The first ten to reach the Heart of the Maw will be designated as the Gold Class—the elite of the elite. The rest will be sorted by their performance. If you fail to exit within three hours, you will be extracted by the safety mages and automatically failed. This is the moment where your bloodline stops mattering and your strength begins to speak."
Beside Rowan, the crowd of students shifted. They were a sea of vibrant auras: reds, blues, and greens flickering as nervous teenagers checked their gear. To Rowan's left, Kaelen Valois stood like a peacock among pigeons. His hair was a fiery copper, and his eyes mirrored the orange sparks dancing across his knuckles. He was Seraphina's cousin, but where she was moonlight and mystery, Kaelen was a forest fire—uncontrolled and destructive.
"Enjoy the view of the entrance, Caelum," Kaelen sneered, loud enough for the nearby students to hear. "Because once those gates close, the monsters won't care about your lucky trick with the Resonance Stone. In the dark, the weak are just bait."
Rowan didn't turn his head. He adjusted the leather grip of the standard-issue longsword at his hip. "The louder a dog barks, the smaller its bite. Are you here to hunt monsters, Kaelen, or to provide them with a noisy snack?"
A ripple of stifled laughter broke out among the surrounding commoners. Kaelen's face turned a deep, bruised crimson. "You'll regret that. When you're screaming for a mage to pull you out, remember who put you in that state."
The Descent into the Maw
The heavy iron gates groaned, pulled by massive chains, and the trial began.
Most of the students bolted, their mana-reinforced boots kicking up clouds of dust as they raced to enter the various tunnels. They were desperate to be among the first ten. Rowan, however, stayed behind for a few seconds. He closed his eyes, centering his breath.
Still Water Breathing: First Form.
The world slowed. The frantic heartbeats of the other students faded into the background. Rowan began to sense the Labyrinth not as a series of walls, but as a flow of energy. He felt the "breath" of the maze—the shifting of the clockwork floors, the heat signatures of the mechanical sentinels, and the pockets of stagnant mana trapped in dead ends.
He chose the third tunnel from the left. It was darker, narrower, and avoided by the others who feared being cornered.
As he walked, the light from the entrance vanished, replaced by the faint, eerie glow of blue mana-crystals embedded in the ceiling. The silence was absolute until the ground began to vibrate.
From a hidden alcove above him, a Clockwork Sentinel dropped with a bone-jarring thud. It was a masterpiece of lethal engineering: three meters of rusted iron plating, a head shaped like a bird of prey with glowing crystal eyes, and a massive, rotating saw-blade where its right hand should be.
"Target identified," the machine's voice box rasped, a sound like grinding stones. "Initiating culling protocol."
The Sentinel lunged. The saw-blade spun to life, screaming as it tore through the air. Rowan didn't draw his sword immediately. Instead, he watched the machine's core—the glowing blue crystal in its chest. To everyone else, it was a power source. To Rowan, it was a meal.
The blade descended in a wide arc meant to bisect him. Rowan utilized Flash-Step, his body blurring and reappearing inches to the left of the blade's path. The wind from the strike ruffled his hair, but he remained untouched.
Now, Rowan thought.
He reached out and grabbed the Sentinel's iron forearm. Most mages would have been crushed, but Rowan activated the Vacuum Core. He didn't push energy into the machine; he inverted the flow.
The Sentinel's blue eyes flickered. The mana-crystals in its chest began to dim as the raw energy was sucked through its iron shell and into Rowan's palm. The machine's movements slowed, its gears grinding as they lost their magical lubrication.
"System... error..." the machine sputtered.
Rowan finally drew his sword. In one fluid motion, he drove the blade through the Sentinel's neck joint, twisting the hilt. He released a tiny fraction of the silver mana he had taken from Seraphina—not as a blast, but as a high-frequency vibration.
CRACK.
The Sentinel's head flew off, and the massive body collapsed into a pile of useless scrap. Rowan stood over it for a second, feeling the fresh influx of blue mana from the construct settling into his core. It was bitter and metallic compared to Seraphina's "velvet" energy, but it served its purpose. It was fuel.
The Shadow of Ambush
Rowan moved deeper into the Maw. He passed several injured students who had been cornered by traps or constructs, but he didn't stop to help. This was the Argent Academy; mercy here was often seen as an insult.
He reached a wide, circular chamber where the walls were made of jagged obsidian. The air here was unnaturally hot. Rowan stopped in the center of the room, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Hiding behind obsidian pillars," Rowan said, his voice echoing, "is a waste of your 'superior' bloodline, Kaelen."
From the shadows, Kaelen Valois stepped out, followed by two other noble students, their robes singed and their faces determined. Kaelen looked at Rowan's clean tunic and his steady hands, and his eyes burned with a mixture of hatred and fear.
"You're a freak, Caelum," Kaelen said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I saw what you did to that Sentinel. You didn't fight it. You ate it. That's not magic. That's some kind of forbidden demonic art."
"It's called efficiency," Rowan replied. "But I suppose a Valois wouldn't know much about that. You've always had everything handed to you."
Kaelen roared, and the air in the chamber ignited. He was a 3rd-Circle Fire Mage, and in this enclosed space, his power was terrifying. He clapped his hands together, and a massive serpent of white-hot flame erupted from his palms, coiling around the chamber and cutting off Rowan's escape.
"Inferno Serpent!" Kaelen screamed. "Let's see you 'eat' this!"
The fire snake lunged, its maw wide and radiating enough heat to melt the iron of Rowan's sword.
Rowan didn't move. He didn't even draw his blade. He planted his feet and opened the "pores" of his Vacuum Core.
In his previous life as Aris, he had stood before the Great Dragon of the Sun and inhaled its breath. Kaelen's fire, by comparison, was a candle in a hurricane.
As the serpent made contact with Rowan's outstretched hands, it didn't explode. It began to spiral. The massive construct of flame was pulled into a tight, screaming vortex, the tip of its nose disappearing into the center of Rowan's palms.
The heat in the room plummeted. The bright white light dimmed. Within seconds, the entire 3rd-Circle spell was gone, swallowed whole by the "Useless Son."
Kaelen fell to his knees, his mana pool completely exhausted. He stared at Rowan as if looking at a ghost. "What... what are you?"
Rowan walked up to him, the golden light in his eyes now so bright they looked like twin suns. He leaned down, whispering so only the terrified noble could hear.
"I am the hole in the world, Kaelen. And if you ever touch me or Seraphina again, I won't just take your magic. I'll take the air from your lungs."
Rowan turned and walked toward the far door, leaving Kaelen shivering in the dark. He could feel the Heart of the Maw just ahead. He was the first to arrive.
The Saint-Knight was no longer just a memory. He was becoming a reality.