The streets of Caelum Benedictio pulsed with life, the relentless hum of the city a backdrop to every step we took. Neon lights from signs advertising mana-infused drinks and enchanted pastries reflected off sleek, polished streets. The ground beneath us shimmered faintly, a network of embedded mana circuits glowing in sync with the city's rhythmic energy. Among the chaos, an open-air café stood as a small oasis, its scattered tables glowing softly under the neon halo.
Samantha leaned back in her chair, her sharp grin framed by a loose strand of hair. Her fingers drummed an uneven rhythm against her cup, the only sign of unease in her otherwise relaxed demeanor. For once, she wasn't filling the air with her usual flood of explanations and technical tangents. Instead, her words came clipped, deliberate.
"The arena's cutting edge," she said. "The academy's no different. Systems like these are always pushing the envelope. Us engineers? We're barely keeping up. And this city…" She paused, her gaze flicking to a crystalline screen broadcasting a subdued news report about the arena's sudden lockdown. "This city doesn't make it easy. Opportunists everywhere."
Her uncharacteristic brevity hung in the air like smoke, heavy and lingering. Riley raised a brow, and I caught the brief flicker of confusion in his expression. Samantha never spoke like this. It was jarring—enough to set both of us on edge.
With a casual wave, Samantha rose, her grin sharpening. "Anyway, I've got work waiting. You two stay sharp, yeah? And try not to make my job harder." She winked and melted into the crowd, her presence fading but her words echoing in my mind.
Riley's frown deepened as he watched her go, his usual wariness sharper than usual. "That's the kind of advice that smells like trouble."
"She's rarely wrong," I said, adjusting my hood and scanning the bustling street. "And she rarely says less than she needs to. If Samantha's keeping it short, something's got her rattled."
Riley's low grumble was his only reply as we stepped away from the café and merged into the city's flow. The crowds surged around us, the rhythm of life in Caelum Benedictio unyielding. Neon lights glinted off mirrored surfaces, the air vibrating with the low hum of distant machinery and faint traces of magic.
As we approached a patrol station, Riley slowed, his steps deliberate. His gaze swept the street ahead, lingering on the station. The area was packed—guards at their posts, civilians moving in and out, and clerks shuffling between desks.
"What is it?" I asked, my ears twitching at his sudden tension.
"Something's off," Riley muttered, his voice low. His gaze swept the station. "It's too neat, too controlled. Samantha's no better than a puppeteer, I'd say—and this whole city feels like it's dancing on her strings."
I glanced at the commotion but saw nothing overtly wrong. People moved through the station in a steady stream, handing in documents or asking questions. The guards monitored everything carefully, their eyes scanning the crowd. Yet Riley's instincts rarely failed him. He caught my arm lightly, halting my next step.
"You're too quick to distrust her," I said, my voice quiet but firm. Riley's brow twitched, his grip steady but cautious. "I get it. Samantha's long-winded, loves her riddles, and you've never liked not having all the answers. But if the Rebellion keeps doing right, nothing untoward will come from her. She's not a puppet master, Riley. She's just playing a different game."
Riley's lips pressed into a thin line, his silence heavier than usual. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting back to the station. "I hope you're right," he muttered. "Because the more perfect this place looks, the more it feels like a stage. And you know what stages are good for."
"Spectacles," I replied, my ears flicking at the sound of shifting boots nearby.
He nodded grimly. "And cover-ups. Let's hold here for a second," he said quietly. "If something's about to happen, I'd rather see it before we walk into it."
Before I could respond, a sharp crash shattered the air. Glass rained down as a soldier burst through the patrol station's window, his face twisted in rage. In his hand, a knife glinted faintly under the city's lights. The sudden violence silenced the crowd, freezing the movement within the station. Weapons were uncommon enough to make this sight shocking, even before considering the wild look in the soldier's eyes.
Instinct took over. Summoning a flash of light magic, I blinded him momentarily and darted forward. His erratic swings slowed, and I closed the distance, knocking the weapon from his grip and forcing him to the ground. He thrashed beneath me, his movements unnatural and jerky.
In the chaos, I felt a sharp prick against my hand. Startled, I glanced down and saw a faint glint of metal near his collar—a tiny dart embedded in his skin. Suppressing my reaction, I shifted my grip to disarm him fully before the guards arrived. My hand brushed the dart as I moved, and I quickly palmed it, slipping it into my sleeve. Whatever had triggered his outburst, it wasn't natural.
The guards rushed over, their expressions a mix of alarm and confusion as they secured the soldier. The civilians in the station were frozen, whispering to one another as the guards hauled the man away. One muttered something about his mental instability, but it sounded rehearsed—too neat for the chaos that had just unfolded. Riley stood close, his gaze darting between the guards and the crowd.
"What just happened?" he murmured as the soldier was hauled away.
I adjusted my sleeve to keep the dart hidden. "Not here," I said quietly. "We'll talk when we're clear."
We left the scene quickly, the crowd's murmurs fading into the hum of the city as we made our way toward Arcanum Valorium. The academy loomed ahead, its towering spires piercing the skyline like jagged spears of light. Its gates, framed by shimmering mana circuits, cast a faint glow over the bustling grounds within.
Passing through the gates was seamless; the guards waved us through with little more than a glance at the permits Riley handed over. But the tension in the air only grew thicker as we moved deeper into the academy's grounds. The spires glittered like shards of light against the evening sky, but their beauty felt cold, almost foreboding.
The sight reminded me of a district we'd once fought to reclaim in Rugiet Fulgur. That district had been under the stranglehold of a cartel, its people suffocating under fear and exploitation. Riley and I had led the Rebellion there, dismantling the cartel's operations in a swift, relentless campaign.
But victory had come with compromises.
We'd worked with the Vitalis Consortium to fill the power vacuum. They weren't heroes—they thrived on bending rules and exploiting opportunities—but they brought order where chaos might have spiraled out of control. Medicine, supplies, and trade had flowed steadily under their control, giving the people a semblance of peace, even if it wasn't freedom.
"They kept the peace, didn't they?" Riley said, his tone carefully neutral, though I caught the edge of weariness behind it.
"They did," I admitted, though the memory still gnawed at me. "But the peace they brought was a leash. The people weren't free—they were just under a new master."
Riley shrugged, his pragmatism unwavering. "Better that than the alternative. You know what happens when power vacuums go unchecked."
I couldn't argue with that, but as my gaze lingered on the academy's sprawling grounds, I couldn't shake the parallels. Too much power concentrated in one place. Too many opportunities for exploitation.
"That's what worries me," I said. "This place isn't so different. If someone's already exploiting the academy's weaknesses, we might be staring at another Vitalis situation."
Riley smirked faintly, his confidence steadying. "Then let's make sure it doesn't come to that."