The cafeteria was its usual morning mess—students fumbling trays, spilling juice, and attacking their food like it might run away. Half the crowd looked like they'd been awake for five minutes too long, the other half like they'd never slept at all. Fiona, Claire, Lucas, and I took over a corner table, far from the worst of it.
Claire stabbed her omelet with more force than necessary, like she was imagining it was me. "Third place? Alone?" She gave me a pointed glare. "We won first place with Dorian, but you just had to go rogue, didn't you?"
I grinned as I tore into my croissant. "Third isn't bad. Plus, I wasn't really trying."
Lucas gave a small nod of approval, the kind that said, Good job, traitor, without any hard feelings.
"The real disaster," Fiona said, buttering her toast with a sly smile, "is that if you ever did put in actual effort, Lucius, the leaderboard might just explode."
"And that's why I don't." I leaned back in my seat. "Can't have the academy's systems crashing just because I decide to be competent for a change."
Claire rolled her eyes, but the reluctant twitch of a smile betrayed her.
Around us, the usual cafeteria gossip floated through the air, low and lazy but sharp enough to snag attention. Most of it was just noise, but one nearby conversation caught my ear.
"You hear about that guy from B Rank Class? Spotted him at the infirmary. Looked like he was ready to punch through a wall."
"Yeah, and some students are killing it in training lately. Like, too good to be normal. Bet they're using experimental potions or something shady."
I shot a glance at Fiona just as she threw one back at me—two looks that met in perfect sync. Neither of us said anything, but the message was clear: We both knew this wasn't just ordinary gossip. Something was up. Fiona's knowledge came from whatever tangled threads of the future she wasn't ready to share. Mine? Just good old-fashioned pattern recognition—and maybe a nudge from my system interface.
Claire quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't think performance potions made it to the black market."
"Please," I said with a shrug. "This place is full of overachievers. Someone was bound to cheat eventually."
Fiona gave me a side-eye, her tone casual but deliberately loaded. "Or maybe they're just working harder than you think."
I grinned, catching the hidden meaning in her words. "Yeah, and maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and become a model student."
Claire snorted. "If that happens, the world's ending."
Fiona's grin sharpened ever so slightly. She had her own theories about what was coming—wrapped in warnings and whispers she probably wasn't ready to share. Me? I knew enough to trust my gut: whatever was brewing wasn't going to be subtle, and it wasn't going to be pretty.
No need to say it out loud, but the unspoken agreement hung between us like a spell waiting to be cast. Whatever storm was heading our way, it was just a matter of when.
And when it hit? We'd better be ready.
Alchemy class was next, and things were going suspiciously smooth for my taste. When your day involves volatile ingredients and students with questionable competence, peace isn't comforting—it's unsettling. Our task? Brew a simple stamina potion. In theory, this should've been foolproof. In practice, well...
It didn't take long for the wheels to fall off.
A student across the room fumbled their ingredients, and their cauldron began to bubble like it had been cursed. Ominous smoke billowed out, swirling in shades that said, Touch me, and you'll regret it.
"Uh… Professor Ukron? It's doing that thing!" the student yelped, backing away like their life depended on it.
Ukron didn't look concerned—just mildly annoyed, as if this happened every other Thursday. With a flick of his wand, he neutralized the disaster-in-progress. The cauldron hissed and let out one last spiteful puff of smoke before settling down.
Disaster averted. For now.
I nudged Selene, who was focused on her potion with the precision of a sniper. "Is it just me, or does this whole setup scream foreshadowing?"
Without looking up, she replied coolly, "It's definitely foreshadowing."
A student at the table behind us chuckled. "You know, some of the athletes have been downing experimental potions to boost their scores. Teachers? They just turn a blind eye."
I raised a brow. "Because, obviously, if a few students explode, no big deal."
Ukron's gaze snapped to us like a hawk catching movement. His glare was sharp enough to make even a cauldron rethink bubbling. I flashed him my most innocent smile and returned to stirring my potion, though the amused twitch at the corner of Selene's lips didn't go unnoticed.
Another day, another near-disaster.
I couldn't help but grin under my breath. Trouble was brewing—figuratively, if not literally—and I had a front-row seat.
After alchemy class, Selene and I found ourselves walking toward the library together—not because we planned it, but because our paths just happened to align. She was heading somewhere else, and I had a meeting with Fiona. But for now, we were stuck in that awkward "unintentional walking buddy" situation.
The corridor was unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you wonder if trouble's around the corner. We were halfway to the library when a guy from B Rank Class stumbled into view. And by "stumbled," I mean he looked like a spell gone horribly wrong.
His eyes were bloodshot, shadowed by dark circles that said sleep was a distant memory. His hands shook slightly, and the air around him reeked of stale mana—sharp and sour, like someone squeezed every ounce of magic out of him and forgot to put the lid back on. He swayed like he was debating whether to collapse now or later.
Selene slowed, her gaze cold and calculating. I matched her pace, wondering if we were about to witness a magical breakdown. As the guy shuffled closer, I shot him a cautious look. "Uh... You good, man?" I asked, not exactly dripping with sympathy but more with the hope that he wouldn't drop dead in front of us.
The guy blinked slowly, as if processing my words was the hardest thing he'd done all day. "Just... a lot on my plate," he mumbled, rubbing his face like it would wipe away the exhaustion. With a sluggish wave, he stumbled past us, dragging himself down the hall like he was late for a meeting with his own misery.
Selene watched him go, her expression cool and unreadable. "Mana exhaustion," she murmured, more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah, either that or he's training to be a professional disaster," I said, hands in my pockets. "Nothing screams 'I've got it all under control' like shaking hands and smelling like expired magic."
Selene's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles—not quite approval, but it was the closest I'd get. "You think it's tied to the rumors?"
I glanced down the hall where the guy had vanished, the sense that something was off gnawing at me. "Feels like it. Athletes pushing limits, weird gossip spreading, and now this? Definitely not just a bad case of homework stress."
Selene nodded once, her icy-blue eyes flicking ahead as if she were filing the encounter away for future analysis. That was the thing about Selene—she didn't say much, but she didn't miss anything either.
We reached the intersection where our paths split. "I'll catch you later," she said, turning down a different corridor, her steps as composed as ever.
"See you around," I called after her, adjusting my bag.
I continued toward the library alone, the earlier encounter sitting in the back of my mind like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. Something was definitely brewing—whether it was tied to those strange performance rumors or something worse, I couldn't say.
All I knew was that Fiona and I needed to compare notes fast. If anyone could spot the threads of trouble before they tangled into disaster, it was her.
The library greeted me with its usual hush, the familiar smell of parchment, ink, and dust drifting through the air like the scent of forgotten knowledge. I spotted Fiona at a corner table, already surrounded by a fortress of scrolls and ancient tomes. Typical.
"Trying to summon an elder god or just catching up on homework?" I asked as I pulled out the chair across from her and flopped down.
Fiona didn't even look up. "Bit of both. It's called multitasking, Lucius. You should try it sometime."
"Yeah, well, I prefer surviving one disaster at a time." I dragged a scroll toward me and grabbed a quill. "And so far, I think I'm doing pretty well."
Finally, Fiona glanced up, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "Still alive, huh? Surviving the leaderboard and Erickson's class? Impressive. You should get a trophy—'Most Likely to Die Trying, but Didn't.'"
I smirked, inspecting the rune I'd scribbled on the parchment. "Exactly what I'm saying. Pure talent. Or dumb luck—hard to tell some days."
"Talent, luck, and the occasional dodge when things explode," she added with a grin, her fingers idly flipping through a dusty tome.
We worked—or at least pretended to—our conversation drifting between idle jokes and half-hearted study. From the table next to us, two students whispered in voices low enough that they thought no one could hear.
"That boost we used during training? It actually worked," one of them muttered, the excitement barely contained in his tone.
"Yeah, but the side effects are brutal," the other whispered. "My mana's been all over the place since. I can't focus for more than five minutes."
I shot Fiona a glance, and she raised an eyebrow in silent question. I gave a lazy shrug in return. Not our problem—at least, not yet.
Just as I turned back to my scroll, something hit me like a chill running through my bones. A ripple, faint but unmistakable, brushed against my senses. It was like feeling the wind shift before a storm—mana in the air, wild and unsettled. I blinked, trying to shake off the creeping unease, but it only grew sharper.
The energy buzzed under my skin, a sharp and erratic pulse that didn't belong. Something wasn't right.
Fiona caught the change in my expression instantly. "What's wrong?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing, trying to trace the disturbance. The sensation was hard to pin down, like static crackling at the edge of my awareness—unstable, volatile, and close. Too close.
"There's a mana surge nearby," I muttered, my voice low. "Something's off."
Fiona straightened, her playful expression shifting into something sharper. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"
I shook my head, the uneasy pulse still gnawing at my senses. "No idea. But it feels… unstable. Like a spell on the verge of backfiring."
Her gaze flickered toward the door, the gears in her mind already turning. "Do we tell someone?"
"Depends." I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. "Do we want to deal with a bigger headache or pretend we never noticed?"
Fiona smirked, though her eyes stayed serious. "I'm good at pretending."
"Same," I said, though deep down, I knew we'd be dragged into it sooner or later.
The pulse of unstable mana lingered, like a warning on the edge of my mind. Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to stay quiet for long.
As Fiona focused back on her scroll, I seized the moment to ask the system a question that had been nagging me since the Corvin incident. I leaned in a bit, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Hey, system, can you hear me?"
There was silence for a beat—no comforting chime, no reassuring buzz. Typical.
"Alright, let's try this again. Back during the Corvin incident, you didn't announce it as an episode, but you still gave me a reward afterward. Plus, you mentioned you're not the same system from the game back on Earth. So... what exactly are you?"
Another moment of silence, an almost eerie stillness. Finally, a response flickered into view, hovering in my mind like an annoying itch.
[I'm here to assist you.]
I frowned, crossing my arms. "You're not just assisting me. You're giving me decent rewards too. Why?"
The pause felt longer this time, stretching like an elastic band about to snap. Then another message appeared, terse and slightly cryptic.
[Alright. You will find out soon. For now, focus on finishing the episode.]
The words vanished before I could press further, leaving me with even more questions.
"Hey, will you at least give me a heads-up when the next episode is coming?" I whispered, a smirk creeping onto my face.
[Depends.]
"Depends? On what?"
[... ]
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in mock frustration. "You're so helpful."
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my determination settle in. "I'll try my best to finish the story and find whatever the true ending is, but I need to know what you are."
The familiar pulse of irritation flickered again, but I tucked the thoughts away. No point in pushing it further, especially when Fiona was right there, blissfully unaware of my side conversations with the voice in my head.
The walk back to the dorm was eerily quiet, the hallways of the academy bathed in silver moonlight filtering through the large windows. The night air felt crisp and peaceful—too peaceful.
"This feels like the part in a novel where everything goes horribly wrong," I muttered under my breath, casting a wary glance at the empty corridor.
The soft glow from the moon illuminated the floor, creating shadows that danced in the corners of my vision. For a brief moment, the light flickered—just slightly, as if something unseen had disturbed the tranquility.
I halted, staring at the shifting shadows until they stilled. A chill crept down my spine, wrapping around me like a cold blanket.
"Maybe it's just me being paranoid," I whispered, trying to convince myself. But deep down, I knew better. Peace never lasted long in Arcadia.
As I walked on, the feeling of unease settled deeper, an unwelcome companion in the cool night. Something was brewing just beneath the surface, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we were all in for a bumpy ride ahead.