The next morning dawned gray but calm, the mists curling across the spires of the Academy of Fangs like a restless dragon that refused to sleep. Ash Vale stirred awake to the faint chill, his muscles aching faintly still from the second-circle breakthrough. He lay there a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling beams of his dormitory room, before exhaling and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
The day would not wait for him.
By the time Ash reached the dining hall, the usual hum of chatter already filled the air. Garrick Hollow, ever the first to spot him, waved wildly from a table near the center.
"Over here, Vale!" Garrick grinned, his plate already piled with bread and steaming eggs. "You look less like a ghost today. Progress."
Caius Serpentis sat beside him, posture straight as a spear, piercing eyes cool but not unkind. He gave Ash the barest nod of acknowledgment — and for Caius, that was nearly a bow.
What drew the most eyes, however, was the fourth seat. Selene Vaeloria sat with them, her silver-blonde hair catching the shafts of morning light, sapphire eyes bright and unguarded as she leaned in mid-laugh at something Garrick had said. She spotted Ash and gestured at the empty place.
"Come on, Ash. Don't just stand there like we're royalty and you're the servant," she teased.
Ash blinked, then sat, ignoring the way whispers rose around the hall.
It felt strange, how natural this table had become. A week ago, he had been alone. Now, somehow, he was part of something.
The morning passed in lectures. Professor Elowen spoke of elemental resonance, of how mages shaped mana not merely with will but by lending it color, rhythm, identity. Ash listened, taking furious notes, even as Garrick fought to keep his eyes open beside him. Selene raised her hand often, cheerful curiosity evident, while Caius asked fewer but sharper questions that made even Elowen pause.
Between classes, they walked together through the cloistered stone corridors. Selene filled silences with light chatter — stories of her Eastern Province hometown, of bustling markets and wandering storytellers. Garrick added his humor, tripping over a stair and cursing loud enough to draw a reprimand, while Caius remained his poised, sardonic self, cutting in with occasional sharp remarks that made Selene giggle despite herself.
For Ash, it was grounding. For once, life wasn't only about survival or ambition — there was laughter.
But that night, when the Academy grew quiet, he returned to his true teacher.
The Codex.
He sat cross-legged, the ancient tome spread open, glyphs shifting faintly across the page like ink alive. When his fingers brushed the parchment, the world tilted — and his mind fell into the hollow corridors of memory not his own.
A field of endless banners. Screams. Steel. Blood soaking mud.
The voice came — smooth, steady, commanding.
"You took one step forward. Good. But a strategist does not step — he measures, weighs, and only then advances. Tell me, Ash Vale — do you wish to be merely a mage, or something greater?"
Ash swallowed. "I… I want to stand where no one can crush me. To not bow again."
A pause.
"Then I will make you more than a mage. I will make you a battlefield. Each spell a sword, each choice an army. But strength demands sacrifice. Remember this: the first to hesitate is already defeated."
The visions shifted. He saw circles drawn not with chalk but fire, colossal and radiant, layered upon one another until nine wheels turned in harmony, blotting out the sky. At the center stood a figure — faceless, armored, a crown of broken steel upon its brow.
The Archstrategos.
Ash gasped, the vision snapping away, leaving him trembling. His second circle pulsed faintly within him, its lines glowing like a constellation in the dark.
Sleep came late.
The next day returned to routine. Garrick complained of essays, Selene prodded Ash about his accent from the slums until he actually laughed, Caius made a remark about commoners misplacing books that turned into a ten-minute argument with Selene.
Yet beneath it all, there was a subtle shift.
At dusk, as the group lingered outside the practice grounds, Caius turned to Ash, silver eyes gleaming.
"You've grown sharper," Caius said. His lips curled faintly, almost a smile. "It's time we see how much."
Ash froze.
"You mean—"
"A match," Caius confirmed. "Not in the hall, not by chance. A true test. You and I."
Garrick whistled, already excited. Selene leaned forward, curiosity shining.
Ash met Caius's gaze — the challenge in it, the respect buried within the arrogance.
His heart quickened.
"Fine," Ash said. "I'll face you."
And above, unseen in the shadows of the archways, crimson eyes narrowed. Darius Redthorne watched, lips curling into a smile.
"Perfect. Let them sharpen themselves… I'll be the one to break him during the festival."