The next morning came gray and heavy.
Crimson Eye Academy felt quieter than usual—like the air itself was listening.
Kael sat on the edge of his dorm bed, eyes fixed on the faint red reflection trembling across his windowpane. The memory of the Headmaster's gaze lingered in flashes: his calm voice, the strange light, the word he couldn't shake.
Threshold.
He couldn't remember everything from last night. Just fragments—echoes slipping through his mind like fog through fingers. Every time he tried to focus, a sharp pulse behind his eyes pushed the thought away.
A knock broke the silence.
Aria stood by the doorway, arms crossed. "You're late."
Kael blinked. "For what?"
"Stage Two orientation. You were supposed to be at the east wing ten minutes ago."
He groaned softly, pulling on his jacket. "You're really good at showing up right when I'm about to mess up."
"I prefer not to lose points because of someone else," she replied flatly, turning on her heel.
They moved through the halls, their footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Students whispered as they passed—word of their Stage One performance had spread. Pair Twenty-Seven. High sync rate. Red flare incident. Rumors built faster than truth could catch them.
In the briefing chamber, the lights dimmed. A holographic projection of the academy emblem spun above the podium. Instructor Vaen stood before the gathered pairs, voice clear and hard.
> "Stage Two: Perception Control. Illusions will test your ability to separate reality from deception. You fail if you lose yourself to the lie."
Kael felt a chill. The Red Wasteland had already blurred his mind—this test sounded worse.
As the simulation field activated, the room dissolved around them into a vast forest of glass. Each reflection moved independently—sometimes delayed, sometimes distorted. Every breath echoed. Every step returned tenfold.
"Focus on grounding," Aria said, her tone steady. "Don't chase what you can't confirm."
Kael nodded, but something felt wrong.
The reflections began to move before he did.
He turned—too late. One of the mirrored Kaels stepped out of the glass, its eyes glowing faint red.
Aria tensed. "That's—"
The copy lunged.
Steel clashed. Kael blocked instinctively, the impact sending ripples across the mirrored forest. His clone's movements were sharper, faster—like it knew his next step before he took it.
He gritted his teeth. "How do you fight something that knows what you'll do?"
"By doing what you wouldn't," Aria said, darting forward. Her glaive cut through the reflection's flank, shattering part of its form, but it regenerated—faster this time.
Then, the whispers started again.
Soft. Familiar. The same tone from the wasteland.
> You are not ready.
The Threshold calls.
Kael froze. The forest pulsed red. Dozens of reflections now stared back—each one with eyes brighter than his own.
Pain surged behind his temples. The Crimson Sight flared—half instinct, half defiance—and for an instant, every mirror shattered inward. Shards hung suspended in midair, showing hundreds of scenes at once: his past, unknown faces, the man from the mist… and the Headmaster, standing within a circle of light, watching.
Then—darkness.
When Kael opened his eyes, he was back in the real chamber. The simulation field flickered off. Aria stood nearby, breathing heavily, weapon still raised.
The instructor's voice echoed:
> "Stage Two — Partial Success. Pair Twenty-Seven: anomaly detected."
Aria shot him a look. "What did you do this time?"
Kael swallowed hard. "I think… something's breaking through."
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