The fragment rested inside the containment field like it belonged there.
It didn't pulse.Didn't glow.Didn't react.
And somehow, that was worse.
Kaito stood across from it in the academy's sealed analysis room, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the thin strip of metal-thread composite suspended in the air. Scanners passed over it again and again, returning partial results that never agreed with one another.
"Same thing," Mira muttered, tapping the console. "Energy residue present, but the origin keeps… sliding."
Sliding was the right word.
Every time they narrowed it down, the readings shifted just enough to blur the conclusion.
Fire—but not fire.Psionics—but not any recorded strain.Kaito—but never conclusively.
"It's like it doesn't want to be pinned down," Aria said.
Kaito didn't respond.
Because it felt familiar.
Not in memory—in instinct.
The principal cleared his throat behind them. "We've checked personnel logs. Cross-referenced staff access. Anyone with clearance to that wing was accounted for."
"Anyone recently accounted for," Ryo corrected.
A quiet pause.
"…There is one exception," the principal admitted. "An old name."
Kaito's eyes flicked up.
"Veyl Arcanon," the principal said. "Former strategist. Data systems and crisis response. Disappeared after the Northern Annex incident years ago."
The room felt smaller.
Aria frowned. "Disappeared how?"
"Officially?" the principal said. "Resigned. Records sealed. Unofficially… no one ever saw him leave."
Kaito stared at the fragment.
Veyl.
The name didn't summon a face.
But something in his chest tightened anyway.
"That fragment," Mira said slowly, "doesn't look like tech meant for combat."
"No," Kaito said at last. His voice surprised even him. "It's meant for after."
They all turned.
"After what?" Liona asked.
"After damage," Kaito replied. "After chaos."
Silence.
He didn't know how he knew.
Only that the certainty settled deep, like an answer finally finding its question.
Far below the academy, beyond old transit lines and forgotten maintenance corridors, Veyl Arcanon watched data streams stabilize.
A soft hum filled the chamber as screens corrected themselves—fire signatures smoothing, timestamps aligning, blame drifting subtly but decisively.
"Confirmation?" a voice asked from the dark.
Veyl nodded. "The key was recovered."
"And?"
"And he felt it."
A pause.
"That's enough for now."
Veyl folded their hands behind their back, eyes reflecting shifting reports—witness statements rewritten by suggestion, sensor logs quietly amended, rumors fed just enough truth to take root.
"Kaito doesn't need to be framed," Veyl said calmly. "He only needs to be plausible."
The voice hesitated. "And the academy?"
"They'll protect their own," Veyl replied. "Which means they'll hesitate."
A faint smile.
"Hesitation is a window."
One screen lingered on Kaito's profile.
Power readings.Survival rates.Unresolved anomalies.
"He was never meant to stay hidden," Veyl murmured. "Not after what he was."
The screens dimmed.
Back in the analysis room, the containment field flickered.
Just once.
Kaito felt it—an almost imperceptible shift, like something being checked off a list.
"This wasn't left by accident," Aria said quietly.
"No," Kaito agreed.
He turned away from the fragment.
"It was left to see if we'd notice."
Outside the academy walls, rumors continued to spread.
Inside them, something far more dangerous had begun to move again.
Not fire.Not violence.
Intention.