"Round two. Bring it on."
It was a great line. Very heroic. Very defiant.
Unfortunately, my body didn't agree with the sentiment. As soon as the adrenaline crashed, I felt like I'd been run over by a carriage, backed up over, and then run over again.
I stumbled back into the commoner dorms around 3:00 AM, avoiding the night patrols by sticking to the shadows and praying my "Observer" luck held out. It did, barely.
I crawled through the window of Room 104, shutting it quietly behind me. Tybalt was still asleep, but he had migrated from his bed to the floor, clutching his pillow like a life raft.
"Mmph... more gravy..." he mumbled.
I stepped over him, collapsed onto my bed, and passed out before my head even hit the mattress.
"Ren! Ren, wake up! You won't believe it!"
I groaned, prying one eye open. Sunlight was assaulting my face. Tybalt was bouncing on the balls of his feet, holding a copy of the Academy Weekly.
"What?" I croaked. My throat felt like I'd swallowed sandpaper. The headache from using [Edit] last night had settled into a dull, rhythmic throb behind my left eye.
"A meteor!" Tybalt shouted, shoving the paper in my face. "Last night! While we were sleeping! It hit the Astronomy Tower! Look!"
I squinted at the moving magical photograph on the front page. It showed silver sparks shooting out of the tower's chimney.
Headline: CELESTIAL ANOMALY OR PRANK GONE WRONG?
"Wow," I said, sitting up and rubbing my temples. "Crazy."
"I know! People are saying it's an omen," Tybalt said, his eyes wide. "That the stars are aligning for the rise of a new Archmage. Or maybe just that the third-years brewed the wrong potion again. But still! We slept through history!"
"Speak for yourself," I muttered under my breath.
I got dressed slowly. My hands were shaking slightly—a lingering side effect of interacting with the Source Code. I checked my status in the mirror.
[Status: Mental Fatigue (Moderate)]
[Mana: None]
[Observer Level: 2]
I looked normal. Just a tired student in a grey uniform. But I knew better. The world felt... thinner. I could see the edges of things more clearly now. The wood grain on the door looked like texture mapping. The dust motes in the sunbeam looked like pixels.
"Come on, Ren!" Tybalt urged, grabbing his bag. "We have a Joint Lecture today. Magical Theory with Class 1-A. We can't be late. I want to sit behind Mira. She smells like lavender."
I froze. "Joint Lecture?"
"Yeah. Professor Thorne combines the classes on Tuesdays to 'foster unity' or whatever. Which really just means the nobles get to show off while we take notes."
Professor Thorne. Vance's father was House Thorne. Was the Professor related?
"Ty," I said, grabbing my bag. "Is Professor Thorne related to Vance?"
Tybalt laughed nervously. "Ren, seriously? He's his uncle. The 'nice' one, apparently. But still a Thorne."
Great.
The Lecture Hall was an amphitheater, steep and imposing. Class 1-A—the elites—took the front rows. Their uniforms were crisp, their postures perfect. I saw Lysandra sitting with her back straight, her golden hair shining. Kaelen sat two seats away, surrounded by his usual "zone of terror," looking bored.
Class 1-C—the mob—filled the back rows.
I spotted Cian immediately. He was sitting near the aisle, hugging his bag. He looked better than last night, but he was jumping at every loud noise. When he saw me, he gave a tiny, terrified nod.
I nodded back. Stay cool, Einstein.
I scanned the room for Ria. She was leaning against the back wall, spinning a pen instead of her coin, blending in perfectly. She winked at me.
Then, I saw Vance.
He was in the second row, sitting with his lackeys. He wasn't looking at the professor. He was turned around in his seat, his eyes scanning the back rows.
His gaze landed on Cian. Then on me.
He didn't glare. He smiled. It was a nasty, oily smile that promised nothing but misery.
"Welcome, students," Professor Thorne boomed. He was a tall man with the same sharp nose as Vance, but he wore spectacles and a tweed jacket that made him look approachable. "Today, we discuss the fundamental nature of Mana Capacity. Why are some born with oceans, and others with... puddles?"
A few nobles snickered.
"However," Thorne continued, pacing the stage. "Capacity is meaningless without Control. A bucket of water can extinguish a fire. An ocean without direction is just a flood."
He stopped and looked up at the audience.
"Let us have a demonstration. I need a volunteer from Class 1-A to demonstrate a basic Force projection. And a volunteer from Class 1-C to attempt to deflect it."
Vance's hand shot up instantly.
"Professor," Vance said, his voice smooth. "I volunteer."
"Vance," Professor Thorne sighed, as if he expected this. "Very well. Step down. And who would you like to partner with from the General Studies track?"
Vance stood up, adjusting his cuffs. He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the back row.
"I think," Vance said, his voice carrying to the rafters, "we should give an opportunity to someone who shows... hidden potential. Someone who surprised us all recently."
My heart hammered. He was going to pick me. He was going to force me to fight, prove I had no magic, and then humiliate me.
"Cian," Vance said.
I stopped breathing.
"Cian of Class 1-C," Vance continued, pointing a finger at the trembling boy. "I hear he's quite the scholar. Let's see if his practicals match his theory."
It was a trap. Vance had seen Cian use Gravity Magic—Khem-Set—last night. Gravity magic was ancient, rare, and technically forbidden for first-years without a license. If Cian used it here, he'd be expelled for studying restricted arts. If he didn't use it, Vance would pummel him with a Force spell, and Cian had no other defense.
"Me?" Cian squeaked, standing up. "I... I'm just a theory student. I have F-rank combat potential."
"Nonsense," Vance smiled. "Come down, Cian. Don't be shy."
The class murmured. Why was the noble picking on the nerd?
Cian looked at me, panic written all over his face.
I couldn't intervene directly. I was an NPC. If I stood up and challenged Vance, I'd be breaking character so hard the system might just strike me down with lightning.
But I couldn't let Cian get expelled. He was my tech-guy.
Think, Ren. Use the tools.
I looked at Elara. She was sitting in the front row, pen poised, watching the situation with narrowed eyes. She knew something was off.
I looked at Kaelen. He was asleep with his eyes open.
I looked at the environment. The stage had a heavy slate floor. Professor Thorne was standing near a chalkboard on wheels.
[Ability: Whisper]
I focused. Not on a person this time. But on the situation.
Can I Whisper to an object? No. Only sentient minds.
I shifted my gaze to Professor Thorne. He was the authority figure. He was the variable.
Target: Professor Thorne.
Message: "This is bullying. It looks bad for the House."
I sent the thought. A sharp pinch hit my temple, lighter than the "Edit" pain but still annoying.
Thorne blinked. He frowned, looking at his nephew. He opened his mouth to intervene.
"I accept," Cian said suddenly.
I stared. What are you doing, Cian?
Cian walked down the stairs, his legs shaking, but his jaw set. He reached the stage. He stood opposite Vance.
"Brave," Vance sneered, lowering his voice so only the front rows could hear. "Cast that gravity spell again, rat. Let everyone see you're practicing forbidden arts. Or... take the hit and break a rib. Your choice."
Cian stood his ground. He clutched his wand—a standard issue stick of birch.
"Ready?" Thorne asked, looking uneasy.
"Ready," Vance said, raising his wand. The tip glowed red. He wasn't going to use a simple Force push. He was charging a Burn hex.
"Begin!"
Vance fired. A streak of fire shot across the stage.
Cian didn't cast Khem-Set. He didn't cast a shield.
He dropped to the floor.
He dropped flat on his stomach, hands over his head.
The fire bolt sailed over him.
It hit the chalkboard behind him. The chalkboard, which was on wheels, rattled from the impact. The force of the spell knocked it backward.
It rolled off the back of the stage and crashed into a stack of metal buckets filled with cleaning water (because the janitor had been lazy).
CLANG-SPLASH.
Water flooded the stage.
Vance stood there, wand extended, looking confused. "He... he ducked?"
Cian stood up slowly, dripping wet from the splashback but unharmed.
"Tactical evasion," Cian said, his voice trembling but loud. "Page 45 of Battle Basics. 'If the opponent over-commits to a high-projectile attack, reduce surface area.'"
The room was silent for a second.
Then, someone in the back started laughing. It was Ria.
Then Tybalt giggled.
Then Kaelen snorted.
Soon, half the class was laughing. Vance stood there, face turning beet red. He had tried to force a magical duel, and he had been defeated by the strategic equivalent of "stop, drop, and roll."
"Enough!" Professor Thorne shouted, though he looked relieved. "Cian... unconventional. But effective. Point to Class 1-C for... common sense."
Vance lowered his wand, his eyes burning with hatred. He looked at Cian, then shot a glare at me in the back row.
You taught him that, his eyes said.
I just leaned back in my chair and gave a tiny, invisible shrug.
After class, the hallway was a war zone of students rushing for lunch.
I waited for Cian by the lockers.
"You okay?" I asked as he approached, looking pale.
"I thought I was going to die," Cian whispered. "I almost used the gravity spell. It was right on my tongue. But then I remembered what you did with the bottle yesterday. You didn't fight Vance; you used the environment."
"You did good," I said. "He wanted you to break the rules. You didn't give him the satisfaction."
"Ren."
I turned.
Elara was standing there, blocking the path. She held her clipboard against her chest like a shield.
"Walk with me," she said.
I signaled Cian to go find Tybalt. "Catch you later."
I followed Elara to a quiet alcove near the trophy cases. She turned to face me, pushing her glasses up her nose.
"You were in the basement last night," she said.
"I told you, I was asleep."
"And yet," Elara continued, ignoring my denial, "the mana surge in the library basement was neutralized at exactly 10:00 PM. The same time a 'meteor' hit the Astronomy Tower. And this morning, Cian—who has never shown tactical aptitude—humiliates a combat mage using avoidance tactics."
She stepped closer.
"I checked the basement door this morning, Ren. The seal was tampered with. But not broken. It was picked."
She held up a gold coin.
My heart stopped.
It wasn't my coin. It was Ria's. Or a duplicate.
"Ria left this near the door," Elara said. "Sloppy. Or arrogant. But that's her problem. My problem is you."
"Why am I the problem?" I asked, keeping my face neutral.
"Because the trap in the basement wasn't just disabled," Elara whispered. "The residue... the mana signature... it was gone. Erased. No student can do that. Not even the Headmaster can erase mana completely. He can only disperse it."
She looked at me with a mix of suspicion and... fear?
"What are you, Ren?"
I looked at the trophy case behind her. A reflection of myself stared back. Average face. Grey uniform.
"I'm just a guy who hates tragedies," I said quietly.
Elara stared at me for a long time. Then, she lowered the coin.
"Vance is going to escalate," she said. "He's humiliated. A Thorne doesn't take that lightly. He won't attack you in class next time. He'll go for something you can't dodge."
"Like what?"
"The Team Selection for the Forest Expedition is Friday," Elara said. "He's petitioned the Student Council to allow 'Challenge Matches' for team leadership. He's going to challenge you."
"I'm in Class 1-C," I said. "I can't be a team leader."
"He's going to challenge Kaelen," Elara corrected. "And he's going to demand that you be on the losing team."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because if you're on a team with no leader and no healer in the Forest of Whispers... accidents happen. Monsters happen."
She turned to leave.
"Ren," she added over her shoulder. "I haven't reported you yet. Don't make me regret it."
I watched her go.
The Forest of Whispers. Arc 2's main setting. In the novel, it's a standard dungeon crawl. But if Vance was manipulating the rosters...
I felt a vibration in my pocket.
I pulled out the real gold coin Ria gave me.
Scritch.
A voice echoed in my head.
"Hey, partner. Bad news. I was snooping in the faculty lounge. I found a list."
"What list?" I thought back, hoping the coin worked both ways.
"A Hit List," Ria's voice came back, tense. "Vance didn't just petition for Challenge Matches. He hired outside help. Mercenaries are being smuggled into the forest grounds under the guise of 'maintenance'."
I gripped the coin.
This wasn't just bullying anymore. Vance was planning a murder.
[New Objective: Survive the Forest Expedition.]
[Secondary Objective: Protect the Party (Tybalt, Cian, Ria, Kaelen, Lysandra).]
[Current Story Stability: 93.5%]
"Fifty chapters?" I muttered to the empty hallway. "At this rate, I won't make it to Chapter 20."
I needed to prepare. I needed weapons. I needed strategy. And most of all, I needed to figure out what that Source Code fragment did to me, because the headache was fading, but the text in my vision was changing.
[Observer Ability Evolving...]
[New Feature Unlocked: Asset Library.]
"Asset Library?"
I focused on the text. A small window popped up. It was empty, except for one entry.
[Saved Asset: Library Archway (Status: Broken/Paused)]
[Action: Summon?]
I blinked.
I had... I had "Cut and Pasted" the archway?
A slow smile spread across my face.
If Vance wanted a trap in the forest, maybe I'd bring my own.
"Okay," I whispered. "Let's go camping."