The Old Castle
Diana's POV
The painting had become a doorway.
The First Wizard's portrait—painted in blood and shadow on canvas that looked older than kingdoms—had simply opened, as if reality were nothing more than a curtain to be drawn aside.
And through that impossible threshold stepped a man.
He was tall.
Perhaps six feet, with a build that spoke of lean strength rather than bulk. He appeared to be in his thirties, with sharp, elegant features that would have been at home in any royal court.
His hair was black as midnight, tied back in a traditional warrior's knot.
His skin was pale—not sickly, but the pallor of someone who spent more time with books and blades than sunshine.
He wore robes of deep crimson and black, cut in a style Diana recognized from ancient paintings in her family's vault. The style of clothing worn three hundred years ago, before the modern kingdoms had even formed.
And at his side, in a scabbard of dark wood and silver—
A sword.
Diana's breath caught.
She knew that scabbard.
Had seen it in paintings. In tapestries. In the throne room of her ancestors.
It can't be.
The man's eyes—dark as obsidian—swept across the room, taking in the skeletal servant, the ancient stones, and finally settling on Diana and her brother.
He smiled.
It was a warm smile. Kind, even.
Completely at odds with the impossible wrongness of everything around them.
"How fascinating," he said, his voice smooth and cultured. "The blood still runs true after all these generations."
He took a step forward.
Diana's hand moved instinctively toward her blade—but she still couldn't summon it. Whatever force existed in this place continued to suppress her magic.
The man's eyes tracked the movement and his smile widened.
"There's no need for that, child. I mean you no harm." He paused. "In fact, I believe we're family."
Diana's mind raced.
Family?
This man who stepped through a painting?
Who exists in a place that shouldn't be real?
The man's gaze shifted to Diana's side—to the empty scabbard at her hip where her blade of light would manifest when called.
His expression changed.
Not surprise. Not shock.
Recognition.
"It's been three hundred years," he said softly, almost reverently, "since I last saw my sword. Murakami. The Light That Cuts Darkness."
He looked back at Diana.
"And here she is. In your hands. Still fighting. Still blazing."
Diana's blood turned to ice.
Murakami.
The name of her blade.
A name passed down through House Koga for generations.
A name given to the sword by its first wielder—
The founder of their house.
The first Koga to become a wizard.
The ancestor who died three hundred years ago.
Her legs moved before her mind could process.
Diana dropped to one knee, her head bowing low, her fist pressed to her heart in the ancient gesture of fealty reserved only for direct bloodline elders.
"Great Ancestor," she breathed, her voice trembling. "It is an honor beyond measure to stand in your presence."
Beside her, the Prince's eyes went wide.
Three hundred years.
This man has been dead for three centuries.
But he's standing here. Breathing. Speaking.
The Prince dropped to his knee as well, mirroring his sister's formal bow.
"Great Ancestor," he echoed. "We are unworthy of this audience."
The man—their ancestor—laughed.
It was a genuine sound. Pleased.
"Rise, children. Rise. There's no need for such formality among family."
He gestured, and some invisible force gently pulled them to their feet.
"My name was Takeshi Koga. Though I suppose in your time, I'm simply... a story. A legend your family tells to inspire the young."
He walked closer, studying Diana's face with intense interest.
"You have your great-great-grandmother's eyes. She was fierce too. Stubborn. Brilliant."
His gaze shifted to the Prince.
"And you carry the cheekbones of the main line. Unmistakable."
Diana's mind struggled to process this.
"Great Ancestor Takeshi... how is this possible? You died during the Wizard Purge. The histories say you fell defending our house from—"
"From the Wizard Council?" Takeshi's expression darkened. "Yes. That's what the histories would say, wouldn't they?"
He turned, walking toward the massive painting of the First Wizard.
"The truth is more complicated. And far more dangerous."
The skeletal servant who had brought them here remained in the shadows, unmoving, barely breathing.
Waiting.
Takeshi stood before the painting, his back to the siblings.
"Three hundred years ago, I made a choice. I discovered something the Wizard Council wanted buried. A secret about the nature of magic itself. About where it truly comes from."
He reached out, his fingers hovering inches from the painted canvas.
"They sent their hunters. Powerful wizards with one mission—silence me and everyone I'd told. I could have run. Could have hidden. Could have let House Koga fade into obscurity to avoid their wrath."
He looked back at Diana.
"But I didn't. Instead, I made a bargain. With someone far older and far more powerful than the Council."
His hand touched the painting.
"I pledged my service to the Master. In exchange, He protected our bloodline. Ensured that House Koga would survive. Would thrive. Would continue to produce children with the gift."
"The gift?" the Prince asked, his voice tight.
Takeshi smiled again, but this time it carried a weight that made Diana's skin crawl.
"The ability to wield Murakami. To manifest a blade of pure light—pure truth—in a world built on lies and shadows."
He gestured at Diana.
"Only those of true Koga blood, with the strongest connection to our ancestral magic, can summon that blade. It chooses its wielder. And it has chosen you."
Diana's hand went to her side, to the empty space where Murakami would appear.
"I... I don't understand. What does the Master want with us?"
Takeshi's expression grew serious.
"The Master has watched your family for three centuries. Waiting. Testing each generation. And now—finally—the blood has produced what He's been waiting for."
He walked toward Diana until he stood directly before her.
"A Koga strong enough to survive what comes next."
Diana's heart pounded.
"What comes next?"
Takeshi reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.
It was solid. Real. Warm.
Not the touch of a ghost or a memory.
"Training. True training. Not the sanitized, weakened version they teach at the Academy. The Master has agreed to teach you personally. To show you what Murakami was truly meant to be."
His grip tightened slightly.
"You and your brother both. Your bloodlines will be awakened. Your potential... unlimited."
The Prince stepped forward.
"And if we refuse?"
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Takeshi's smile never wavered, but his eyes turned cold.
"Then House Koga ends. The protection the Master has provided for three hundred years is withdrawn. And the Wizard Council—who still remembers what I discovered—will finally move against your family."
He released Diana's shoulder.
"The choice is yours, children. Serve the Master and become what you were always meant to be. Or return to the Academy... and watch everything your ancestors built turn to ash."
Silence fell across the ancient castle.
Diana looked at her brother.
The Prince looked back.
In that shared glance, a thousand conversations happened in an instant.
We're trapped.
This isn't a choice—it's a cage.
But what choice do we have?
Finally, Diana straightened her shoulders and met Takeshi's gaze.
"We will hear what the Master has to say."
Takeshi's warm smile returned.
"Excellent. He'll be so pleased."
He turned toward the painting.
"Come. He's waiting."
And he walked into the canvas as if stepping through a doorway, vanishing into the painted image of the First Wizard.
The skeletal servant gestured silently.
Follow.
Diana took a deep breath.
Gripped her brother's hand.
And together, they stepped into the painting.
The School of RunesEthan's POV"ETHAN!"
The shout came from across the massive hall.
Ethan turned to see Yama pushing through the crowd, his silver eyes bright with relief.
"You made it!" Yama grinned, grabbing Ethan's shoulder. "I wasn't sure which school you'd end up in—wait."
He looked at the paper in Ethan's hand.
His grin widened.
"School of Runes? Really? With a space affinity?"
Ethan shrugged, trying to appear casual.
"I convinced Roma to let me choose."
"You convinced her?" Yama laughed. "You manipulated her, you mean. I saw that innocent student act you were putting on."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." Yama's expression turned more serious. "You're going after the beacon, aren't you? That's why you chose Victor's school."
Ethan glanced around to make sure no one was listening.
"What gave it away?"
"The fact that you looked like someone stole your soul when Victor took it." Yama lowered his voice. "That thing is important to you. More important than you've told me."
If you only knew.
If you knew what it could do to Earth—to your grandmother's world, wherever it was—you'd understand.
"What about you?" Ethan changed the subject. "What's your affinity?"
Yama held up his own paper.
"Fire. Standard elemental affinity. Nothing fancy like space magic." He said the last part in a mocking whisper.
"So School of Elements?"
"Yep. Dean Sorek's domain. Should be interesting." Yama's grin returned. "At least I won't have to deal with creatures that want to eat me. That's your problem now."
"Comforting."
"I try."
A servant's voice rang out across the hall.
"All students assigned to the School of Runes! Gather at the western gate! Departure in ten minutes!"
Ethan and Yama looked at each other.
"Guess this is where we split up," Yama said.
"For now."
Yama gripped Ethan's shoulder again, his expression turning serious.
"Be careful in there. The School of Runes... I've heard stories. They don't treat creatures as animals to study. They treat them as tools. And they're not gentle about it."
"I'll manage."
"I know you will." Yama's silver eyes seemed to glow slightly. "Your soul is still peaceful. Still determined. Whatever you're planning... I hope you succeed."
He released Ethan's shoulder and stepped back.
"Don't die, otherworlder."
"Same to you, half-blood."
They shared a brief smile.
Then Yama disappeared into the crowd, heading toward a different gate.
Ethan made his way to the western side of the hall.
A group of perhaps sixty students had gathered—all holding papers marked with the purple rune symbol of their assigned school.
Most looked nervous.
Some looked excited.
One girl was crying.
[OBSERVATION: GENERAL ANXIETY LEVELS ELEVATED. SCHOOL OF RUNES REPUTATION APPEARS NEGATIVE AMONG STUDENT POPULATION.]
Great.
I chose the school everyone's afraid of.
Perfect infiltration strategy.
A massive gate stood before them.
It hadn't been there before—Ethan was certain of it. The wall had been blank stone.
But now, a doorway twice the height of a normal door dominated the space, carved from what looked like a single piece of black crystal.
Runes covered every centimeter of its surface—glowing purple lines that writhed and shifted like living things.
And across the top, in script that NEXUS somehow translated automatically:
"SCHOOL OF RUNES: WHERE REALITY BENDS TO WILL"
Roma appeared beside the gate, her cheerful smile firmly in place.
"Welcome, my new students! Beyond this gate lies your new home for the foreseeable future. The School of Runes is the oldest of the three schools, founded by Dean Victor himself over two hundred years ago."
Someone raised their hand. "What should we expect inside?"
Roma's smile widened.
"Wonders. Horrors. Knowledge that will remake how you understand existence itself."
She gestured at the gate.
"The School exists in a pocket dimension—separate from normal space. Time flows differently there. What feels like a day inside might be hours outside. Or vice versa. Don't worry—you'll get used to the disorientation."
She placed her hand on the gate.
The runes blazed brighter, and the black crystal became translucent, revealing what lay beyond.
Ethan's breath caught.
Beyond the GateIt was impossible.
The gate—standing in an indoor hall—opened onto an outdoor landscape.
Not a courtyard. Not a garden.
A wilderness.
[ALERT: VISUAL INPUT DOES NOT MATCH SPATIAL LOGIC. DETECTING SEVERE DIMENSIONAL ANOMALY. RECOMMEND EXTREME CAUTION.]
Through the gate, Ethan could see:
Trees.
Massive trees that dwarfed even the Wall of Giants.
Each trunk was easily a hundred meters wide, rising so high their tops disappeared into clouds. Their bark was covered in the same glowing purple runes that marked the gate.
And between the trees—
Movement.
Something flew past.
Enormous. Winged. Reptilian.
A dragon.
No—not quite a dragon.
Something that resembled the dragons from Earth's mythology, but wrong. Too many eyes. Too many joints in its wings. A tail that split into three separate ends.
[BIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS: IMPOSSIBLE. CREATURE DEFIES KNOWN EVOLUTIONARY PRINCIPLES. CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWN.]
We're looking at something that shouldn't exist.
Something created. Or summoned. Or both.
The gate swung fully open.
Roma gestured cheerfully.
"Welcome to the Primordial Preserve! Go on, don't be shy! Step through!"
No one moved.
"I said MOVE!" Roma's cheerful tone didn't change, but something in her voice made it very clear this wasn't a suggestion.
The students shuffled forward.
Ethan stepped through the gate—
The Preserve—and the world changed.
The temperature spiked twenty degrees.
The air became thick, humid, carrying scents of vegetation and something else. Something primal.
The sound hit next—ambient noise from a jungle that had never known silence. Distant roars. Closer chittering. The rustle of things moving through undergrowth.
And the size of everything—
It was like stepping into Earth's Jurassic period, but worse.
The trees weren't just large. They were architectural. Living buildings that stretched toward a sky that wasn't quite the right color—more purple than blue, with three suns instead of two.
[ATMOSPHERIC ANALYSIS: OXYGEN CONTENT 27% (EARTH STANDARD: 21%). GRAVITY: 0.95 TERA STANDARD. TEMPERATURE: 32°C. HUMIDITY: 78%. SPATIAL COORDINATES: ERROR. UNABLE TO DETERMINE LOCATION RELATIVE TO ENTRY POINT.]
We're not just in a different place.
We're in a different dimension entirely.
"STUDENTS!"
A voice boomed across the clearing where the gate had deposited them.
Ethan turned.
A man stood beside what could only be described as a living mountain.
The creature was quadrupedal, easily thirty meters long and fifteen meters tall at the shoulder. Its skin was thick and plated like armor, colored in mottled browns and greens. Its head was enormous, with eyes the size of wagon wheels that regarded the students with unsettling intelligence.
And on its back—
A platform. Wooden. Large enough for dozens of people. With railings and benches.
A bus.
They turned a prehistoric monster into a bus.
The man waved them over.
He was massive himself—nearly seven feet tall, built like a wall of muscle, with a scarred face and arms covered in runic tattoos that glowed faintly.
"I'm Instructor Gareth!" he shouted. "I'll be your guide to the Academy! Now GET ON THE CARRIER BEAST before something decides you look like lunch!"
As if on cue, something screamed in the distance.
Something large.
Something hungry.
The students scrambled toward the creature.
A rope ladder hung from the platform on its back.
Ethan climbed.
The creature's skin was warm beneath his hands. He could feel it breathing—slow, deep breaths that made the entire platform shift rhythmically.
[CREATURE ANALYSIS: ESTIMATED MASS: 400-500 TONS. HEART RATE: 12 BPM. BODY TEMPERATURE: 38°C. CLASSIFICATION: GENETICALLY MODIFIED OR MAGICALLY ENHANCED HERBIVORE. DOCILE UNLESS THREATENED.]
At least it won't eat us.
Probably.
All sixty students crowded onto the platform.
It was spacious enough—clearly designed for this purpose—but Ethan noticed the railings were reinforced and the benches bolted down.
They expect rough rides.
Instructor Gareth climbed up last, moving with practiced ease despite his size.
"Hold on!" he called. "The Carrier doesn't move fast, but the terrain gets rough!"
He slapped the creature's plated head affectionately.
"Move, Bertha! Take us home!"
The creature—Bertha—let out a low rumble and began to walk.
The JourneyThe Preserve was alive.
Not metaphorically. Actually alive.
As Bertha lumbered through the jungle, Ethan saw things that made his enhanced mind struggle to categorize:
A tree that moved, its roots pulling free of the soil to relocate to better sunlightA flock of birds—no, not birds, something with feathers and scales simultaneously—that flew in geometric patterns too perfect to be naturalA pool of water that glowed purple and seemed to flow upward into the air before raining back downSomething serpentine and massive that coiled around a runed tree, its body covered in crystalline growths that pulsed with inner light[BIOLOGICAL DATABASE OVERWHELMED. UNABLE TO CLASSIFY 94% OF OBSERVED SPECIES. RECOMMEND UPDATING THREAT ASSESSMENT PROTOCOLS.]
"Amazing, isn't it?"
Instructor Gareth stood at the platform's edge, grinning like a proud parent.
"The Primordial Preserve is Dean Victor's life work. Every creature here has been modified, enhanced, or created from scratch using rune magic."
He pointed at the flying reptilian thing Ethan had seen earlier.
"That's a Wyrm-class construct. Dean Victor found a regular lizard and rewrote its genetic code using reality runes. Took him three years. Now it can breathe three types of elemental energy and regenerate from nearly any wound."
A student raised a shaky hand. "Are we... safe?"
Gareth laughed.
"Safe? No. Protected? Yes. Bertha here has runes carved into her bones that mark her as Academy property. Nothing in the Preserve will attack her. Us?" He shrugged. "Stay on the platform and you're fine. Fall off..."
He made a throat-cutting gesture.
Several students went pale.
The Academy came into view.
The School of RunesIt rose from the jungle like something from a fever dream.
Not a building.
Buildings.
Dozens of them, interconnected by bridges and walkways that defied gravity, arranged in a spiral pattern that seemed to draw the eye upward and inward simultaneously.
The architecture was ancient—stone that looked like it had stood for millennia, worn smooth by time and weather.
But every surface was covered in runes.
Not carved. Not painted.
Growing.
The runes were alive.
They crawled across the stone like luminescent vines, constantly moving, rearranging themselves into new patterns. Purple light pulsed through them like blood through veins.
And at the center of the spiral—
A tower.
Tall. Impossibly tall.
It rose at least a kilometer into the purple sky, its peak vanishing into clouds that swirled around it in a perfect vortex.
[ARCHITECTURAL ANALYSIS: STRUCTURE VIOLATES KNOWN ENGINEERING PRINCIPLES. GRAVITATIONAL CENTER OF MASS SUGGESTS BUILDING SHOULD COLLAPSE. CONCLUSION: MAGICAL REINFORCEMENT MAINTAINING STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY.]
Bertha came to a stop at a massive gate—similar to the one they'd entered through, but larger, older, covered in so many layers of runes they seemed three-dimensional.
"Welcome," Instructor Gareth said, his voice carrying new weight, "to the School of Runes."
He gestured at the spiral complex.
"Founded two hundred and seventeen years ago by Dean Victor. Here, we study the fundamental language of creation. The runes that underlie reality itself."
He turned to face the students.
"In other schools, they teach you to manipulate what exists. Fire. Water. Luck. Fate. All well and good."
His tattooed arms began to glow brighter.
"But we? We learn to rewrite what exists. To tell reality 'no, you work this way now.'"
He pointed at the creatures around them.
"Every beast in this Preserve was created or modified through rune magic. We didn't breed them. We didn't train them. We rewrote their fundamental nature."
He pointed at the floating walkways.
"Those bridges don't fall because we told gravity it doesn't apply there."
He pointed at the living runes on the buildings.
"Those symbols aren't decorative. They're active spells—constantly running, constantly maintaining, constantly reshaping the space around them."
He smiled, and it wasn't entirely friendly.
"You chose the School of Runes. That means you've chosen to learn the most dangerous magic in existence. Magic that can create gods or shatter worlds."
The gate opened.
Beyond it, Ethan could see corridors lined with cages. Movement in the shadows. Eyes watching.
So many eyes.
[DETECTING MULTIPLE BIOLOGICAL SIGNATURES. COUNT EXCEEDING 1000. THREAT LEVEL: VARIABLE. RECOMMEND EXTREME CAUTION.]
"Your first lesson," Gareth said, "starts tomorrow at dawn. Creature Study 101. You'll each be assigned a beast to work with. Study it. Learn its nature. And then..."
His grin widened.
"...you'll learn to change its nature. Using runes."
He gestured them forward.
"For tonight, get settled in your dormitories. Rest. Eat. Prepare yourselves."
He paused as the first students began filing through the gate.
"Oh, and one more thing—try not to wander off alone. Some of our older students' projects have... escape occasionally. And they're always hungry."
Ethan walked through the gate into the School of Runes.
The corridor beyond was lined with cages.
Inside each one—
Impossibilities.
A creature made entirely of living crystal.
Something with too many limbs and eyes that tracked him as he passed.
A beast that seemed to flicker in and out of existence.
And from somewhere deep in the complex, he could hear it—
A roar.
Deep. Ancient. Wrong.
The sound of something that should not exist, screaming its defiance at the universe.
This is where I have to survive.
This is where I have to learn magic.
This is where I have to find the beacon.
Ethan's hand went to the necklace hidden beneath his shirt.
And I have to do it all while pretending to be something I'm not.
In a school dedicated to rewriting reality itself.
The roar came again, closer this time.
Several students whimpered.
Ethan just walked deeper into the school.
I've survived worse.
Probably.