The world did not attack Liam the way he expected.
It adjusted.
That realization came three days after the visitor vanished beyond the academy wards—three days of silence, of normal lectures and controlled training, of pretending that nothing fundamental had changed.
Death Sense remained quiet.
Too quiet.
That was the problem.
Something had shifted beneath reality, like a loaded spring locked in place.
Arvane's Second Lesson
"You are beginning to understand," Arvane said, walking beside Liam through a corridor that did not exist on any academy map.
The walls were smooth stone one moment, fractured crystal the next. Space folded subtly, refusing to behave.
"Understand what?" Liam asked.
"That the world does not fear strength," Arvane replied calmly. "It fears inevitability."
They stopped before a sealed door engraved with symbols so old they barely resembled runes. They seemed less carved and more remembered.
"Anchors," Arvane continued, "exist to stabilize reality when higher-tier entities stir."
Liam's Red Core pulsed faintly, responding to the word.
"I'm a failsafe," Liam said.
"A correction mechanism," Arvane agreed. "Not chosen. Triggered."
The door opened.
The Chamber of Fractures
Inside was a vast hall filled with floating shards of crystal, each containing flickering scenes—cities burning, skies breaking, gods falling.
Possible futures.
"Every Anchor eventually faces this," Arvane said. "The price."
One shard drifted closer on its own.
It showed Liam standing alone amid ruins, surrounded by countless undead. The sky was dead. The land silent.
The Red Core burned painfully.
Liam looked away. "I won't become that."
Arvane watched him carefully. "Good. But conviction alone is insufficient."
System Restriction: Anchor Protocol
Without warning, the air distorted.
Words burned into existence.
[Anchor-Class Protocol Initiated] Restriction: Experience Gain Suppressed Condition: Stability Assessment Required
The system had acted.
The pressure wasn't physical—but absolute.
The system was afraid.
"They're limiting me," Liam said, voice tight.
"They always do," Arvane replied calmly. "Anchors break systems if left unchecked."
Liam stopped walking.
Slowly, he turned.
"…System?" he asked.
Arvane halted as well.
The corridor darkened—not with shadow, but with absence.
"How do you know about the system?" Liam demanded. "You talk like it's not something only I see."
For the first time, Arvane did not answer immediately.
"So," he said at last, voice quieter, "it speaks to you clearly already."
Liam's Red Core throbbed once—sharp, defensive.
Arvane lifted a hand.
Reality peeled away.
The Truth About the System
They stood in an empty space of suspended light—neither inside nor outside the world.
"A blind spot," Arvane said. "The system doesn't observe closely here."
Liam's heart pounded. "Tell me."
Arvane nodded.
"The system is not a god. It is not alive—not truly."
Symbols flickered briefly—levels, skills, progress bars—then dissolved.
"It is a framework. A regulatory construct imposed after reality grew… excessive."
"Excessive?" Liam echoed.
"Too many ascensions. Too many concepts gaining will. Cause and effect fractured under unchecked growth," Arvane said. "So the system compressed infinity into something manageable."
"By turning fate into numbers," Liam said bitterly.
"By turning fate into math," Arvane corrected.
Liam clenched his fists. "Then why do only I see it like this?"
"Because you are not inside it," Arvane said simply.
The words struck harder than any vision.
"Everyone interacts with the system—mages, students, kings, monsters," Arvane continued. "But Anchors are bound to reality itself, not the system's authority."
He met Liam's gaze.
"The system does not command you."
"It negotiates."
Liam swallowed. "Then what are Anchors really?"
"Inevitability given form," Arvane said. "Not heroes. Not destroyers. Corrections."
"Capable of what?" Liam asked quietly.
Arvane did not soften his answer.
"Overwriting probability."
The Red Core pulsed.
"Invalidating divine authority."
Silence stretched.
"And if unchecked," Arvane finished, "turning worlds into graves."
The empty space folded back into the corridor.
"So yes," Arvane said as they resumed walking, "the system is limiting you."
"Not because you are weak."
"But because you are dangerous."
Liam exhaled slowly. "Then how do I grow?"
Arvane smiled faintly.
"You learn."
The Hidden Faction Revealed
That night, the contact returned.
This time—
Inside the academy.
No alarms. No resistance.
Three figures stepped from shadow into Liam's room.
No uniforms. No insignias.
Only rings etched with a broken circle.
"We are the Continuum Watch," one said. "We observe Anchors across eras."
"Most fail," another added.
"Most become monsters," the third said calmly.
The undead legion mage manifested instantly, mana flaring.
Arvane appeared beside Liam.
Neither attacked.
"What do you want?" Liam asked.
"A contract," the first Watcher said.
The Contract
"We will not interfere with your growth."
"We will not restrict your choices."
"We will not save you."
A pause.
"But when calamity begins," the second said, "you will act."
"And if I refuse?" Liam asked.
The third Watcher smiled slightly.
"Then the world will replace you."
Death Sense surged—not as threat, but as truth.
Liam looked at Arvane.
The principal nodded once. "They speak honestly."
"I won't sign chains," Liam said. "But I'll accept responsibility."
The Watchers studied him.
"Acceptable."
The contract dissolved.
A New Kind of Growth
The system pulsed again.
Not a restriction.
A shift.
[Growth Path Updated] Standard Experience: Limited Anchor Growth: Conditional Unlock
Arvane exhaled slowly. "Congratulations."
"For what?"
"You've survived the part where most Anchors are killed quietly."
Liam flexed his fingers.
The Red Core felt denser.
Not stronger.
More real.
The World Responds
Far beyond the academy—
A dungeon collapsed without warning.
A god's chain cracked.
Deep in the void, something stirred.
"Good…" the Demon God murmured.
"The Anchor learns."
The Anomaly
The anomaly began with a pause.
Not an explosion.
Not a warning.
Not fear.
Just a moment where the world forgot to continue.
Death Sense stuttered.
"Ah," Arvane said softly. "There it is."
Every system interface across the academy flickered.
[Global System Notice] —ANOMALY DETECTED— Classification: Minor Calamity Seed
The message vanished.
"The world blinked," Liam said.
"Which means something entered it," Arvane replied.
Anchor Resonance
Pain lanced through Liam's skull.
Death Sense expanded outward.
For the first time, it showed presence.
A second pulse answered.
Equal.
Different.
"Another Anchor," Liam breathed.
"Yes," Arvane said grimly.
Elsewhere — A City That Shouldn't Exist
The city appeared overnight.
No history.
No origin.
At its center stood a silver-haired young man.
A Blue Core burned in his chest.
Cold. Perfect. Orderly.
[Anchor-Class Entity Confirmed] Designation: Stabilizer-Type Directive: Containment
"So this is the era," he murmured.
Two Anchors
Back at the academy, Liam clenched his fist.
"They'll pit us against each other."
"Yes," Arvane said. "Stabilizer versus Calamity."
"I'm not a calamity."
"That depends on who survives."
[Anchor Conflict Probability Increased] Recommended Action: Forced Engagement
Liam laughed quietly.
"So it's afraid."
"Then teach me," he said, eyes sharp, "how to win without becoming what they expect."
Arvane smiled—slow and dangerous.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Closing
Two Anchors.
One era.
A system losing control.
Deep in the void, chains strained.
"Yes…" the Demon God whispered.
"Now this will be entertaining."
And for the first time since the beginning—
The world prepared for conflict not written in its code.