Dying usually leaves a stain. Here, resurrection felt cleaner than laundry.
I sat on the white bench in the Resurrection Antechamber, looking down at my hands. They were pink, clean, and completely whole. My boots shone with polish. My shirt, shredded by shrapnel moments ago, was crisp and buttoned. The magic of the room had hit the factory reset button on all of us.
The sensation was disorienting. My mind still vibrated with the phantom heat of the explosion, screaming that my legs were gone, but my eyes saw a body ready for a dress parade.
The room was quiet.
Vespera Winter-Moon sat opposite me. Her robes were immaculate again, snow-white and perfectly pressed. She sat with absolute stillness, her back rigid and hands folded neatly in her lap, staring at me with the cold, dissecting gaze of a coroner looking at a particularly confusing corpse.
"You laughed," she said.
Her voice was flat. It was an icy observation.
Grace stopped checking the calibration on her pristine wrench. Finn, who had been bouncing on the balls of his feet near the door, went still.
"Excuse me?" I asked, flexing my fingers to chase away the numbness.
Vespera stared unblinking. "When you were lying there... destroyed... You smiled."
"It was adrenaline, Vespera," I said, leaning back against the cold wall. "Shock does weird things to the brain."
"No," she countered, her tone sharp. "I have seen duellists go into shock."
She leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes narrowing.
"You greeted it like an old friend you hadn't seen in years. Just what kind of life have you lived?"
I held her gaze. She looked for logic, not comfort. She was an Ice Queen trying to solve an equation that refused to balance.
"It got us the win," I said simply. "Zenobia hesitated because she thought she had killed me. That second gave Grace the window to wipe the team. Victory requires sacrifice."
She stood up, smoothing her robes. The conversation was over. She had probably filed me away under 'Dangerous Anomaly', but she stayed, so I took that as a win.
"We are legends," Finn interrupted, unable to hold it in any longer. He clutched the official match slip like a holy relic. "Guys, do you realise? The last time House Argent cleared the first round was twenty-two years ago. And we didn't just survive. We wiped a Seeded Team."
He looked at me, grinning wildly behind his goggles. "People are going to lose their minds."
Kael stood up from the corner. The giant Berserker loomed over me, looking completely refreshed by the resurrection. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a strip of dried meat. He offered it to me.
I took it.
Grace translated the sign language Kael made with his free hand. "Good death."
I nodded at the giant. "Thanks, big man."
I stood up. My body felt light, too light. I needed to ground myself.
"Let's go," I said. "I need to find an ice-cold fountain."
The walk from the locker rooms to the public concourse was usually a gauntlet. House Argent was the Academy's punching bag; usually, Argent dorm students hugged the walls to avoid being tripped or shoved.
Today, the corridor felt different.
As we pushed through the double doors, the noise of the crowd died down. A group of House Stone-Hollow students—massive guys made of granite and bad attitude—saw us coming.
They looked at the floor. They stepped back, pressing themselves against the wall to create a wide path.
It was pure, undiluted fear. They saw nobility with every reason to hold a grudge.
'Chin up,' Ronan's voice spoke in my head. 'If you look like a victim, they will remember to bite. If you look like a predator, they will stay against the wall.'
I laughed in my mind at Ronan. 'Who are you even talking to? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me.'
I prepared to do the exact opposite of what Ronan said when a random little man rudely interrupted me.
"Lord Sunstrider!"
A short man in stiff grey robes intercepted us before we could reach the exit. He held a clipboard and smelled of bureaucracy.
"I am Administrator Hynes," he said, giving a shallow, nervous bow. "On behalf of the Board, I wish to congratulate you on your... emphatic victory."
"What do you want?" I asked, keeping my pace. He scrambled to keep up, his shoes squeaking on the polished stone.
"The Board feels that, given your confirmed lineage, your current accommodations are... inappropriate. It is untoward for a High Lord to reside in the Bunker."
He smiled, a thin, tight expression.
"We have prepared a suite in the Spire. Top floor. A private, fully equipped artificer's workshop, servants, and—crucially—access to the Restricted Private Libraries. And if you play your cards right, you could even get access to the Academy's exclusive Aether Concentration Hall. I'm not sure if you know this, but it's a room that taps directly into the area's natural leylines. It is said to increase meditation by up to three per cent."
I stopped.
The Administrator leaned in, sensing hesitation. "Furthermore, as a gesture of goodwill, the Academy is prepared to absorb any of your current outstanding debt and future tuition. Consider it... an investment in your potential."
I looked at the Administrator. Then I looked back at my squad.
Grace watched me, her face impassive, spinning the wrench in her hand. Finn looked anxious, chewing his lip. Vespera... wait, where did Vespera go?
Anyway, they waited to see if the "Noble" would abandon them for a warm bed and free luxuries.
'Your choice, Murph,' Ronan said.
'Ronan,' I thought. 'There is no way I'm moving down the hall from Lysander, thank you very much.'
'True...' Ronan agreed, with my tactical sensibilities. 'Fine. Reject it. But it hurts me physically to say no to a three per cent increase in aether concentration,' Ronan said sarcastically.
"Tell the Board I like my view," I said to the Administrator, my voice loud enough for the students in the hall to hear. "And tell them I pay my own debts. I don't like owing favours to people I can't punch in the face."
I turned my back on him. "Come on, Squad."
I walked away. Behind me, I heard Grace let out a breath she had been holding.
"Did you see Hynes' face?" Finn whispered, scampering to catch up. "You just rejected the Spire. I think that makes you the first student in history to choose the Bunker on purpose."
"It builds character, besides a general should stick with his troops," I muttered.
"It builds mould," Grace corrected, but for the first time all day, she was smiling.
We made it as far as the concession stands before the next ambush hit.
"My Lord! A moment!"
Professor Thaddeus Vex emerged from the crowd, moving with a speed that belied his stiff robes. He was sweating, his face flushed. He wore a smile applied with grease. He knew he had narrowly escaped a charge of Treason for demanding a Royal Heir submit to a Soul Tapping, and the terror of potential execution motivated him to pivot from 'Inquisitor' to 'Sycophant' in record time.
'Murphy,' Ronan warned instantly. 'Listen to me. Vex could be a valuable ally. If we want to learn more about ancient syntax, we might need him. Be polite. Be diplomatic. We could use him.'
I suppressed a groan. 'Fine. Charm mode activated.'
"Professor," I said, stopping and forcing a polite, noble smile. "Enjoying the matches?"
"Oh, splendid, my Lord! Magnificent!" Vex wrung his hands, bobbing his head. "A masterful display of... unorthodox tactics. I merely wished to apologise for the earlier unpleasantness. Protocol, you understand? We must be vigilant against fraud. But had I known..."
"Water under the bridge," I lied smoothly.
Vex stepped closer, physically placing himself between my team and me. He turned his back on Finn and Grace, treating them like furniture.
"Now that your pedigree is known, we must discuss your future curriculum," Vex lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You really shouldn't be wasting your time with... these sorts of people. Charity is noble, Lord Sunstrider, but you need peers of your own station. I have a bottle of Aurelian Wine in my office—"
He reached out and grabbed my sleeve, his fingers digging into the fabric as he tried to steer me away from my friends.
"Professor," I said, my voice hardening. "Let go of my arm."
Vex held on. He leaned in, his eyes darting toward Finn with pure disgust. "I insist, my Lord. You don't want to be seen with the help. It confuses the hierarchy."
A sharp, cold snap clicked in my chest. It was the same feeling I got when I saw the slaves in the Lower Market.
I leaned in close. The polite smile vanished. The dead eyes appeared.
"I tried to be nice," I whispered. "I really did. But you're making it very hard to not punch you in the throat. Now. Fuck... Off..."
Vex recoiled as if I'd slapped him. He paled, sputtered, released my arm, and then scurried away into the crowd like a cockroach exposed to sudden light.
'Well...' Ronan sighed in my head. 'You tried. I saw you try. I suppose that counts.'
'I really did, Ronan. I really did!'
'I know, buddy. Chin up, we'll get 'em next time.'
We stood in the public concourse, joining the throng of students watching the massive, magical screens floating above the central atrium.
"Seed One: House Aurelius versus House Stone-Hollow."
The announcer's voice boomed through the hall. The screen flickered to life, showing the Rift interior.
The arena was a jagged wasteland of rock and trenches. House Stone-Hollow, led by Magnus Flint, had built a masterpiece of defensive earth magic. They were entrenched in bunkers of reinforced granite, impossible to breach with standard spells. They had turned the map into a turtle shell.
"They're dug in deep," Grace noted, analysing the geometry. "Flint is smart. He knows he can't win a duel, so he's forcing a stalemate. He'll drain Lysander's mana pool with attrition."
"Look at Lysander," Finn whispered.
On the screen, Lysander Thorne walked into the centre of the arena. He wore no helmet. He held no weapon. He looked bored.
He stopped in the middle of the rocky expanse, surrounded by enemy bunkers. He ignored the concept of cover.
He raised one hand to the sky.
"Solar Sovereign: Orbital Lens."
The air in the Rift shimmered. High above the arena, far out of range of any earth spell, a construct of hard light formed. It looked like a massive magnifying glass, suspended in the sky.
It caught the artificial sun's rays and focused them.
A beam of blinding white heat, ten feet wide, slammed down from the heavens.
The thickness of the walls became irrelevant. The light came from above.
The beam erased the battlefield. The granite bunkers turned to slag instantly. We couldn't hear the screams through the screen, but we saw the Stone-Hollow mages scrambling out of their melting holes, their armour glowing red-hot, frantically tapping out.
This was an orbital strike masquerading as a duel.
The camera zoomed in on Lysander. He walked through the molten battlefield, stepping over the groaning bodies of his enemies without looking down. He wasn't just winning a game. He was sending a message to everyone watching: I am the Sun. You are just kindling.
"Okay," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "That's going to be hard to beat..."
The celebration in the concourse was deafening. House Aurelius supporters chanted Lysander's name.
I needed air. I needed quiet.
"I'll catch up with you guys," I told the squad. "I need a minute."
I slipped away from the party and stepped out onto the high balcony overlooking the campus. The sun was setting, painting the city of Lastlight in bruised purples and golds.
I leaned against the stone railing, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air. I reached into my inventory for water and splashed some on my face, a ritual I'd kept for a thousand years to wash away the feeling of death.
Then, the world stopped.
It hit with a sudden, absolute cessation of will.
The distant roar of the crowd cut out instantly.
I turned around. A servant who had been pouring wine on the terrace behind me froze. His hand stopped moving, but physics hadn't; the wine continued to glug out of the bottle, splashing over his boots and spreading across the floor. He stood with empty, vacant eyes.
'Ronan?' I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs. 'What just happened?'
'It's him…' Ronan's voice was tight with alarm. 'Don't move, Murphy. And for the love of the Gods, don't think.'
'What?'
'It's a White Core Domain. A Mind-Stop. He is reading the surface thoughts of every living thing in the city. If you think about anything important, he will hear it.'
Panic, naturally, is the enemy of silence.
'Don't think,' I told myself.
The Matron visited us.
'Stop it!' Ronan hissed.
Ludo gave me the Inventory. I'm from Earth. My name isn't Sunstrider.
'Murphy, shut up!'
I have clones hiding in the basement.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hum a song, trying to think of brick walls, rubber chickens, anything but the catalogue of secrets currently scrolling through my brain like a marquee.
'Who is doing this?' I screamed internally. 'Is he strong?'
'He is the Emperor,' Ronan whispered, his mental voice trembling. 'And yes, he is strong.'
I turned back to the railing.
Sitting there, legs dangling over the hundred-foot drop, was a boy.
He looked about twelve years old. He wore oversized white robes. He had messy dark hair and wide, silver eyes that looked far too old for his face.
He smoked a long, carved weirwood pipe. He took a slow drag, the blue smoke hanging perfectly still in the frozen air.
'It's him,' Ronan whispered. 'Vaelos.'
The Emperor turned his head. He looked at me.
I held my breath, waiting for the execution. I waited for him to recite my secrets back to me.
Vaelos frowned. He tapped the side of his head.
"You are a quiet spot in a loud room, child," Vaelos said. His voice was a child's voice, but at the same time, it was the voice of a mountain—deep, resonant, and heavy with two centuries of life. "I tried to read you. But you are just... static. Like a mirror painted black."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
'He can't read me?' I thought, stunned.
'Ohh thank the gods!' Ronan sighed, the relief palpable in his voice.
'Hmmm, I must be special somehow. Wait, did he just say that to let me lower my guard?!' I thought to myself.
Vaelos hopped down from the railing. He moved with a grace that was unnatural, soundless. He walked toward me, the pressure in the air increasing with every step until the stone railing behind him cracked.
"The word came down. The Soul Tapping confirmed that the House Sunstrider patriarch had returned. But I don't see him anywhere in the city," Vaelos said, his silver eyes boring into mine. "So I ask you. Master Sunstrider, where is my brother?"