The echoes of the duel still haunted the academy. The arena stood cracked and silent, its once-bright barriers now flickering with broken light. Debris littered the grounds, and whispers filled every hallway. Some called it victory. Others called it heresy, but everyone agreed on one thing, nothing would ever be the same again.By morning, the academy had fallen into chaos. Factions accused each other of sabotage. Teachers argued over security protocols. Students gathered in groups, their eyes full of awe or fear whenever Oliver passed, and above all of it, one name echoed louder than the rest: Sikes Wilbert.The so-called Faction King had awakened from his defeat, and with his first breath, he demanded retribution.“He’s lost it,” Billy muttered as he and Oliver pushed through a crowd of students near the main courtyard. “He’s telling everyone the fights don’t count. That you cheated with some secret System link.”Oliver didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed ahead, calm but distant.

The arena was silent long after the storm passed. Wind whispered across the shattered floor. The once-golden banners of the Iron Banner faction lay in ruins, trampled and torn. The scent of smoke and burned mana hung heavy in the air.Oliver stood at the center, surrounded by fragments of stone and steel. His uniform was ripped, his hands bleeding, but his eyes were clear.The crowd had already gone. The cheers had faded into whispers, and the whispers into fear. He had won, but he didn’t feel like a victor.Later, the academy’s infirmary was full of the injured. Students limped through the corridors, wrapped in bandages, whispering about the duel that had nearly destroyed everything.Some called it justice. Others called it madness. Oliver sat on the edge of his hospital bed, head lowered, a dull ache pulsing in his arm. Machines around him hummed quietly, measuring his vitals. His System display flickered faintly across his vision, repeating the same lines over and over:[Quest Co

The night after the duel, Oliver didn’t dream, he fell. He fell through the light. Endless corridors of shifting color stretched out before him, walls made of humming glass and static air. Each breath echoed. Each sound folded back into silence. He walked forward without moving. The floor rippled like water under his feet. Above him, lines of white code scrolled endlessly, each symbol pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat, then came the voice.Calm. Smooth. Not mechanical, but not human either. “Step beyond the world of witnesses.”Oliver turned sharply. “Who’s there?”No answer. Only the whisper of his own breathing. “You have seen the reflection,” the voice continued softly. “Now, become the traveler.”And then everything shattered. He woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat. His body felt heavy, his heart pounding so fast it hurt.The dorm room was dark. Moonlight slanted through the window, cutting a pale line across the floor. Everything was normal, except for the faint shimmer above h

The academy had changed again. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but anyone who listened carefully could feel it, a quiet current running beneath daily life. The walls whispered. The machines hummed differently. Even the air seemed to wait, and at the center of it all stood Oliver Beckett.Every day, his steps sounded heavier, his eyes colder. He didn’t mean to distance himself, but his silence did it for him. Students gave him space in the halls. Teachers glanced away. His power had grown too quickly, too strangely, and Iris was the only one still brave enough to stand beside him.She watched him that morning from across the training yard. He moved alone, fists wrapped, his strikes hitting the reinforced dummy with a precision that didn’t look human. Each hit sent tiny ripples through the air. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Iris folded her arms, trying not to show the ache in her chest.When she first met him, he’d been awkward, unsure, a quiet boy who couldn’t look anyone in the eye. No

Morning came quietly, but it didn’t feel like morning. The academy always hummed with faint noise, footsteps, chatter, machinery pulsing in the walls, yet today, everything sounded distant. Muted. As if the world was holding its breath. Oliver Beckett sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the faint silver marks that still glowed beneath his skin. They pulsed in slow rhythm, like veins of light that didn’t belong to him. He had tried scrubbing them, even pressing ice against them. Nothing worked. They weren’t a wound. They were integration.[Synchronization Stable: 78%.]The System’s voice was calm, gentle even, as if it hadn’t just hollowed him out one layer deeper.Oliver stood, slipping into his uniform. His reflection in the mirror was unfamiliar, not monstrous, just, altered. His eyes reflected the light differently now, catching it like polished glass.He looked alive, but not completely human. When he walked into the hallway, whispers followed him like shadows. “Is that him?