The digital clock on my desk ticked over to 02:00. The Academy dorms were silent, settled into the heavy slumber that blanketed the campus at night.My roommate, Tal, was fast asleep, his snoring providing the only cover I had against the silence. I sat on my bed with the blackout curtains drawn tight.In my lap sat the prize I had stolen from the Golem: the Type-4 Sealed Demon Crystal. In the dark, it pulsed with a low, rhythmic red light. It felt alive. It felt hungry.I looked down at my right arm. Strapped to my forearm was the new device. The Apostate Armor.It was a sleek bracer made of matte-black resin and exposed copper wiring, wrapping from my wrist to my elbow. Underneath the casing, I could see the grey strands of the Wasp’s muscle fibers lying dormant, waiting for a signal.I checked my left wrist. The biometric bracelet was blinking a slow, steady green. The feedback loop I rigged was working perfectly, telling the central security server that I was deep in sleep."Time

The Mythril chip was smaller than my fingernail, but it was heavy.I held my breath as I lowered the soldering iron. One slip, and I would fry the delicate runic pathways etched into the metal. The workshop was dead silent, the air thick with the smell of molten lead and focus.Tssst.A tiny wisp of smoke curled up. The chip settled into place on the circuit board of the Apostate Bracer, bridging the gap between the power socket and the organic fiber housing.I didn't plug the crystal in immediately. I waited, letting the connection cool."Okay," I whispered. "Phase two."I took the cracked Type-4 Crystal and slotted it in.The reaction was different this time. Before, the suit would seize up violently, hungry for power. Now, it was a smooth, liquid engagement. The demon fibers hummed, glowing with a steady, low-light crimson instead of the angry, flickering red from before.I checked the output readings on my multimeter. The voltage was flatlining—perfectly stable. The Mythril regula

The drive back to the Academy was agony.Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through my right arm. The raw Demon Core, wrapped in lead cloth and shoved deep into my tool bag, wasn't just a battery; it was a radioactive isotope. Even through the shielding, I could feel it humming. It made my teeth ache and the air in the cab taste like copper pennies.I looked in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, sweat beading on my forehead. But the veins in my neck were dark, standing out like black spiderwebs under the skin."Contamination," I whispered, gripping the steering wheel with my left hand.I was a Zero. I didn't have mana channels, so the demon energy couldn't explode me from the inside like it would a mage. But it could still poison me. I was basically carrying a leaky nuclear reactor in a backpack.The Academy walls loomed ahead, the mana-barrier shimmering like a heat haze.My heart hammered against my ribs. Getting out was easy; nobody cared if a Null went to die in the Wa

The siren wasn't just a noise; it was a physical pressure that vibrated in my teeth.Sector 7. Mass Incursion.Most students were running toward the bunkers in the central keep, following the colored lines painted on the floor for evacuation drills. I was running the wrong way."Chase!" Sylvia’s voice called out behind me, faint over the screaming alarms. "Chase, stop! That’s the impact zone!"I didn't stop. I didn't turn around. I ducked under a panicked group of first-years and sprinted toward the service stairwell.I knew the layout of the Academy better than the architects did. While the mages took the main corridors, I kicked open a "Maintenance Only" door and slid down the railing of the spiral service stairs. I skipped the landings, jumping whole flights, my boots slamming against the metal grating.My lungs burned. My legs felt like lead—the adrenaline crash from the arena fight was hitting me hard—but the panic was a better fuel.Tal.My roommate was a illusionist. A good one

The deeper you went into the Academy, the colder it got.Most students knew about the classrooms in the spires and the dorms on the surface. Few knew about the Sub-Basement. It was three levels below the dungeons, carved directly into the bedrock of the mountain.The elevator rattled as it descended. I watched the floor numbers tick down on the rusted analog dial: B1, B2, B3... B4.The doors slid open with a hiss of decompressed air.The smell hit me first. It didn't smell like a school. It smelled like formaldehyde, ozone, and copper. It smelled like a hospital where the patients didn't recover.I stepped out into a long, white corridor. My boots squeaked on the pristine tile. I felt naked. For the first time in weeks, I didn't have the weight of the Apostate Drive against my ribs. It was safe in Randar’s lead vault, and I was here, walking into the lion’s den with nothing but a screwdriver in my pocket."Name?"I jumped. A security golem—a construct of brass and glass with a floatin