Aeron sat amid a scattered sea of ancient history books, his brows drawn tight in concentration. A bead of sweat traced slowly down the side of his face, but he did not move to wipe it away.
This was different.
Before, he had commanded multiple strings with ease because their purpose had been singular. To bind. To pull. To redirect. Simple intentions, shared across every thread.
But this was not simple.
Each string had to think for itself.
Each one needed to trace a different path, hold a different curve, carve a different meaning for the circle. A single flaw in shape, a single lapse in focus, and the structure would collapse.
His mana remained plentiful.
His mind did not.
Even now, three threads were his limit. Any more than that, and he could feel something dangerous pressing against the edge of his thoughts.
So with three threads, he pressed on.
Then the third thread curved into place.
A perfect circle.
And in that instant, something changed.
A glint flashed through Aeron's eyes.
The mana in the air stirred.
Then it moved.
It did not gather like mist drawn by wind, nor drift like some aimless current. It converged.
As though a king had called upon his subjects.
The invisible strings thickened. Mana wrapped around them in fibrous layers, weaving itself into form until the outline of the circle emerged in blazing red. Light spread from the outer ring inward, racing across every inscription, every angle, every bend, until the entire construct burned like a brand pressed against reality.
Around him, pages trembled.
Loose sheets rose and fluttered through the air as though stirred by a breath older than memory.
It was as if the library itself had begun to remember.
Something ancient.
Something buried.
Something the world had long since abandoned.
The pages turned faster.
The mana gathered faster.
And at the centre of it all, Aeron stared into the living red light of the circle he had dragged back from the past.
Across from him, Iori had already sat up.
His eyes were wide.
No haze. No laziness. Only focus.
The circle flared once more. Then it grew.
Iori was already on his feet.
Aeron rose with him, the circle following as though tied to his shadow.
'That's useful.'
By the time the thought crossed his mind, it was already his height.
"Aeron."
He turned at once.
"What tier circle did you form?"
There was an urgency in Iori's voice that snapped him back into focus.
Aeron grabbed the book beside him and read aloud.
"Tier Three. Undying Ashes."
As though the circle had been waiting for its name, it flared brighter.
Iori's teeth clenched.
From the centre of the circle, a single grey petal drifted out, its edges glowing deep red.
Aeron stared.
'That's... underwhelming.'
The circle vanished, leaving only the floating petal behind.
But Iori remained tense, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Why are you so shaken up, Iori?"
The petal brightened.
Then flame stirred within it.
Before Aeron's eyes, a rose began to grow.
It unfolded slowly, as though the fire itself had learnt elegance. A burning stem twisted into existence. A bud followed. Then, with quiet majesty, it bloomed.
Flames shivered along its petals with restrained, dreadful beauty.
Iori was sweating now, as though the air around them had begun to boil.
Aeron felt nothing.
Why would the thing he created harm him?
Together, they watched the rose finish blooming.
Then it opened fully.
Aeron's eyes widened.
'Oh shi—'
Every petal tore away at once.
They spread outward in a ring, each one glowing brighter and brighter before igniting.
Iori's gaze snapped from petal to petal. Wherever his eyes landed, a black rift ripped open and swallowed the flame before it could erupt.
One.
Two.
Three.
But there were too many.
His eyes could only move so fast.
The remaining petals detonated.
Fire roared through the library.
In an instant, the world became flame.
Aeron's heartbeat slowed.
Sound dulled.
The blaze before him blurred.
His breathing turned uneven as a familiar coldness spread through his chest.
Iori was shouting something now, but Aeron could not hear him.
His hands reached forward, searching for something that was no longer there.
Then a rift opened beneath them both and swallowed them whole.
Aeron jolted awake.
He found himself standing in what looked like a plain studio room.
Across from him, Iori was stamping on his blanket with surprising determination, crushing the last stubborn traces of flame beneath his feet. The fire resisted for a moment, then finally died.
When he looked up, his flat stare met Aeron's.
"I."
"Am."
"Sorry?"
Iori said nothing. He only stared, his half-lidded eyes heavy with accusation.
Aeron swallowed.
"I'll... pay for another one," he offered weakly.
The silence that followed made it painfully obvious they both knew he could not afford that.
Iori's stare flattened further.
Then, after a long moment, he sighed.
"Don't worry about it."
He turned away and made his way to the sofa before collapsing into it, curling into himself beneath what remained of the blanket. A yawn escaped him as his eyes drifted shut once more.
But Aeron had already gone pale.
'The library.'
His stomach dropped.
How was he supposed to explain that?
His thoughts began spiralling at once.
'Am I going to prison?'
"The food better be good," Iori murmured, each word quieter than the last.
Aeron gave a stiff nod, though his mind was in complete disarray.
Then Iori's voice entered his head again.
Gentler this time.
"You didn't damage the library."
Aeron froze.
"Everything there is elementally resistant. The fire will keep burning until someone puts it out."
The tightness in Aeron's chest loosened all at once.
Relief hit him so suddenly it almost made him dizzy.
'Thank god.'
Then, still half-asleep, Iori added,
"So stop panicking."
Something in the way he said it—tired, quiet, almost absent-minded—made Aeron go still.
It was such a small thing.
But no one here had spoken to him like that before.
Not so casually. Not so gently.
Aeron let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding.
"...Thanks."
Iori gave no reply.
By then, he was already half-asleep.
.
Aeron closed the door behind him gently.
'I need to train with magic circles.'
He had considered simply spamming them, since they cost him almost no mana. But the mental strain was another matter. It would be difficult to focus on both the battle and the spell. He needed to merge them together and create a style.
One only he could use.
Aeron chuckled to himself.
There was one useful thing he had nearly forgotten about magic circles.
They wasted no mana. Every bit of it was converted into the spell.
No residual mana.
Which meant, in one very specific way, Aeron was anti-Kyle.
'Ha, watch out, Kyle.'
The shallow flex died quickly as he remembered Kyle's arsenal of abilities.
'Yeah... maybe next time.'
Then another thought struck him.
'Oh right, the optionals.'
Aeron decided he would choose all of them. He would need the library for that anyway, and each teacher specialised in something different. Connections would not hurt in the long run.
Noise from the cafeteria shook him from his thoughts. First class had finished recently.
'The main cast must've chosen their classes by now.'
Normally, he would have ordered beforehand to miss the drama, but the library venture had stripped him of the opportunity.
"Hey, did you hear about the library?"
Aeron tensed. His ears perked up.
"Yeah, I heard someone set a fire in there."
"Nah, I reckon someone infiltrated and tried to burn it down."
"Impossible with the principal here. I mean, the books are probably unaffected or the criminal would be dead by now."
"True."
Shivers crawled up Aeron's spine. He turned away from the conversation at once and headed for the cafeteria.
The order total made his eye twitch.
'This glutton will ruin me.'
He pushed a cart loaded with enough food to feed families.
'I need a subspace ring ASAP.'
Aeron hurried back to Iori's studio, silently thanking his thin frame.
He did not notice the purple-haired girl watching him from across the hall.
.
Lyra POV
Fatigue sat lightly on Lyra, though she refused to show it.
She had been continuously using mana to search for the existence known as Aeron Araxys.
Kyle's attempts at conversation had not helped. He had finally left, which was useful.
But so far, her search had been futile.
Then she heard the rumours.
A burning library.
And then she felt it.
A thin thread of a presence.
Nearby, a cluster of students stood gossiping in low voices. Fire. Infiltration. Damage. Punishment. None of it mattered.
Because beyond them, moving away from the cafeteria with a cart stacked high with food, was Aeron Araxys.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Too much food.
Far too much for one person.
And he was walking quickly.
Not running. Not drawing attention to himself. But there was a subtle sharpness to his pace, as though he wished to be elsewhere before anyone thought to stop him.
Lyra watched him for a moment longer.
Then she began to follow.
She kept her distance with ease. Her steps were soundless, her presence light. The academy halls were crowded enough at this hour that trailing someone required little effort.
Aeron did not look back once.
'Strange.'
He moved through the corridors with the same faintness she had begun to associate with him. It was not stealth. Not exactly. Rather, it was as if the eyes of others simply slid around him without ever settling.
Even now, students parted around him without truly noticing him. A few frowned at the passing cart, but their attention drifted away almost immediately.
Lyra disliked it.
The feeling of not knowing enough.
People did not simply vanish from notice.
Not without reason.
Aeron pushed the cart into a lift.
Her trait, Mana's Beloved, allowed her to sense the shifting motions of mana in the air.
'The lowest level.'
One of the older parts of the academy.
Lyra's gaze sharpened.
This path did not lead toward any active classroom.
Nor toward the dormitories.
When she finally approached, she noticed a slight gap in a wooden door.
She reached the narrow opening and looked through.
The room beyond was small. Plain. Almost bare.
And within it—
There was a boy wrapped in a slightly burnt blanket on the sofa.
'Burnt?'
His hair was light green. His posture was little more than a lazy heap of fabric and limbs. Yet despite that, something about him put her on edge.
'He's strong. Who is he?'
His presence felt almost as heavy as Kyle's.
Perhaps the same.
'Or maybe even...'
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
'No.'
A spoon floated lazily through the air, tipped food into a black rift, and only then did his mouth begin to chew.
For the first time in several seconds, her expression changed.
'Another space-user?'
And he was far better than her.
Miles ahead.
Aeron began setting the trays down, shaking his head.
The blanket shifted.
Then the boy's half-lidded gaze lifted—not toward Aeron, but toward the door.
Straight toward Lyra.
For one long second, neither of them moved.
"We have company."
Lyra went still.
Aeron turned so quickly he nearly dropped a plate.
Their eyes met.
Silence.
Her back was already straight, her expression composed, as though she had every right to be there.
Then her gaze slid back to the boy beneath the blanket.
"Who," she asked coolly, "is that?"
The boy yawned.
"My..." Aeron hesitated. "Food buddy?"
"Let's eat," the boy said at the same time.
Another pause followed.
Lyra looked between them, her expression unreadable.
Then, very slowly, her eyes settled on Aeron again.
"I see," she said.
But the look in her eyes said otherwise.
"Uhh... well. Why are you here, Lyra?" Aeron asked.
"I noticed you were absent. Then I saw you in the cafeteria carrying enough food for a festival and followed you here," she replied bluntly.
.
Aeron POV
Aeron's face changed several times over the course of that sentence.
First, surprise that someone had actually noticed him.
'Is it because of our interactions yesterday?'
Then confusion over why she had followed him.
Then bafflement at the sheer directness of her answer.
'Well... it wouldn't be Lyra if she wasn't.'
Then came acceptance.
She stepped inside as though the room belonged to her.
And stopped.
No.
She was stopped.
"Who said you could come in?"
Iori's voice was flat with irritation as he slowly sat upright, his half-lidded eyes now lined with annoyance.
Lyra frowned. It had been a long time since someone had spoken to her like that.
Cold mist spilled into the room from her fingers.
"And who are you to stop me?" she asked, her voice edged with frost.
A black rift opened behind her, tugging lightly at her hair.
At the same time, sharpened crystals of ice materialised around her, each one the size of a leg.
The tension in the room thickened.
Aeron stood between them, face blank.
'Why is this happening to me?'
Before things could get worse, he moved.
Threads shot out, binding the ice crystals all at once before hurling them into the rift. Then, with a sharp pull, he stitched the rift shut.
Silence.
Both pairs of eyes turned to him.
"The food was getting cold," Aeron said.
Lyra narrowed her eyes.
Iori pouted slightly, his head already retreating halfway into his blanket.
"And your rift was pulling in air," Aeron added, looking at Iori. "That wasn't helping either."
Iori's pout deepened.
Lyra crossed her arms and remained standing, her gaze fixed on Aeron as though trying to dissect him where he stood.
"Sit down and talk like adults," Aeron said. "Or leave, if you want, Lyra."
"I have seen enough."
Her purple hair flicked as she turned and strode toward the door.
Then, for a brief moment, she paused.
As though she had heard something.
"Lyra?"
She glanced once at Aeron, then once at Iori, before leaving the room without another word.
The door closed behind her.
Aeron turned slowly toward Iori.
"What was that about?"
He searched Iori's face for answers, but Iori only gave a half-shrug and resumed his 'training'.
Aeron stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the steak on the tray and sighed.
"Finally."
.
Lyra POV
'Most people don't look at him that long.'
The words repeated in Lyra's mind.
'Who is this Iori... and how is he not in Spade?'
She immediately sent a message to her butler.
"Iori."
The reply came quickly.
"Are you referring to Iori Vane, young miss?"
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
'He already knows who he is.'
"Yes."
The next reply came after a short pause.
"Unfortunately, your father has chosen to withhold this information from you. My apologies, young miss."
Her expression changed slightly.
'My father?'
She immediately changed recipients.
"Iori Vane?"
The response came at once.
"You do not speak to me for weeks, and the first thing you bring up is a boy."
Despite herself, a smile almost broke free.
Her father was the only person in the world who could do that to her. She loved him more than anything.
Still, she let the silence answer for her and waited.
This time, his reply took longer.
And when it came, it shook her.
"There are talents like you, Kyle, Angelina, and Xavier—already D+ rank at your age. Then there are monsters like Iori."
A brief pause.
"His rank I will not disclose, so do not dwell on it too much."
Another pause followed.
"He comes from a sect in the eastern parts of Varethia."
Lyra stared at the message.
'A monster?'
'A sect... and he is also a space-user?'
She typed quickly.
"A sect? And he uses space?"
"I cannot say much about the sect due to certain oaths. But yes, he has... a variety of abilities."
There was another pause, then:
"You may find out for yourself if you wish, but please, Lyra, do yourself the courtesy of not comparing yourself to him."
The next message came more slowly.
"He is... something else entirely."
Lyra looked at the words for a long moment.
"Ok."
But her thoughts were already elsewhere.
If Iori was a monster, then what was Aeron?
Someone who had stitched a rift shut as though it were nothing.
She felt faintly dizzy.
'You noticed him too,' Iori had said.
And before that—
'Most people don't look at him that long.'
Why?
Why did someone as strong as Iori listen to Aeron?
Why did Aeron seem so small one moment, then terrifyingly strange the next?
Her fingers curled slightly.
If there were this many monsters around her, then she no longer had the luxury of restraint.
Not if she wished to remain ahead.
Not if she wished to avoid being left behind by the supposedly Rank 677 - Aeron Araxys.
The words returned to her once more.
'Most people don't look at him that long.'
Lyra closed her eyes.
Then opened them again.
'But what happens if you do?'
.
.
.
A Certain Blacksmith POV
"Oh, my back."
He trudged into a small, cramped dark room and dropped into the lone chair, staring at the crystal scroll-script levitating at its centre.
The Soulforge Testament.
A sacred thing.
Before it, names, talent, bloodline—none of it mattered. It did not care who stood before it. Only what they were meant to carry.
Once it judged you, there was no changing it.
A blacksmith would forge the first vessel in plain iron. Simple. Imperfect-looking, perhaps. But never wrong.
After that came the real burden.
The Testament would set its conditions. Trials. Requirements. Ways to temper not the metal, but the soul meant to wield it.
Only then could the weapon truly become yours.
And once it did—
it would remain with you for life.
Growing.
Changing.
Endlessly.
He placed his rough hands upon it, and the script flared to life.
'A hammer.'
So the old thing still worked.
But a new quest had appeared.
________________________________________
An Extra has initiated contact with you first
Forge beyond Fate's Gaze.
Reward: Hammer Rank Up — SS+ to SSS+
Additional Reward: Access to the Silent Forge
________________________________________
He fetched an appraisal orb and measured his rank, talent and traits.
Rank: S
Talent: S+→SS+
Trait: Trait is in the midst of forging
His grip tightened around the hammer.
A grin slowly tugged at the corner of his mouth.
'Looks like our road isn't over yet, old friend.'
In front of him, the crystal script continued to glow.
Forge beyond Fate's Gaze.