The West Courtyard – Morning
The Royal Team stood in a line. They looked intimidating. Yu Tianheng was holding his heavy lead chopsticks, practicing twirling them like pens to improve dexterity. Dugu Yan was applying sunscreen. The Graphite Brothers were doing synchronized squats.
Qin Ming clapped his hands.
"Attention," he announced.
The courtyard quieted.
"As you know, I can't supervise all of you every day. The Academy Board keeps me busy, so I've brought in an assistant instructor. He'll handle logistics, theory, and combat analysis."
He stepped aside.
Mr. Silas stepped forward. He wore a grey suit that was perfectly pressed and perfectly boring. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Greetings,"he said in a dry, even voice.
"I am Instructor Silas. My specialty is historical combat analysis and tactical assessment."
Silence.
"He looks breakable," Osler whispered.
"He looks like he eats plain toast," Yu Feng whispered back.
"I have excellent hearing, Student Osler," Silas said without looking at him.
"And yes, toast is good. It produces fewer crumbs than biscuits."
Arthev watched Silas closely. His face was a mask of polite interest, but inside, his mind was racing.
He needed to poke the grey man.
"Instructor Silas," Arthev stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"It is an honor. I am Arthev. I handle the physical conditioning."
Silas looked at the boy. This was the Anomaly. The one who made the dye box. The one who acted like a scholar.
"The pleasure is mine," Silas replied coolly.
"I have heard... colorful things about your methods. Lead chopsticks? River swimming?"
"Applied logics," Arthev smiled.
"I assume you are familiar with the Spirit Hall's Standard Cultivation Guidelines, Volume 4?"
Silas blinked.
"Of course."
"Rubbish, isn't it?" Arthev said casually.
The courtyard went silent.
Qin Ming choked on his spit. You didn't just call Spirit Hall's bible rubbish in public.
Arthev continued, watching Silas's eyes.
"They claim that meditation is the only path to soul power density. They ignore biological stress factors entirely. Typical DOGMATIC nonsense from the Papal Palace, don't you think? They focus so much on praying to angels they forget how muscles work."
It was a test
If Silas was a Spirit Hall side, insulting the Papal Palace or the Angels would trigger a micro-reaction. A twitch of the eye. A stiffening of the jaw. Subconscious offense.
Silas didn't twitch. He didn't look offended.
He looked... amused.
"Institutions tend to be rigid, Student Arthev," Silas said smoothly.
"Tradition often stifles innovation. I agree that the Guidelines are outdated. Evolution requires breaking old molds."
Arthev's mental danger meter spiked.
'He didn't care,' Arthev noted.
'He's not sided with Spirit Hall . A Spirit Hall operative is indoctrinated. They can't handle heresy. This guy? He views Spirit Hall as just another Institution.'
'So...' Matatabi growled. 'Broken Circle?'
'Likely. Or a freelance agent. But Broken Circle fits the pattern. They use tech.'
"I am glad we agree," Arthev smiled.
"We will get along famously."
--------
The Kitchens
Spark was having a bad day. Again.
He was currently tasked with soup monitoring. It involved staring at a pot.
"I am a master of explosives," Spark whispered to the broth.
"I have leveled fortresses. I have melted safes. Why am I watching bubbles?"
He tapped his comms bead.
"Whisper. How is the class?"
"Interesting," Whisper's voice came back.
"The target just insulted Spirit Hall to my face. He is fishing."
"Fishing for what? Trout?"
"Fishing for my allegiance. He wanted to see if I would defend the Pope."
"Did you?"
"No. I agreed with him. He suspects I am not from the Hall."
"Smart kid," Spark gritted his teeth.
"Can I put a laxative in his soup? Just a little? It's not lethal. It's... funny."
"No biological warfare," Whisper ordered.
"However... you can increase the salt. Let's see if his enhanced taste buds can handle dehydration."
Spark grinned. He grabbed the salt cellar. "Operation Salt requires no approval."
---------
The Training Ground
After the physical warmup, the team gathered around Silas. He held a clipboard.
"I have reviewed your combat data," Silas said.
"Your victory against the Wyvern was impressive, but sloppy. You rely too much on Arthev's tactical commands."
"He is the brain," Dugu Yan shrugged.
"We are the body."
"If the brain is cut off," Silas said, looking at Arthev,
"the body flails. Today, we will run a simulation. Arthev is mute."
"Mute?" Arthev raised an eyebrow.
"You cannot speak. You cannot use hand signals," Silas ordered.
"Let us see if the Royal Team can think for themselves."
"Easy," Yu Tianheng scoffed. He was spinning his lead chopsticks in his fingers.
"We are geniuses."
"Simulation Start," Silas announced.
"Enemy: A Soul King. Agility System. High evasion."
Silas didn't summon a spirit. He simply tapped a small metal device on his belt.
Hum.
A holographic projection appeared in the center of the arena. It was a flickering blue figure of a ninja-like warrior.
The team gasped.
"An illusion?" Osler asked.
"Hard light projection," Silas lied.
"A rare tool spirit ability of mine. Begin."
The hologram moved. It was fast.
Unnaturally fast.
"Attack!" Yu Tianheng shouted.
"Thunderbolt!"
He fired lightning. The hologram sidestepped instantly, moving with mathematical perfection.
"Miss," Silas droned.
"Counter-attack."
The hologram didn't hit them physically, but it tagged Osler with a beam of red light.
"Osler, you are dead," Silas said.
"Punctured lung."
"What?!" Osler cried.
"I didn't even feel it!"
"That is why you are dead."
The simulation was a disaster. Without Arthev calling out coordinates or predicting moves, the team was flailing.
They wasted power hitting empty air. They got in each other's way.
Arthev stood on the sidelines, his mouth zipped shut (metaphorically). He watched Silas.
'That device,' Arthev noted.
'It's not a spirit tool. It has no soul fluctuation. It's pure tech. A hologram projector.'
'Ancient tech?' Shukaku asked.
'Or advanced tech from a civilization that shouldn't exist here. That confirms it. He is Broken Circle. They use the artifacts'
legacy.'
Arthev felt a chill. The enemy wasn't just powerful, they were technologically superior to the entire world. While Soul Masters were throwing fireballs, these guys had hard-light simulations.
"Stop," Silas called out after five minutes.
The entire team was dead except for Shi Mo, who was hiding in his shell.
"Pathetic," Silas said, adjusting his glasses.
"You react. You do not anticipate. Arthev anticipates for you. You are addicted to his guidance."
Yu Tianheng looked down, ashamed. He had crushed a Wyvern, but he couldn't hit a hologram.
"How do we fix it?" Yu Tianheng asked, humbling himself.
"Pattern recognition," Silas said.
"Everything has a rhythm. Even chaos. Study the enemy before you strike."
He glanced at Arthev.
"Student Arthev seems to be the only one who understands this. Perhaps he is... overly familiar with patterns."
It was a subtle jab. A hint that Silas knew Arthev knew.
Arthev smiled. He walked over to the hologram device.
"May I?" Arthev asked.
Silas hesitated, then nodded.
"Be careful. It is... delicate."
Arthev looked at the device. He didn't touch the buttons. He touched the casing.
He sent a tiny, microscopic pulse of magnetic soul power into the machine.
Zzzzt.
The hologram flickered. The ninja turned pink. Then it started doing the macarena dance.
Step. Clap. Hip. Hip. Step. Clap. Hip
"Oh," Arthev stepped back, looking innocent.
"It looks like the lightning from earlier left some residual static interference. Must have agitated the spirit-energy pathways inside. My apologies, Instructor."
He did not say the real cause, of course. The words were a mask, a polite lie that only Silas would recognize for what it was, an announcement that Arthev knew exactly what kind of device sat on his belt.
The Royal Team burst out laughing.
Silas stared at the dancing pink ninja. His eye twitched. Just once.
"It seems so," Silas said, his voice tight.
"Class dismissed."
----------
The Cafeteria – Dinner
"That instructor is weird," Osler said, poking his salty soup.
"He talks like a book. But his hologram is so cool."
"He is dangerous," Yu Tianheng said, gripping his spoon carefully.
"He analyzed my lightning trajectory instantly. He is not just an ordinary theorist."
Arthev ate his soup. It was incredibly salty.
'Kidney failure levels of salt,' Isobu noted. 'The rat strikes again.'
Arthev drank it all. He needed the electrolytes after training anyway.
"Instructor Silas is competent," Arthev said to the team.
"Listen to him. Learn pattern recognition. But..."
He lowered his voice.
"Don't trust him with your secrets. He is... Academy Board. Politics."
He threw a false trail. Let them think he suspected Silas was a Board spy.
"You are right. ," Yu Tianheng nodded seriously.
"Politics are the worst."
-------
The Staff Room – Night
Whisper sat at his desk, repairing the hologram projector with tiny tools.
"He magnetized it," Whisper muttered.
"He knew exactly where the shielding was weak. He didn't break it, he just... annoyed it."
"He's trolling you," Spark's voice laughed from the vent.
"First the blue dye, now the dancing ninja. He's making you look like a clown."
"He is establishing dominance," Whisper corrected.
"He is saying, 'I know what you are, and I am not scared.' It is confidence."
"Is he the one?" Spark asked, serious for once.
"Does he have the Artifacts?"
"He has the capability," Whisper said.
"He has the knowledge. But I haven't seen the items. We need to catch him accessing his storage."
-------
Dormitory C
Arthev lay in bed.
'They are Broken Circle,' he confirmed to his beasts.
'Tech usage. Disregard for Spirit Hall. Interest in my patterns.'
'So we kill them?' Shukaku asked.
'Not yet. They are my link to the main organization. I need them to lead me to the other Artifacts. Or the leader.'
He closed his eyes.
'I'll play their game. I'll be the student. I'll be the Sage. And when they think they have me cornered...'
His Shinragan spun in the dark.
'...I'll show them what a real anomaly looks like.'
To be continued...