"The question is withdrawn." My voice remained a flat, measured line. I pushed a fresh sheet of parchment toward the crack. "Let's negotiate a surviving variable. I am heading back to the Whispering Woods at four in the morning to grab the rest of the field journal. Tell me what the underground river is whispering about that secondary clearing."
The hand slowly emerged again, hesitant. It bypassed the ash, taking the fresh parchment and the remaining carbon.
A few seconds of suffocating silence followed. The erratic scraping of dry carbon tearing against paper echoed from the void. A broken mind dumping its data onto a physical page before reality wiped the memory clean.
A folded, crumpled piece of parchment slid through the crack.
My hand caught the paper.
Click.
The gap in the wall slammed shut. The freezing draft vanished instantly. The solid brick masonry reappeared, snapping the corridor's local physics back to standard room temperature.
The paper unfolded. The black carbon was fresh and jagged.
The roots beneath that stone have rotted. The journal is not a memory. It is a throat. If you touch the leather, the surface will forget your weight, and the dark will swallow you.
The hasty text commanded attention.
A throat? The dark will swallow me?
I gave you a blank notebook for a simple map. You gave me slam poetry about a hungry rock.
I lack the calories for riddles. If the book tries to eat my hand, I will hit it with a piece of scrap metal.
The paper went into my uniform pocket. My knees popped in protest as I pushed myself off the freezing stone floor. I turned around and started the short walk back down the corridor toward my room.
Room 316 clicked open.
Killian Steel stepped out. He held a stack of pristine notebooks against his chest and a steaming mug of tea in his free hand.
He took two steps into the corridor. His boots stopped moving.
I was walking away from a dead end. Faint, freezing white vapor still spilled from my lips from the residual sub-zero draft of the vanished crack.
Killian's gaze darted from my face, to the blank, solid brick wall at the end of the hall, and back to my face. The knuckles gripping his ceramic mug turned white. His Adam's apple bobbed.
"You're coming from a solid wall."
A vacant canvas anchored my face. "I had a drop-off to make."
Killian took a slow step backward. His spine met the frame of his own door.
"A drop-off." His focus dropped to my boots. "To the masonry."
"It's a demanding wall." My shoulder leaned against the frame of Room 317, steering the conversation away from my paranormal transaction. "Did you survive Match 31?"
The deliberate change of subject worked. The fresh trauma of the sparring dome overrode his suspicion of the haunted hallway. Killian let out a hollow sigh. His shoulders slumped.
"Jace Vane is an Ember Spirit Summoner." He rubbed his temple, exhaustion bleeding into his posture. "She spent three minutes chanting a contract sequence to manifest a Class-II spirit to melt my boots."
"A fatal matchup for a standard circuit." A nod toward his uniform. "How did you survive?"
"I didn't fight it." Killian pulled a small, silver-stitched fabric pouch from beneath his collar. "I bought a Grade-B Elemental Repellent talisman from the Consortium catalog last week. Sewed it into my uniform. Her spirit took one look at me, shrieked, broke the contract, and unsummoned itself. Jace didn't know how to throw a physical punch. I won by default."
My movement stopped. A wave of respect washed over my tired soul.
"You item-countered a summoner build." A slow nod of approval followed. "Good build. Flawless tactical investment, Killian."
"Survival requires a budget." Killian pocketed the talisman with a heavy sigh.
His focus flicked back to the white vapor clinging to my collar. His expression tightened. The unexplainable draft registered again.
"Wait." His spine pressed harder against the wood. "Don't change the subject. Were you knocking on the bricks? Please tell me the ghost story is just the third-years hazing us. If you are possessed, I am requesting a room transfer tonight."
"I am not possessed." Zero supernatural inflection. "I was just paying rent for information. The occupant accepts carbon as currency."
Killian blinked twice. Slow. The color drained from his face.
"Right." His voice lacked oxygen. "You pay tribute to the ghosts."
He swallowed hard. His wide eyes darted toward the dark, quiet space at the end of the corridor.
"I need to check the Consortium catalog." His breathing turned shallow and frantic. "A Grade-B Elemental Repellent is insufficient. I need a Grade-A Exorcism ward. Specifically for adjacent dormitories."
Upgrading defensive inventory after encountering new environmental variables is a solid survival strategy.
"A smart defensive upgrade." An encouraging nod. "Have a great night, Killian."
Slam.
The heavy iron lock clicked into place across the hall. One less problem to manage today.
My wrist scanned against the panel of Room 317. I stepped inside. The heavy oak door sealed the world away. The main lights stayed off. I dragged my boots off and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress.
My right hand raised in the dark.
The integration in your palm node is settling. That gauze is unnecessary now.
The Headmaster's parting words from the office echoed in my tired brain.
My teeth caught the knot of the thick, sterile medical gauze Angelica had frantically wrapped around my knuckles hours ago. A sharp pull. The fabric fell away, stained yellow with alchemical salve and dark with old blood.
The skin was flawless.
The necrotic violet bruising from the frostbite was gone. The deep lacerations from the crystal chest in Ward 04 had closed. Not a single scar remained. The evolution of my E-Rank circuit and the permanent integration of the ghost doctor's scalpel into my palm node had rebuilt the tissue from the inside out.
My joints were rewired by a cosmic system reward. I decided not to think too hard about the biology behind it. A free heal is a free heal.
My left wrist vibrated.
The ODICIOS interface flared to life. A crisp, sterile blue glow filled the dark room.
The daily leash.
The direct thread to the Headmaster opened. Five-message daily quota. Malenia Sandhipath Alarictsa did not accept late submissions. My functioning thumb typed the absurdity of my evening into five rapid, lazy bullet points.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
To [ Malenia Sandhipath Alarictsa ]:
[1. The medical gauze was unnecessary, but I appreciate the free structural repair to my joints.]
[2. My neighbor is currently purchasing high-grade exorcism wards to defend against my study habits.]
[3. The local food stalls are closed and I am starving.]
[4. I am ready to depart. Western Gate at 04:00 AM. Please ensure the escort knows how to swing heavy metal without delivering a monologue first.]
[5. The third-floor masonry anomaly accepts raw carbon as rent. I suggest updating the institutional orientation pamphlet.] ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Sent. Let the apex predator of this Academy deal with that.
My thumb moved to swipe the interface away.
Ping.
My hand froze in the empty air. My exhausted brain stalled.
Wait.She replied in exactly one second. Does she possess cosmic-level reading comprehension, or did she draft her response before my finger even touched the screen? A terrifying display of institutional dominance.
The blue bubble opened on the screen.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
[ Malenia Sandhipath Alarictsa ]:
[1. Do not break them again.]
[2. Your definition of 'study habits' borders on a diplomatic incident.]
[3. Use the five thousand Credits you extorted in the Atrium wisely.]
[4. The escort is confirmed. Do not keep them waiting, or the heavy metal will swing at your neck instead.]
[5. Room 309 is not a registered vendor. Do not feed the semantic decay.]
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
Point-by-point retaliation. She doesn't miss a single beat.
I closed the direct thread. The ODICIOS interface did not minimize. Three unread notification bubbles sat patiently in the corner of the screen, accumulated during my transit from the administrative wing and my time in the shower.
My social network is expanding at an aggressive rate.
My thumb tapped the first one.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
[ Syevira Sinclair ]: If you are still experiencing an uncalibrated thermal overload from the sparring dome, do not force the 08:00 AM appointment tomorrow. We can delay the extraction. I do not need you collapsing in the courtyard and making it my fault. ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
If I skip the extraction tomorrow, my circuit will melt from the internal friction. I desperately require the lethal, suffocating aura of her Shard Parasite to act as my personal cooling system.
[ Arzane Vornelius Astarte ]: My body and soul only cool down when I am sitting next to you. The rest of this Academy is suffocating. Do not cancel on me. See you at 8.
The second bubble opened.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
[ Angelica Astoria Godfrey ]: Arzane! If your frostbite starts burning again in your sleep, ping me immediately! Don't just sleep through it like a suicidal idiot or I will glue a thermal pack to your face! (¬`‸´¬) ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
The future Saintess of Odia-Prime using kaomoji emoticons while threatening me with medical adhesives.
She wrapped my hand effectively and used her holy magic to accelerate the healing. Complimenting her medical work is the optimal strategy to prevent further nagging.
[ Arzane Vornelius Astarte ]: The frostbite is gone. The only thing left on my skin right now is your warmth. I am in your hands, Doc. ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ)
The final, pulsing red notification received a tap.
─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
[ Zee Kazrana Lestune ]: I have your room number. If you drop dead from an Arcane Redline before my ribs heal, I will dig you up and beat you back to life just to kill you myself. ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────
An aggressive statement of rivalry. I must assure her that I plan to survive long enough for her to attempt my murder, otherwise her aristocratic pride will shatter again.
[ Arzane Vornelius Astarte ]: My door is unlocked. I am saving my life just for you. Do not keep me waiting too long. Bring snacks if you break in. I'm starving.
A long exhale escaped my nose. The back of my head hit the stiff pillow.
The interface closed. The blue light vanished into the dormitory. My E-Rank circuit hummed with a low, freezing vibration. The cryptic warning from Room 309 settled into the silence.
The dark will swallow you.
My hand reached out blindly in the dark. My fingers tapped the glass screen, locking my ODICIOS alarm for 03:45 AM.
Bring it on.
The physical toll of the day demanded immediate payment. My central nervous system severed the connection, dragging my consciousness down into the dark.