Rukana watched as the academy gates swallowed the boy. The reinforced gates shut with a heavy thud. For a long moment she simply leaned back against the steering wheel of her military jeep, crimson eyes half-lidded.
Then she sighed.
"…Sorry, kid."
She reached into the inner pocket of her coat, fishing out a black communication device. The one she rarely used unless something exceptional happened.
Today, it had.
Turning the device on, she called a number.
A voice answered, after a while.
"Rukana."
Saint Cor's voice was bland as ever.
Rukana grinned.
"Hey, Saint. Miss me?"
The voice paused. Then replied politely:
"No."
She snorted. "Tch. Cold as ever."
"Why did you call?" Saint Cor asked.
His tone held no irritation, but Rukana could tell that he wanted her to get to the point.
"Well," Rukana drawled, tilting her head back against the seat, "I found something. Or rather… someone."
Silence stretched across the line. Cor didn't reply.
"A Sleeper," Rukana continued. "From the outskirts. A kid, sixteen years old—alive after sleeping for three days."
"…Survival is possible," Saint Cor said, though his voice showed the faintest ripple of interest.
"Yeah, yeah. But that's not the best part." Rukana tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. "This one received a True Name."
Complete silence.
For the first time since she had known him, Saint Cor did not sound calm.
"…Say that again," he said, urgency threading into his voice.
Rukana smiled slowly.
"I found a sleeper with a True Name."
Another stretch of silence. Then:
"What is it?"
She let him wait a moment longer than necessary, partly for effect, partly because it amused her.
"The Fool."
Rukana held the phone in her hand, trying not to laugh at the absurd True Name.
"Well? Aren't you going to congratulate me? You've been searching for one unaffiliated with the Three Major Houses, the Crown of Britannia, and the Iron Sultanate ever since The Sandman left the government."
There was silence on the phone for a while.
"…I will investigate," Saint Cor said lightly. "If what you say is true…"
Then another pause, like someone steadying themselves.
"… I will keep my promise. I will protect the girl."
---
The iron gates slammed shut behind Loki with a heavy thud that echoed across the courtyard.
For a moment he stood still, pulse steady, shoulders easing one fraction at a time. He wasn't willing to call it relief, but… yes. It was relief.
Loki was glad to be away from that psycho. Every second beside her felt like sitting next to a starving animal that might just take a bite out of him. Loki knew he had survived his Nightmare, but riding in a military jeep with an Ascended who occasionally glanced at him like a butcher inspecting livestock?
That had been a different kind of trial altogether.
Thank every dead god for the reinforced gates.
The only silver lining was that she hadn't used the memory on him again.
Loki exhaled softly and finally turned his attention to the fortress ahead. He couldn't be bothered to think about Master Rukana's motives—his mind was occupied by the information she had given him during the journey here.
The Academy rose from the earth like an unfinished gothic cathedral. It looked almost as if halfway through construction someone had decided to fortify it with military-grade concrete. Gothic arches stabbed upward into the dark sky; narrow windows flickered with pale light. Massive walls encircled the compound, layered with steel ribbing and marked with old scars from training accidents—or battles. Loki wasn't sure which was more likely.
Everything about the place felt dark.
"Charming," Loki muttered under his breath.
His steps echoed along the stone path as he walked deeper into the courtyard. Shadows from towering watchtowers dragged long across the ground, their automated lights sweeping slowly.
Loki's thoughts drifted back to the information Rukana had thrown at him during the drive. Maybe she felt bad, or maybe it was something else. It didn't matter.
This Academy wasn't the simple school from the book he remembered. First, a government-affiliated Saint was stationed here permanently. In the original book—as far as Loki could remember—the Academy only had Awakened government employees. There weren't even Masters stationed permanently, let alone a Saint.
The second thing that surprised Loki was that five Ascended Masters oversaw the security of the Academy. Each aligned with a different faction: Clan Valar, the Song Clan, House of the Night, and two new factions Loki had heard of for the first time—the Crown of Britannia and the Iron Sultanate.
Loki wasn't sure whether to feel honored or slightly insulted for being thrown into the middle of all this drama.
As Loki passed beneath a massive archway carved with old symbols, Cipher Soul activated on its own. The symbols unraveled instantly in his mind:
ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE.
Lovely, Loki thought. How inspirational.
An officer waited at the entrance checkpoint. Loki gave only his name—"Loki."
The man hesitated at the lack of a surname, but ultimately said nothing, merely directing him toward a dormitory.
The walk there was quiet. Maybe because it was nighttime, Loki didn't see any other Sleepers along the way. The Academy itself was enormous—huge training grounds, interconnected courtyards, and countless other rooms. Gargoyle-shaped constructs perched on the edges of rooftops, faintly humming with energy.
In fact, the Academy looked less like a place of learning and more like a fortress preparing for a siege.
Which, Loki realized, was true.
Loki reached Dormitory 181 at last. An angular building with barred windows and a heavy steel door. The interior lighting was dim, almost clinical. Voices murmured from deeper inside.
Loki was led down a short hallway to a room. Once inside, he closed the door; the officer had already left. The room itself was small but clean—bed, small desk and chair, locker for personal items, and a narrow window staring out into a courtyard lit by pale lamps. Minimalist to the point of cruelty.
He sat on the bed.
"At least the mattress is nice," Loki muttered.
Only after a long moment did he allow himself to exhale fully.
Loki leaned back, fingers resting lightly on the blankets, letting his thoughts slow and settle.
A Saint and five Masters—all from different factions. The Sleepers here would most likely be under constant surveillance. Worst of all, the political struggles between the factions might spill into the Academy.
And Loki—an outskirt rat who had just climbed out of his first Nightmare—had to navigate all this nonsense.
Loki clicked his tongue, irritation rising.
"I hope a young master annoys me tomorrow," he muttered, "so I can turn the bastard into a marionette without feeling too bad."
He might not be able to do anything to Master Rukana or the Saint and Masters stationed at the Academy, but a Sleeper from a legacy clan?
"Hahahahaha…" Loki laughed darkly.
He had made up his mind. He would take his irritation and anger out on someone his own size tomorrow—completely unaware that his thoughts were once again being influenced by his flaw.
Outside, the night deepened.
And Loki, exhausted after a long day, drifted into a deep, steady sleep.