The sky above Arcanis Academy turned violet at dusk—a strange hue, like bruised magic stretched thin across the heavens. Most students noticed it, whispered about it, then hurried along.
But Alex knew better.
He stood atop the West Tower, robes flapping in the wind, red eyes fixed on the horizon. The Obsidian Gate's pulses had grown stronger with every passing hour. Not even the professors could ignore it anymore.
[System Alert: Dimensional Interference Stable. Hidden Realm Access Nearing Threshold – Estimated Time of Breach: 72 hours.]
"What's behind that gate?" he whispered.
[System Response: Origin of Host's Magical Signature – Partial Memory Recovery Available Post Access. WARNING: Probability of Host Death—High.]
Valerian smiled faintly. "Of course it is."
Behind him, the heavy door creaked open.
"Still trying to look cool with the wind in your hair?"
Mila.
She stepped out, her boots clicking against the stone. She had traded her usual sharp wit for a rare seriousness.
"We need to talk."
He turned. "About the Gate?"
"About the council."
---
Inside a hidden alcove beneath the History Hall, Alex listened as Mila outlined the politics.
"The heads of House Emberlight and House Lysoria want you expelled—maybe worse. Officially, they can't act unless you break academy law. Unofficially? They're recruiting assassins."
Valerian leaned back. "Bold."
"Stupid," Mila corrected. "You beat Caelum in front of half the school. You bested Seraphine and lived to brag. You're not just a student now—you're a threat to the hierarchy."
"And you're warning me?"
Mila's eyes softened for just a second. "Don't read into it."
Too late.
[System Notice: Affection Adjustment – Mila Tierwyn: +4. Status: Loyal Ally / Romantic Contender. Emotional Denial: 67%.]
---
Later that night, Alex returned to his quarters. He found a letter on his bed—sealed with black wax bearing no crest.
Inside: a single line of text.
"Come to the Catacombs beneath the Diviner's Tower. Midnight. Come alone."
[System Alert: Unknown Magical Signature – Traced to Ancient Blood. Risk Level: Moderate-High.]
Alex tossed the note into the fire. He didn't need a second invitation.
---
The Catacombs were off-limits to most students—lined with bone-laced walls, enchanted tombs, and the remnants of long-dead sages.
But Alex walked through them like he belonged.
His footsteps echoed.
Then stopped.
Because something else moved.
A figure stood in the center of a rune circle, face hidden by a silver mask. Robes shimmered with celestial script.
"You're earlier than expected," the figure said.
"I like to be punctual to mysterious death threats," Alex replied.
The figure chuckled. "Not death. Destiny."
They tossed something toward him.
Alex caught it.
A medallion. Ebony. With the Obsidian Gate engraved upon it.
"What is this?"
"A key."
"To what?"
"To who you truly are."
The figure stepped forward, lowering the mask.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was Headmaster Aldric.
Alex's eyes narrowed.
"You?"
"I've watched you since your arrival. You're not from this world, are you?"
[System Alert: Identity Exposure Risk – 83%]
"I adapt well," Alex said carefully.
"Too well. The spells you cast—half of them haven't been used since the War of Sundering. Your reflexes. Your affinity. You're not just powerful. You're ancient."
Valerian said nothing.
Aldric held up a vial of silver-blue liquid. "Drink this, and your memories will return. Who you were. What you lost. What lies beyond the Gate."
Valerian stared at it.
"What's the catch?"
"You may not like who you were."
He reached for the vial—
But stopped.
[System Interruption: WARNING – Memory Injection May Trigger Host Collapse. Risk of Personality Fragmentation – High. Accept Anyway? Y/N]
Alex lowered his hand.
"Not yet."
Aldric nodded. "Wise. You'll need your strength for what's coming."
"What is coming?"
Aldric turned, cloak sweeping behind him.
"The Gate opens in three days. And when it does, they will come through."
"Who?"
"The ones who made you."
---
Back in his room, Alex sat in silence. His hands trembled slightly.
The medallion glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He wasn't just reincarnated.
He was designed.
The question was: for what?