The Next Day.
The sunlight that filtered through the dormitory curtains felt almost foreign after the night's silence. For most students, Saturday's rest bled comfortably into Sunday's ease, but for Asher, sleep had been little more than a shallow illusion.
He stood before the mirror, fastening the belt of his combat wear with steady hands. The faint marks beneath his eyes gave him away — shadows that weren't entirely born of fatigue.
For a moment, his reflection flickered. The mirror dimmed as though something darker pressed close on the other side. He blinked, and it was gone.
The voice did not speak this morning. But its absence was not peace; it was a hum beneath his skin, a whisper waiting to return.
Outside, the dorms stirred with quiet energy. Students lingered by the gardens, chatting idly, some preparing for mock duels while others simply basked in the weekend calm. The noble courtyard — always immaculate — shimmered in the pale gold of morning dew.
Asher walked through it, drawing glances as he did. Some looked away quickly, others held his gaze too long, curious about the commoner who'd begun to draw whispers amongst the noble's.
He ignored them.
At the far end of the courtyard, he saw her — Lilith Veyra — standing by the marble fountain, her violet hair pulled into a loose braid. She wore a black jacket with black trousers and brown boots instead of her usual mage robe. There was something quieter about her today, though her expression still held the composure of someone unwilling to look weak.
She noticed him the instant he approached.
"You're early," she said flatly, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve.
"So are you," Asher replied, stopping a few feet away. "I didn't think nobles were fond of punctuality."
Her brow arched. "And I didn't think commoners were allowed in the noble courtyard without special permission."
The edge in her tone was deliberate — not cruel, but defensive. She wanted to regain some control after the humiliation of yesterday's dungeon.
Asher only gave a small, knowing smile. "Then it's a good thing I'm not a commoner. Have i not told you before?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You really enjoy being mysterious, don't you?"
He shrugged lightly. "Only when it helps me stay alive."
Lilith crossed her arms, studying him. "About yesterday… that monster—"
"Wasn't supposed to be there," he finished for her. "And no, I don't know how it slipped through the barrier."
She frowned, unconvinced. "You expect me to believe that? You didn't even look surprised when it appeared. It was as if you knew it would come."
Asher's gaze flicked to her, sharp for a heartbeat, then softened again. "The significance of that monster was to low to startle me."
Before she could press further, footsteps echoed from the path behind them. A group of other nobles — Lauris, Evelyn, and two others from the higher division — approached, their voices light with mock amusement.
"Well, well," Lauris drawled, "the ever-proud Lilith Veyra chatting so early in the morning… with a commoner."
Evelyn giggled, covering her mouth. "Isn't he the one who you always prey on in the early hours of the day? My, how tastes change."
Lilith stiffened. Asher said nothing, his expression unreadable.
"Careful," Lauris continued, circling closer, "commoners have a way of biting when you feed them attention. You might lose a finger or two."
Lilith's patience snapped. "Enough, Lauris!" she yelled.
Lauris grinned. "You dare to raise your voice at m—"
Lauris' eyes widened. 'What just happened?' he thought as his breathing gradually increased. He touched his neck as if to confirm it was still there. ' I could have sworn that I felt my head leave my neck.'
Beads of sweat started rolling down his face. That was when he noticed where the pressure was coming from. He met the gaze of Asher's cold, eerie, purple yes that spelt danger.
"Is something the matter, Lauris?" Evelyn asked, confused as to what just happened.
Lauris stepped back instinctively. "I have an errand to run so I'll leave you be.......for now." He said, keeping his composure. He turned sharply, motioning to the others. "Let's go."
As they left, Lilith exhaled slowly. "You did something again, didn't you?."
Asher's voice was calm. "No."
She looked at him, uncertain if he was joking — and the faint shimmer of unease in his dark eyes told her he wasn't. He just straight up lied without the intention of it to be funny.
The silence that followed was strangely heavy. The breeze stirred the water in the fountain, and for just a second, the reflection on its surface warped — forming the vague outline of a woman's silhouette, smiling faintly before fading.
Asher turned away first. "Come on," he said quietly. "We've got training to do."
Lilith hesitated, then followed.
Behind them, the water settled again. But the air didn't.
It felt like something unseen was listening.
The Academy's lower corridors were nothing like the sunlit courtyards above.
Few students ever saw them — they were lined with reinforced stone, etched with runes older than the kingdom itself. Down here, the air was colder, heavier, as though it carried the weight of centuries.
Instructor Marlen Dros, head of dungeon supervision, walked briskly through the dim hall, his boots echoing off the enchanted floor. His usual composure had been stripped away, leaving a man whose every breath felt drawn too shallow.
Two sentinels followed behind him, both pale and tense.
"Report again," Marlen ordered, his tone clipped.
One of the sentinels swallowed. "The barrier readings from the fourth floor fluctuated last night, sir. Energy spikes consistent with a tenth-level anomaly. Then… silence."
Marlen stopped dead. "A tenth floor resonance?"
"Yes, sir. It appeared for only a moment before vanishing entirely."
The instructor turned sharply, his eyes flashing. "That's impossible. There hasn't been a containment breach in fifteen years."
He pressed his hand against the runic wall, muttering a string of incantations. Lines of pale blue light shimmered across the surface, revealing layers of magical energy beneath. Normally, the dungeon's flow was steady, rhythmic — now, it pulsed unevenly, like a heartbeat that had lost its rhythm.
Marlen's jaw tightened.
"Patchwork runes are decaying faster than expected… something's feeding on the mana lattice."
The younger sentinel hesitated. "Sir, could it be an internal surge? Maybe a student tampered with—"
"No student could cause a fluctuation that deep," Marlen cut in. His voice dropped lower. "This feels… invasive. As if something on the lower floors reached up and touched the fourth."
He pulled his hand back, staring at the faint residue left on his palm — a dark shimmer that seemed to absorb the light instead of reflecting it.
The man's throat went dry. "Shadow essence."
Marlen's gaze darkened. "Abyssal traces," he murmured. "But that art was sealed… long ago."
The sentinels exchanged nervous glances.
"Get me the student logs from yesterday," Marlen ordered, straightening. "Everyone who accessed the dungeon. I want names, times, and instructor passes verified by dusk."
"Yes, sir."
Marlen lingered as they hurried off, staring once more at the trembling rune lines in the stone. The pattern looked almost alive — the glow fading then brightening again, as though responding to something far away.
He whispered under his breath, a tone that was almost a prayer:
"Don't tell me it's waking again…"
Behind him, the wall gave a faint shudder — a soft, breath-like exhale of darkness — before falling still once more.
The training grounds shimmered beneath a late-morning sun — wide, ringed with mana wards that hummed faintly in the breeze. Streams of blue energy pulsed between the embedded runestones, regulating the intensity of the spells cast inside.
Lilith Veyra stood at the circle's center, her purple hair catching the light as she twirled her staff with one hand. It was a long, elegant weapon carved with old runic sigils — a noble heirloom that glowed softly when her mana flowed through it.
Across from her, Asher adjusted his jacket in silence, his stance relaxed — too relaxed for a sparring match with a highborn mage.
Lilith's lips curved slightly. "You're not even going to draw a weapon?"
He shook his head. "Don't need one. You're weak after all"
Her eyebrow lifted, but she said nothing. A faint glimmer of mana gathered at her fingertips. "Then try not to regret it."
The air crackled.
Lilith swung her staff down — and a ring of fire erupted from the ground, racing toward Asher in a spiraling wave.
He didn't flinch. The flames split apart on their own, diverting around him like a living thing obeying instinct.
They didn't vanish — they curved away, swirling harmlessly past before dissolving into a faint veil of black mist.
As if the fire itself refused to touch him.
Lilith blinked, startled. "You redirected it?"
Asher tilted his head slightly. "No. You left the flow open. Don't forget — fire listens to pressure." His tone was calm, almost bored. "I didn't do anything. Your fire was simply too weak to reach me. That shows the gap between our power."
Her jaw clenched. "Maybe that's because you're just too strong."
He met her gaze without blinking. "No. It's because you're weak… and you know that."
Lilith inhaled sharply, irritation flashing in her eyes. The staff in her hand glowed brighter, her mana flaring like mystic flame. Circles of light formed beneath her feet — layered sigils of blue and silver gathered as her next spell began to charge.
"Stop," Asher said suddenly.
"Huh?" She froze, confused.
He walked closer, his tone measured. "State the process of casting a spell."
"What? Where's this coming from?"
"Do you want to get stronger?"
Lilith hesitated. "…Well, yeah."
"Then we start by fixing what you're doing wrong."
She frowned slightly, thinking. "Well… to cast a spell, I gather mana at the tip of my staff—"
"And that," Asher interrupted, "is where the problem begins."
"What?"
"When you cast a spell, you don't gather mana at the tip of your staff." His voice was calm, almost instructive. "Mana contains traces of life force. Many people don't realize this, but mana itself is alive."
Lilith's eyes widened. She had never heard such a thing — not from her family, not from any instructor. But the way Asher said it, it didn't sound like a theory. It sounded like truth.
"Yes," he continued, stepping closer, his tone steady. "Mana lives, and it responds to willpower. When you cast, the origin of your spell must be your mana chamber, not the staff."
"So in other words," Lilith said slowly, "I should cast the spell with my body, not the staff."
"Exactly. Channel it from within and let it flow through your staff. That way, you'll have complete control." He stepped beside her, adjusting her posture slightly. "Now… with what I've told you, try that fire spell again."
Lilith nodded quietly. His voice held a rare warmth.
He wasn't mocking her anymore — he was guiding her.
"Now," Asher said softly, "go ahead. You can do this."
Those words struck something deep inside her — words she'd longed to hear for so long. For once, someone believed she could. A small smile tugged at her lips as she took her stance.
A glowing magic circle appeared in front of her staff. The tip hummed, drawing power from deep within her chest — from her mana core, not her hand.
Whirrrrr...
The flames gathered at the tip, swirling tighter and brighter than she had ever managed before.
"Don't lose focus," Asher murmured beside her.
Lilith held her breath.
Then—
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the air, rattling the ground beneath them. Students nearby stopped and turned toward the sound, alarm flashing across their faces.
"What was that?"
"Where did that come from?"
Within seconds, eyes turned toward the training ground — toward Lilith, standing in stunned silence before a smoking crater in the earth.
She stared wide-eyed at her own handiwork. "Asher… that took a lot of mana."
He nodded slightly. "And that," he said, "is where cultivation comes in. That's the real purpose — to increase the capacity and efficiency of your mana."
Lilith looked at him again — and for the first time, the idea of weakness felt more like a challenge than an insult.