The first lockdown didn't sound the alarm.
It was the world suddenly ceasing to respond.
Mobile phones lost their signal, school gates refused to open and surveillance feeds froze simultaneously.
The sky seemed muted by an invisible hand — the clouds were motionless and the wind was still.
The academy was disconnected from reality.
The students first sensed that something was amiss from a distance.
Someone ran from the classroom building towards the school gate, seemingly for an eternity, but their perspective remained unchanged.
They weren't getting lost.
It was space folding in on itself.
Standing in the control room, Bai Ya watched layer upon layer of sealing spells activate, her face turning deathly pale.
'We didn't activate it,' she murmured.
'The rift itself... enveloped the academy.'
Li stood behind her and could see the entire outer perimeter of the campus shrouded in a translucent membrane of spirit energy, like a heart encased in a membrane and pulsing rhythmically.
The panic came slowly but surely.
At first, the students merely grew restless.
The second wave started to hear voices.
By the third wave, souls were floating directly out of their bodies.
Some souls were clear and steady; others flickered like poor television reception.
Even worse, students began to see each other's souls.
Some screamed.
Some collapsed on the spot.
Some stared too long at others' souls, asking themselves, "Am I dirtier than them?"
The crack's breathing grew heavier.
Because fear was gathering.
White Crow finally confirmed his conclusion.
'This isn't a malfunction.'
'It's a protective lockdown.'
Li Yi froze.
"Protective?"
'For the fissure, external variables are too numerous.'
By isolating the academy into a separate space, it can reorganise its carrier structure within controllable parameters.
In other words, this place had become a Petri dish.
The students were the materials.
Li's Sin Mark began to emit a steady warmth.
It was not a warning, but rather the sensation of a successful system connection.
He understood.
The lockdown wasn't intended to confine the students.
It was to confine him.
A turbulent surge of spiritual pressure erupted from the gymnasium.
Over twenty students collapsed simultaneously, their souls partially detached and tangled together like corrupted merged files.
The rift was attempting batch processing.
If it was successful, they would survive, but their souls would be recompiled into 'Stability Modules'.
Li stood at the centre of the field, with all the connecting threads automatically pointing towards him.
White Crow's voice trembled:
'You can't handle this volume alone.'
Li didn't turn back.
'I know.'
But he still took a step forward.
Because, at that moment, he was the only person in the entire academy who could catch it.
The moment the soul pressure dissipated, the gymnasium fell silent once more.
The students awoke, unaware of what had happened, but sensing that 'things suddenly felt much better'.
Someone murmured softly:
'Could it be... the Judge did something?'
The words spread like a virus.
Trust.
Dependence.
Anticipation.
The Breath of the Fissure was steadier than ever before.
Li stood rooted to the spot, suddenly struck by a dangerously clear realisation.
When everyone tacitly accepts you as the solution, you've already been written into the system.
The campus lockdown was complete.
Not a barrier.
A consensus.