Arthur was halfway through breakfast when someone poured water into his lap.
The dining hall went quiet.
Not completely.
A spoon still clinked somewhere.
Someone coughed.
A chair scraped against stone.
But the conversations around Arthur died one by one.
He looked down.
Water dripped from his trousers onto the floor.
Across the table stood Julian Hawke.
Arthur recognized him immediately.
The red coat.
The expensive boots.
The same expression that suggested the world had personally offended him by continuing to exist.
Julian held an empty glass.
“Clumsy,” he said.
Arthur looked at the glass.
Then at Julian.
Then back at his soaked clothes.
“I see.”
Julian waited.
Arthur picked up his napkin.
He carefully wiped his hands.
Then his table.
He ignored his trousers.
Julian’s eyebrow twitched.
“You’re not angry?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You should be.”
“Why?”
Julian leaned forward.
“Because I just embarrassed you.”
Arthur looked around.
Almost everyone was watching.
“Yes.”
He folded the napkin.
“You did.”
A few students exchanged confused looks.
Julian seemed disappointed.
“You’re different.”
Arthur’s expression remained neutral.
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
Julian pulled out the chair opposite him and sat.
“You really don’t remember?”
Arthur took another bite of bread.
“No.”
Julian watched him chew.
“You don’t even remember me?”
“I remember your name.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Arthur swallowed.
“You were at the gates yesterday.”
Julian smiled.
“Before that.”
Arthur said nothing.
Julian leaned closer.
“West Tower.”
There it was again.
That name.
Arthur’s fingers tightened slightly around the knife.
A flash passed through his mind.
Stone stairs.
A red uniform.
Someone falling.
A voice shouting:
“Arthur, don’t!”
Then darkness.
Arthur blinked.
Julian noticed.
“You saw something.”
“Possibly.”
Julian’s smile disappeared.
“You really lost it.”
Arthur placed the knife beside his plate.
“What happened at the West Tower?”
Julian stared at him.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yes.”
“You were there.”
“I know.”
“You caused it.”
Arthur waited.
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“You always thought you were smarter than everyone.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“You humiliated people because you could.”
Arthur didn’t answer.
Julian stood.
“You destroyed Darian.”
Several students looked toward them.
Arthur remained seated.
“What exactly did I do to him?”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“You don’t deserve to know.”
He turned.
Arthur watched him walk away.
Then he looked at the untouched food.
His appetite had disappeared.
Not because of Julian.
Because of the memory.
Someone had shouted his name.
Not angrily.
Fearfully.
And that bothered him.
“Don’t chase him.”
Arthur looked up.
Mira sat across from him.
She had arrived without him noticing.
“You move quietly,” Arthur said.
“You were distracted.”
“Apparently.”
Mira looked at his wet trousers.
“You’re handling that surprisingly well.”
Arthur glanced down.
“I have larger problems.”
“I know.”
She placed a small piece of paper on the table.
Arthur unfolded it.
A list.
Names.
Dates.
Locations.
He looked at her.
“What is this?”
“People connected to the West Tower incident.”
Arthur studied the page.
There were eleven names.
Four were students.
Three were instructors.
Two were academy staff.
The final two had been crossed out.
“Where did you get this?”
“The disciplinary archives.”
“You copied restricted records?”
Mira looked offended.
“I memorized them.”
Arthur stared at her.
“That’s somehow worse.”
“I didn’t say it was legal.”
He almost smiled.
Then he noticed something.
One name had been circled.
Instructor Seraphine Voss.
Arthur tapped it.
“She was there.”
Mira nodded.
“Yes.”
“And Darian?”
“Also there.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“Julian wasn’t listed.”
“No.”
“Then why does he know so much?”
Mira hesitated.
“Because his family investigated it.”
Arthur leaned back.
“Privately?”
“Very.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur looked at the list again.
Eleven names.
Two crossed out.
One instructor.
One injured noble.
And a sealed chamber beneath the academy.
The pieces were beginning to form a shape.
He didn’t like it.
The lunch bell rang.
Arthur left the dining hall with Mira.
The first was magical theory.
The second was combat fundamentals.
The third was academy law.
Arthur was looking forward to the last one.
The first two were humiliating.
Magical theory assumed he understood concepts he had never heard of.
The instructor asked him to explain mana circulation.
Arthur answered honestly.
“I don’t know.”
The entire classroom stared.
The instructor stared harder.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You attended this academy for months.”
“Apparently I wasn’t paying attention.”
Someone laughed.
The instructor didn’t.
“Sit down, Vale.”
Arthur did.
The lesson continued.
He took notes.
Not because he understood everything.
Because he didn’t.
That annoyed him more than the mockery.
On Earth, information had always been his advantage.
Here, he had entered a world where everyone else had years of knowledge he lacked.
He couldn’t bluff his way through that.
He would have to learn.
That realization was strangely refreshing.
Combat fundamentals went worse.
Arthur was given a wooden sword.
The instructor demonstrated a basic stance.
Arthur copied it.
“Your feet.”
Arthur adjusted them.
“Shoulders.”
He corrected them.
“Grip.”
He changed it.
The instructor stared.
“You’ve forgotten everything.”
Arthur looked at the sword.
“Apparently.”
A student behind him whispered:
“He really is useless.”
Arthur ignored him.
The instructor attacked without warning.
Arthur blocked.
Barely.
The wooden sword struck his wrist.
Pain shot through his hand.
The class laughed.
Arthur stepped back.
Again.
The instructor attacked.
Arthur blocked.
Again.
And again.
By the sixth exchange, his wrist was numb.
By the tenth, his breathing had changed.
He wasn’t learning the instructor’s movements.
He was learning his own.
The sword felt slightly less foreign.
When the lesson ended, Arthur’s shirt was damp with sweat.
He looked at the wooden sword.
It wasn’t much.
But yesterday, he couldn’t even hold a blade correctly.
Today, he could survive ten exchanges.
Progress.
Small.
Real.
He liked that.
Academy law was different.
Arthur sat near the front.
The instructor placed a thick rulebook on the desk.
“Gallows Edge has three hundred and twelve primary regulations.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Three hundred and twelve?”
“Yes.”
“Convenient.”
“What is?”
Arthur glanced toward the ranking board outside the window.
“Nothing.”
The instructor continued.
“Cadets are permitted to challenge one another under sanctioned conditions.”
Arthur started paying attention.
“However, challenges may be refused under certain circumstances.”
His pen stopped.
Interesting.
“Can a challenge be forced?”
“No.”
“Can someone challenge a cadet repeatedly?”
“Not without disciplinary approval.”
Arthur wrote that down.
“Can property be seized from another cadet?”
“No.”
“Even by a higher-ranked noble?”
The instructor’s eyes sharpened.
“No.”
Arthur nodded.
“Good.”
A student behind him whispered:
“Planning something?”
Arthur didn’t turn.
“Planning not to be poor.”
The student laughed.
Arthur ignored him.
At the end of class, the instructor assigned them a written examination for the following week.
Arthur looked at the pages.
Three hundred and twelve regulations.
He sighed.
That was going to be unpleasant.
By evening, Arthur had learned another rule.
People respected strength.
But they respected certainty almost as much.
The training courtyard was packed.
Arthur stood near the edge, practicing Shadow Thread.
The first attempt broke.
The second lasted two seconds.
The third curled around a stone.
He adjusted his wrist.
Again.
This time the thread held.
A faint line of darkness stretched between his fingers and the stone.
Arthur pulled.
The stone moved.
Barely.
But it moved.
A voice came from behind him.
“That’s pathetic.”
Arthur released the thread.
Julian stood there.
Several students had gathered around him.
Arthur looked at them.
“You seem to travel with an audience.”
Julian smiled.
“People like watching you fail.”
“Do they?”
Arthur glanced around.
Most of them were indeed watching.
“Apparently.”
Julian tossed something onto the ground.
A mana crystal.
It landed near Arthur’s feet.
Arthur looked at it.
“What’s that?”
“Your month’s resource allocation.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“My allocation is two crystals.”
Julian smiled.
“I know.”
He pointed at the crystal.
“That one is mine.”
Arthur looked from the crystal to Julian.
“Why would you give it to me?”
“I didn’t.”
Julian’s smile vanished.
“I’m selling it.”
“For?”
“Your seat.”
Arthur frowned.
“What seat?”
“Tomorrow’s advanced training evaluation.”
Arthur understood.
Julian wanted his place.
“You’re already ranked higher.”
“Yes.”
“So why do you need mine?”
Julian’s expression changed.
For the first time, there was no mockery in it.
“My family expects me to place in the top twenty this month.”
Arthur looked at him.
“And?”
“And if I don’t, I lose access to the Hawke estate’s private training grounds.”
Arthur considered that.
A noble heir.
A family expectation.
A ranking.
Pressure.
Julian wasn’t simply bullying him.
He needed something.
That was useful information.
Arthur picked up the crystal.
“How much?”
Julian looked surprised.
“You’re accepting?”
“No.”
Arthur held out the crystal.
“But I’ll buy it.”
Julian laughed.
“You can’t afford it.”
“Then tell me the price.”
“Ten gold.”
Arthur stared.
“That is absurd.”
“Then remain poor.”
Julian turned.
Arthur stopped him.
“Wait.”
Julian looked back.
Arthur held up the crystal.
“I’ll pay you.”
Julian smirked.
“With what?”
Arthur smiled.
“That is the interesting part.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing illegal.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
Arthur placed the crystal on the table beside him.
“I’ll owe you.”
Julian blinked.
“A debt?”
“A written debt.”
Arthur took out a blank sheet.
“Academy-sanctioned. No interest.”
Julian laughed.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“And what happens if you can’t pay?”
Arthur looked directly at him.
“Then you can collect.”
Julian studied him.
“You really don’t remember what happened between us.”
“No.”
“Because if you did, you wouldn’t make deals with me.”
Arthur’s smile faded.
“Maybe.”
He pushed the paper toward him.
“Or maybe I simply don’t care about the person I used to be.”
Julian didn’t take the paper.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Julian picked up the crystal.
“Keep it.”
Arthur frowned.
“I don’t accept gifts.”
“It’s not a gift.”
Julian turned away.
“Consider it an investment.”
Arthur watched him leave.
Mira appeared beside him.
“You just accepted a favor from the person who hates you.”
Arthur looked at the crystal.
“He doesn’t hate me.”
“He absolutely hates you.”
“Perhaps.”
Arthur smiled.
“But he also wants something.”
Mira shook her head.
“You’re going to make enemies.”
Arthur looked toward the dark academy towers.
“I already have them.”
He closed his hand around the mana crystal.
“So I might as well learn how to use them.”
Later that night, Arthur sat at his desk.
The academy was quiet.
He placed the crystal in front of him.
Shadow Thread appeared between his fingers.
This time, it didn’t tremble.
Arthur moved his hand slowly.
The thread curved.
He tried again.
A little farther.
Again.
His concentration slipped.
The thread snapped.
Arthur stared at it.
Then laughed quietly.
It was the first time he had laughed that day.
Not because something was funny.
Because failure felt different now.
It wasn’t proof that he was incapable.
It was simply information.
He tried again.
The thread formed.
Smooth.
Controlled.
Almost elegant.
The interface appeared.
[Shadow Thread proficiency increased.]
[Optimization progress: 3%.]
[Conduct-compatible casting pattern identified.]
[Potential technique branch detected.]
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“Potential technique?”
A second line appeared.
Then vanished before he could read it.
Arthur leaned closer.
“What was that?”
No answer.
He waited.
Nothing.
Finally, he leaned back.
“Fine.”
He looked at the dark thread.
“Keep your secrets.”
Outside the window, the bells began ringing.
One.
Two.
Three.
Arthur stopped counting.
The fourth bell never came.
Instead, every light in the academy went out.
For three seconds, Gallows Edge was completely dark.
Then the emergency wards ignited.
Red light flooded the windows.
A siren screamed through the fortress.
Arthur stood.
The academy intercom crackled.
A voice announced:
“Outer barrier failure.”
Another voice followed.
“Repeat. Outer barrier failure.”
Arthur’s hand closed around the mana crystal.
Students began shouting in the corridors.
Someone screamed.
Then came a sound from beyond the walls.
A deep, wet roar.
Arthur walked toward the window.
Far below the floating fortress, the clouds were moving.
Not from wind.
Something enormous was climbing through them.
Arthur stared.
The system appeared.
For the first time since he had awakened, its usual blue interface was gone.
The words were gold.
Only three lines.
[Conduct requirement suspended.]
[Survival priority recognized.]
[The Court permits violence.]
Arthur stared at the final line.
Then smiled without humor.
“Well.”
He picked up his sword.
“That’s convenient.”
The emergency bell rang again.
This time, it did not stop.