The first thing Arthur learned that morning was that nineteen names were surprisingly difficult to track.
The second was that Gallows Edge Academy had been designed by people who clearly disliked organized information.
Mira had spread papers across half the library table.
Scholarship records.
Training schedules.
Housing assignments.
Medical reports.
Three copies of the same student roster.
Arthur stared at the mess.
“You said this would take an hour.”
“I said finding the names would take an hour.”
“And?”
“I underestimated the academy’s filing system.”
Arthur picked up a document.
A student named Rhea Dorne appeared under three different spellings.
Another student had two ranks.
A third had apparently been assigned to two classes at the same time.
Arthur put the paper down.
“This isn’t a filing system.”
Mira sighed.
“It’s an institution.”
“That is worse.”
She pushed a second list toward him.
“The nineteen students.”
Arthur looked through it.
Some names were familiar.
Most weren’t.
Their backgrounds varied.
Different districts.
Different years.
Different archetypes.
No obvious common factor.
Arthur tapped the first name.
“Rhea Dorne.”
“Second year.”
“Archetype?”
“[Glass Weaver].”
“Current location?”
Mira hesitated.
“That’s the problem.”
Arthur looked up.
“Missing?”
“Not officially.”
“Then?”
“She transferred.”
“To where?”
“No record.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“Next.”
“Jon Bell.”
“First year. [Ironhand].”
“Current location?”
“Outer defense.”
“Still enrolled?”
“Yes.”
“Third?”
“Caleb Wren. Third year. [Tide Caller].”
“Current location?”
“Medical leave.”
Arthur stopped.
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Reason?”
Mira slid the medical report toward him.
“Mana exhaustion.”
Arthur read it.
The report was short.
Too short.
“That’s not enough to explain medical leave.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“You’re getting better at this.”
Mira smiled.
“I had a good teacher.”
Arthur looked genuinely offended.
“I hope you’re joking.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
She pointed toward the list.
“We have eighteen names left.”
Arthur folded his hands.
“Then let’s find them.”
Their first success came from the dining hall.
Not because anyone there was particularly helpful.
Because people talked when they thought nobody important was listening.
Arthur sat alone near the back while Mira questioned a group of scholarship cadets.
He didn’t interfere.
That was deliberate.
Mira was better at this.
She didn’t sound like an investigator.
She sounded like another student.
That made people comfortable.
Ten minutes later, she returned.
“Rhea Dorne was transferred to the northern tower.”
Arthur frowned.
“That’s still inside the academy.”
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t she on the current roster?”
“She is.”
Mira placed a page in front of him.
Arthur scanned it.
RHEA DORNE — NORTHERN OBSERVATION UNIT
He looked at Mira.
“What is that?”
“Apparently, a temporary research assignment.”
“For how long?”
“Four months.”
Arthur’s eyebrows lifted.
“She hasn’t attended normal classes for four months?”
“No.”
“Has anyone questioned it?”
“Apparently not.”
Arthur considered the academy’s philosophy.
Train.
Survive.
Advance.
Students disappearing from ordinary classes should have caused concern.
Instead, the academy had paperwork.
That was almost worse.
“Can we visit her?”
Mira nodded.
“Already requested it.”
Arthur looked at her.
“You’re getting ahead of me.”
“Someone has to.”
The Northern Observation Unit occupied a narrow tower overlooking the clouds.
A metal staircase wound around its interior.
At the top, a single room overlooked the eastern sky.
Rhea Dorne sat beside the window.
She was thin.
Too thin.
A silver thread ran from her left wrist into a small crystal device on the table.
When Arthur entered, her eyes moved immediately to him.
Then to Mira.
“Who are you?”
“Mira Thorn.”
“Scholarship student.”
“Yes.”
Rhea’s gaze shifted.
“And you’re Arthur Vale.”
Arthur paused.
“You’ve heard of me.”
“Everyone has.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Rhea gave him a faint smile.
“I heard you stopped a breach.”
Arthur sat across from her.
“I helped.”
“And you’re investigating the transfers.”
Mira stiffened.
Arthur remained calm.
“How did you know?”
Rhea pointed toward the window.
“People talk.”
Arthur glanced at Mira.
She looked irritated.
Apparently that phrase was becoming contagious.
“What happened to you?” Arthur asked.
Rhea looked at the crystal attached to her wrist.
“They said my archetype was unusual.”
“What does it do?”
“I weave mana into glass.”
“Useful.”
“Sometimes.”
She looked toward the horizon.
“Three months ago, they asked me to participate in a special training assessment.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“Below the western rampart.”
Arthur and Mira exchanged a glance.
Rhea continued.
“There were nine of us.”
Arthur’s expression changed.
“Nine?”
“Yes.”
“Not nineteen?”
“No.”
“Do you remember the others?” This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
“Some.”
She gave them six names.
Arthur wrote them down.
Then she stopped.
“There was another person.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they look like?”
“An instructor.”
Arthur waited.
Rhea shook her head.
“I never saw their face.”
Mira asked, “Why?”
“Because we were told not to look.”
Arthur’s gaze sharpened.
“Who told you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you remember?”
Rhea hesitated.
“A room.”
“Describe it.”
“Circular.”
Arthur’s pen stopped.
Mira noticed.
Rhea continued.
“There were marks on the floor.”
“What kind?”
“Different for everyone.”
Arthur asked, “What happened when you stepped inside yours?”
Rhea looked down.
“My archetype changed.”
Silence.
“What do you mean?”
“For thirty seconds, my ability became stronger.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“How much stronger?”
“Enough to break the training barrier.”
“That sounds useful.”
“It wasn’t.”
Her voice became quieter.
“Afterward, I couldn’t use my archetype for three days.”
Arthur looked at the crystal.
“That’s why you’re here.”
Rhea nodded.
“They called it recovery.”
Arthur looked at the silver thread.
“And what do you call it?”
Rhea met his eyes.
“Testing.”
On the way down, Mira was silent.
Arthur didn’t press her.
Finally, she said, “That’s not normal.”
“No.”
“They’re modifying archetypes.”
“Possibly.”
“You said we shouldn’t guess.”
“I said we shouldn’t pretend our guesses are facts.”
Mira stopped on the staircase.
“You think Rhea was telling the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she didn’t exaggerate.”
Arthur continued downward.
“People who want attention usually make their stories larger.”
“And she didn’t?”
“She made hers smaller.”
Mira followed.
“That bothers you.”
“Yes.”
The academy didn’t make it easy to investigate further.
Their request for access to the Northern Observation Unit was denied the next morning.
Reason:
FACILITY UNDER MAINTENANCE.
Mira stared at the notice.
“They closed it.”
Arthur nodded.
“When?”
“Last night.”
Arthur looked toward the northern tower.
The windows were dark.
“Convenient.”
Mira crossed her arms.
“Don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“That everything is convenient.”
Arthur smiled.
“Everything isn’t convenient.”
“Good.”
“Some things are merely predictable.”
She rolled her eyes.
Their next lead was Jon Bell.
First-year.
[Ironhand].
Outer defense.
He was easy to find.
He was also impossible to speak to.
The moment Arthur introduced himself, Jon became nervous.
“I don’t know anything.”
Arthur hadn’t asked a question.
“That’s reassuring.”
“I mean it.”
Mira stepped in.
“We’re investigating the transfer program.”
Jon looked around.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Arthur watched him carefully.
No arrogance.
No hostility.
Fear.
“What happened during your assessment?” Arthur asked.
Jon swallowed.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
Mira gave Arthur a look.
He corrected himself.
“You’re afraid.”
Jon looked down.
Arthur waited.
Eventually, the younger student whispered:
“They asked me who I would choose.”
Arthur frowned.
“Choose what?”
“Someone.”
“Who?”
Jon shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“What were the choices?”
“My brother.”
Silence.
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“Your brother isn’t here.”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“Home.”
“Then why would they ask?”
Jon’s hands began shaking.
“Because they made him appear.”
Mira went still.
Arthur’s voice remained calm.
“A memory?”
“I don’t know.”
“An illusion?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Jon looked at him.
“They told me that if I wanted power, I had to prove what mattered more.”
Arthur understood the shape of the test.
Not the answer.
The question.
“What did you choose?”
Jon looked away.
“My brother.”
“What happened?”
“My archetype activated.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“Then?”
“They told me I failed.”
Mira looked confused.
“But your archetype activated.”
Jon nodded.
“They said that was the problem.”
Arthur and Mira left without asking anything else.
They walked in silence for several minutes.
Finally, Mira said, “That makes no sense.”
“It does.”
She looked at him.
Arthur stopped beneath an archway.
“They aren’t simply measuring strength.”
“What are they measuring?”
Arthur thought about Rhea.
Her ability becoming stronger.
The temporary enhancement.
Then Jon.
His choice.
His archetype activating because of an emotional response.
“Behavior.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed.
“Like the conduct system?”
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at the nineteen names in his notebook.
“But I think they’re trying to discover what makes an archetype respond.”
Mira stared at him.
“Why?”
Arthur closed the notebook.
“That is the question.”
The following morning brought another problem.
Combat remediation.
Arthur entered the training arena to find six instructors waiting.
Not Julian.
Not Voss.
Six.
A large display had been placed above the arena.
REMEDIAL EVALUATION — ARTHUR VALE
The surrounding seats were full.
Arthur stopped.
“This seems unnecessarily public.”
Instructor Voss stood at the edge of the arena.
“It is an academy evaluation.”
“Why are there spectators?”
“Because your ranking has attracted attention.”
Arthur sighed.
Of course it had.
Voss continued.
“Your objective is simple.”
She pointed toward the opposite gate.
A heavily armored training construct stepped into the arena.
Arthur stared at it.
“That isn’t simple.”
The construct raised a sword.
Voss’s expression didn’t change.
“Survive for three minutes.”
Arthur looked at the machine.
Then at his own wooden sword.
“Does the academy provide medical compensation?”
“No.”
“I assumed not.”
The bell rang.
The construct charged.
Arthur moved.
The first strike nearly broke his guard.
The second forced him backward.
The third caught his shoulder.
Pain exploded through his arm.
Arthur stumbled.
The spectators shouted.
He recovered.
Feet.
Chest.
Weight.
Julian’s lessons.
The construct attacked again.
Arthur dodged.
Barely.
He couldn’t predict it.
It had no fear.
No hesitation.
No intent.
Just programmed movement.
His usual advantage disappeared.
The construct swung.
Arthur ducked.
The blade passed over his head.
He stepped inside its reach.
Shadow Thread flickered between his fingers.
A thin black line wrapped around the construct’s wrist.
Arthur pulled.
Nothing.
The thread snapped.
He stared.
Too much force.
Too little control.
The construct struck him in the stomach.
Arthur flew backward.
He hit the ground hard.
The arena went quiet.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
Then he heard Julian’s voice from the stands.
“Get up!”
Arthur laughed once despite the pain.
Of course.
He forced himself upright.
The construct advanced.
Arthur didn’t attack.
He waited.
The machine raised its sword.
Arthur watched its feet.
Left.
Right.
Shift.
He moved.
The sword missed.
Three seconds.
He moved again.
Another attack.
Miss.
Another.
Miss.
For the first time, Arthur wasn’t trying to win.
He was trying to remain standing.
The timer reached three minutes.
The bell rang.
The construct stopped.
Arthur remained upright.
Barely.
The arena erupted in scattered applause.
Arthur looked at the display.
SURVIVAL: PASS
COMBAT EXECUTION: 24
TECHNICAL ADAPTATION: 39
OVERALL REMEDIATION: PASS
A system window appeared.
Only one line.
[Improvement recognized.]
Arthur stared at it.
No reward.
No optimization.
No dramatic increase.
Just recognition.
Somehow, that felt appropriate.
He had survived.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
After the assessment, Julian approached.
“You lasted.”
Arthur was sitting on a bench with an ice pack against his shoulder.
“Your standards remain inspiring.”
Julian grinned.
“You watched the feet.”
“I did.”
“And?”
Arthur looked toward the arena.
“I stopped trying to control everything.”
Julian nodded.
“Good.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“Don’t get sentimental.”
“Tomorrow, we train again.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Of course we do.”
Across the hall, Mira stood waiting.
She had her notebook open.
Arthur looked at her.
She held up one finger.
“I found the twentieth name.”
Arthur opened his eyes.
“There are only nineteen students.”
“I know.”
Mira’s expression had lost all humor.
“The twentieth name appears on the original transfer authorization.”
Arthur slowly stood.
“Whose name?”
Mira turned the notebook around.
At the bottom of the page was a single entry.
ARTHUR VALE.
Arthur stared at it.
Neither of them spoke.
Then Mira whispered,
“You were included in the program.”
Arthur looked toward the distant western towers.
For several seconds, his mind offered no answer.
So he did what he had been learning to do.
He didn’t invent one.
He simply said,
“Then we find out why.”