They slipped into the Arcane Research Hall later that evening.
It was nearly empty at that hour, save for a few scattered upper-year students working under lamplight. Long crystal screens hovered over desks, filled with diagrams of spell formations and affinity charts. The room smelled faintly of ink and ozone, the scent of concentrated mana.
Elara kept close as Merlin moved down the aisles, his fingers brushing across the archive drawers that lined the walls.
"You've been here before?" she whispered.
He nodded. "First year. I used to study mana circuit design here. The records haven't changed."
He found the section labeled Artifact Registration Logs, Year 812–813. Pulling the heavy drawer open, he flicked through a series of metal-coded cards, each one glowing faintly as it registered his touch.
"These are all weapon batches brought in or commissioned by the academy," he explained. "Every material has a serial imprint that shows who imported or forged it."
