The morning in the Undercroft didn't begin with sunlight. It began with the grinding sound of the heavy iron gates unlocking, followed by the shouting of the wardens.
"Up! Get moving, maggots! Breakfast in ten minutes!"
I opened my eyes. The stone ceiling of Room C-104 was damp, condensation gathering in heavy droplets that fell like a slow, torture clock. I didn't move immediately. I turned my head to the right.
Zane was awake. In fact, I doubted he had slept at all. He was sitting on the edge of his bunk, his massive frame hunched over, elbows on his knees. His eyes were bloodshot, staring at the floor with an intensity that could drill through rock. His hands were clasping and unclasping, a rhythmic motion to release the tension of the noise returning.
The moment I shifted on my mattress, the rustle of the straw bedding made him flinch. His head snapped toward me. "You're awake," he rasped. His voice sounded like gravel being crushed.
"Morning," I said, keeping my voice low. I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples as if I were still nursing a massive magical hangover. "How was the night?"
"Loud," Zane grunted. He stood up, looming over the small room. The air felt heavier just by him being upright. "Is your mana back?"
I swung my legs off the bed. I could feel my mana core humming comfortably at 98%. My regeneration was faster than average—likely a perk of the Mirage Arche being less taxing on the body than elemental types. But Zane didn't need to know that.
I looked at him with tired eyes. "I'm at... maybe ten percent," I lied smoothly. "Enough to keep my heart beating, not enough to cast a spell."
Zane's jaw tightened. Disappointment flashed in his eyes, followed immediately by anger. He took a step toward me. "You said—"
"I said I need to recover," I cut him off, standing up. I was half his size, but I didn't back down. "Stress slows down regeneration. If you want your fix, you need to keep me safe and calm today. If I get into a fight, if I get stressed... no silence for you tonight."
It was a cruel leash, but it was effective. Zane stopped. He looked like he wanted to snap me in half, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Safe," he muttered, as if memorizing a command. "Fine. Let's go."
The cafeteria was a study in segregation. The "Common Hall" was a cavernous, windowless room filled with long wooden tables that smelled of grease and bleach. The breakfast was a grey, oatmeal-like sludge that the Academy called "Nutrient Paste," accompanied by stale bread and water.
Across the magical barrier that divided the hall, we could see the Noble section. It was bathed in sunlight filtering through enchanted windows. They had white tablecloths. They were eating eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and drinking juice that sparkled with mana. The barrier was transparent, designed specifically so we could see what we weren't allowed to have.
"Look at them," a student near us whispered, spitting on the floor. "Eating like kings while we get pig slop."
I ignored the food and the envy. I was scanning the room. I saw Kaelen Valorius. The Hero was sitting at the center table in the Noble section, surrounded by a sycophantic entourage. He looked recovered from his fall yesterday. He was laughing, gesturing with a fork, probably recounting some heroic deed from his childhood. The girl next to him—Elara, the Wind Mage—was listening intently.
"He looks happy," Zane growled, stabbing his spoon into the grey sludge. The clatter of cutlery in the hall was clearly irritating him. Every clink and scrape made his left eye twitch.
"He's the protagonist," I murmured, more to myself than Zane. "The world is built to make him happy."
"Protagonist?" Zane asked.
"Nothing. Just eat. We have Demonology in twenty minutes."
I forced down the tasteless paste. I needed the calories. My brain required glucose to maintain the complex lies I was planning. Today was the first lecture with Professor Vex. In the game, Vex was a minor villain. A sadistic academic who believed that commoners were genetically inferior to nobles. He was the type of teacher who would fail you for breathing too loudly.
But he was also a hoarder. He had a fascination with "Cursed Objects." And somewhere in his possession was the Ring of Whispers. An artifact that passively increased the wearer's mana regeneration and, more importantly, allowed for silent casting. For an illusionist, silent casting was the holy grail. It meant I could weave lies without anyone hearing the incantation.
I needed that ring. And today, I was going to find out where he kept it.
The walk to the Tower of Theory was a gauntlet. The hallways were crowded. Nobles walked down the center, forcing commoners to press against the walls. Zane acted as a human plow. He didn't step aside. He simply walked in a straight line. When a group of arrogant wind mages tried to block our path, expecting us to yield, they took one look at Zane's face—which looked like he was one second away from biting someone's jugular—and quickly moved aside.
"Watch it, brute," one of them muttered, but he kept walking.
Zane's fists clenched. "I heard that," he whispered to me. "I heard his heartbeat spike when he said it."
"Ignore it," I ordered softly. "Save the rage."
We entered Lecture Hall 4. It was a steep, amphitheater-style room. The seats rose high toward the ceiling, looking down on a single podium and a large blackboard. The front rows were already claimed by the Nobles. They had padded cushions on their seats. The back rows—hard wooden benches—were for us.
We took a seat in the back corner. It gave me a view of the entire room. I watched as the students filtered in. Kaelen entered last, of course. He waved to a few people and took a seat in the front row, center.
Then, the heavy oak doors slammed shut. The room went silent.
From the shadow behind the podium, a man emerged. Professor Vex. He looked exactly as I remembered from the character illustrations. Tall, painfully thin, with skin the color of old parchment. He wore a dark purple robe that seemed too big for him. His hair was black and greasy, slicked back, revealing a high, sharp forehead. But it was his eyes that were disturbing. They were small, beady, and darted around the room like a predator looking for the weakest sheep in the herd.
He didn't say "Hello." He didn't introduce himself. He simply picked up a piece of chalk and wrote a single word on the blackboard. The sound of the chalk screeching against the slate was piercing.
HIERARCHY.
Zane flinched beside me, covering his ears slightly.
Vex turned to face the class. He smiled. It was a smile that didn't reach his eyes; it only showed his yellowed teeth.
"Magic," Vex began, his voice slithering through the air, "is not a gift. It is a right of blood."
He walked slowly along the front row, looking admiringly at the noble students. "For centuries, the noble families have refined their bloodlines. They have bred for power, for capacity, for purity. Their mana is clear water."
Then, his gaze snapped up to the back rows. To us. "And then... there is the mutation." He said the word with disgust. "The random awakening of mana in the peasantry. You. The 'Commoners.' Your mana is not water. It is mud. It is chaotic, dirty, and unstable."
A murmur of anger rippled through the back rows, but no one dared to speak up. Vex was a Rank-A mage. He could crush us with a thought.
"Today's lesson is simple," Vex announced. "We will determine the purity of your mana. Those who are too 'muddy'... will be recommended for the labor corps immediately. I do not waste my time teaching livestock how to read."
He pointed a bony finger at a girl in the third row. A commoner. "You. Stand up."
The girl stood, trembling. "Y-yes, Professor?"
"Name?"
"Lina, sir."
"Lina. Project your mana. Form a simple sphere of light."
Lina raised her hand. She closed her eyes, concentrating. A small ball of light appeared in her palm. It flickered, turning from yellow to orange, buzzing slightly. It wasn't perfect, but for a first-year student, it was decent.
Vex sneered. "Disgusting." He waved his hand. A whip of dark energy lashed out from his wand, striking the ball of light. SNAP. The light shattered. The feedback shock knocked Lina back into her seat. She gasped, clutching her hand as if it had been burned.
"Unstable," Vex declared. "Inefficient. You are wasting the mana the atmosphere provides. Next."
He went down the line, humiliating student after student. He criticized their stance, their color, their breathing. He was breaking their spirits, systematically.
Then, his eyes landed on Kaelen in the front row. The predator's expression softened into something resembling respect. "Mr. Valorius. Show them."
Kaelen stood up confidently. "Yes, Professor." He held out his hand. A sphere of light appeared. But this wasn't just light. It was a miniature sun. It was perfectly spherical, stable, and emitted a pure, golden glow that illuminated the entire hall. It hummed with a beautiful, harmonious sound.
"Magnificent," Vex purred. "Look at the stability. Look at the density. This is magic. Sit down, Mr. Valorius. Ten points to House Valorius."
Kaelen sat down, beaming. He didn't look back at the crying girl, Lina. He didn't see the cruelty. He just saw the praise. Classic hero syndrome—oblivious to the system that props him up.
Vex turned his back to the class, walking toward the podium. "Now... let's test the bottom of the barrel."
His eyes scanned the back row. They skipped over the terrified students. And they landed on the giant. Zane.
"You," Vex pointed. "The Ogre."
Zane froze. His hands were gripping the desk so hard the wood was groaning. The insult didn't bother him. The noise of Vex's voice—that slithering, high-pitched tone—was driving him insane.
"Me?" Zane rumbled.
"Yes, you. Stand up."
Zane stood slowly. He was a head taller than Vex, even from the back of the room. "Demonstrate your control," Vex ordered. "Create a construct. Anything. A ball. A cube."
Zane held out his hand. Red mana began to leak from his skin. It was thick, heavy, and violent. It smelled like iron and blood. Berserkers didn't do "control." Their magic was an explosion. Asking a Berserker to make a steady ball of light was like asking a shark to write a poem.
The red energy flickered, sparking wildly. It refused to take shape. It wanted to lash out. ZZZTT! CRACK! The sound of the mana arcing was loud.
Zane winced. The noise of his own magic was hurting him. "I... I can't shape it," Zane gritted out.
"Pathetic," Vex scoffed. "All brawn, no brain. You are a waste of the Academy's resources. Why are you even here? You should be in a cage, breeding with the other monsters."
The class went dead silent. That was too far. Even the Nobles looked uncomfortable.
Zane's breathing stopped. The "cage" comment wasn't just an insult. It was a trigger. I saw the shift. The pupils in Zane's eyes dilated. The rationality vanished. The red mana around his hand didn't fade; it flared up, turning into a gauntlet of pure, destructive energy. He wasn't going to cast a spell. He was going to jump over the desks and rip Vex's throat out.
If he did that, he would die. Vex was an A-Rank. He would vaporize Zane before he took three steps. And I would lose my tank.
'Damn it,' I thought. 'I have to intervene.'
I didn't have enough mana to silence Zane. And even if I did, Vex would sense the spell. I had to use the only other weapon I had. Theory.
I kicked the leg of the bench hard. THUD. The sound broke the tension for a millisecond. I stood up, right next to Zane.
"Professor," I said loudly. My voice was calm, cutting through the heavy atmosphere.
Vex looked at me, annoyed that a bug had spoken. "Sit down, boy. I didn't call on you."
"You asked for a demonstration of mana purity," I said, stepping slightly in front of Zane, blocking his line of sight to Vex. "But your premise is flawed."
The room gasped. Did a commoner just tell Professor Vex he was wrong? Kaelen turned around in his seat, eyebrows raised.
Vex's eyes narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?"
"You claimed that Commoner mana is 'muddy' and Noble mana is 'pure water,'" I continued, walking slowly toward the aisle. I needed to draw all the aggro. I needed Zane to be forgotten. "But according to the Third Law of Arch-Dynamics, specifically the chapter on Entropy, chaos is not impurity. Chaos is potential energy."
I pointed at the red sparks still fizzling around Zane's hand. "That isn't 'mud'. That is hyper-compressed kinetic mana. It's not failing to take shape because it's weak. It's failing because a simple sphere structure is too fragile to contain the density of his output. You are asking a hurricane to fit inside a glass bottle, and then blaming the hurricane when the glass breaks."
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. Vex stared at me. His face turned from pale to a blotchy red. He wasn't used to being lectured. especially not by a student wearing a grey robe. "What is your name, boy?" Vex hissed.
"Aren," I replied.
"Well, Aren," Vex smiled, but it was a dangerous, shark-like smile. "If you are such an expert on the Third Law, perhaps you can demonstrate it? Or are you just a parrot repeating words you read in a stolen book?"
He raised his wand. "Let's test your density."
He didn't cast a visible spell. He released his Killing Intent. It was a wave of pure psychic pressure, directed solely at me. For a normal student, this would be terrifying. Their knees would buckle, they would wet themselves, and they would beg for mercy.
I felt the pressure hit me. It felt like a heavy blanket trying to suffocate me. But Vex made a mistake. He was trying to crush me with fear. But I had stared at a computer screen for years, reading about cosmic horrors, dismantling plot holes, and criticizing gods. I had lived in my head for so long that my mental fortress was built of reinforced steel.
'Is that it?' I thought. 'Rank A pressure? It feels like a heavy backpack.'
Outwardly, I acted. I gritted my teeth. I pretended to struggle. I let my knees shake. But I didn't fall. I looked Vex in the eye, and I lied to his perception.
[Skill: Mirage - Emotional Reflection] Target: Vex's eyes.
I didn't project fear. I projected a subtle, barely noticeable image behind my own eyes. A reflection of him. But in the reflection, Vex looked... small. Weak. Insignificant.
Vex blinked. For a split second, he felt a strange sensation. He looked at this weak commoner boy, but his instincts screamed that he was looking into a mirror that showed his own insecurities. The discomfort made him waver. He dropped the pressure.
"Hmph," Vex scoffed, breaking eye contact first. He adjusted his collar, looking unsettled. "You have... adequate mental resistance. For a rat."
He turned back to the blackboard, eager to end the confrontation that didn't go as he planned. "Sit down. Both of you. But don't think this insolence is forgotten. Detention. Tonight. My office."
My heart skipped a beat. Not out of fear. Out of triumph. "My office."
Vex's office was in the Faculty Tower. The most secure building in the academy. Students were never allowed there unless... Unless they were invited for detention.
He had just given me the key to the castle.
I sat down. My legs were actually shaking now—not from his pressure, but from the adrenaline of the gamble. Zane slumped down beside me. The red aura was gone. He looked exhausted, but the murder in his eyes had faded.
"You..." Zane whispered, staring at me. "You stood in front of me."
"I told you," I whispered back, staring straight ahead at the blackboard. "I need a wall. But a wall is useless if it crumbles before the war starts."
Zane didn't reply. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shift his position. He moved slightly to the left. Blocking the draft from the door that was hitting my shoulder. It was a small gesture. A subconscious one. But it was there.
Class continued. Vex lectured on about mana theory. But I wasn't listening anymore. I was looking at the large, heavy key ring hanging from Vex's belt. And among the iron keys, there was one made of black crystal.
The Key to the Reliquary.
I smiled, hiding it behind my hand. 'Tonight, Professor,' I thought. 'We're going to rob you blind.'