54 hours later...
Time: 6:30 pm
The sky over the Ruins of the Forgotten was the color of a fresh bruise—deep purples and sickly oranges bleeding into the horizon. The campfire at the center of the Undergraduate campsite crackled, but the warmth was an illusion against the biting mountain wind.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered.
Marius, a boy from a minor noble family in Vaeloria, came stumbling through the thicket. His breathing was a series of jagged, wet gasps. His face, usually tanned and arrogant, was now the color of curdled milk. He reached the center of the camp, his hands clawing at the air, his mouth open in a silent scream that died as a rattling hiss in his throat.
Professor Kaelith, the homeroom teacher, was on him in an instant, her hands glowing with a soft stabilization mana. "Marius! Calm down! What happened? Where is the rest of your unit?"
Marius collapsed to his knees, his eyes unfocused, vibrating in their sockets. "Kasper..." he finally choked out, the word followed by a dry heave. "The woods... the shadows... Kasper is... the bear... it took him!"
The temperature in the camp seemed to drop ten degrees. Kaelith's eyes widened. "A bear? There shouldn't be anything larger than a mountain cat in this sector. Show me. Now!"
The entire class, driven by a morbid, terrified curiosity, surged after the Professor. They moved like a single, shivering organism through the dense pines, their mana-lamps flickering against the twisted roots.
Then, they reached the clearing.
The smell hit them first—the metallic, copper tang of hot blood mixed with the musk of a predator. Then, the sight.
Kasper Vance, the boy who had dreamed of leading House Obscura with the music of stones, was unrecognizable. He lay on a bed of crushed ferns, his body ripped open from pelvis to throat. His internal organs, steaming in the cold air, were scattered across the moss like discarded fruit. Deep, jagged claw marks had bifurcated his chest, exposing the white of his ribs. In the soft mud surrounding the corpse, the massive, unmistakable imprints of a Great Bear's paws led away into the dark forest.
It was a scene of primal, senseless butchery.
Girls in the class turned away, retching. Boys who had bragged about their combat prowess stood paralyzed, their faces etched with the trauma of seeing a peer reduced to meat. Zack's silver-rimmed glasses slipped down his nose as he began to hyperventilate. Even Evelyn Astrum, usually so stoic, stepped back, her hand covering her mouth, her amber eyes shimmering with a sudden, icy dread.
But amid the sea of terror, one figure stood perfectly still.
Zack and Evelyn, prompted by a strange, instinctual chill, turned to look at Eizen. They expected to see the same horror they felt. Instead, they saw a shadow.
Eizen stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture as regal as if he were attending a gala. He wasn't looking at the body; he was looking at them with a slight side-glance. A thin, terrifying smile—sharp as a razor and cold as a tomb—upturned the corners of his mouth. His emerald eyes didn't hold a trace of pity; they held the calm satisfaction of an architect who had just seen a foundation stone settle into place.
Evelyn felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. At that moment, she realized the boy standing next to her wasn't a student. He was something that the devil himself would fear to cross.
Professor Silas and the High Healer, a Tier 4 mistress of restoration, arrived minutes later. The Healer knelt over Kasper, her hands glowing, then she slowly shook her head. "He is gone. The jugular was snapped by a single swipe, and the abdominal cavity was evacuated while he was likely still conscious. Only a massive, territorial bear could exert this much localized force."
Silas looked at the paw prints. "The weight displacement is consistent with a 400-kilogram beast. It must have wandered down from the High Peaks."
46 hours earlier...
The Academy's butcher room was a place of iron hooks and red stone, located in the bowels of the kitchen wing. It was 8:30 pm. The main butcher, a hulking man with no interest in politics, had stepped out for his evening meal, leaving the right-side ventilation window propped open to clear the scent of raw game.
Eizen moved through the shadows with the silence of a ghost. He didn't need magic to be invisible; he only needed to understand the blind spots of the guards. He slipped through the window and landed softly on the stone floor.
In the corner sat a large wicker basket filled with the "waste" of the week's hunt—bears and wolves unskinned for the carpets of the High Consistory. He reached into the basket and selected two massive, dried bear claws and a pair of severed paws that had been preserved for their decorative nails.
He tucked them into a waterproof silk wrap inside his tunic. He was back out the window before the butcher had even finished his first pint of ale. Total time elapsed: 120 seconds. No mana used. No signature left.
45 hours later...
5:30 pm
The sun was dipping behind the ruins, casting long, skeletal shadows across the stones. Eizen and Kasper were on the outskirts of the designated zone, deep in a ravine filled with low-quality quartz crystals.
"We should head back, Eizen," Kasper said, his voice echoing in the quiet canyon. "We're too far out. But... I'm glad we came out here. I wanted to talk to you."
Eizen stopped his search, his hands covered in the gray dust of the ruins. "Oh?"
"I know we're rivals for the Head of House," Kasper said, looking at Eizen with a genuine, if nervous, smile. "But I don't want it to be ugly. You're strong, Eizen. Maybe the strongest I've seen. I think... I think we could be friendly rivals. The best man wins, and the other supports him. What do you say?"
Eizen looked at him. For a moment, the Prince's face softened into a mask of approachable warmth. "I appreciate that, Kasper. Truly. I was worried the election would create a rift we couldn't bridge."
Eizen raised his hand for a 'dap'—the casual greeting of the younger nobles. Kasper, feeling a surge of relief that the "Mute Prince" was actually reasonable, grinned and met Eizen's hand.
As they dapped, Kasper followed through with the customary tap on the shoulder—an appreciation of friendship.
In that half-second of contact, the world ended for Kasper Vance.
As Kasper's hand touched Eizen's shoulder, Eizen's other hand—clutching the bear claw hidden in his sleeve—snapped upward with the speed of a viper. The dried, iron-hard claw didn't just cut; it pierced through Kasper's throat, severing the windpipe and the carotid artery in a single, silent thrust.
Kasper's eyes bulged. He tried to speak, but only a wet, bubbly sound emerged.
"How foolish of you," Eizen whispered into Kasper's ear, his voice as intimate as a lover's and as cold as a blade. "Believing your enemy because he offered you a smile. You really didn't deserve to be the House Head, Kasper. You lacked the most basic requirement: the understanding that everyone is a predator." Eizen continued "The world does not reward goodness; it rewards results. It does not remember effort; it remembers victors. Those who hesitate for morality are buried by those who act without it."
As Kasper collapsed, Eizen didn't let him fall immediately. He lowered him to the ground with practiced care. Then, with the clinical precision of a surgeon, he used the claws to rip open the boy's abdomen, mimicking the jagged, tearing action of a bear's swipe. He scattered the organs to match the feeding patterns of a wild animal.
He took the bear paws from his tunic and pressed them into the soft mud around the body, leaning his full weight into his Obsidian Skeleton to ensure the depth of the prints matched a 400-kilogram creature. He created a trail of tracks leading away into the deeper forest.
He stood up, his face splattered with a few drops of Kasper's blood. He wiped them away with a silk cloth, then walked to a massive, gnarled tree whose roots were bursting through the rocky soil.
Using his immense physical strength, he pried up a section of the thick root just enough to create a gap. He slid the bear claws and paws deep into the earth beneath the root and let it snap back into place. No one would ever look there; to the world, the "evidence" was buried under a living mountain.
"Observation," Eizen whispered to the wind. "The only law that matters."
Present Time...
The trip was over. The crystals were forgotten.
Professor Kaelith officially aborted the expedition, her voice trembling as she gave the order. The Practical Magic teacher, Silas, lifted Kasper's remains with a somber gravity, carrying the shrouded body toward the royal carriage that would transport the "tragedy" back to the Academy.
The students walked in a silent, traumatized line.
"Morality is a luxury for those who do not have work to do," Eizen thought, walking at the back of the group, his hands behind his back. "The House now has one candidate. The professors now have a tragedy to manage, which will keep them distracted for weeks. And Zack and Evelyn... they have just seen the truth. They are terrified, yes. but terror is the strongest cement for a foundation."
He looked up at the gothic spires of the Academy in the distance. The election was over before it had even begun.