Aerion woke up to silence.
Not the comforting kind—no distant chatter of students, no hum of mana lamps, no rhythmic pulse of the Academy's wards. Just stillness. Heavy. Watching.
His eyelids felt like stone as he forced them open.
White ceiling.
Healing chamber.
The smell of herbs and antiseptic mana filled the air.
"You're awake."
The voice was calm. Familiar.
Aerion turned his head slightly. Seris Kain stood near the window, arms folded, gaze fixed on the sky beyond the glass.
"How long?" Aerion asked hoarsely.
"Three days," Seris replied.
Aerion frowned. "Lyria?"
"Safe," Seris said immediately. "Unaware. As requested."
Relief washed through him—slow, deep.
"Good."
Seris finally looked at him. "You nearly ceased to exist."
Aerion chuckled weakly. "Yeah… felt like it."
Seris didn't smile.
"That wasn't a joke."
Nyxa was asleep in a chair nearby, boots still on, head tilted back awkwardly. Bandages wrapped her ribs and shoulder.
"She didn't leave," Seris said quietly. "Refused."
Aerion swallowed. "Tell her… thanks."
Seris nodded once.
At the far end of the room, Elowen stood motionless, hands clasped behind her back. Her eyes glowed faintly as data-runes drifted and vanished.
"…Vital parameters stabilized," she said. "But internal contradiction remains unresolved."
Aerion sighed. "That sounds bad."
"It is," Elowen replied flatly.
Seris stepped closer. "You blocked infinity. Permanently? Temporarily?"
Aerion closed his eyes.
"I don't know," he admitted. "When the Apostle cut me off… something else answered."
Nyxa stirred at that.
Her eyes snapped open. "Yeah. That part? Horrifying."
She stood slowly, wincing. "You didn't flare. You didn't surge. You just… refused."
Aerion looked at his hands.
"They said I was a contradiction."
Nyxa snorted. "Congrats. You broke reality without even trying."
Seris's expression darkened. "The Continuum Watch was created to monitor infinity-level threats."
He paused.
"You're no longer one."
Aerion looked up sharply. "That's good news, right?"
Seris shook his head. "You're worse."
Later that day, Aerion was escorted back to his dorm.
Official explanation: A mana backlash accident during training.
Witness memories were altered.
Records sealed.
Parents informed of nothing.
The rule remained absolute.
As Aerion walked the familiar corridors, he felt it—
Distance.
Not from people.
From the world.
Mana avoided him now, flowing around instead of through. Not rejecting him—adapting.
Lyria ran up to him the moment she saw him.
"You idiot!" she snapped, then hugged him fiercely. "You disappeared!"
Aerion froze—then hugged back gently. "Sorry."
She pulled away, eyes glossy. "They said you were hurt. What happened?"
"Training accident," he repeated smoothly.
She studied his face, searching.
"…You're lying."
Aerion smiled softly. "I'm alive."
She sighed, defeated. "Just don't do that again."
He didn't answer.
That night, Aerion stood alone on the Academy's outer balcony.
The sky was clear.
Too clear.
Stars glittered coldly above.
"You felt it too," a voice said.
Aerion didn't turn. "You're late."
The silver-haired woman stepped into view, her form clearer than ever before. No longer just a memory.
A presence.
"You blocked infinity," she said. "That was never supposed to be possible."
Aerion met her gaze. "You knew this would happen."
She looked away. "I feared it."
"Who are you?" he asked again. "Really."
She hesitated.
"Once," she said slowly, "I was your anchor."
His chest tightened. "My what?"
"The reason you didn't disappear completely the first time you died."
Memory stabbed at him.
Her smile.
Her bloodied hands.
The broken blade.
"You chose to forget me," she continued softly. "To live."
Aerion clenched the railing. "Did I abandon you?"
She shook her head. "You saved me… by leaving."
Silence stretched.
"Now what?" Aerion asked.
She looked back at him, eyes sad and proud all at once.
"Now infinity is confused."
"And when infinity gets confused?" Aerion asked.
"It experiments."
Deep beneath the Academy, sealed doors opened.
Ancient mechanisms groaned as something dormant stirred.
Myrienne stood alone in the chamber, staff trembling in her grip.
"So it begins," she whispered.
Above her, a mural cracked—depicting a lone figure standing between a shattered symbol of infinity and an empty throne.
Far away, in a place without time—
Infinity shifted.
Not angry.
Not afraid.
Curious.
A voice echoed across existence.
"If you are not bound by me… then what are you bound by?"
Aerion heard it.
Not with his ears.
With his soul.
He answered without thinking.
"My choices."
The stars flickered.
Infinity paused.
For the first time—
It listened.
Back at the Academy, Aerion felt the infinity mark pulse weakly.
Not demanding.
Not threatening.
Waiting.
Nyxa's words echoed in his mind.
If you rely on infinity, it'll rely back.
Aerion closed his fist.
"I won't," he whispered.
Unseen by all—
A crack formed somewhere deeper than space.
Not in reality.
In certainty.
And through that crack—
Something unknown began to look back.