The dueling ground still smelled faintly of ozone.
A shimmer of residual mana hung in the air, warping the light just enough to make the world feel unsteady. Jack stood there for a moment longer than necessary, his breathing even but his pulse thudding with stubborn adrenaline. His opponent—once so sure of his victory—had been carried away unconscious, and the audience had already dispersed into clusters of whispers and sideways glances.
Jack could feel their eyes on him.
They weren’t just curious—they were measuring him.
The Weight of Victory
“You really know how to make an entrance,” Kirito muttered as he jogged up, his mop of dark hair bouncing. He was smirking, but his eyes flickered with concern.
Jack shrugged, tugging his jacket tighter. “Wasn’t an entrance. It was a duel.”
“A duel that just broke three academy records and made half the faculty write your name down on their ‘keep an eye on this one’ list,” Kirito said, tone halfway between impressed and worried. “Not bad for a first week.”
Jack let the words roll off him, but he could still feel the burn of mana deep in his veins—a lingering aftertaste of the spellwork he’d unleashed.
They were supposed to duel under standard Tier-3 restraints. He hadn’t meant to go beyond that… but something inside him had pushed, clawed, urging him to pour more into the spell until it roared.
That… darkness again.
The Whispering Halls
By the time they reached the main corridor, the usual laughter and chatter of students had shifted to muted murmurs. People stepped aside as Jack passed, some nodding in subtle respect, others avoiding eye contact altogether.
Rem was leaning against a column near the courtyard archway. Her silver hair caught the sunlight, making it glow faintly, but her expression was unreadable.
“You fought well,” she said softly as he approached.
“That’s one way to put it,” Jack replied.
She tilted her head. “You overreached. You always did, even when we were kids. Remember the old quarry back home?”
A flicker of memory flashed—two children on a cliff, daring each other to jump further into the water. His foot slipping. The way the shadows seemed to catch him before the fall.
Jack forced a laugh. “That was a long time ago.”
“Some things don’t change,” she murmured, pushing off the column. “Just… be careful. This place isn’t as safe as they want you to think.”
Behind Closed Doors
Elsewhere in the academy, in a tower lined with old banners, three senior instructors sat around a polished obsidian table.
“He’s far too strong for a new recruit,” said Master Delran, voice tight. “And the signature on that last spell—”
“Yes. I felt it too,” replied Lady Veyra, her gold-etched spectacles glinting. “Old magic. Forbidden. This is not the sort of talent we can simply overlook.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That we alert the Council in the capital. An inspection, at the very least.”
A heavy silence settled before Delran finally nodded. “And if the boy is… dangerous?”
“Then we deal with him before he deals with us.”
Night Talks
Later, Jack sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping through the academy-issued spell compendium without really reading it.
A pair of golden eyes glowed in the corner.
“You’re brooding again,” Dio purred as he slinked onto the desk, his sleek black fur blending with the shadows.
“I’m thinking.”
“Same thing, with you,” the demon cat replied. His tail flicked lazily. “You felt it, didn’t you? The seal slipping.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “I told you before, I’m not interested in your cryptic nonsense.”
Dio bared tiny, sharp teeth in something like a smile. “Cryptic? No. Practical? Yes. That power you’re so afraid of… others are afraid of it too. The difference is, they’ll try to cage you for it.”
Jack didn’t answer, but the words lingered like smoke.
A Moment of Comedy
The tension cracked later when Kirito barged into the dorm holding two practice wands.
“Alright,” he announced, “if you’re going to be the academy’s shiny new prodigy, you’re not leaving me behind. We duel—now.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
Five minutes later, Kirito was lying flat on his back, groaning as the training dummy he’d accidentally triggered repeatedly whacked him with a padded staff.
Dio sat nearby, licking a paw. “Flawless strategy, human. Perhaps next time, try aiming.”
Kirito groaned louder. “I hate this cat.”
The Mark in the Dark
That night, the air outside was unnaturally still.
Somewhere beyond the academy gates, a shadow slipped between lamplights, moving with a predator’s patience. The intruder scaled the wall with silent precision, sliding into the dorm courtyard.
A pale hand reached out, pressing a sigil onto Jack’s wall—a red spiral encased in jagged runes. The glow lasted only a heartbeat before sinking into the stone.
When the figure vanished, the silence deepened.
The Warning
Jack stirred in his sleep.
Dio’s low growl woke him fully, the demon cat crouched at the foot of the bed, fur standing on end.
“What is it?” Jack whispered.
“They’ve found you,” Dio said, eyes burning brighter in the dark. “And they’ve left their calling card.”
Jack’s gaze shifted to the faintly glowing mark on the wall. The same mark from his nightmares.
The same mark from the cliff, all those years ago.
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