The massive Glid-thing ripped through reality like wet paper, and for one frozen heartbeat, it just at us.

  Orange neon veins pulsed beneath its black flesh, four muscular arms flexing with anticipation. It wasn't like the violet-tinged horror we'd seen in the spirit realm—this one was built for combat.

  The creature's clicking growl scraped against my brain, almost forming words I didn't want to understand.

  And then the floodgates opened.

  Dozens of smaller Glids erupted from nowhere, scurrying across cobblestones like a nightmare tide.

  .

  Cass's swords sang free from their sheaths. The leader-Glid's massive frame tensed, ready to charge, when that familiar electric sensation of Rebellion crashed through me like a tidal wave.

  Between one heartbeat and the next, Chas materialized.

  Hell. Fucking. Yes—Cavalry.

  The grizzled warrior stood shirtless between us and the tide of creatures, wielding a sword that had no business existing. The great sword stretched two and a half meters of pure "fuck you" energy—a meter wide, blazing with molten orange and red metals that seemed to drink in the light.

  But the weapon wasn't what made my eyes widen.

  Molten gold runes dripped down Chas's skin like liquid fire, each droplet hissing against stone. The air itself recoiled from his presence. I'd seen him tear open portals between worlds, but this? This was Chas with the safety off.

  The creature hesitated, just for a heartbeat.

  Then it charged.

  Chas swung.

  The impact knocked Cass and me sprawling, cobblestones cracking beneath the shockwave. My ears rang. The ground shook. And when the dust cleared… the monster was still coming.

  Chas's blade had carved it nearly in half, from shoulder to waist, but the nightmare just kept dragging itself forward along the embedded sword, claws reaching for his throat. Black ichor oozed from the wound, trying to knit itself back together.

  Without missing a beat, Chas ripped the blade free and completed the bisection. The creature writhed on shattered stone, its halves twitching toward each other with unnatural purpose.

  His massive sword vanished into his Mana Sanctum. Wind erupted beneath his feet, launching him skyward. He came down like a meteor, fists blazing with spirit-aspected mana.

  The explosion painted the street with black gore and pulverized marble.

  Chas straightened, golden runes dimming but not fading, creature slime dripping from his knuckles. "Fucking Varglids." He wiped a smear from his cheek with casual disgust. "You two alright?"

  "What the fuck is happening?" Cass demanded as we scrambled upright.

  "You two ran off playing hero and didn't come back." His voice carried a familiar gruffness that meant he'd been worried. "Spirit realm sightings all over, but nobody could pin it down. Figured it might've swallowed you up."

  "It did," I said, still catching my breath. "We were inside the thing. Some mana beast named Gu Li said it was one of Sylvarus's realms, but—" I gestured helplessly at the surrounding chaos. "Monster lures and weird techno-magic voided it out."

  Chas's weathered face darkened, his gaze locked on the pulsing orb of multicolored energy that dominated the sky like a diseased sun. "Dara's realms going rogue isn't unheard of, but..." He jerked his thumb at the apocalyptic light show above. "That's new."

  Valor screamed in my head.

  The air split with the sound of reality having a nervous breakdown. Dozens of tears ripped open, vomiting Varglids and Glids into our world. Their bodies flickered with chaotic neon—orange, violet, green—like someone had thrown a demonic rave.

  Chas's monster of a sword materialized again. "Listen up. Varglids need aspected mana to stay dead. Otherwise they just eat ambient energy and reform." His eyes found mine, deadly serious. "Either of you know how to use it?"

  I nodded.

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Of course you fucking do, Breaker."

  Cass's blades hummed with anticipation. I leveled Winchester's blade at the nightmare army surrounding us—there had to be a hundred of the disgusting things now. If Felix were here, I'd almost feel nostalgic about the odds.

  Then the world... shifted.

  I blinked.

  The Glids were in pieces. Perfect surgical lines had carved through their writhing bodies like a master butcher's work. The buildings behind them crumbled in mathematically precise segments. Even the rain seemed sliced through by an invisible presence.

  Something replaced Valor and Rebellion in the air—a sensation of absolute sharpness. The pure, distilled essence of cutting.

  Grace stood beside Cass, hands clasped serenely behind her back. Her pristine white robes remained bone dry despite the downpour, not a single drop daring to touch her.

  "Chas." Her masked face turned our way, voice carrying a particular tone of fond exasperation. "Always so dramatic."

  Cass and I gaped at the surgical destruction. I'd felt her Domain before, but this was like comparing a candle to a supernova.

  Chas groaned. "Diana's gonna be pissed about the buildings, Grace."

  She shrugged—actually shrugged—and started walking away. "Oh no," she called back, her mask somehow conveying perfect deadpan. "This is my worried face."

  Red hit me like a furry battering ram the second we entered the makeshift command center. Emotion flooded through our bond as he pinned me to the floor with enthusiastic licks.

  "Okay, okay!" I wheezed, shoving him off gently before pulling him into a proper hug. "We didn't exactly have a choice, buddy."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The building looked like every other structure in Sylvarus—long halls, lecture rooms, way too much marble—but they'd transformed the main foyer into a war room. Tables dragged from reading rooms held maps and manascripts. Outside, Sylvarus staff, Monster Hunters, and Grace's intimidating Oathbound warriors held the line against the monster tide while that diseased-sun orb pulsed overhead.

  Malcolm had been waiting when we arrived, his usual snark replaced by genuine concern as we'd briefed Grace on the spirit realm disaster.

  Now, Grace and Chas sat at a repurposed marble table. Chas slammed a stack of red mana coins onto its surface. The table rippled, and Diana materialized in miniature stone form, immediately fixing Chas with a glare that could melt steel.

  "What the fuck is happening out there?" Her stone avatar practically vibrated with fury. "Dara's having a complete meltdown about a missing spirit realm, and I'm getting reports of Varglids?"

  "That about covers it." Chas's tone stayed level. "Nascent spirit realm collapsed, dumping aberrations all over the Academy. Ben and Cass got dragged inside but made it out. They're talking monster lures, forced void-outs." He paused. "Gu Li was in there, Di."

  Diana's stony eyes closed, and she let out a deep sigh. The silence stretched like a held breath.

  "That orb," she finally asked Grace. "What is it?"

  "Unknown." Grace's mask turned slightly. "But if anyone has answers..."

  Right on cue, Arryava rose from the marble—a perfect stone recreation of the insectoid Sentarian, though somehow more alive than Diana's projection.

  "Amituofo, friends!" She executed a perfect bow. "Stone conversations, always such fun!" Her figure danced around the table, poking Diana's statue with childlike glee.

  "Ben, this is Arryava Pusa, a—" Grace began.

  "Oh, I know Ben Crawford very well!" Arryava's stone form turned to me with another elaborate bow. "This one apologizes for not greeting you sooner, Revered One."

  Grace's mask snapped toward me. Even through stone, I could feel her stare boring holes.

  "Revered one?" The question hung sharply in the air before Grace caught herself. "Later. Ben, tell her everything about the spirit realm. The Sentarians specialize in spiritual Runebinding."

  I laid it all out—Gu Li, the collapsing star, those wrong-feeling violet runes. Arryava's playful movements ceased the moment I mentioned them. By the time I reached the orb's appearance, her stone face had gone still as death.

  "You will NOT tell me what I can and cannot say!" She suddenly snarled at empty air, her usual warmth evaporating. "No, this is our home now, and we must— ENOUGH!"

  We all froze. Even Diana's stone form looked unsettled.

  "What do you know?" Diana demanded. "This is happening on my island, Arryava."

  "The Elders forbid me from telling you the violet energy is called Hollowflame." Her words came out strained, fighting against some invisible compulsion. "A forbidden path that abandons true Runebinding. But..." She turned to Grace. "A collapsed realm using Hollowflame could trap an Elder Beast. Like a beast king. That would explain the Chrysalis."

  Her stone form exploded into dust as if the connection had been violently severed.

  "Fuck," Diana said into the stunned silence.

  "Anyone want to translate that from ominous to English?" Chas asked.

  Only Grace seemed unsurprised, though her whisper carried weight. "I read of Hollowflame once. In an Arcadian archive, lifetimes ago. But a Chrysalis... that implies metamorphosis. Change. Something becoming."

  "You two get back to the tower. Now." Diana's command brooked no argument. "This is beyond Seeker capabilities."

  "I can use aspected mana," I protested. "I can help—"

  "You burned your soul healing Erik, fought a tournament round, saved a dozen students, then scouted a gods-damned collapsing spirit realm!" Diana's stone finger jutted out towards me. "You've done your fucking part!" A pause, something almost gentle creeping in. "Get some rest. In case we need your particular brand of bullshit again."

  Cass snickered at my scolding. I wanted to argue, but exhaustion hit me like a truck. Diana had a point—I was running on fumes and stubbornness.

  "Fine," I conceded. "We go back."

  "I'll take them." Chas was already standing.

  Grace nodded. "I'll examine this Chrysalis personally. Diana, send Alexander to assist."

  "Speaking of which—" Chas pointed at our wrists. "Ditch those tether cuffs. Last thing you need is them activating at the wrong moment."

  We all removed the tournament cuffs. Mine vanished into soul-space as Diana began barking orders to unseen subordinates. Chas herded us—me, Cass, and Malcolm—back into the storm.

  The rain had graduated from downpour to divine punishment, white lightning crackling between clouds, thunder rattling windows. The multicolored orb cast everything in sick, shifting hues.

  "Someone always knew what was happening before," I said as we trudged through the flooded streets. "This is bad, right?"

  Chas just grinned.

  "For fuck's sake, Chas," Cass muttered.

  "It's terrifying," Malcolm finished, voice small. "What Arryava said... a path that isn't Runebinding? What does that even mean?"

  A thought struck me—something Arryava's presence had highlighted. "Why aren't there any Sentarians at Sylvarus? Besides Ferris?"

  Cass and Malcolm exchanged shocked looks.

  "I... hadn't noticed," Malcolm admitted.

  "The Sentarians have their own methods," Chas explained as we climbed endless stairs toward the tower. "They don't fit neatly into factions. Easy to forget they're not from Ark originally."

  Thunder crashed hard enough to feel in my bones. Panicked shouts echoed from nearby streets. My aura prickled with constant danger—Voltghasts still prowled, though defenders kept them at bay.

  "Hey Chas," I said, remembering earlier. "How'd you just shrug off Voltghast lightning? I tried flooding the impact with mana but it did jack shit."

  He actually laughed. "You need aspected mana to counter aspected attacks. Most manifested magic is aspected, kid. That's what makes Arcanists so strong." He shot me a knowing look. "But you said you can already use it, right?"

  "Yeah, life aspect does cool things, light does… well what I’d expect light to do, but spirit aspect seems useless. Dissipates too fast, doesn't do anything visible."

  Chas stopped dead, eyebrows climbing. "Kid, spirit aspect is arguably the best defensive tool there is. Next time something's blasting you with magic, layer spirit mana between you and it. See what happens." His expression turned serious. "That's half of what makes Guardians. Just... don't overdo it."

  It couldn't be that simple. Could it?

  "I need to hit Adept," Cass grumbled. "Being escorted to safety while others fight is fucking humiliating."

  The moment we entered the tower, an artificial calm tried to smother my thoughts. It wasn't subtle—like someone cranking the air conditioning in my brain. The chaos outside suddenly felt distant, manageable, ignorable.

  "What the hell?" Malcolm jammed a finger in his ear.

  "Dara," Chas said simply. "One of her specialties."

  The effect intensified as we passed Maris commanding her Striker forces. Francis threw me a cheerful wave that felt surreal given the circumstances.

  Maris's gaze locked onto Malcolm like a targeting system. She shoved her Manascript at a subordinate and stalked over, acknowledging only her son.

  "I heard you saved lives out there." The compliment lasted exactly one second. "With help."

  "You'll never understand, Mother." Malcolm's voice carried years of frustration. "That's why I'm joining the Monster Hunters. Strength through unity. We're ranked first in our bracket—deny that."

  She inhaled sharply, fighting Dara's calming influence. "Relying on others isn't strength."

  Chas sighed. I was done being furniture.

  "Are you serious?" I spun to face her. "We're the three strongest Seekers from La-Roc. Did you even look at the scores? Your tricks would've bumped us to Adept bracket. Malcolm's exceeding every expectation and it's killing you he did it without you."

  She continued addressing Malcolm as if I hadn't spoken. "We'll see what happens after this attack. You look terrible. Rest, then get back out there and prove you're worth something."

  She swept away, leaving Malcolm white-knuckled and silent.

  "You know," Chas said conversationally, "I'm really looking forward to watching Alexander beat your mother senseless."

  A smile cracked through Malcolm’s fury. "Yeah. Me too."

  Our suite's view was apocalyptic—front row seats to the diseased orb dominating Sylvarus. We stepped onto the rain-lashed balcony, watching the battle rage below. I couldn't shake the feeling of being safe in our tower while others bled.

  "Feels wrong, being up here," I finally said.

  "Kid, you three have done more than most people in this building." Chas's voice brooked no argument. "If anyone's earned rest, it's you. Use whatever mana orbs you've got, get some sleep. I'll collect you in a few hours."

  He left without ceremony.

  Red immediately shook himself dry in the living room, baptizing every piece of furniture. I shot him a look as we wordlessly headed to our rooms, too exhausted for conversation.

  My dog had already claimed the entire bed, sprawled in maximum space-consumption mode and snoring within seconds.

  The Spirit Well flooded me with power—more than before. My pathways had definitely expanded. Ten seconds of pure energy later, I felt ready to burst.

  I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of growing stronger, and unconsciousness claimed me between one breath and the next.