Preparations for the Festival of Lights had transformed the training courtyards into a dazzling spectacle. Hundreds of Aetheric Lamps had been calibrated to emit warm flashes of gold and amber, floating above the towers in honor of the First Heroine Dawnshield's victory over the Great Demon a century ago.
It was a night of celebration across all of Aethoria. At the Arcanum Bellator Academy, students reveled and enjoyed themselves, temporarily unshackled from their strict military discipline.
But Phantsin Dawnfire was not celebrating.
He stalked down the deserted corridors of the west wing, leaving the light and music far behind. With every step, he drew closer to Magister Grimshaw's office for his weekly "lesson."
He paused before the heavy oak door. Vlad Blackthorn's words echoed in his mind: Someone is coming to claim the beast.
The door stood ajar.
Phantsin pushed the wood open, his senses on high alert. The HUD in his retinas projected a faint blue glow into the gloom.
[SYSTEM: AEGIS - SCANNING ENVIRONMENT]
[ANOMALY DETECTED: MULTIPLE MANA SIGNATURES]
"You're late, cadet."
The door slammed shut behind him with a dull thud, its magical deadbolts engaging instantly. Phantsin spun around just in time to see Isolde the Pale emerging from the shadows behind it.
The girl from Umbra raised a hand. At the exact same moment, Magister Grimshaw rose from his desk, clutching a heavy, black leather-bound tome and a corrupted Aethite crystal that pulsed with a violent violet light.
"What is this, Grimshaw?" Phantsin growled, taking a step back and channeling his crimson mana into his fists.
"It is the final exam, my boy," the Archivist replied. His cadaverous smile was stripped of any scholarly sanity. "You have been an exceptional vessel. You have fattened the Aegis beautifully. But a sword that thinks for itself is dangerous to the one who wields it. It is time to strip you of your will."
Phantsin lunged forward, invoking the Overwhelming Force of his faction.
But Isolde was faster. She whispered an incantation in a dead tongue, and thick chains of solid shadow erupted from the stone floor.
The Umbran bindings coiled around Phantsin's wrists, ankles, and neck, yanking him down with crushing force and forcing him to his knees in the center of a runic circle that had been pre-drawn on the floor.
His HUD went frantic.
[INTRUSION ALERT!]
[MOBILITY REDUCTION: 100%]
[INITIATING DEFENSE PROTOCOL... ERROR. ENERGY SUPPRESSED BY ENVIRONMENT]
"The Subjugation Ritual," Phantsin hissed, struggling against the chains that burned his skin with an unnatural cold. "Vlad was right. You're cultists."
"We are the architects of the new order," Grimshaw corrected. He walked toward the boy and pressed the corrupted crystal directly against Phantsin's chest, right where the armor's core beat. "The Great Demon was defeated because he fought alone. But the Void has learned. Now, we will use Valoria's strength against itself. And you will be our mindless champion."
Grimshaw began reciting the incantation from the tome, while Isolde channeled her own abyssal energy into the chains, forcing the Aegis to react.
The dark, violet metal erupted violently from Phantsin's body, shredding his uniform. But this time, the armor wasn't protecting him; it was being hacked.
[WARNING: REWRITING HOST CODE]
[NEURAL MEMORY WIPE IN PROGRESS: 10%... 22%...]
[MOTOR FUNCTION OVERRIDE]
Unimaginable pain pierced Phantsin's skull. It felt as though needles of ice were boring into his brain, trying to rip away his memories: Flower's smile, the scent of Lyla's jasmine, Rikka's fierce loyalty, Eliana's perfect steel. They wanted to hollow him out, leaving behind nothing but the machine's bloodlust.
"Surrender!" Isolde ordered. She clenched her fist, making the shadow chains crack against the boy's bones. "I was the first draft, I know how useless it is to resist. The Void claims you!"
"NO!" Phantsin roared as blood began to stream from his nose and eyes.
He hadn't endured ogre beatings, isolation, and sheer terror only to become the puppet of a psychopathic librarian.
If they wanted the beast, he would give them the beast—but wrapped in the unyielding fire of his very soul.
Phantsin stopped trying to control the armor. Instead, he detonated his own Ignis core from the inside out.
He injected all the Overwhelming Force of his elemental magic directly into the Aegis's neural network. It was a suicide bomb of burning red mana colliding head-on with the frigid, purple magic of the subjugation ritual.
[CRITICAL ERROR!]
[DIRECTIVE CONFLICT: ELEMENTAL MAGIC VS ABYSSAL ENERGY]
[CORE OVERLOAD AT 300%]
[WARNING: IMMINENT STRUCTURAL RUPTURE]
"Magister, the crystal is destabilizing!" Isolde screamed, stepping back for the first time. Her black eyes were wide with a newfound terror as Phantsin's armor began to shine with a blinding radiance, half crimson, half violet.
"Hold the chains!" Grimshaw bellowed, pressing down on the crystal. "He must submit!"
"I'll submit... in fucking hell!" Phantsin spat. And then, he erupted.
The explosion was a complete collapse of magical physics. The collision between the burning life of Ignis and the absolute emptiness of the ritual forged a singularity.
A shockwave of bicolored energy obliterated the office. The oak desk disintegrated. The stone walls blasted outward. The tower's roof was ripped off cleanly, launching debris high into the Academy's night sky.
From the shattered west wing tower, a colossal beam of dark and crimson energy shot toward the stars, striking the sky as though it were solid glass.
A deafening crack reverberated throughout all of Aethoria.
The music of the Festival of Lights stopped abruptly. Thousands of students in the courtyards looked up in horror.
The night sky splintered. A festering, pitch-black wound fringed with purple lightning tore open in the atmosphere, hovering directly above Arcanum Bellator. A Void Rift.
In the smoldering ruins of the office, Grimshaw coughed up blood, half of his face severely burned. The ritual had failed catastrophically.
"The weapon is broken!" cried Isolde, whose Umbran robes were on fire. The girl grabbed the Archivist by the arm. "The Magisters and the Inquisition will be here soon, we have to flee!"
Grimshaw shot a look of pure hatred at the epicenter of the crater before letting Isolde drag him into a shadow portal, vanishing a split second before the Academy's containment barriers activated.
Dust and ash drifted slowly over the ruins.
In the center of the decimated office, Phantsin Dawnfire lay face down on molten stone.
The Aegis armor was shattered. Its hexagonal plates were cracked and smoking, retracting painfully into his exposed flesh.
He was covered in blood, severe burns, and deep wounds gouged by the shadow chains and his own detonation.
The HUD in his left eye flickered weakly through the cracked lens of his visor.
[SYSTEM... COMPROMISED...]
[MULTIPLE ORGAN FAILURE...]
[ENTERING SUSPENSION MODE...]
The runic light died out.
Under a sky now torn by the Rift, as magical alarms wailed across Arcanum Bellator and the hurried footsteps of his friends echoed on the stairs below, the Purple Knight closed his eyes.