CHAPTER 14: The Fourteenth Fracture

The bell tower tolled four times, its chime rippling through the academy like a pulse of mana. In the shadow of the courtyard archways, students passed between lectures, duels, and training simulations. The Academy of Veyul was alive—breathing, shifting, watching.

We’d only been here a day, but the weight of it already pressed down on me. Classes hadn’t started for us, not officially. Saaya and I were still considered “external combatants,” but Principal Lyra made it clear: that didn’t mean we could slack off.

“You’re in the system now,” she’d said that morning. “If you’re representing the academy in the Ascension Trials, you’ll train like every other elite.”

So we did.

The Training Ward was built like an amphitheater carved into the mountainside, filled with floating platforms and shifting terrain tiles. Mages launched projectiles into airbound targets while martial students sparred with runic weapons that shimmered with temporary enchantments.

Saaya and I stood near the edge of a gravity well simulation. She was focused—eyes narrowed, spear in hand, body poised. I could feel it: she’d grown stronger. Her stance was more precise, her mana flowed tighter. She didn’t talk much this morning, and I knew why.

Yuuka.

Yesterday’s cafeteria run-in still lingered between us like static in the air. I wanted to explain that Yuuka’s presence shook me because I didn’t understand it. But every time I opened my mouth, Saaya would shift her attention back to her training.

We sparred, wordlessly. Her strikes were sharper than usual. I didn’t dodge the last one fast enough.

“I told you not to fight him at full speed,” muttered the nurse—a lizardfolk woman with alchemical goggles strapped to her forehead.

“It wasn’t full speed,” Saaya said, arms crossed.

I grinned through the ache in my ribs. “It was maybe… twenty percent.”

She rolled her eyes, but her expression softened. She stayed seated beside the cot the whole time, even after the nurse left.

“I’m not mad about yesterday,” she said finally. “I just… I didn’t like the way she looked at you.”

I met her eyes. “Neither did I. Because she looked at me like she already knew me. And I don’t know how.”

Saaya’s fingers curled slightly, but she nodded. “We can deal with it after the tournament.”

I reached out and took her hand. “We will.”

By the way Saaya asked, “How did I ever hurt you? You’re supposed to have your scalar shield up at all times. Are you slacking?”

I responded, “This whole Yuuka thing has my mind jumbled. But like you said—we’ll deal with everything after the tournament. I promise.”

Later that evening, we were summoned to the observation deck for the tournament bracket reveal.

The arena sat beneath a clear mana-dome, moonlight glinting off its segmented platform. The air hummed softly with the gathered crowd’s anticipation. Dozens of students and staff gathered in rows around a glowing central display—names flickered on shifting tiles of light, rearranging themselves like a puzzle solving in real time.

Principal Lyra stood at the podium. Her voice echoed through the arena like a spell.

“This year’s Ascension Trials will test more than raw power,” she said. “They will test your alignment with Veyul’s principles—discipline, resonance, control. Those who fail to uphold them will be removed. You’ve been warned.”

The crowd quieted as the final pairings locked into place.

And there it was.

Round 1: Sukara Meika vs. Alric Vaeldren.

Gasps. Some students laughed nervously. Others whispered. Saaya’s shoulders tensed beside me.

Across the platform—leaning casually against a pillar—Alric smiled like he’d already won.

He pushed off the pillar and walked forward a few steps until his voice could carry. “Guess it’s true what they say,” he said loudly. “The academy really has lowered its standards.”

A few students nearby chuckled. Others fell silent.

“What’s next, Lyra?” he continued. “Letting in psionics? Alchemists? Maybe someone who calculates mana with a calculator?”

I didn’t move.

Alric’s eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, a hand raised briefly as if reaching to ‘read’ me—his expression twisting into disdain.

“You can’t manufacture soul-resonance, Sukara. Magic isn’t something you build. It’s something you are.” He paused, scanning again. “I searched you—no glyph traces, no soulpulse, no arcane pressure. You walk through this school like a void pretending to be human. You’re just a science fair project with delusions of grandeur.”

Saaya took a step forward, but I put a hand out to stop her.

Alric smiled cruelly. “See? That’s the difference between us. I was born into a magical bloodline. I’ve spent my life shaping myself in harmony with the arcane. And you? What can you even do? You have no magic. None at all.”

Yuuka, standing just behind him, looked away, a faint shadow crossing her face before she masked it.

Alric’s voice dropped to something more personal as he stopped in front of me. “You don’t belong here. The system will reject you. I’ll make sure of it.”

I held his gaze. “Then I guess we’ll find out if magic is really all that makes someone worthy. Let’s see if your arrogance stands when science rewrites the rules.”

He laughed, cold and sharp. “Science? No, Sukara. We’ll find out if you’re even still standing after tomorrow. Let alone breathing.”

He turned and walked away.

Yuuka lingered just a second longer, glancing at me—but this time, her expression held no smile. Then she was gone, lost in the crowd.

As the crowd dispersed, Saaya and I remained still.

She finally broke the silence. “You know he’s going to try to humiliate you, right?”

I nodded. “Good. That means he’s already underestimating me.”

“Are you ready?”

I looked at the bracket again. Then back toward the direction Alric walked off in.

“Of course I am. Did you forget who trained us?”

Saaya smiled.

The dawn light filtered softly through the tall windows of the training hall. The air smelled faintly of sweat and enchanted steel. Saaya moved with quiet grace, spear in hand, practicing her thrusts with the precision of a master. I mirrored her stance across from her, scalar shield humming faintly around me, muscles tense and ready.

Alric’s words from last night echoed in my mind—his sneer, his disdain for what I was, for what I represented. No magic. Just a science project. That arrogance stoked a fire I hadn’t realized was burning.

Outside, the academy stirred to life. Through the open archways, I could hear the hum of students gathering, whispers of anticipation threading through the air. The Ascension Trials weren’t just a competition—they were a proving ground, a spectacle. The entire academy, watching.

From a shadowed corner, I caught a glimpse of Alric. His posture was relaxed but poised, confidence radiating like a palpable force. His sharp eyes scanned the courtyard, undoubtedly already planning how to crush me beneath his magical lineage. I clenched my fists. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. This fight was about more than magic or science—it was about who I was becoming.

I let my mind drift back to the long hours of training—endless calculations, countless simulations, honing my scalar manipulation until it felt like an extension of myself. Saaya’s steady presence beside me was a reminder that I wasn’t alone.

A sudden cheer from the arena pierced the morning calm. The crowd was gathering. The moment was almost here.

We made our way toward the arena, footsteps echoing against the ancient stone. The mana-dome arched above, shimmering faintly in the rising sun. Students, professors, and spectators filled the stands, the air thick with excitement and expectation.

The announcer’s voice boomed, calling for silence. The platform lit up with swirling glyphs and flickering lights as the combatants were called forward.

I stepped onto the battlefield.

And so did he.

Elsewhere…

Alric stared into the mirror. His slicked-back black hair glinted faintly under the mana lights, the scar above his left eyebrow a reminder of the first duel he ever lost. His frame was powerful, trained from years of elite magical combat—but it was his eyes that revealed the truth. Rage. Focus. Purpose.

Tomorrow’s match against Sukara wasn’t just a battle. It was a rejection of everything that didn’t belong.

He had been raised in one of the oldest magical bloodlines in Veyul—a house renowned for its deep soul-resonance and generational command over high-elemental mana. In this world, magic wasn’t just tradition—it was the foundation of life. And yet, something had begun to shift. Whispers of outsiders manipulating the arcane through unfamiliar means. People who didn’t draw power from soul-glyphs or mana flow—but from raw calculations, quantum constructs, scalar fields.

People like Sukara.

Alric remembered the first time he sensed him—or rather, couldn’t. It was like the system itself didn’t know what to do with him.

No aura. No resonance. Just silence.

It wasn’t just wrong—it was an affront. A break in the sacred chain. If someone like Sukara could rewrite magic with equations, what did that mean for those who had bled to preserve it?

To Alric, this wasn’t a match.

It was a correction.

Back in the Arena…

The glyph-rimmed platform pulsed beneath our feet. Magical energy shimmered in the air like static before a storm. The crowd fell into a tense hush.

Principal Lyra sat high above the arena in a gilded balcony, her gaze steady. Beside her, Saaya watched silently from the guest’s seat. As I stepped forward, our eyes met. She didn’t cheer. She just smiled. Calm, unshaken. That was all I needed.

Across the stadium, I felt Alric’s glare cut through me. His jaw clenched.

“What are you smiling at, you reject?” he snapped, stepping forward. “You think you have time to gawk at your little girlfriend? Focus on the fight—if you can even call it that.”

I sighed. Loud enough for him to hear.

“Shut up, third-rate.”

His expression twisted. “What was that?”

I took another step forward. No fear. Just heat rising behind my words.

“I’ve let you run your mouth long enough. You look down on us science users like we’re parasites, but I’ll tell you something—there’s more of us here. Hidden. Learning. Growing.”

From the crowd, I caught the smallest reaction. Yuuka. A flicker of a smile tugged at her lips.

Alric’s eyes went wide, then burning. His voice tore through the arena like a flameblast.

“NO THERE ISN’T! YOU’RE THE ONLY ANOMALY HERE, YOU REJECT! YOU NEED TO BE CORRECTED!”

The glyphs on the floor flared. The barrier shimmered to life.

Two forces. Two worlds.

And no more room for words