Chapter 27: Forging Weapons

*Date: 33,480 First Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*

The bells did not toll that morning. It was their first off-day since the initiation no classes, no drills, just time for students to catch their breath. Most were already hunched over scrolls, practicing gestures, or nursing bruises from the week's absurd "healing through bruises" lessons that had left everyone sore and bitter.

But they also had to learn healing, as it was stated necessary for passing the first dungeon trial. The weight of that requirement hung over everyone like a sword waiting to fall.

Aris sat up in his bunk, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The dormitory felt different now emptier somehow. Auren, the fae-blooded boy who always seemed to have a smirk ready, looked around with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, where's Kaelen's stuff? Did he get expelled already?" He snickered at his own joke, but the sound was hollow.

Orric shook his head, his wolf ears flicking with irritation. "No. He's moving. Said he's organizing an all-human dorm room. Caught up in the Academy's doctrine."

The room went still for a moment. The empty bed where Kaelen's belongings had been seemed to loom larger than it should, a physical reminder of how the Academy's poison was spreading through their small group. Nobody commented, but the silence spoke volumes.

Aris scowled. "That's stupid." What am I saying? he thought. I can't act like a virtuous person in this academy.

Nobody disagreed, but their expressions showed they understood the same harsh reality he was grappling with.

He dressed quickly, slipping his satchel over his shoulder, and whistled for Fox. Together, they stepped out into the chill air, following the path that curved around the Academy walls toward where the tended gardens gave way to wild forest. The morning mist clung to the ground like ghostly fingers, and the air smelled of dew and pine needles.

Fox padded at his side, tail flicking with nervous energy. "So... what was that Lyra whispered to you last night? When you were looking at your stats?"

Aris hesitated, then muttered, "She gave me a real spy job. For the first solo dungeon trial."

"Spy job?"

"She wants me to snoop around the dungeon during the trial. Really examine everything and look for things that don't belong, patterns that seem artificial, anything that might reveal the Academy's true purposes."

Fox gave him a side glance, amber eyes reflecting worry. "That's going to be dangerous enough without extra trouble. You saw what happened yesterday."

Aris shrugged, though the weight of responsibility pressed on his shoulders like a lead cloak. "But the upperclassmen they were coming back from the fourth dungeon. If they can reach that far, the first should be easy for us... right?"

"Easy." Fox scoffed. "That's what they all say."

They reached the forest edge, where sunlight broke in dappled shafts through tall pines. The earth smelled damp and raw, rich with the scent of decomposing leaves and growing things. Aris found a clearing surrounded by ancient oaks and set down his satchel.

"All right," he muttered, flexing his fingers and feeling the new knowledge Maezana had shown him settling into his mind like pieces of a puzzle. "Let's try this."

He planted his feet in a stable stance, raised his hand toward a distant tree trunk, and spoke the syllables he'd studied. His fist glowed faintly with gathering energy then fizzled out like a candle in the wind. Nothing.

He tried again, focusing harder, pouring his will into the spell. On the fifth attempt, a burst of light streaked forward. It struck a nearby tree trunk with the force of a punch, splintering bark and leaving a smoking crater in the wood.

Aris grinned, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort. "Finally!"

He kept at it for over an hour, but the pattern remained consistent. One strike in five manifested properly; the rest faltered into sparks and disappointment. By the end, his arm trembled with fatigue, he felt drained.

"Accuracy is garbage," Fox muttered, watching another missile go wide and strike a boulder instead of the intended target. "You'd better not rely on that unless your enemy politely stands still."

Aris sat back on his heels, panting. "It's something. More than I had before."

He turned to the second spell "Cure Disease". He frowned, looking around the healthy forest. "How do I even test this? It's not like anyone around here has plague."

Fox flicked his tail thoughtfully. "Find distressed trees. Fungi, rot, pest-struck leaves. Healing isn't just for flesh."

It took them half an hour of searching before they found a massive oak whose bark sagged with black rot, the disease eating away at the ancient wood like a cancer. Mushrooms sprouted from the infected areas, and the smell of decay was thick in the air. Aris pressed his hand to the diseased bark and whispered the words, feeling the magic flow through him differently than his healing touch - deeper, more thorough.

A faint green glow seeped from his palm, spreading across the infected bark like liquid light. Slowly, the mold-blackened patches faded, healthy bark growing to replace the diseased wood. Green sap began to flow again, and the tree straightened as if taking its first clean breath in years.

The ancient oak's leaves rustled in what sounded almost like gratitude.

Aris exhaled, feeling the satisfaction of magic well used. "It works. This will be really helpful if anyone has an infection, since there are no antibacterials in this world. Right?" He turned to Fox.

"How would I know? But not bad," Fox admitted, though his tone remained cautious. "That one looks like it could save lives someday."

Aris practiced until the sun sank low and shadows stretched long across the forest floor. His limbs ached from repeated spellcasting, but he felt sharper, more grounded in his magical abilities. The spells were becoming more reliable with practice, though still far from perfect. At last, he gathered his things and returned to the Academy as the evening bells began to ring.

Night had already fallen by the time he reached the dormitory, the stone corridors lit by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. Shouts echoed down the corridor angry voices raised in conflict.

When he entered the common area, chaos filled the space one of the beast-blood boys, a lizardkin with scaled arms and intelligent reptilian eyes, was locked in a brutal brawl with a human student. The human boy's face was twisted with racial hatred as he swung wild punches. Fists connected with sickening sounds, furniture crashed to the floor, and other students pressed against the walls in fear.

Before Aris could intervene, three more human boys rushed in to drag the lizardkin down, their faces flushed with mob mentality. They kicked and punched with vicious enthusiasm, their attacks coordinated like a pack of wolves.

"Stop it!" Aris shouted, pushing forward through the crowd. He caught a wild fist across his cheek for his trouble, stars bursting in his vision, but he pressed on. He yanked at sleeves, shoved shoulders, trying desperately to pull them apart.

Orric had already leapt into the fray, his wolfkin strength allowing him to bodily lift one of the attackers and hurl him aside. But the numbers were against them. The humans beat the lizardkin bloody, shouting racial slurs that made Aris's stomach turn with disgust.

Then the door slammed open with a sound like thunder. A pair of teachers stormed in, their robes flaring dramatically, voices sharp with authority that cut through the violence like blades.

"That's enough!"

The boys froze, bloodied fists still raised, caught like children with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Agitators will be removed," one teacher barked, his face stern but his eyes calculating.

But when they reached to seize the humans, the boys snarled, standing their ground with defiant expressions. "He started it. He insulted us!" The lead human pointed at the lizardkin, who was curled on the floor, blood streaming from his nose and mouth.

The teacher's expression didn't change. "Fine," he said coldly, as if this was exactly what he'd expected. "Then have it your way. All of you back to your rooms. Now."

The humans slunk back, supporting their injured friend, glaring at the lizardkin who groaned on the floor. They walked away unpunished, their racial hatred validated by the teachers' inaction.

Aris stared, stunned by the blatant injustice. "Why didn't they stop it? They could have stopped it before anyone got hurt."

Fox's voice was quiet, bitter with understanding. "It's not that they lacked power. They want this. They want to encourage the behavior. Division. Hatred. It's policy here."

Aris pressed his aching jaw, tasting blood on his lip where the punch had connected. He glanced at Orric, who looked just as sickened by what they'd witnessed. The wolfkin's amber eyes burned with suppressed rage.

And in that moment, Aris realized with crystal clarity: the Academy wasn't just a place to train guardians for the Theocracy.

It was a forge. One that melted away the weak through violence and despair, and hammered the strong into weapons the High Priestess could use. It broke down empathy, encouraged cruelty, and rewarded those who embraced hatred as a tool.

The students who graduated from this place wouldn't be healers and protectors - they'd be enforcers of a system that thrived on division and fear.

And despite everything he'd learned, despite all the warning signs, he was still here. Still learning their magic. Still playing their game.

Because the alternative was death, and he wasn't ready to die.

The Academy was working exactly as intended.