Chapter 34—Calamity

"There will come a child born under the sky of disaster: The Herald of Storms"

The first tremors came at dawn.

A low rumble quivered through the stones of the Academy, faint enough that many mistook it for a passing storm. Students stirred from their bunks, rubbing sleep from their eyes, murmuring about thunder. But when the rumble deepened into a groan, long and guttural, walls trembled, and dust sifted down from the rafters.

Bells pealed across the spires a moment later. Not the chimes of class, nor the slow toll of mourning, but the frantic, rolling clash of alarm.

Raiden was already awake, staring out the window of Arkantez lodging. He had not slept. His mind still circled the duel, Garid’s laughter, the visions of storm and beast that had dogged him through the night. Yet when the bells rang, all those echoes stilled. His eyes fixed on the treeline beyond the walls.

The forest moved.

It did not sway with wind. It heaved, as though some vast pulse beat beneath the soil. Birds erupted in panicked flight, black clouds scattering across the pale dawn. Then came the sound—howls, screeches, the thunder of countless feet.

The woods were no longer silent. They screamed.

By the time Raiden and his companions reached the main courtyard, chaos already boiled. Faculty in ceremonial robes barked orders; Exemplars rushed in half-armor; Adepts gathered in squads, their faces pale but resolute. Guardsmen of Arkantez and Olwen both lined the walls, their spears braced, their shields bright in the morning glare.

Archmagister Furgalion himself stood at the steps of the Assembly Hall, his staff planted in the stones, his voice amplified by spellcraft. “Hold your stations! Muster lines at the northern gate! No student moves without command!”

The crowd roared in response, but fear threaded every voice.

Ophelin was at Raiden’s side, her hand tightening on the hilt of her blade. Her stance was steady, no trace of her past injuries remaining—only a restless fire in her eyes. “So it begins,” she muttered.

Randall strung his bow with shaking hands. “That doesn’t sound like wolves or boars. That’s—gods, I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s beasts,” Tadari said grimly, adjusting his grip on the hilt at his waist. “Driven wild. All of them.”

And he was right.

Through the northern gate, the first wave poured in sight—deer twisted with spines of stone, wolves frothing with blackened foam, even great boars whose tusks dripped with seething mana. Their eyes glowed dull red, their roars guttural and wrong. They surged as one, not like scattered packs, but like an army.

The Council moved swiftly. Einfried Zoven strode to the courtyard, the Regalium Aegis on his arm. The great shield unfolded with a groan of metal and shimmer of runes, its surface widening until it spanned taller than a man.

“Form the circle!” he commanded, his voice cutting through the din.

Knights of Zoven rallied to him, three dozen strong, their armor gleaming. They raised their weapons, forming lines to guard their commander as he drove Aegis into the ground.

With a word, the shield bloomed.

From its rim, light spread outward, a dome of translucent gold enveloping the Academy in a shimmering barrier. Mana hummed in the air, resonant, absolute. The screams of beasts slammed against it an instant later, their bodies crashing into the barrier like waves against a cliff.

The students gasped in awe and terror both.

Einfried did not flinch. But sweat already pricked his brow. “The shield holds,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I cannot leave the circle. Not until this ends.”

“Then we end it outside,” Furgalion said grimly. “Exemplars, to the field. Adepts with them.”

And so the counterattack began.

Raiden’s group gathered as the squads were assigned. Grenald Tarin led one unit, his runed blades already sparking. Yuka Olwen marshaled another, her expression cool and unreadable. Both departed swiftly, their squads vanishing into the mist and chaos.

Raiden’s team was among the last to muster.

Randall adjusted his quiver, muttering curses under his breath. Ophelin stretched her shoulders, ready, the scars of her past defeats now fuel rather than hindrance. Tadari checked his blade with a soldier’s precision. Lynda arrived at their side, pale but resolved, clutching her staff. And last came Liana Ravenwatch, twirling her staff with a smirk that did not reach her eyes.

“Babysitting duty again,” she said. But the edge in her tone betrayed worry.

Raiden looked around at them all, then at the gates where the barrier shimmered under constant assault. His chest tightened. This was no duel. No stage for pride or politics. This was war.

“Stay close,” he said quietly.

And together, they marched into the storm.

The northern woods swallowed them whole.

Behind, the golden dome of Aegis shone against the chaos. Ahead, the forest howled with madness. Branches clawed overhead, leaves shuddered with unnatural wind, and beneath it all, the ground itself seemed to breathe.

They moved slow, blades ready, breath tight. Every step deeper pressed the weight heavier.

“Feels wrong,” Randall muttered, arrow nocked. “Every damn root feels alive.”

“Because it is,” Liana said. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the dark between trunks. “Mana saturates this place. Too much. It shouldn’t pool like this unless…”

She stopped short.

Raiden followed her gaze.

The trees ahead bent outward in a circle, their roots torn as though by something vast beneath. At the center yawned a pit, black mist curling upward from its depths. And from that mist came shapes—bestial, warped, dripping shadow.

The first of the Corrupted.

And thus the Calamity began.