Chapter 85: Academy Politics

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

Aris went to his classes like clockwork, each day blending into the next with brutal routine. The Academy halls smelled of incense and chalk dust. Morning lectures on divine theory. Afternoon sparring with Orric in the training yard. Evening duels that left him bruised and gasping.

He was climbing ranks. Slowly. Painfully. But climbing.

That week had scheduled fights against both Sliver and Orric. He'd been preparing for days, brewing extra potions, practicing his new combinations. Solar Flare into Light Missile volleys. Radiant Thread to drain stamina. Each technique refined through repetition until his muscles moved before his mind caught up.

He stood in the great hall, checking the dueling board for his match time. Students crowded around him, voices echoing off marble walls.

Then an academy official appeared. A middle-aged priest with graying hair and the emblem of the Chalice stitched prominently on his robes. He cleared his throat, and the hall went quiet.

"Attention, students. Due to academy business, some matches have been postponed. Those scheduled against top ten ranked students will be rescheduled accordingly."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Aris felt his stomach drop.

He pushed forward. "Sir, there weren't going to be any postponements. Does that mean we win by default?"

The official looked at him with barely concealed irritation. "No, student. Since it's academy business, the matches will simply be moved to later dates. No points awarded."

"But..." Aris started.

"That is all." The official turned and left, robes swishing.

Aris cursed under his breath, loud enough that a few nearby students glanced at him. He turned and headed straight for his basement lab. His hands trembled with frustration. Those points could have moved him up significantly.

Later that day, he checked the updated schedule. His fight with Orric had been postponed to next week. But Sliver's match? Postponed to the last day of the last round of matches. The very final slot.

"Of course," he muttered to Fox, who was lounging on a shelf. "They're protecting the top ranks. Keeping them from fighting until everyone else is exhausted."

"Politics," Fox said simply. "You expected fairness in a theocracy?"

Aris didn't answer. He lit the cauldrons and began brewing, channeling his anger into precise movements.

Days passed. Aris noticed he was seeing Lyra less and less. The library felt emptier without her subtle presence. Her disguise as a scribe had become such routine that her absence created a void.

One afternoon, he decided to check on her. The library was one of the few places he felt safe, surrounded by books and quiet corners where surveillance wards were weaker.

He approached the library gates. And froze.

Crusader Kurgodan stood at the entrance, arms crossed, eyes scanning everyone who entered. His armor gleamed even in the shaded corridor. When his gaze fell on Aris, something sharp flickered in those eyes.

Aris considered turning around. But that would be suspicious. He forced himself to walk forward.

"You," Kurgodan said, voice carrying that particular quality that made people straighten involuntarily. "You're that bookworm, right? I heard you stopped coming. What happened?"

Aris swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I... I... we have duels for the third dungeon. I'm mostly sparring and brewing potions."

Kurgodan studied him for a long moment. The silence stretched uncomfortably. "Good for you. Books help you to some degree. You have to walk the rest." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Sometimes even jump the distance."

"I think I forgot to put out the fire at my cauldron. Sorry, I got to go," Aris said quickly, already backing away.

After the incident with the raid at the Covenant meeting, martial law had spread across the country. It had finally arrived at the academy in full force. And Kurgodan was skeptical of everyone. Especially Lyra. He was waiting for her to make a mistake. Watching. Always watching.

"Go on then," Kurgodan said, voice dropping to something dangerous. "Don't start a fire you cannot put out."

The threat was clear. Aris nodded and left as quickly as he could without running.

Back in his basement den, he tried to focus on brewing. He was attempting second tier potions now. His title advancement to Essence Shaper Alchemist gave him better chances at higher tiers. Still risky. Still prone to failure. But possible.

Some of the procedures were complicated. Multiple heating stages. Precise timing. Specific stirring patterns that felt more like ritual than chemistry. But he managed by splitting ingredients into three cauldrons, giving himself much higher success rates of getting at least two working vials.

While waiting for the mixtures to cool, he practiced combining Light Missile and Solar Flare. He had an idea of creating a light orb that could send either flares to distract or missiles to damage opponents. Switching between them at will. But combining them into exactly what he wanted seemed more difficult than creating Healing Cure had been.

Healing Cure had flowed like the game intended, two compatible spells merging naturally. But this? Aris needed something specific. Something the system hadn't designed. He was trying to force his will onto the magic itself.

He held the manifestation in his palm, trying to shape it into an orb. But the spell kept exploding in his face. Small bursts of light and heat that singed his eyebrows.

"Aris, stop already! Go find another tier two spell. This will kill us. At least it'll kill me," Fox protested from the far corner.

"No. I can't fill slots with useless spells. I need to shape it to my will." Aris's voice was stubborn, edged with obsession.

"Since when do you command the game?"

"I'm trying. I need to try." Aris wiped sweat from his forehead. "Could you check on Lyra? Kurgodan is really investigating her."

"Sure. I'll check." Fox hopped down and padded toward the door, tail swishing with worry.

After more unsuccessful attempts that left scorch marks on the ceiling, Aris finally gave up for the night. He left his brewing tier two force potions to cool and headed to bed. His hands still trembled from repeated spell failures.

The next day, he rushed to the basement, bottled two successful force potions, and headed to his scheduled duels.

In his matches, Aris managed to get two wins. His opponents weren't the brightest students. He combined everything he had learned. Radiant Mark for amplification. Thread to suck their energy. Solar Flare to distract them with blinding light. Light Missiles striking while they were disoriented.

It was a time-consuming combo, but his opponents were oblivious to what was happening. They lost before figuring out the strategy.

Later that day, Orric arrived at the dorm looking consumed. His fur was ruffled, eyes tired.

"What happened to you?" Aris asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"We can't talk about it, apparently. They'll teach you after the third dungeon." Orric's voice was strained. "But basically, it's about sacrificing your health to gain powers. It's insane."

"Like Blood Initiate," Aris said quietly.

Orric's head snapped up. "Exactly. How do you know?"

"Oh, I know," Aris answered ominously, touching his chest where the witness stone rested.

Later, Fox entered the room, gesturing for Aris to come to a lone corner away from the others.

"What is it?" Aris whispered.

"Lyra is really distressed. She said she might have to do something risky. And she said she left instructions to follow. If..."

"If what?"

"I don't know. Two templars entered the library. She stuffed my mouth with a chicken drum and sent me away." Fox's ears were flat against his head.

"Where did she leave the instructions?"

"Couldn't tell. Everything happened too fast."

Aris leaned against the wall, mind racing. The pieces were falling into place, and none of them looked good.