Chương 89: Reawakening

The seventh bell was still echoing. Its long toll swept across the Seven Arenas, rolling outward in layer after layer. Rowan remained where he was. He didn't move immediately. The pain that the fight had kept suppressed was only now beginning to surface. The wound between the ribs on his left side felt as if it had been torn open all over again. Every breath pulled at it. Blood had already soaked through a patch of his clothes. His chest wasn't much better.

On the Three-Luminary Life-Warding Clasp, only an empty socket remained where the crystal protecting his chest had once been. That crystal had shattered completely. Rowan glanced down. Then flexed the fingers of his right hand around the hilt. He still had a decent amount of mana left. At least that was in much better shape than his body. He sheathed his blade and headed toward the edge of the arena. Just as he reached it, his gaze swept below. Julian was still there. Conscious.

After the Returning Wind carried him out of the arena, he had remained seated against a stone wall nearby. The defensive artifact over his chest had gone completely dark. Its center had collapsed inward. Black scorch marks spread almost all the way to his collar. The recovery artifact was still operating, faint light flickering over the wound. Julian had one hand pressed against his chest. His breathing was rapid. Sweat ran down the side of his face. Whether from pain or something else, Rowan couldn't tell.

As Rowan looked over— Julian happened to raise his head. Their eyes met. For the first time, Rowan saw unmistakable fear in Julian's eyes. It hadn't fully faded yet. If that last attack had gone a little deeper— if the arcane custodian had been even a moment slower— they both knew what the result would have been. Julian seemed to realize Rowan was watching him. The hand pressed against his chest slowly lowered. But when his fingers came to rest beside his leg, they still trembled slightly. Rowan looked away.

He didn't look back. He stepped down from the stone arena. The moment his feet touched the ground of the Windward Court, someone was already approaching. Evan now had a bulging old cloth pack strapped to his back. Rowan had no idea how much he had stuffed into it. Evan took one look at him.

"Let's go." Rowan didn't move. Evan had already half turned away when he glanced back.

"What?" Rowan looked toward the deeper reaches of the Windward Court. Changes had already begun after the seventh bell. Across the long-silent stone walls, pale-cyan patterns were slowly lighting up. Behind the wind curtains, long-sealed arched galleries were gradually revealing themselves. Higher up, faint magical lights had appeared inside an ancient hall lined with tall windows. Wind continued pouring from behind doors that had yet to open. The Core Sequence.

Now that the three trials were over, what the Core Sequence truly granted access to was only beginning to reveal itself. Higher-tier spells. Texts and research left behind by generations of instructors. Perhaps even specialized training grounds reserved for the Core Sequence. And the resources that had remained sealed deep inside the academy all this time. No one knew how much was left. Of course Rowan wanted to see it. But his gaze lingered for only a few seconds.

The Seventh Abyssal Hive had only one standard slot. He had it now. That had been the most important reason he entered the military exam. Isabelle had warned him. So had Evan. The two clearly hadn't gotten their information from the same place, yet both had told him to keep something in reserve for afterward. The seventh bell had only just rung. And Evan had already cut his exploration of the Outer Court short and come all the way back to wait for him.

The core area was starting to open, yet Evan didn't even seem interested in giving it another look. That alone was information. Mirrorheart Academy had indeed recognized Rowan as one of its students. It had even placed him in the Core Sequence. But Rowan had never seriously considered staying to study at an academy that had vanished into history long ago. He was here for the Republic's military exam. Once he got out, he was still headed for Terra First Magitech University.

As for whatever remained here— he could look another time if the opportunity came. Rowan withdrew his gaze.

"Which way?" Evan looked as though he had been waiting for exactly that question. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"East."

"Teaching district."

"Fewest True Echoes that way." Rowan nodded. He took one step. A sharp pain suddenly lanced through his left ribs. Blood that had only just begun to slow seeped from the wound again. He stopped. Rowan instinctively pressed a hand to his left side. Evan stopped too. Only then did he notice how much blood had soaked through the clothes along Rowan's left side. His expression froze for a beat.

"How did you get hurt that badly?" Rowan looked down.

"Give me a minute." Running like this, he wouldn't get far. He walked over to a nearby stone step and sat down, lifting his outer clothes slightly. The wound left by the sleeve blade was between his ribs on the left side. A little off-center. It had missed his heart. But it was deep. Back in the arena, his whole body had still been wound tight. Now that he had stopped, the bleeding had become much more obvious. Evan crouched beside him and looked at it for a moment. His brow furrowed.

"Hold on." He pulled the old cloth pack around to the front. Then began rummaging through it. A wooden box. Something rolled up. Several small bundles wrapped in cloth. Finally, he pulled out a small bottle. He uncorked it. Several pills rolled into his palm.

"Take one." Rowan raised a hand. He didn't accept it. Instead, he held his palm up between them.

"What is it?"

"Healing medicine." Rowan looked at the bottle.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Found it in the Outer Court." Evan held the bottle toward him again. Rowan gave him another look.

"I have my own." He pulled out a familiar bottle. He tipped one Violet Frostvine Pill into his palm. He swallowed it. Evan was still holding out his bottle. Half a second passed.

"... Fine." He tipped the pills back into the bottle. No further argument. The Violet Frostvine Pill took effect quickly. First came heat around the wound. Then came a fine, prickling itch. The bleeding gradually slowed. Nowhere close to healed. But enough to stabilize things for the moment. Rowan leaned back against the stone wall instead of getting up immediately. The medicine still needed a little time. He raised his head. Only now did he finally have a chance to properly look around the Windward Court.

Compared with before he had entered the Sixth Arena— the place was much more chaotic now. Plenty of people had returned from the Outer Court. Some carried packs. Some held small wooden cases of similar design. Others carried cloth bags with herbs and training materials poking out from inside. A few had old objects in their hands whose purpose Rowan couldn't identify. Some had taken more than others. Several had already packed everything away and clearly had no intention of venturing deeper into the Outer Court.

But even more remained near the Windward Court. Several dozen meters away, a group had formed a loose circle. Inside— two people stood several steps apart. The Third Trial was already over. Yet the arcane custodian wasn't stopping them. Instead, both of their Battle-Order Tablets were glowing pale cyan. A moment later— a calm voice descended from above. [Battle-Order Challenge.] [Accepted.] One of the two lunged forward. Fire erupted along his arm. The other immediately retreated. Rowan watched for a few seconds.

"When did this start?" Evan was crouched beside him, reorganizing his pack. He didn't even look up.

"While you were fighting."

"The rest of us weren't exactly sitting around." Rowan looked at him. Evan shoved a bundle of unfamiliar old scrolls deeper into the pack.

"Everyone was grabbing things earlier."

"A few places in the Outer Court opened."

"Medicine. Training materials. A few areas where you could transcribe basic spells."

"Stuff for new students." Then Evan seemed to remember something.

"Oh, and there was one guy who thought that wasn't enough."

"He took a liking to a table. Said the arraywork on it looked valuable and decided he was taking the whole table." Rowan looked at him.

"And?"

"Then a True Echo came out of nowhere." Evan laughed.

"Beat him up."

"Table didn't get a scratch." He pressed down on the contents of his pack.

"After the fifth bell, people started heading back."

"Once the sixth rang, the mood changed." Evan jerked his chin toward the crowd.

"Everyone knew yours was the only match left."

"A few people hovering right around the cutoff stopped caring about the stuff they were collecting."

"First they checked their tablets."

"Then they started looking for people from the same Abyssal Hive who ranked above them." Rowan looked toward the group gathered around the Battle-Order Challenge.

"So they started fighting?"

"Not at first." Evan shook his head.

"One guy must've really panicked."

"Tried to attack someone from behind."

"Didn't even reach him before the arcane custodian pinned him down."

"After that, someone asked the custodian about it."

"That's when they learned they could change their ranking through Battle-Order Challenges." Evan shrugged. A heavy impact sounded nearby. One of the challengers took a spell head-on and staggered backward several steps. He had barely regained his balance when pale-cyan wind swept between the two combatants. [Battle-Order Challenge concluded.] The patterns on both tablets changed at once. The surrounding crowd immediately stirred. Some people looked down to check their tablets again.

Others were already searching for their next target.

"Once we leave, there's no more chance."

"The military uses whatever final ranking is on your tablet when you exit." Rowan gave a quiet acknowledgment. He already knew that. So he didn't ask further. His gaze shifted toward the similar-looking wooden cases nearby. Then to the old cloth pack on Evan's back, its seams nearly stretched to bursting.

"That all part of the new-student supplies too?"

"Some of it." Evan followed his gaze.

"Not all." He instinctively pulled the mouth of the pack tighter.

"I stopped by a few other places on the way." Rowan looked at him.

"..." Evan coughed.

"We'll look once we're out." He patted the pack.

"Relax."

"There's no table in here." Rowan didn't ask further. Above the Windward Court, the arcane custodian's voice sounded again. The people still talking around them gradually fell silent. [Passage through the East, South, West, and North Academy Gates has been restored.] [New students wishing to leave may proceed through the Outer Court to the Transit Area.] Almost as soon as the announcement ended— a low rumble came from all four directions. Rowan turned his head.

Among the buildings to the east, the wind curtains that had sealed several Outer Court routes were slowly withdrawing. Galleries and stone paths farther ahead gradually emerged as well. Similar sounds came from the other directions. Before long, people began packing up and leaving the Windward Court by different routes. Others remained where they were. Especially those who had just entered the Core Sequence. Their attention remained fixed on the deeper reaches of the Windward Court. Rowan felt something as well.

The Battle-Order Tablet he carried was growing warm. He took it out. The pale-cyan patterns across its surface were slowly lighting up. His battle order wasn't changing. It felt more like something was establishing a connection with the tablet. Behind the Windward Court— a wind curtain obscuring the deeper area began to retreat. Stone steps gradually emerged. They led to a towering arched gallery. Farther beyond, faint light had already appeared inside a massive stone hall.

Pale-cyan patterns were beginning to surface across several doors that had remained sealed for who knew how long. Evan had already stood up.

"Can you move?" Rowan pressed a hand against his ribs. The bleeding had mostly stopped. The pain remained. But he could move normally again. He put the medicine bottle away. Only one pill remained inside.

"Let's go." Evan immediately headed east. Rowan followed. After a dozen or so steps— the sound of the wind behind them suddenly changed. Not louder. Instead— all the wind throughout the Windward Court had begun flowing in the same direction. Rowan paused. He looked back. The Seven Arenas. Starting with the First— a pale-cyan pattern suddenly lit up. Then the Second. The Third. The Fourth.... All the way to the Seventh. Countless thin streams of wind rose from the edges of the arenas.

They converged toward the center of the Windward Court. Across the ground— ancient array patterns that had lain dormant for countless years began awakening one after another. Pale-cyan light raced through the seams between the stone slabs. Across the Windward Court. Then outward along the four newly reopened routes. More and more people stopped moving. Even several candidates who had been preparing for another Battle-Order Challenge raised their heads. More wind gathered. At first, there were only thin strands.

Soon they merged into a broad current. And finally— all the currents of Returning Wind rising from across the academy converged above the Windward Court. WHUMM— There was no explosion. Only a deep resonance of wind, low enough to vibrate through the chest. An enormous column of pale-cyan wind surged upward. Straight into the sky above the academy. Rowan raised his head. High above, the wind mist that had shrouded the academy for countless years was being peeled away layer by layer by the Returning Wind.

Mirrorheart Academy of the Returning Wind— hidden behind the mist until now— finally began to reveal its true scale. Tower after tower emerged from the wind mist. Long-sealed galleries between the stone buildings came back into view. Farther away— great halls, courtyards, and towering stone buildings surfaced from the haze one after another. Magical lights that had been dark for who knew how many years began glowing behind one tall window after another.

And deeper still— vast sections of the academy remained hidden within the wind mist that had yet to fully disperse. Only now— did Rowan truly understand. The areas used for the three trials were probably only a tiny fraction of the academy. On the other side of the Windward Court— the old instructor responsible for the three trials was still standing there. He too had raised his head. Watching the Returning Wind rise again. The old man's calm expression seemed to soften slightly. Only a little.

So faintly that Rowan wasn't sure he had seen it at all. Beside Rowan, Evan watched for two seconds.

"Let's go." Rowan withdrew his gaze. He didn't look toward the core area again. The two continued east. Then— the sound of the wind overhead abruptly cut off. Rowan stopped. He looked up again. The enormous current of Returning Wind was still surging upward. But at the top— it vanished. It hadn't dispersed. It hadn't been blown aside. From one particular height onward— the break was perfectly clean. There was simply nothing above it. Pale-cyan currents continued surging upward from below.

The moment they reached that point— they disappeared into empty air. Gradually, others noticed something was wrong.

"What's happening?"

"Is that supposed to happen?" The words had barely left their mouths when— a faint tremor passed through the ground beneath them. It was barely perceptible. Yet the surrounding voices fell silent at once. Across the floor of the Windward Court, the pale-cyan patterns extending in four directions all dimmed for an instant. A section of the academy that had only just emerged in the distance blurred at the same moment. As though two images that didn't quite align had briefly overlapped.

The next moment— the patterns on the ground lit up again. Rowan reached for his Battle-Order Tablet. It was burning hot. On the far side of the Windward Court— the faint change that had appeared on the old instructor's face was completely gone. He was still looking upward. At the severed column of Returning Wind. And this time— for the first time— his expression turned grave.