Chương 90: Sudden Shift

The Battle-Order Tablet was still burning hot. Rowan didn't immediately pull his hand from inside his coat. Above the Windward Court— the pale-cyan column of Returning Wind that had pierced the sky only moments ago was still cut off in midair. Wind continued surging upward from below. But the moment it reached that point— it vanished into a gap that didn't seem to exist. Simply disappearing. In the distance— the old instructor was still looking up.

Whatever faint trace of a smile had appeared on his face earlier was completely gone.

"Move." Evan's voice came from beside him. This time, Rowan didn't stop. The two continued east. They had only gone a few steps when— an explosion sounded behind them. Boom—! Rowan's stride faltered. Not an arena. The sound had come from the inner eastern side of the Windward Court. Not far from the route they were about to take. One Battle-Order Challenge still hadn't ended. A mass of fire had just erupted between the two candidates. One of them had already been forced back to the edge of the stone path.

Pale-cyan Returning Wind swept up from the ground. Just like before. It should have completely separated the two before the spell could truly land. But the wind had only risen halfway when— it suddenly dispersed. Without warning. The next instant— the flames slammed squarely into the candidate's chest. His entire body was blasted backward. He crashed into the stone steps behind him. For a moment, everything went silent. Some people hadn't even processed what had happened.

Even the candidate who had cast the spell remained frozen where he stood. He looked down at his own hand. Then across at the other man.

"Arcane custodian?" No answer came. Below the steps— the fallen candidate didn't get up again. Blood slowly spread beneath his body. Rowan's eyes hardened. When the previous challenge had ended— the arcane custodian had intervened almost instantly. Before the spell could inflict serious injury, Returning Wind had already swept between the two fighters. But now— the protection had appeared. It just hadn't finished. It wasn't that the danger hadn't been detected. The intervention itself had failed midway.

Something was wrong with the arcane custodian. Bad enough that it could no longer guarantee the students' lives. The atmosphere in the Windward Court changed almost instantly. The people who had been gathered around the Battle-Order Challenge began backing away. Some looked around for their companions. Some immediately put away the weapons they had just drawn. Two others who had already stepped together, clearly preparing to request another challenge, simply turned and left.

With one anomaly after another appearing— everyone was beginning to realize something was seriously wrong. Battle order. Final ranking. No one cared about any of that anymore. A streak of pale-cyan wind suddenly crossed Rowan's vision. The next instant— the old instructor had appeared beside the dead candidate. He crouched. Pressed two fingers to the man's neck. And said nothing. Even from a distance, Rowan could see— the Battle-Order Tablet at the dead man's waist was still there.

Its pale-cyan patterns were still glowing. The Returning Wind Sigil on his left wrist hadn't disappeared either.

"Stop looking." Evan was already farther ahead. When he turned back, his expression was tense. Rowan withdrew his gaze.

"East."

"I know." They had only gone another few dozen steps when— Rowan's left wrist suddenly grew hot. He looked down. The Returning Wind Sigil had lit up. Not the faint, intermittent glow it usually gave off. The entire sigil was shining. Layer after layer of spiraling wind patterns rapidly sharpened along the outside of his left wrist. Rowan frowned slightly. The next instant— an impossibly thin stream of pale-cyan wind rose from his wrist. He raised his hand and pressed down on it. Nothing.

It wasn't being pulled from his skin. It felt more as though the sigil itself was responding to something outside him. Rowan looked up. Across the Windward Court— he wasn't the only one. One stream. Ten. Dozens. More than a hundred pale-cyan currents rose almost simultaneously from different places. Every surviving candidate— had a glowing Returning Wind Sigil on their left wrist. Wind was being drawn out of each of them. Then converging on the same point above the Windward Court. Someone cried out.

Others didn't even bother looking. They simply sprinted toward the nearest route into the Outer Court. Rowan watched the streams of Returning Wind gather overhead. All at once. The same sigil. The same destination. This couldn't be a random malfunction. Someone was manipulating this entire batch of sigils. His gaze dropped back to his left wrist. The outermost pale-cyan layer of Returning Wind was fading. But the pale-gray pattern beneath it remained perfectly clear. The Silence Seal was still there.

Rowan tried his Aether Core. No response. The Returning Wind Sigil was being taken away. But every restriction remained.

"Don't stop." Evan had already reached the entrance to the eastern route. Rowan was about to follow when— the sky above them flashed. Not lightning. Not a spell. For the briefest instant— the endless wind above the Windward Court seemed to be overlaid by another scene. A dark wasteland. Aberrant beasts converging in a stampede. A massive array fully deployed across the ground. And higher still— an enormous metal silhouette hovered in the air. Rowan's pupils contracted. The Aerial Battle Bastion.

The same one they had seen before entering the ruin. Even the lines of mana stretching from beneath the bastion toward the reality anchor were perfectly visible for that single instant. Then— the image vanished. The Windward Court returned. Many of the people around them had stopped for a moment too. Clearly— Rowan hadn't been the only one to see it. The military. The thought surfaced almost immediately. This wasn't simply Mirrorheart Academy malfunctioning on its own. Someone outside was doing something.

And whoever was doing this from outside— was it the Republic Military? Rowan barely had time to think further. At the center of the Windward Court— the pale-cyan Returning Wind gathered overhead suddenly bent downward. Boom—! More than a hundred thin currents plunged at once. All toward one target. The old instructor. His head snapped up. Pale-cyan Returning Wind came down from every direction. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. There was no attack.

No explosion. The currents wound around his arms, shoulders, back, and robes like long, slender chains. An unfamiliar spiral pattern spread beneath his feet. It resembled the original arrays of Mirrorheart Academy— but wasn't quite the same. Rowan didn't slow down. But his mind had already linked everything together. Everyone's Returning Wind Sigils. The military. Now— this old man. Whatever the military was really after— the old man was one of the targets.

And to act against him— they had used the Returning Wind Sigils of every candidate in the exam. Rowan had absolutely no interest in staying to see what happened next. An existence at this level— whatever the military intended to do to the old man— was not something people at Tier 1 should be standing nearby to watch.

"Move." This time, Rowan was the one who said it. Evan had already turned away. Behind them— the old man ignored the Returning Wind wrapped around his body. His gaze dropped to his own arm. Then slowly rose. Toward the candidates in the Windward Court. It was different from before. Rowan only looked back once. That was enough. During the Third Trial— those had been the eyes of an instructor looking at students. Not anymore. The old man glanced down at the first body still lying on the ground.

That candidate's Returning Wind Sigil remained intact. Then he looked toward the pale-cyan patterns gradually disappearing from everyone else's left wrists. Anger tightened his face as his brows lifted.

"Those sigils were not issued by this academy." Rowan's heart tightened. The old man had understood something. And clearly— he knew far more than they did. Ahead— one of the candidates closest to the body had heard him too. The man's face was already pale. The next instant— he turned and sprinted for the southern route. He made it two steps. The old man looked at him. And then— nothing happened. No spell formed. Rowan couldn't even detect a change in the surrounding mana.

But the candidate's third step never landed. His body began coming apart from the shoulder down. Clothes. Skin. Flesh. Even the bones beneath. It was as though his entire body had already been shattered into countless tiny particles— and only now had whatever held them together suddenly vanished. A breeze passed by. Clang— The Battle-Order Tablet struck the stone ground. Its pale-cyan patterns were still glowing. The Windward Court erupted into chaos.

"Run!"

"Get out of here!"

"Move!" Rowan was running too. But for one instant, his attention remained fixed on what he had just seen. He had been watching the old man. From beginning to end. And he had never seen the attack happen. No matter how fast that wind-and-fire knight had been, there had still been mana gathering. A windup. A direction the attack came from. But just now? Nothing. Wellspring Step flashed through Rowan's mind. He killed the thought immediately. Dodge where? He didn't even know where the attack began. Tier 3?

Something else? Rowan couldn't tell. But one thing was already clear enough. The old man had redrawn the line between friend and foe. In his eyes— they were no longer students. A deep, heavy impact suddenly sounded from behind. THOOM— Like something that had slept for far too long had moved for the first time somewhere deep inside the academy. Even the stone beneath Rowan's feet trembled faintly. The old man turned. Toward the north. His expression grew even more severe. A second impact. THOOM— Closer.

In the distance— among a cluster of ancient buildings still partly hidden behind the wind mist— a massive stone door slowly opened. A figure stepped through. It was far away. Yet Rowan could still feel the mana around it. Just like the old man— it was far beyond anything he could accurately judge. But the feeling was completely different. If the old instructor already felt almost indistinguishable from a genuinely living person— this thing— felt more like a weapon forged into human shape.

Its silhouette was nearly as solid as a real body. The ancient battle attire it wore showed no sign of damage. Its face held no unnecessary expression at all. It took one step. And appeared at the opposite end of the Windward Court. Its emotionless gaze remained fixed on the old man. More precisely— on the patterns wrapped around his body. A low, flat voice sounded. [Senior Instructor anomaly detected.] [Initiating isolation.] The old man didn't move.

"Reconfirm with the arcane custodian." One breath. Two. [Isolation status remains active.] The old man's voice lowered.

"The core is being breached." [Isolation status remains active.] He stared at the True Echo.

"You can't see it?" The True Echo showed no reaction.

"The enemies outside."

"The severed Returning Wind."

"And the core being taken from us." For the first time, real weight entered the old man's voice.

"It's all right in front of you." [Isolation status remains active.] The old man suddenly fell silent. The anger rising in him stalled. As though he wanted to lash out— but in the end, there was nowhere to direct it. After a moment— he looked again at the nearly expressionless face before him.

"... Of course."

"That was the whole reason all of you were kept from making your own judgments back then." The old man glanced toward the depths of the academy. The Returning Wind there was still shaking violently.

"But now—""the arcane custodian is too busy to think for you." The True Echo still didn't move aside. The old man closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened again—"Move." [Denied.] The old man stepped forward. The True Echo raised a hand at the same time. Rowan suddenly faltered. The mana around him had become chaotic. No. Not chaotic. He simply couldn't distinguish it anymore. Mana reactions he could normally separate by source, direction, and strength all seemed to lose their boundaries at once.

They flooded into his mental perception together. His mental sea jolted violently. The Mental Power he had extended outward instantly fell into disorder. A sharp ache pulsed through his skull. Rowan grunted. His first reaction wasn't to keep watching. He immediately severed his perception. The next instant— every current of Returning Wind within a hundred meters changed direction at once. Array patterns across the floor of the Windward Court lit up one after another. Then all went dark in the same instant.

A dense series of cracking sounds came from the stone pillars. Several students still dozens of meters from the two figures didn't even have time to understand what was happening before they were hurled sideways. Rowan looked down. At some point— a thin crack had appeared in the stone beneath his feet. Boom—! The sound seemed half a beat late. Only now did it truly detonate. Rowan felt the air behind him suddenly grow heavy. The next instant— the entire Windward Court seemed to be crushed downward from the center.

Large sections of pale-cyan arraywork tore up from the ground. The newly arrived True Echo swept one hand backward. A pale-cyan wind curtain hastily formed around several nearby students. The next instant— the curtain shattered across most of its surface. The students were still blasted away by the residual force. Bones snapped. Blood sprayed from their mouths. One student's leg was twisted almost completely around. Even the stone pillars bordering the eastern route gave a deep shudder.

Pain stabbed through Rowan's left ribs. He clenched his teeth. There had been other candidates fleeing east as well. But the second student had just died there. And the newly arrived Tier 3 True Echo now stood directly between the eastern side of the Windward Court and its center. Several candidates who had already made it halfway immediately changed direction. Some cut south. Others followed the circular stone path west. Only the few farthest ahead kept going east. Rowan glanced at Evan.

"Still east?"

"Yes." Evan didn't hesitate at all.

"It'll be safer once we're inside."

"Move!" Evan was already charging into the eastern passage. Rowan followed. Behind them— another tremendous impact rang out. This time— heavier than before. Once they left the Windward Court— the surroundings became much quieter. The eastbound stone path stretched ahead. On either side— gray-white stone halls emerged from the wind mist that had only just withdrawn. They were completely different from the areas used for the three trials in the Windward Court. This place truly looked like an academy.

Tall, narrow arched windows stretched almost to the roofs. Semi-open galleries connected the different stone halls. Deeper inside— smaller sunken courtyards came into view. Circular array platforms sat at their centers. Pale-cyan patterns were slowly lighting up between the seams of the stone. Behind some of the tall windows, magical lights had already appeared. One. Two. More and more. Wind passed through the galleries, window openings, and stone courtyards. A low, continuous hum followed it. Rowan glanced around.

This should be the teaching district Evan had mentioned. If not for the tremors still coming from behind them— if not for the Returning Wind Sigil that had now completely vanished from his left wrist— this really might have looked like an ancient magical academy just awakening from a long sleep. Two candidates were still visible ahead. Three or four more had rushed in behind them. In a distant gallery, someone was casting a spell. The sounds of True Echoes fighting came from behind one of the courtyards.

"This way." Evan didn't slow. The two turned into a narrower arched corridor. They had barely entered when— a gray-white figure appeared ahead. As though it had been standing there the entire time. Only after they entered did it slowly turn around. A True Echo. Its body wasn't especially solid. Its robes were simple too. It didn't look like combat personnel. More like an ordinary patrol True Echo tasked with maintaining order in the teaching district. It looked at Evan first. Then Rowan.

Finally— its gaze settled on their left wrists. It paused. Pale-cyan wind patterns lit beneath its feet. Its demeanor turned hostile at once. Rowan had already drawn his blade. The True Echo raised a hand. The air in front of Rowan suddenly collapsed inward. The next instant, a violent lateral pressure difference yanked him toward the left. Tier 1. Single-Phase. Rowan had no intention of fighting it. The sideways pull abruptly intensified. His body was dragged left against his control.

Rowan stepped half a pace with the force. At the same time— his Mental Power rapidly engaged the corresponding Source Runes. Water patterns flashed beneath his feet. Wellspring Step. The force that had been trying to drag him left instead pushed his speed even higher. Rowan shot past the True Echo's side. But in the stone corridor to the flank— another gray-white silhouette was already taking shape. Rowan had only just turned his head when— Evan stopped. His right hand thrust forward.

A blue line so thin it was almost invisible flashed through the corridor. The newly formed True Echo froze. A tiny hole had already been punched straight through its chest. Only then— Pop! A ring of delayed water mist burst from the wound. The entire body slammed backward into a stone column.

"Forget the one ahead."

"Move!" Evan turned again. Rowan didn't slow. The two rushed past, one behind the other. The first True Echo turned to pursue. Without the slightest hesitation. Rowan frowned. Without their Returning Wind Sigils— the local True Echoes really were treating them as abnormal targets. A sealed stone hall stood ahead. Evan didn't slow down.

"Tablet." Rowan glanced at him. The Battle-Order Tablet inside his coat had already begun heating up. Only a few steps remained between them and the stone doors. Pale-cyan patterns across the doors lit on their own. Clunk— The heavy stone doors withdrew to either side. Evan rushed straight in. Rowan followed close behind. They had barely crossed the threshold when— the patrol True Echo reached the entrance. It raised a hand. A wind blade formed again.

But before the spell could be released— a semicircular wind pattern suddenly lit across the floor inside. Hum— A pale-cyan barrier rose. The wind blade struck it. And dispersed instantly. Rowan slowed for a moment. He glanced back. The True Echo outside was still attacking. But the teaching facilities inside were protecting him. The Battle-Order Tablet was still warm. Rowan looked down at it. He understood. It wasn't that the entire academy had stopped recognizing them. Some parts still did. Others no longer did.

Evan glanced at the barrier too.

"Forget it."

"Let's get out first." Rowan didn't argue. The two crossed the hall. The interior was even taller than it had looked from outside. Narrow windows on both sides stretched almost to the vaulted ceiling. A massive circular array platform occupied the center. Concentric rings of stone seating surrounded it. On the gray-white stone wall directly ahead— incomplete Source Runes were slowly lighting up one after another. People really had attended classes here once.

It had simply been far too many years since anyone sat in those seats. They exited through the other side. A fork appeared ahead. To the left— a much wider main gallery ran straight east. Dead straight. The right path wound around two stone halls. Evan didn't even pause.

"Right." Rowan glanced toward the main gallery.

"East is left."

"I know." Evan was already turning right.

"Too many patrol True Echoes on the main gallery." Rowan followed. They had barely gone a dozen steps when— far to their left— thin streams of pale-cyan Returning Wind began gathering along the main gallery. One. Two. Three. Three True Echoes were gradually taking shape. Rowan looked away. He didn't ask a thing. Evan knew this place far too well. But for now— the route he was choosing was still the right one. At the end of the right-hand gallery— another True Echo stepped out beside a small spell-practice court.

It was completely different from the first. Its body was nearly solid. It even wore a complete set of old-style protective gear. A short staff rested in its right hand. Its left forearm was covered in a layer of light-brown stone armor. Wind. Earth. Dual-Phase. Rowan's eyes narrowed. The ones appearing later— were stronger. And not by a little.

"Don't fight it." Evan lowered his voice.

"Cut through the courtyard." The True Echo had already raised its short staff. Rowan and Evan split apart at the same time. Boom! Stone spikes erupted violently from beneath the paving. The True Echo had barely raised its staff again when— Evan vaulted over a low railing. As he landed, he casually slapped a hand against the railing post. Hum— A dark-yellow pattern flashed along the stone railing. The next instant— a fine grinding sound came from the True Echo's right arm.

Gray-white stone dust suddenly appeared from nowhere, crawling rapidly through the gaps in its bracer and solidifying. In the blink of an eye, a thick shell of stone encased its forearm and elbow. The arm it had just raised dropped sharply.

"Rowan!" The tip of the staff shifted with it. The spell that had been locked onto Rowan scraped past his side and struck the gallery column behind him. A section of the column shattered. Stone fragments sprayed everywhere. Evan was already running again without looking back. Using the dust as cover, Rowan charged into the spell-practice court. The huge circular array at its center had partially reawakened. The True Echo pursued them inside.

The moment it stepped over the boundary— a ring of patterns on the ground lit up. A training wind curtain rose between them. The True Echo paused. So did Rowan. The next instant— he understood. This place still recognized them as students.

"Left!" Evan shouted from the far side. Neither of them wasted the opportunity. They shot through a side door of the practice court. Behind them— the training wind curtain lasted only a few seconds. Then came the sound of it breaking.

"It'll keep chasing us."

"I know." Evan didn't look back. The buildings ahead gradually thinned out. The gaps between the halls widened. The stone paths grew broader. And the wind grew stronger. Then— RUMBLE—! A tremor heavier than anything before rolled from the direction of the Windward Court. The entire gallery shook. The magical lights that had only just come on behind the tall windows all dimmed for an instant. Rowan instinctively looked back. Through the mass of buildings— the Windward Court was no longer visible.

All he could see was the wind mist in the distance churning violently. They were still fighting over there. Rowan turned forward again. He didn't look back a second time. Getting out mattered more. After crossing two more sections of the teaching district— the surrounding buildings began to thin noticeably. Ahead— several enormous stone pillars emerged from the wind mist. Each stood more than ten meters tall. Complex pale-cyan array patterns covered their surfaces. The stone path broadened here as well.

Eventually— it connected to an enormous circular platform. Evan sped up noticeably.

"We're here." Rowan looked up. The East Transit Area. At the center of the platform— a massive spiral array of Returning Wind was embedded into the ground. Eight array pillars stood in a ring around it. There was no gate. No view of the outside world. But Rowan remembered the sensation of space pulling at him when they first entered Mirrorheart Academy. This should be the place.

"Get on." Evan stepped onto the array platform first. Rowan followed. The Battle-Order Tablet inside his coat heated up again. The first array pillar lit. Then the second. The third. The fourth. Pale-cyan lines closed into rings across the ground. Wind began to spiral around them. The space before Rowan's eyes distorted slightly. The familiar sense of weightlessness returned. Evan visibly relaxed.

"We made it." The fifth array pillar lit. Then the sixth. The seventh. The final ring of array patterns began closing toward the center. Only one section remained— Snap. A very soft crack. All the wind suddenly dispersed. The patterns went dark. Space returned to normal. Rowan was still standing in the center of the platform. Evan froze.

"..." Then immediately crouched down. He examined the patterns on the ground.

"Again." Rowan said nothing. Second attempt. The Battle-Order Tablets responded. The array pillars lit again. One. Two. Three. Just like before— everything operated normally. Until the end. The exact same point. Snap. The connection broke. The pale-cyan patterns went dark. Once again— the two of them remained where they were. This time— Evan didn't say anything right away. Rowan walked over. Crouched down. And traced the section of array pattern that refused to close. It wasn't burned out.

There were no obvious cracks either. The circuit simply stopped responding beyond that connection point. Rowan followed the pattern to a low stone pedestal nearby. At its center— there was a recessed mounting slot. Empty. Its edges were clean. It didn't look like something had just been destroyed. More like— something had been removed. Rowan looked up. Evan was still standing there. Staring at the empty recess. His expression slowly changed. For the first time, Rowan saw genuine shock on his face.

Evan suddenly crouched. His hand went straight for the empty slot. His fingertips traced the edge once. Then again.

"No..." He stood. Moved behind one of the array pillars nearby. Checked another position. Then came back. He even activated the array himself one more time. Rowan already knew it wouldn't work. Evan kept trying anyway. The wind dispersed again. Evan stood motionless. For a long moment— he didn't move at all. He even forgot to take his hand off the array pillar.

"Impossible..." He raised his hand again. As though he meant to start it a fourth time.

"Enough." For the first time, Rowan stopped him. Evan's hand froze in midair. Rowan watched him. Since this all started— this was the first time Evan wasn't simply in a hurry. Wasn't simply tense. He was genuinely rattled. He stared at the empty recess— as though looking at something that should never have existed.

"At this point..." Evan's voice stopped for a moment.

"the eastern route should still be open." Rowan's gaze flickered. There was far too much certainty in those words. But Evan no longer seemed to care what he had just let slip. He stared at the empty recess. The color slowly drained from his face.

"How could it have shut down this fast?"