Sanctum Academy's Hall of Theoretical Convergence was one of the few classrooms built entirely of Arclith Stone—an echo-reactive material that shimmered in sync with magical resonance. It was said that when a spell was spoken with conviction, the walls themselves would pulse in response.
And today, the room was already buzzing before class had even begun.
Ari Solen walked in, tired-eyed but calm. He had spent the night inscribing glyphs into practice slates until his fingers ached. Cael's lesson still echoed in his mind—You don't cast magic. You revise the world.
But none of that prepared him for what happened next.
As he approached his usual seat near the back, he saw her.
Princess Lysira Vastelune—crown jewel of the Luxthread House—already seated beside his desk, arms crossed, trying very hard not to make eye contact.
She was blushing.
Not the deep flush of embarrassment, but the strained rose-pink of someone trying desperately to look unbothered by her own decision to sit next to a commoner.
"W-What took you so long?" she muttered, turning slightly. "This seat wasn't being used."
Ari blinked. "You moved three rows down just to sit here."
"T-That's a coincidence," she stammered. "I just—don't want a bad view of the spellboard."
From the front row, Cerys Aetherrose arched an eyebrow, her platinum braid twitching as she turned. Eluin, seated cross-legged atop her chair like a cat, simply grinned.
"Royalty and rebellion. Interesting pair," Eluin whispered.
Professor Ishrian Vell, a tall man draped in twisting sigil-robes, addressed the class.
"Today's task is to define your magical identity. Syntax. Structure. Language. You are no longer mere casters—you are scriptweavers. I want a projection of your personal casting code. Publicly."
Groans echoed through the hall.
"Cerys. Eluin. And… Solen. You're up first."
Ari froze. "Wait, all three of us?"
"You've been flagged for accelerated theory groups," the professor said. "Congratulations. Now impress us."
Cerys stepped forward first. Her glyph projection was sharp and elegant, like calligraphy drawn by a windblown artist. Aetherthread brilliance. Structured. Composed.
"OR:Aether → EL:Wind → MV:Pulse → RS:Control"
The sigil flared to life in soft blue. It hovered above the slate, mathematical and beautiful.
Next, Eluin's code appeared in wisps, less strict, more flowing—Dreamscript influence in every line.
"DR:Phase → MT:DreamRoot → FX:Mirror-Echo → ST:Soft-Wake"
The spell sparkled briefly before unraveling itself—like a thought half-remembered.
Then came Ari.
He stepped forward, heart racing, and placed his hand on the projection stone.
His code formed slowly—glyphs appearing one at a time, glitching the board with each emergence. Unlike the others, it didn't start with an Origin or Element. It started with—
"IM:ReverseState → IT:Null-Stabilize → IV:Timebreak"
The classroom shook.
The walls glitched.
And for a brief second, every single spell in the room deactivated. Ink faded. Glyphs broke. Even Eluin's dream echo disconnected.
Professor Ishrian reeled back.
"That… that's not even from any known structure. What are you casting?"
Ari lowered his hand, swallowing. "I don't know. It's just what happens when I try to follow normal code. My system... rewrites it."
Silence.
Then a student in the back whispered, "He broke the room."
Another: "That's impossible—he's a Threadless."
Lysira turned toward him, her eyes wide. "You... you're rewriting Signum itself."
And Cerys? She was staring with something far more dangerous than shock—curiosity.
After the class, no one moved to speak to Ari directly. But everyone was watching him. Cautious. Afraid. Some, intrigued.
Lysira waited near the exit, fidgeting with her gloves.
"That was reckless," she hissed as he passed. "You could've destabilized half the room."
"You still sat next to me."
She went beet red. "T-That was… strategic."
Eluin appeared behind them like a ghost. "You've just moved from anomaly to threat, Ari. They'll start watching you closer now."
Cerys approached last, arms folded.
"Next time, warn me before you hijack the arcane substrate. My notes burned themselves."
Ari smiled faintly. "Sorry. Syntax issue."