The sunlight dimmed slowly over the spires of Arcanum Academy, casting elongated shadows across the ivory towers and forested terraces. As dusk settled like a velvet cloak, the day's bustle faded into quiet candlelight and hushed chatter in dormitory halls.
For most students, it was the end of another demanding academic day.
But for Kieran, night was when his true work began.
Earlier That Day – Academy Classes
The second day of classes was more structured. Though not as intense as Professor Frey's frost-forged lecture, each session served to highlight the stark differences in teaching styles—and the variety of power residing within the academy's walls.
The first class was Elemental Theory, taught by a middle-aged dwarven professor named Grumblethorn Ironflare, a boisterous and oddly poetic man with a thick beard braided into the shape of a flame.
"Magic, my bright-eyed pebbles, is like brewing ale. Ye can't just toss fire and wind together and expect wine!"
His thunderous laughter shook the desks.
Despite his eccentric style, Professor Ironflare's explanations of elemental interactions were surprisingly insightful. He emphasized synergy, warning students not to treat spells like isolated tools, but as threads in a larger tapestry.
Next came Magical History and Bloodlines, a subject noble students took far too seriously. The professor, Lady Virelianne, was a tall elven scholar with ink-stained fingers and a crystalline voice that could silence even the proudest brat from a noble house.
Kieran kept his head low, absorbing everything. Mentally, he filed away noble house names, traits, inherited bloodline magics, and ancient alliances. Each detail was a potential tool or threat.
By late afternoon, the final class was Practical Combat Fundamentals. Though no combat took place yet, Instructor Borran—a former Knight-Arcanist with scars and a broken nose—lectured on posture, mana control, and awareness.
"Knowing your own mana flow is like knowing your own heartbeat," he growled. "Ignore it, and you'll die before you even realize you're bleeding."
Kieran appreciated the grounding tone of the class. No flashy arrogance, just clear fundamentals. It reminded him that, even in a world of spells and systems, the basics still mattered.
As Night Falls – Slipping into Shadows
As stars shimmered to life overhead and the academy's curfews fell into place, Kieran waited patiently in his dorm.
He closed his book, feigned exhaustion for the benefit of curious roommates, and slipped under the covers. Moments later, his form dissolved into mist, vanishing into the floorboards.
[Void Shift – Active]
Reappearing outside the dormitory tower under the shroud of night, Kieran pulled up the hood of his shadow-cloak, his presence utterly erased. Not even a mana-sensitive ward could trace him unless it reached Tier-10 detection—none existed within this perimeter.
He took a deep breath, gazing at the moon above the academy walls.
"Time to begin."
He disappeared again, sliding through the fabric of space like a whisper between realms.
Hidden Underground – Elira's Awakening
In the chamber beneath the ruined chapel far outside the academy, a flicker of blue flame lit as Kieran arrived.
Elira stood at attention, dressed in dark assassin robes tailored by the system. The voidsteel dagger he gifted her glimmered faintly at her hip. She had tied her white hair into a loose braid, though her expression remained composed.
"Master," she said, bowing low. "I've completed today's assigned mana routes and practiced five of the seven stances. I await your command."
Her voice carried reverence—not forced, but utterly sincere. Since receiving her Mythical Job: Shadowblade Saintess, Elira had grown… devoted. Her eyes carried not just discipline, but worship.
Kieran gave a faint nod. "Good. Show me your stance progression."
They moved across the stone floor—Kieran observing, adjusting her form when needed, guiding her flow of mana with gentle touches of Void Essence.
Her movements were graceful and deadly—like a black orchid blooming in mid-air.
After half an hour of sparring and correction, he finally lowered his hands.
"Your control is improving faster than expected," he said. "We'll begin advanced rune-weaving techniques tomorrow."
She bowed her head, flushed with quiet pride.
"To serve your shadow… is my honor."
He studied her for a moment.
She truly believes that…
There was no fear, no doubt. Only fierce devotion.
He reached into his inventory and handed her a custom enchanted journal.
"Record your progress daily. From now on, you'll report through this channel. Soon, you won't be the only one."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Others… like me?"
Kieran smiled faintly.
"Yes. It's time to expand. Tonight, I'll begin the true formation of our order."
Elira dropped to one knee, head bowed low.
"Then let me be the first shadow beneath your throne."
He gently tapped her neck with a single glowing finger.
A mark of silver light etched itself into her skin—a crowned sigil wrapped in vines of shadow.
[Crown Crest: Bound]
It shimmered once, then vanished.
Connection established. Telepathic relay enabled. Loyalty stabilized. System access synced.
"Rise, Elira," Kieran said, his voice low. "The Hidden Crown has begun to form."