Despite the nerves eating away at him, William forced himself to remain composed. Aurus's gaze was firm, resolute, as if uncertainty itself bowed before his determination. There was no escape. The moment had come.
"It's time to complete the translation," the master said in a grave voice.
William nodded, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the scroll they had studied line by line over the long months. At the very bottom, written in a curved and unnatural script, lay the final spell. A sealed invocation in a forgotten tongue. A prayer. A command.
He closed his eyes and read it aloud, as if each word bore immense weight:
"Between storm and stillness,
where the world splits and the mind is stilled,
I summon the guardian, the silent echo,
show me that which is not real… but Exists."
Silence fell.
Nothing happened.
William raised his eyes, confused. The air remained still, the scroll unmoving—just an old, dusty piece of parchment. He frowned.
"Maybe I misread it…"
Impatient, Aurus held out his hand.
"Let me try."
The moment he spoke the first word, the scroll responded. It vibrated, then shone with a deep, unnatural violet glow—like the paper itself wept with joy—and then, it happened.
An invisible force seized the room. Mana, which should not have existed here, grew thick, oppressive. If someone could have seen it, they would have noticed how the once inert air boiled with repressed magic, like a colossal claw clutching it from the void, halting all motion.
The scroll absorbed Aurus's mana like a bottomless pit, with monstrous hunger. The veins in his neck bulged, his face tensed. William barely had time to react before the master collapsed, as though his soul had been violently torn away.
"Master!" William cried, rushing forward to catch him before his body hit the floor.
With effort, he laid him gently on the nearest chair and activated Angel at once.
"Angel, check Master Aurus!"
"Beginning scan. Please maintain contact with the subject."
William held his wrist, heart pounding.
"Scan initiated… Scan complete. Bodily functions: optimal. No physical damage detected."
But still, he did not wake.
William spent hours at his side, reviewing the text again and again, searching for errors, contradictions, anything to explain what had happened. Nothing. The translation was perfect. The spell, though strange, held internal logic. The only anomaly was… the reaction.
The night crept by slowly, tense. No one dared enter the master's office. His reputation commanded respect, even among other instructors. So William stayed, vigilant.
Only when the first rays of dawn pierced the window did Aurus's body stir.
With a sharp gasp, he opened his eyes. He looked pale, his muscles taut. William jumped back with a startled yelp.
"Ah! Master?! Are you okay?! What happened? What did you see?!"
Aurus didn't respond immediately. He sat up slowly, leaning on the arms of the chair, eyes vacant and distant.
"I… don't know."
Just that. Barely a whisper. His voice was void of life.
Realizing the master needed time, William quietly excused himself and left, letting him gather his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, he didn't seek out Rose, despite their near-daily meetings filled with unrestrained passion. Today, nothing else occupied his mind but what had happened during the night.
He found himself walking toward the training grounds on autopilot. Since he often stayed at Aurus's place late into the night—or until dawn—it had become a habit. But when he reached the field, something felt different. More people than usual were present.
Irven and Elric were waiting for him, along with Commander Anthon. His imposing figure stood like a pillar capable of holding up the sky—a burly man with a piercing gaze and a red cloak denoting his high rank. Beside him stood an unfamiliar presence: an older man, white hair and beard, his bearing forged in steel. His expression was firm enough to chill bone.
The moment William stepped onto the field, Elric intercepted him.
"Is this the time you think is appropriate to show up, recruit?" he called out loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Some chuckled under their breath. The glances that followed were conspiratorial. William immediately sensed the hostility behind the smiles. For three months, the nobles had failed to touch him. His routine, discipline, and self-imposed isolation had protected him. But today, the rules had changed.
He didn't respond to provocations, didn't go out into town, didn't give them any excuse—and that had frustrated them.
But today, it seemed, they were determined to provoke something.
William said nothing. He simply walked calmly to the starting line of the field, casting Elric a half-smile.
"Good morning, instructor. There's never a bad time to start… don't you think?"
His tone was neutral, but laced with irony. He knew Elric's intentions—there was no need to pretend. Elric pressed his lips together but said nothing further. Anthon observed him closely, and so did the unknown elder. There was something odd in the man's gaze. It wasn't contempt… it was curiosity. As if he were trying to see through William.
And then he understood: they were evaluating him. And this time, the real test was just beginning.