Adom's third yawn in five minutes earned him an elbow in the ribs from Sam.
"You look like death ward over," Sam whispered. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"Not really," Adom admitted, rubbing his eyes.
The Grand Amphitheater buzzed with the voices of hundreds of third-year students. Tiered seating curved in a half-circle around a central stage, where a podium stood empty, waiting for the day's proceedings to begin. Morning light stread through the high windows, illuminating dust motes that danced through the air.
Above the empty stage, a paper dragon—erald green with gold-tipped wings—swooped and dove at a glittering blue paper bird. Both constructs shimred with magical energy, leaving faint trails of colored light in their wake. The dragon, easily three tis the size of the bird, snapped its jaws and exhaled a puff of harmless orange sparks.
"Ten silvers on Vance's dragon!" soone shouted from the front row.
"You're on!" ca the reply from across the amphitheater.
Students cheered as the bird executed a perfect spiral, narrowly avoiding the dragon's claws. The magical constructs weren't just folded paper—they moved with lifelike precision, the dragon's scales rippling as it banked sharply, the bird's wings beating frantically as it tried to escape.
"Finish it!" Vance yelled, his fingers moving in a complex pattern as he directed his creation.
The dragon roared—a sound like crumpling parchnt amplified tenfold—and surged forward with sudden speed. Its paper jaws closed around the bird with a violent snap. Blue magical energy burst outward as the bird was crushed, scattering glowing confetti that rained down on the cheering students.
Adom watched the spectacle with mild interest.
"Nightmares about the exam?" Sam asked, lowering his voice further.
Adom shook his head slightly. "Not nightmares. Just... thinking."
"About?"
"The gankers. The examiners." Adom leaned back in his seat. "Sothing doesn't add up."
Sam nodded, his usual exuberance muted. "I know. I've been wondering the sa thing."
"I asked around when we got back," Adom said. "Talked to a few senior students who've worked as teaching assistants like Hugo and Kaius. They all confird it – senior mages are supposed to monitor all Xerkes students during adventurer exams. Safety protocol."
"And they only step in if you're about to die, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. Intervening ans automatic failure." Adom's fingers drumd against his knee. "But gankers are different. Multiple homicides. That's not part of the exam."
"Maybe they were waiting to see if we could handle it ourselves?" Sam suggested, though his tone made it clear he didn't believe it.
"Gankers, Sam." Adom fixed him with a tired look. "Known murderers. If Kev and his crew had been just a bit more competent, we'd be dead."
The weight of that statent settled between them.
"You think soone wanted us to fail?" Sam asked after a mont.
"The exam? No. If that was the case, they would have intervened at a random mont without plausible reason." He paused. "I think soone might have wanted dead," Adom replied quietly.
Sam's eyes widened. "Because of the prince?"
Adom nodded. "The prince had backers. Powerful ones. We still don't know who was behind him."
"Hmm." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "That's... that's actually pretty plausible."
"The investigation is ongoing, but I haven't heard anything in weeks," Adom said. "It's like everything just went quiet."
"Have you told anyone about this? Professor Crowley? The Headmaster?"
"Not yet. I need more than just suspicions." Adom stifled another yawn. "But I will. Soon."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of more students filing into the amphitheater. The noise level rose as people greeted friends they hadn't seen since before the exam.
Then all conversation was cut short as the amphitheater doors swung open with a resounding thud. The ambient chatter died instantly, replaced by the sound of purposeful footsteps.
Professor Crowley entered, his eyes sweeping across the room. Students straightened instinctively as he passed, a few hastily tucking away contraband snacks or pulling out notebooks.
Adom watched as Crowley reached the center stage. The professor spent a mont surveying the assembled students, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
Then, without ceremony, Crowley placed an index finger against his throat and it began to glow. When he spoke, his voice carried throughout the amphitheater, magically amplified but still maintaining its characteristic flat tone.
"Congratulations to those who passed their adventurer exams," he began, reading sothing on the paper he brought. "Your badges are the result of preparation, skill, and in so cases, dumb luck. Wear them with the understanding that they represent responsibility, not just privilege."
Several students exchanged glances, unsure whether to feel proud or chastised.
"For those who didn't pass," Crowley continued, "you'll have additional opportunities throughout the sester. Failure is instructive when you learn from it. Most of you didn't."
Sam snorted quietly. "Classic Crowley. Even his congratulations co with a side of brutal honesty."
"As for your regular curriculum," Crowley said, "we'll resu normal classes tomorrow. Your exam results will be factored into your practical assessnt scores for this quarter."
A hand rose from the third row. Adom blinked in surprise as he recognized Mia, her silver hair pulled back in a tight braid. He hadn't seen her much since the sester began, both of them caught up in their separate tracks and preparations.
"Yes, Miss Storm?" Crowley acknowledged.
Mia stood, her posture straight and confident. Unlike many students who wilted under Crowley's gaze, she t his eyes directly.
"Professor, by this point in the sester, we should already be a couple weeks into our elective courses," she said. "Instead, we were suddenly required to participate in an adventurer exam that typically demands months of preparation."
Murmurs of agreent rippled through the amphitheater. Adom found himself nodding along. Mia was voicing exactly what had been bothering him.
"I'm not complaining about the experience itself," Mia continued, "but rather the lack of transparency. We deserve to know why our education was disrupted without explanation, why there's been so much secrecy, and frankly, why the academy seems to be operating on ergency protocols without informing us what the ergency actually is."
The murmurs grew louder. A few students called out in support.
"She's right!"
"Just tell us what's happening!"
"We're adults, not children!"
Adom leaned forward, suddenly alert despite his fatigue. He wasn't the only one who'd noticed sothing off about the academy's recent decisions.
Crowley's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. He raised a hand, and the room fell silent imdiately.
"Silence," he said, though it was unnecessary by that point. The quiet that followed was almost oppressive.
The professor sighed, a rare display of sothing approaching emotion. He removed his finger from his throat, canceling the amplification spell, then replaced it and took a deep breath.
"I suppose you deserve to know at least the minimum," he said, his voice lower but still carrying through the amplification charm. He muttered sothing that sounded suspiciously like, "And I'll be in trouble for this later," before sighing again.
"The changes to your curriculum were not made lightly," Crowley continued, his tone asured. "Neither Headmaster rris nor the professorial body wished to disrupt your education. We were..." he paused, searching for the right word, "...encouraged to adapt."
The word 'encouraged' carried a weight that didn't escape anyone in the room. Murmurs rippled through the amphitheater, students exchanging theories in hurried whispers.
"Then why did you do it?"
The question cut through the buzz of conversation. Adom hadn't planned to speak, hadn't even raised his hand, but the words had escaped him anyway. Hundreds of eyes turned in his direction, but he kept his gaze fixed on Crowley, waiting for an answer.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The professor studied Adom for a long mont, then nodded as if coming to a decision.
"You're all aware of the recent events and the current political landscape of the Empire," Crowley said, addressing the entire room but maintaining eye contact with Adom. "Or at least, you should be, if you've been paying attention to sothing beyond your textbooks."
More murmurs rose from the crowd, louder this ti.
"Silence," Crowley ordered, and the room imdiately fell quiet. "I'm going to stop treating you like children. You deserve that much."
He paced a few steps across the stage, gathering his thoughts.
"Until fifteen years ago, students not much older than you were conscripted into the Imperial Army as soon as they beca fourth-years," he said bluntly. "It was how the Empire expanded. How it secured its borders. Young mages, fresh with power and training, sent to fight wars they barely understood."
Adom felt a chill. He'd read about those policies in history books, but hearing Crowley speak of it—soone who had likely lived through it—made it suddenly visceral.
"I was fourteen when I saw my first battlefield," Crowley said, his hand finding the scar on his face. "Most of my classmates were with . So never ca back."
The amphitheater was utterly silent now. No whispers, no shuffling of feet or papers. Just hundreds of students, suddenly confronted with a reality they'd only studied in abstract terms.
"That practice was stopped for good reasons," Crowley continued. "The physical toll, the psychological damage, the ethical implications—all of it beca too much for even the Empire to justify. But ending that practice had consequences beyond the humanitarian."
He straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.
"With so many mages removed from the system, the Empire's magical capacity was diminished. Our ability to project power, to be as... aggressive as we once were, was reduced. So would say that's for the better." His expression suggested he might be among them. "Others saw it as weakness."
Sam leaned closer to Adom. "Where is he going with this?" he whispered.
Adom shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off Crowley. "Just listen."
"The Farmus Empire has been quiet for years," Crowley said. "Or so we believed. The investigation following Prince Kalyon's arrest revealed sothing troubling. Farmus officials were working closely with the prince on sothing unknown to our Empire."
Oh no. No no no. Adom's stomach clenched.
This was exactly what he'd feared, what he'd hoped wasn't the case. The Farmus Empire lay thousands of miles to the east, separated from them by mountain ranges and vast plains—traditional enemies, not allies.
They were militaristic, ruthless in their expansion, and had historically employed forbidden magics without hesitation.
But more importantly, they were the first nation to unleash it in battle.
Dragon's Breath.
Crowley continued as surprised murmurs rippled through the amphitheater.
"The prince's use of specters—forbidden magic in our territories—appears to have been facilitated by Farmusian mages," he said, his voice cutting through the rising noise. "These weren't just random experints. They were coordinated efforts, part of sothing larger."
Adom exchanged a glance with Sam, whose usual humor had vanished entirely.
"With Prince Kalyon's capture," Crowley went on, "our relations with Farmus have deteriorated rapidly. After decades of cold peace, they've beco openly hostile again. Intelligence reports suggest they've ford new alliances with the Northern Elven Kingdoms, and their border activities have increased dramatically in recent months."
"Holy shit," soone whispered loudly from the row behind.
"Are we talking about war?" a girl called out, not bothering to raise her hand.
Crowley didn't answer directly, which was answer enough.
"My father says the crown prince was actually the son of a Farmusian noble," a boy near the front said to his neighbor, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "The Emperor took her as a spoil of war and changed her identity. That's why—"
"You should be careful about what your father tells you these days, Telman," the boy next to him replied, shooting nervous glances around. "Especially out loud."
Adom couldn't sit still anymore. He got to his feet, ignoring Sam's urgent tug at his sleeve.
"Sit down," Sam murmured. "This isn't the ti."
But Adom was too anxious, too riddled with guilt to stay silent.
"Are you sending them to war?" he called out, his voice carrying through the sudden quiet. "Children?!"
Every face in the amphitheater turned toward him. So looked shocked at his outburst, others nodded in agreent with his question.
Crowley fixed him with a steady gaze, neither angry nor surprised. "Please sit down, Mr. Sylla."
"Answer the question," Adom replied, remaining on his feet. "Please."
If they were being prepared for war, then many of the students in this room—people who had lived full lives in his original tiline—wouldn't make it past adulthood. And it would be a consequence of his actions. His ddling with ti. His attempt to save the world.
Had he co back just to make things worse? To trade one catastrophe for another?
Crowley's expression softened slightly.
"Headmaster rris, along with the Archmage and the entire Magisterium, opposed the Emperor on that decision," he said carefully. "Quite forcefully, in fact."
Adom waited, knowing there was more to be said. Around him, he could feel the tension in the room, hundreds of students holding their breath.
"We reached a compromise," Crowley continued after a mont. "For now, no students will be conscripted directly into military service. However—" he paused, "—your curriculum will include more combat-focused training and military history. The expectation is that when you complete your seventh year at the age of eighteen or nineteen, you will be required to serve the Empire in so capacity."
The room erupted in murmurs again, so relieved, others angry.
"So we get to finish school before dying for the Empire," soone said bitterly. "How generous."
"I'm writing to my parents tonight," a girl from the front row declared, jumping to her feet. "They know people on the Council!"
"My uncle's a Magister," soone else called out. "He won't stand for this!"
Crowley raised his hand, demanding silence. The room took longer to quiet this ti, frustration and fear bubbling over like a pot left too long on the fire.
"I understand this is a lot to take in," he said once the noise had subsided. "And to be perfectly honest, things will likely get worse before they get better."
He let that sink in for a mont, not softening the blow.
"But I can promise you this," he continued, his voice growing firr. "As long as you are students of Xerkes Academy, you will be taken care of. You will be protected. No matter what it takes."
The reactions varied wildly. So students looked reassured, others skeptical. A few openly scoffed.
"Easy for him to say," a boy muttered nearby. "He already survived his war."
"My sister's in the Imperial Guard," another student whispered. "She says they've been on high alert for months."
Crowley cleared his throat. "Now, to the reason you're all here today. You'll be choosing your electives, with one significant change from previous years."
The room fell quiet again, students leaning forward.
"In addition to your coursework, you'll be assigned missions throughout the Empire and allied nations. These will range from rank D to rank A, providing you with practical experience beyond what any classroom can offer."
He held up a hand before the excited murmurs could grow too loud.
"Third-years are restricted to rank C missions and below, regardless of your adventurer badge rating. This is non-negotiable."
Adom sank back into his seat, mind racing. Missions. Experience. It sounded suspiciously like preparation for sothing larger.
"Your mission assignnts will account for twenty percent of your final grades," Crowley continued. "The rest will be divided between practical examinations, written assessnts, and a new component—combat readiness evaluations."
Sam nudged Adom. "Well, at least we'll get to see sothing beyond these walls."
Adom nodded absently, still processing the implications.
"That's all for today," Crowley said, his tone softening slightly. "I should note that what I've told you wasn't scheduled to be announced until next week. Obviously, I won't ask you to keep this to yourselves—frankly, it would be irresponsible of to expect that."
He paused, looking around the room with an expression Adom couldn't quite read.
"But I want you to know this: You will not experience what my generation did. I will put my life on the line to ensure that."
The amphitheater went utterly silent. No one had ever heard Professor Crowley speak this way. The man who'd spent years drilling battle formations into them with detached efficiency had just made what sounded like a personal vow.
After a mont, Crowley straightened and was back to business. "Battle mages can co to directly to select their electives. Elentalists, see Professor Wynn. Healers, Professor Lynn. Alchemists, Professor Mirwen. If you have questions..." he hesitated, then added, "my office is always open."
With that, he turned and strode off the stage, leaving behind a room full of stunned students.
The mont the doors closed behind him, the amphitheater exploded with noise. Adom barely had ti to gather his thoughts before he was surrounded.
"Sylla! You stopped the prince, right?" A kid he didn't recognize pushed to the front of the group forming around him. "What else do you know about all this?"
"Is it true the prince was working with demons?" another asked.
"My cousin's in the border guard," a tall girl said. "She says they've doubled patrols near Farmus territory."
Sam stepped between Adom and the growing crowd. "Back off, everyone. He doesn't know any more than you do."
"But he was there!" soone protested. "He saw the prince's specters firsthand!"
"Is that why they sent us into that exam? To see who'd make good soldiers?" A boy with glasses looked genuinely frightened.
Sam held up his hands. "One at a ti, for God's sake!"
Adom stood, feeling overwheld by the press of bodies and questions. He caught glimpses of different reactions in the faces around him—fear, excitent, disbelief, anger. So looked ready to pack their bags and leave, like Damus; others seed almost eager at the prospect of adventure.
"I don't have answers," he said finally, his voice carrying enough for those nearby to hear. "I was as surprised as you are."
"But you stopped the prince," a first-year girl insisted. "You're practically a hero!"
Adom winced at that.
"We should go," Sam muttered, seeing Adom's discomfort. "Crowley said battle mages need to see him directly."
Adom nodded gratefully. "Sorry," he told the crowd. "I need to choose my electives."
"Let us know if you hear anything else!" soone called as Sam created a path through the throng.
As they made their way toward the exit, Adom spotted Mia on the other side of the room, similarly surrounded. Their eyes t briefly across the chaotic amphitheater. She gave him a small nod—acknowledgnt, perhaps. Her family were high level alchemists and nobles affiliated with the empire. Maybe he could get so more info from her.
"You okay?" Sam asked as they finally broke free of the crowd.
Adom took a deep breath. Events were accelerating faster than he'd anticipated. He'd hoped for ti—ti to relax, to train, to plan. That luxury was evaporating before his eyes.
The original tiline had been clear: global catastrophe in a few years. But now? The pieces were moving differently. Farmus was hostile already. The wars were happening sooner. And the prince's backers—those shadowy figures who had nearly destroyed everything—they wouldn't simply vanish because their frontman was imprisoned.
They'd wait for the slightest opportunity to strike again.
He'd spent all this ti facing enemies who never seed to end, and one lesson had been burned into him: don't wait for them to co to you. Beco as strong as they are. Strike first.
"Not really," he finally said to Sam. "But I'll have to be."
He needed a network.
Information was power, and his foreknowledge would only carry him so far. Valiant had taken over Cisco's information broker business—that was his first step. Build connections through her, establish eyes and ears across the continent.
Money would be next.
He had wealth—literal treasure—but it was locked away in a cave. Impractical. Cass could help there. She was honest, hardworking, and had a head for business that he lacked. With his knowledge of future market trends, they could build a rchant guild that would flourish while establishing legitimate fronts for his operations.
He knew where certain resources would boom: the silver mines near the western mountains, the spice trade with the southern islands, the arcane crystal deposits that would be discovered in the northern territories. Small investnts now, huge returns later.
And strength—he needed that most of all.
For all of it, Silverkeep would be his base. The city was strategically positioned, ho to one of the Order's bureaus, and large enough that his movents wouldn't draw imdiate attention.
"Sam," he said suddenly, "how do you feel about travel?"
"What, like a field trip?" Sam raised an eyebrow.
"More like... preparing for whatever's coming next."
Sam studied him for a mont, then nodded. "I'm in. Whatever you're planning, I'm in."
Adom smiled, the first genuine one in days. Maybe he couldn't stop what was coming, but he could get ready for it. This ti, he wouldn't be caught unprepared.
"Let's go pick our electives," he said. "And then I need to send so letters."
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