The remainder of the practical examinations concluded without incident.
At least, that was how it appeared on the surface.
Team after team entered the dungeon gate suspended above the platform of the Astraeum Coliseum.
Bios shifted like the turning of pages, frozen tundras laced with jagged ice spires, ruined cities choked by creeping vines, subterranean lava chambers that pulsed with oppressive heat. Each environnt tested adaptability. Each wave of monsters was carefully calibrated.
No sudden High Athyst beasts, and no obvious manipulations or catastrophic incidents.
By the final day of practicals, murmurs had shifted from anxiety to relief as most people had perford well enough to get a passing grade.
Graves had not acted, nd that, more than anything, unsettled Albedo
When the final evaluation results were posted, the outco surprised no one.
Albedo ranked first overall. Lucian followed closely behind.
Miranda secured a position in the top five. Morgana maintained her quiet consistency within the upper tier, with other students and so transfers sprinkling in.
Professors offered reserved comndations. Students began packing belongings. The sester was closing and it was ti for people to head their separate ways.
The tension that had once suffocated the Academy eased into sothing almost celebratory. On the surface, Zephyr Academy had survived another examination cycle.
But Albedo felt no relief. He had watched Graves too closely. There had been no frustration in the man’s expression, only patience, and that implied confidence.
Three days after the final practical concluded, the Academy bells rang at an unusual hour. Students gathered once more in the Grand Hall beneath the painted constellations wondering what they were called for.
Faculty stood in a line before them. Graves among them.
This ti, he did not look rely composed.
He looked resolved.
One of the Elder Professors stepped forward, "Due to increased Abyssal activity across the surrounding provinces," she began, "Zephyr Academy will be initiating ergency supervised field missions."
A murmur rippled across the hall.
Field missions were typically reserved for second-years and above.
"I know this is bad timing, but it is necessary. For many of you," she continued, "this will serve as your final evaluative component. Successful completion will positively impact your sester standing."
There it was.
An ergency mission woven into grading.
Albedo’s eyes flicked toward Graves.
The professor’s gaze remained forward.
"Abyssal Worshippers have been sighted establishing hidden enclaves within forest and ruin territories. These cultist groups are known to summon corrupted beasts and destabilize local mana flows."
Albedo felt sothing colder settle within him. In the original tiline, Abyssal Worshippers had not been tied to the Academy at this stage.
They were a distant threat. Not integrated into sester evaluations. Sothing had changed, and only one catalyst existed for that shift.
Assignnts were distributed via mana-sealed scrolls. When Albedo unrolled his, the sigils pulsed once before stabilizing.
Mission Objective:
Scout and confirm activity at a suspected Abyssal Worshipper outpost.
Location: Northern Shatterwood Forest, Sector 9.
Engagent: Avoid direct confrontation. Gather intelligence.
Support: Observation Array active. Extraction available upon signal.
Albedo’s expression did not change.
But his mind sharpened instantly. This was a Solo Assignnt and a scouting mission. He expanded his perception subtly, brushing the scroll’s residual mana signature using Source Code.
There it was.
A faint thread.
Dark.
Not overtly Abyssal.
But resonant with corrupted frequency modulation.
He had felt that before.
During the dungeon’s low hum.
During the compressed wave intervals.
The sa underlying current.
His gaze lifted slowly.
Across the hall, Lucian held his own scroll.
Their eyes t briefly.
Lucian’s expression was serious.
Concerned.
Albedo did not need to see the contents to know.
Lucian would be sent elsewhere.
Likely similar terrain.
Likely similar "scouting."
Likely similar escalation.
Divide them.
Eliminate separately.
Plausible losses during ergency operations.
And if High Athyst beasts were summoned under the banner of Abyssal cult activity?
Who could question it?
Realization
That night, in the quiet of his quarters, Albedo laid the mission scroll across his desk.
He allowed a thin filant of Athyst mana to probe deeper.
The sigil encryption dissolved layer by layer.
What he found beneath confird everything.
The "Observation Array" was not centralized within Academy grounds.
It was anchored at a secondary node.
One that did not exist in official campus schematics.
Its mana signature bore three distinct overlays.
Alexander Graves.
Professor Halvern.
And a third signature that was distorted and abyssal-touched.
Albedo leaned back slowly.
In the original tiline, Graves had been ambitious, but not Abyssal. That ant this deviation was not rely an adjustnt. It was either sothing had changed drastically, or there was more information from the Novel he didn’t know about.
What was obvious was that Graves had accelerated his alignnt because Albedo’s presence had forced his hand.
The following morning, mission teams departed under controlled dispersal. Teleportation arrays flared one by one.
Lucian vanished toward the western marshlands.
Miranda was assigned to a fortified ruin cluster with two upperclassn.
Albedo stepped onto his own array. The northern forest materialized around him in a breath of cold air and shadow.
Shatterwood Forest lived up to its na.
Trees rose tall and skeletal, bark splintered as though struck by invisible lightning. Mist hung low, thick and tallic against the tongue. Mana currents flowed unnaturally—jerking, uneven.
Abyssal corruption.
Subtle.
But present.
Albedo moved without sound.
His presence folded inward.
Athyst mana compressed until even the forest seed to forget him.
After twenty minutes, he saw it.
An altar carved from blackened stone.
Cultist sigils etched into the ground.
Three robed figures kneeling.
And behind them was a containnt circle. Large enough for sothing far beyond Gold rank.
He did not step closer.
Instead, he expanded perception outward. He knew that if he died here, it would be attributed to cultist ambush.
If he survived but destroyed the Abyssal plans, Graves would deny involvent.
If he exposed the Abyssal linkage, Graves would accelerate his plans in so way.
Lucian was likely standing before a similar altar at this very mont, facing a similar threshold.
Albedo’s gaze turned northward, a cold resolve settled over him.
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