The second bell tolled.
Its sound was deeper than a chime, lower than a song—like the slow hum of a mountain being awakened. The Grand Magic Academy stirred with early risers, students moving through the long halls and open corridors of the upper levels, unaware that thirteen of their most elite were about to cross a threshold few would ever know existed.
At the base of the Dimensional Mechanics Tower, behind sealed stone and layered spells, the hidden classroom pulsed with light.
The Twelfth Gate was open.
A swirling circle of fractured energy now floated within its frame, glowing like cracked glass. It looked incomplete—unstable—and yet it radiated a magnetism that could draw in thought, time, and soul alike.
Argolaith arrived first.
Dressed simply—dark coat, reinforced boots, rune-tight gloves. His face was calm, expression unreadable, and yet… his eyes gleamed with quiet focus.
He stood before the gate, gazing into the swirl of folding space.
