The moon hung low over Quantum Academy, its silver glow casting eerie shadows along the garden paths. The night was thick with tension—no missions, no movement beyond the walls, only whispers of fear. The attack at the gates had shaken the school, and the Quantum Shroud's message was clear.
But Albert?
Albert wasn't afraid.
He sat cross-legged in his dorm, Aetherion resting across his lap, humming softly in the quiet room. His books were still stacked on the desk, the holo-pad blinking with unread notices. He ignored them. His mind was elsewhere.
The Law of Binding was shifting.
Ever since he lifted the cubes, he could feel something new. Not just threads—something deeper. Not just the ability to move objects but something stronger, heavier, ancient. Like he wasn't just linking objects, but commanding them.
He exhaled, closing his eyes. Focus.
The room thinned to shapes, vibrations, currents. The books stacked on his desk trembled, the air shifting like invisible strings were being pulled. But this time, he didn't just reach for them. He willed them to move.
Aetherion pulsed.
The books rose in unison—not just floating, but aligning perfectly, stacked mid-air like an unseen force had gripped them. They didn't wobble. They obeyed.
Albert's pulse quickened. This is different.
He tested the grip—his will stretched, and the books spun slowly in place, a perfect synchronized rotation. He flicked his fingers, and they split apart, reorganizing mid-air, locking into new positions with crisp precision.
This wasn't just Binding. This was Dominion.
And he could feel it sinking into him, rewriting something deeper inside.
Then—a knock at his door.
He let the books drop with a soft thud, the moment breaking. His breath steadied. Who the hell was knocking at this hour?
Albert slid Aetherion into its case, then opened the door.
Mira Lune stood there.
Her silver hair shimmered in the dim corridor lights, half-veiled by her usual midnight cloak. But tonight? Her aura felt off—sharper, more intense.
"You're still awake," she said, voice quiet but firm.
"So are you," Albert replied.
Mira studied him. "They're calling a student assembly. Fifteen minutes. The principal wants everyone there."
Albert raised an eyebrow. "At midnight?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "Shroud left another message."
Albert didn't ask more. He grabbed his coat, strapped Aetherion across his back, and followed her into the night.
Command Hall
The entire Quantum Academy student body had been crammed into the Command Hall, a place usually reserved for council meetings and elite training sessions. The tension was a live wire.
Hundreds of students sat in rows, murmuring among themselves—a ripple of unease. The elite seniors, normally confident and untouchable, were stone-faced. The younger students whispered, exchanging theories.
On the raised platform, Principal Dren Vax stood with his usual grim expression. His presence alone demanded silence. The faculty lined up behind him—Calen Rhyd, Lira Keth, Torv Jain, Syl Mara, Veyra Soln—all sharp-eyed, deadly serious.
A holo-screen flickered to life behind them.
The room went cold.
Because on the screen was a video.
Grainy footage. A dark corridor. Blood splattered across the walls. The camera shook, flickering as if something unseen was corrupting it. Then—a shape appeared.
A figure in a black cloak, faceless, standing in the shadows. The edges of their body blurred, flickering—as if they weren't entirely real.
Then, the voice.
"We are the Shroud. Your walls will not hold. Your chains will break. This academy is already ours."
Then—static. The footage ended.
Silence.
Then the murmurs started—low, frantic, spiraling. Some students gasped, others clenched their fists. The faculty remained stone-faced.
Albert?
He felt nothing.
Because the moment the Shroud figure had spoken, his chest had burned.
Not pain. Not fear.
Recognition.
Somewhere, buried deep in the threads of his Law of Binding, was something familiar about that energy.
Like he'd felt it before.
Like his own power was a distant echo of it.
Dren Vax's voice cut through the chaos.
"This is not a threat," he said, firm. "It is a declaration of war."
The room froze.
"We have sealed the academy. No students leave. No one enters. Classes will resume, but you will be under surveillance at all times. The Shroud has already taken lives. We will not allow them to take more."
He let the words settle.
Then, his eyes landed on Albert.
It was brief. A flicker.
But Albert felt it.
The faculty knew something.
And now?
Albert needed to find out what.
After the assembly, Albert didn't go back to his dorm. He needed air.
He wandered to the Western Courtyard, where the academy lights barely reached. The cold breeze helped him think.
Then—footsteps.
He turned.
Veyra Soln.
The woman had always felt off to him—too smooth, too calculating. Her black hair was tied back, sharp eyes unreadable. She leaned against a pillar, watching him.
"You felt it, didn't you?" she said.
Albert stayed silent.
Veyra smirked. "The Shroud's energy. It wasn't foreign to you."
Albert's pulse stayed steady. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Veyra pushed off the pillar, stepping closer. "Liar."
She stopped a few feet away, tilting her head. "Rhyd thinks you're gifted. The principal thinks you're a problem. Me? I think you're something else entirely."
Albert crossed his arms. "If you have something useful to say, say it."
Veyra's smirk faded.
Then, she reached into her coat—and tossed something at him.
Albert caught it—barely.
It was a ring.
Black metal, thin, lined with intricate silver inscriptions—but the moment his fingers touched it, his chest flared with the same burning recognition.
He had seen this before.
Worn by the figure in the video.
Veyra's voice was quiet, but edged with something sharp.
"You're already part of this, Albert Faustin. The only question is—how much do you remember?"