Deep beneath Ironside Keep, within the Academy’s restricted arcane facilities, a sprawling chamber pulsed with the glow of enchanted displays. The walls thrummed with arcane energy, tracking every movement, spell, and action within the simulation. Overseer Blackwood stood near the largest of the scrying mirrors, arms crossed, his sharp gaze flicking between different teams as they navigated their respective challenges.

  Around him, instructors and administrators murmured among themselves, making notes on students’ performances. At another table, Master Horvan observed a group of Fighters struggling against a particularly nasty illusory beast, his expression unreadable. Administrator Vex stood with hands behind his back, stone-faced as always, serving as Blackwood’s right hand.

  It was a well-oiled system—one they had used for decades.

  Until now.

  A sharp, unnatural flicker rippled through the displays, distorting the carefully woven illusion. One Spell Lord, a wiry man in Academy blue, operating part of the simulation stiffened.“What was that?” he called, urgency tightening his voice. “Blackwood! Something is wrong.”

  Blackwood was at his side in an instant. “Report.”

  The Spell Lord gestured to the scrying mirror he controlled. The hazy projection of a group of students shifted erratically, their forms distorting before snapping back into focus. “An anomaly just appeared in Quadrant Five. Something we didn’t put there.”

  Blackwood’s jaw clenched.

  “Define ‘anomaly,’” Vex said, stepping forward.

  “Illusion magic is layered and controlled, but this—this wasn’t woven by us. It forced its way in. And…” The Spell Lord trailed off, his fingers flying across the rune-covered controls, adjusting the arcane matrix that kept the simulation stable. “I think it’s… alive.”

  A ripple of unease spread through the room. Blackwood’s fingers drummed against his arm. “Show me.”

  The Spell Lord twisted his hand through the air, adjusting the view of the simulation. The projected image zoomed in on Quadrant Five, revealing a large, open chamber beyond the sealed door. Inside, the students, Bennett and his team, were clustered around a woman. They were all staring at their wirsplays.

  The image wavered again. The illusion flickered and distorted, but this time, it wasn’t the controlled, static disruption of a failing spell. It was something else. Something chaotic.

  Then the screams came again, only this time, they weren’t from inside Quadrant Five.

  The screen flickered to another team—one deeper in the ruins. The students there were fleeing in terror, their formations broken, their weapons clutched in trembling hands. Shadows flickered against the stone walls, but the visual feed wavered, then cut to static.

  Only the sound remained.

  Shrieks of terror. Clanging steel. A wet, horrible crunch.

  Then static.

  A heavy silence fell over the control room.

  “Pause the simulation!” Blackwood barked.

  “We can’t!” Another Spell Lord frantically twisted dials and traced runes into the air. “The system isn’t responding! Something’s overriding our control—”

  “The emergency failsafe,” Vex demanded, voice sharp as a knife. “Shut it all down.”

  The Spell Lords scrambled to comply. A sequence of arcane symbols glowed on their control panels. A moment passed—then another.

  Nothing happened.

  “The failsafe isn’t activating.” The Spell Lord’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Something is blocking it.”

  Blackwood’s fingers curled into a fist. “Then we have a problem.”

  The static crackled. More indistinct sounds filtered through—running footsteps, panicked shouts. A voice, ragged and breathless, shouting, “Fall back! FALL BACK!”

  Blackwood turned to Vex, his voice low and cold. “Get Voss.”

  The Headmaster needed to see this.

  Because this wasn’t just a glitch in the simulation.

  This was an invasion.

  ***

  Otter stared at his wrisplay, rereading the notification.

  New Objective: Rescue your fellow students from the Kaosborn.

  What did that mean? Why were they getting a notification from the System? Something was very wrong.

  “They’re not supposed to be real,” Milo muttered, adjusting his glasses. “The Academy wouldn’t risk something like this, not even for a final exam.”

  Jasper gritted his teeth. “So what is this? Another test?”

  Otter shook his head. “I don’t think so. If this was planned, they would have told us.”

  Before anyone else could speak, Alisha stiffened, her vacant expression sharpening into focus. Then, in a voice not her own, she said:

  “This is Spell Lord Vasha. There has been a glitch in the simulation. Overseer Blackwood has ordered you to return to your starting point as soon as possible for extraction.”

  Silence.

  “We need to move,” Sage said, already adjusting the straps on her pack.

  Otter turned to Milo. “You should drink one of your mana potions. We might need the extra spells.”

  Milo grimaced but nodded, fishing one from his belt pouch. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” He uncorked the vial and downed the shimmering liquid in one gulp, shuddering at the taste.

  Sage sighed. “Wish I could do the same.”

  “Wait—you can’t?” Erin asked.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Sage shook her head. “Divine mana doesn’t replenish the same way arcane mana does. I have to rest and pray for it to return naturally.”

  “Fantastic,” Jasper muttered.

  They hurried out of the chamber, retracing their steps back the way they’d come. Otter’s heart pounded in his chest—not just from the urgency of the situation, but from the creeping dread that settled deeper with every step. When they reached the cavern where they had fought the construct, a sound stopped them cold.

  Screams. The unmistakable clash of steel.

  The sounds echoed from the passage they had not explored.

  “Lyle’s team,” whispered Erin.

  For a brief moment, no one moved.

  Then Otter said, “We have to help them.”

  Jasper groaned. “Do we?”

  Sage shot him a look. “Yes.”

  Jasper grumbled something under his breath, but when Otter took off toward the tunnel, he followed, as did the rest of the team.

  The passage twisted and turned before opening into another chamber. Otter and the others skidded to a halt as they entered the chamber. Chaos was unfolding before them.

  Lyle, Torrin, and the rest of his team were locked in desperate combat with five monstrous creatures. Gaunt, flickering things with elongated limbs and glowing red eyes. They seemed to phase in and out of existence, their movements erratic and unnatural.

  Otter turned to Milo. “Tell me everything you know. Now.”

  Milo’s eyes darted between the creatures. “They’re Rift-Hounds—Level 2 Kaosborn. They shift between physical and incorporeal states at will, making them nearly impossible to hit. They’re pack hunters, smart enough to coordinate attacks. They’re fast, vicious, and they don’t stop.”

  Jasper cursed. “Great. Any weaknesses?”

  “They have to become solid to attack. Disoriented by bright light.” Milo’s voice was urgent, his hands already moving to cast a spell. “If you time it right, you can hit them—but only then.”

  Otter’s mind raced. That was all they needed to know.

  “Then let’s move!”

  The team sprinted across the room.

  Torrin spotted them and shouted, “Help! Help us!”

  Before they could get there, Otter watched as one of the Rift-Hounds turned and lunged for Lyle. Torrin tried to intercept, but he was too slow. The creature’s claws tore across Lyle’s chest, cutting deep. He staggered, gasping, blood spilling down his front. The Rift-Hound pounced again, and this time, it sank its fangs into his throat.

  Lyle’s body went limp before it hit the ground.

  Torrin screamed in rage and drove his sword into the Rift-Hound’s side, but the creature flickered and reappeared a few feet away, unscathed.

  The remaining students fought on, but they were losing ground. One girl was clutching a wounded arm, barely keeping a short sword in her grip. Another boy was limping, his movements slowed.

  They wouldn’t last much longer.

  Otter’s team reached them just as one of the Rift-Hounds turned its glowing red eyes on Erin.

  Sage raised a hand and Heaven’s Touch flared to life.

  A column of radiant light descended on the beast. It barely had time to react before the searing energy engulfed it. It let out an unearthly screech and stumbled back, shaking itself furiously as its smoky black fur smoldered.

  Jasper seized the opening. With a roar, he swung his longsword, catching the Rift-Hound across the flank as it stabilized. His blade bit deep, and this time, the creature didn’t flicker away.

  The Rift-Hound let out a strangled yelp before collapsing into a burst of black mist.

  “Three left!” Erin shouted.

  Otter’s breath came hard and fast. They had to finish this now.

  He glanced at Milo. “You got any tricks left?”

  Milo wiped sweat from his brow. “Just one.”

  Otter nodded, gripping his father’s knife tightly. “Then let’s make it count.”

  Despite taking down one of the creatures, the fight was still stacked against them. The Rift-Hounds may have been outnumbered, but they held the real advantage.

  The remaining Rift-Hounds proved formidable foes, moving with uncanny speed and agility. Each strike from the team was met with swift retaliation as the beasts flickered in and out of visibility.

  Jasper grunted as a Rift-Hound's claws found purchase on his side, drawing blood. Erin narrowly avoided a deadly swipe by firing an arrow that missed its mark as the creature vanished.

  Another lunged for Milo. Too fast. Too close. At the last second, he raised a glowing hand and cast Shield. The magical barrier flared to life, deflecting the Rift-Hound’s snapping jaws.

  Sage pressed her hands to Jasper’s side, channeling a Cure Minor Wounds—her last 1st-level spell—to slow the bleeding.

  As they continued to engage the Rift-Hounds, their movements shifted from coordinated strikes to individual skirmishes. The beasts were relentless in their attacks, testing the team's resolve and strength.

  Nearby, Torrin and his teammates were losing ground. One of them—the boy with the limp—was too slow. A Rift-Hound phased behind him and slammed him into the ground.

  The impact should have triggered the simulation’s safety measures. It didn’t.

  The boy let out a ragged gasp, struggling against the weight of the creature. He wasn’t being teleported out.

  Otter’s stomach turned cold. The simulation safeguards were gone. If they got torn apart in here… they’d actually die.

  We have to end this. Now.

  But how? They couldn’t hit what they couldn’t see.

  Force them to stay solid. Otter’s mind raced. We need to make them all attack at the same time.

  The Rift-Hounds had been methodical, darting in and out, making probing, calculated attacks. But if they could force them into a pack strike—

  It was reckless. Really reckless. If this didn't work, he’d be dead. But if he didn't do something, they’d all be dead soon anyway.

  Otter took a deep breath. “Milo—get Light Show ready.”

  Milo blinked. “What?”

  “Just do it! When I give the signal, cast it!”

  Milo hesitated—then nodded and raised his hands. Magic crackled at his fingertips.

  Otter turned to the others. “We make them commit. Stop giving them easy targets. Close ranks!”

  Jasper scowled but followed Otter’s lead, stepping closer. The others followed, forming a tight circle.

  The Rift-Hounds hesitated. Their prey wasn’t acting like prey anymore. They didn’t like it.

  Otter took a deep breath—then dropped his knife.

  Jasper swore. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Otter raised his arms. No weapons. No defense. Completely open.

  Luck’s Whisper: Active

  The Rift-Hounds noticed. They locked onto him, their muscles coiling. The pack instinct kicked in. Instead of picking off one at a time, they went for the weakest member.

  All three Rift-Hounds lunged—

  “Now!”

  Milo threw his hands wide and a burst of searing light exploded from his fingertips.

  The Rift-Hounds shrieked, their phase abilities failing as the magical light stunned them mid-leap.

  For one brief, brief moment they were all completely solid.

  “Hit them now!” Otter yelled.

  Jasper cleaved through one in a single swing. Erin’s arrow found another’s eye. Two of Torrin’s team hacked into a third, and Torrin drove his sword into the last one’s chest.

  Each Rift-Hound let out a final, unearthly wail—then burst into black mist.

  Silence.

  Otter’s breath came in ragged gasps.

  Then Jasper barked out a laugh. “You absolute madman.” He clapped Otter on the back, nearly knocking him over. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  Otter let out a shaky breath. “Me either.”

  Sage knelt next to Jasper again, checking his wound. “That was reckless.”

  “But effective,” Milo murmured, still looking dazed.

  Erin shook her head, a small grin creeping onto her face. “That Luck of yours is something else.”

  Otter smiled. “It’s my best trait.”

  Torrin, panting, wiped the blood off his sword and gave Otter a long look. Then, reluctantly, he muttered, “I hate to say it, but… good call.”

  Otter raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

  Torrin rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Let’s get out of here.”

  Otter turned to the rest of the team. “Agreed.”

  With one last glance at Lyle’s fallen body—still unmoving, still drenched in red—they pressed on.