---
Me and Kathlyn made our way through the stone corridors of Harlen Academy's lower wings the halls where Class C's office resided
We passed rows of whispering crystals, Kathlyn walked ahead of me, arms folded, saying nothing.
That was fine.
I'd said enough things over the past 48 hours to earn a lifetime of awkward silence.
Our destination was a small office tucked behind one of the less glamorous towers of the academy, past the dorm wings and a surprisingly well-hidden spiral staircase.
Professor Mallet's office.
He was waiting for us inside sitting at his desk like a war veteran in retirement. The room was surprisingly warm for a man with such a famously cold personality. Books lined the shelves, all academic and unsentimental. A steaming teacup sat on the desk next to a stack of scrolls, and above him hung a framed tapestry of the original academy logo slightly frayed with age.
Professor Mallet had always been a heavily disputed character in the forums.
On one hand, he was admired by readers for being one of the few academy staff members who gave a damn about Class C. He believed the system was unjust that students assigned to Class C weren't just "average" but victims of circumstance.
You could end up in Class D even if you were a prodigy, just for having the wrong connections or a rebellious attitude. Class C, though? That was the real grindset group the quiet ones, the scrappy ones, the workhorses who didn't whine but still got nowhere.
And Mallet noticed them.
Championed them.
But his flaw… was that he often overestimated them.
He didn't always account for how dangerous his efforts could be. He supported access to Relic Prisms the magical ruins scattered across the continent that were left behind by ancient gods. Dangerous places. Resource-rich, sure, but lethal if handled wrong.
Many of those who entered… wouldn't have come back if it wasn't for June
But that was beside the point right now.
I stepped forward.
"Professor Mallet," I said clearly. "I'm ready for my first entry into Felis Hall."
The man looked up from his papers, his steel-gray eyes crinkling with something that resembled a smile but not quite.
"If it isn't our beloved cheat," he said dryly.
Kathlyn blinked and raised an eyebrow.
I didn't even flinch.
"I take offense to that," I muttered, crossing my arms.
"And yet, here you are. Offended, and still special," he replied, rising from his chair.
He didn't argue further. Instead, he gestured for us to follow.
The walk was short but silent.
We reached what looked like a maintenance corridor—blank walls, no torches, and a sealed wooden door with rusted hinges. Professor Mallet muttered a word under his breath, and the air shimmered. The illusion peeled away like wet paint, revealing a shimmering magical gate behind the fake wall.
He stepped through.
Inside was a small circular chamber lined with softly pulsing symbols, a table at its center. But what drew our attention was what sat on top of that table.
A toy set.
Or… that's what it looked like.
Small plastic trees. A little tower. An exaggerated sun floating above a field of bright green. A bizarrely cartoony visual compared to the high-fantasy aesthetic of the academy.
Kathlyn looked like she was going to ask a question, then thought better of it.
Professor Mallet clapped once.
"Felis Hall," he said casually, like he was presenting a board game.
"Enter this."
I stared.
"...Seriously?"
But before I could say another word, the room twisted.
My head spun.
My vision blurred, a migraine blooming behind my eyes like a spike of lightning. I felt my mana being pulled not drained, but redirected inward.
I barely heard Kathlyn's gasp before everything fell away.
---
And then
Silence.
Light.
And grass.
I was standing barefoot in a grassy field that stretched to the horizon.
The wind was warm.
The sky was impossibly blue.
This was Felis Hall.
Not a real place, but a realm formed inside my own consciousness a simulation that fused what I wanted to learn with who I was.
Its functions were simple:
It isolated your focus. It silenced distractions. It merged knowledge into your instincts compressed the learning curve into something manageable.
I looked down at my hands.
A glowing scroll materialized in front of me—its title shimmering with pale silver light.
> Spell Core: Ghostly Concealment.
Ah.
So this was what I would learn first.
No chanting. No diagrams. No steps.
Just understanding. That was the core of Felis Hall.
But this wasn't just any spell.
It was one of the four unique arts from the first part of the Lightless Blade Inheritance a stealth technique so powerful that it could nullify presence, mana, sound, and even scent. Nearly perfect. So long as your control didn't waver.
If I could master this…
Even June wouldn't see me coming.
And if I learned all the spells here I would rapidly improve I could even be of some assistance in the first real arc
I clenched my fists and took a step forward.
The wind shifted.
I didn't speak. Didn't move.
Just had the intent.
To disappear.
Not to hide. Not to sneak.
To vanish from the world's attention entirely.
So I stood still.
I closed my eyes.
I let the wind pass me like I wasn't there.
My breath slowed. My heartbeat faded into the background. Mana settled inside me, calm and even. No pressure. No force. Just stillness.
Then I exhaled.
And it happened.
There was no transformation, no power-up, no pulse of light. My body simply stopped reflecting reality. My form blurred not visibly, but conceptually. I became less.
And less.
Until I wasn't there.
I wasn't a body anymore.
I wasn't a person standing in a field.
I was a shape. A dip in presence. A smooth, undetectable pool of stillness in the grass.
No thoughts. No distractions. Just awareness. Long and steady and clean.
Time passed or it didn't.
I stayed like that. A part of the terrain.
The spell didn't hum or glow. It didn't flicker or strain. It just was.
And I was inside it.
This was Ghostly Concealment.
Not learned.
Become.
I was nothing.