Midnight draped Vaelith Academy in unnatural stillness. The spires stretched into the broken sky like the jagged bones of a sleeping titan. Only the Spire of Light remained illuminated, floating crystal torches casting golden halos onto the pristine white stone.
Eryndor walked alone. Bootsteps echoed against the polished obsidian paths as he passed towering statues of past Dawnspire heroes. Each wore the same cold smile of fabricated virtue.
The wind whispered.
Runes traced along the walls in subtle warning patterns.
Defensive wards. Intrusion detection arrays. Reinforcement spells.
All predictable. All calculated. Eryndor's crimson gaze scanned everything without slowing. House Dawnspire had built the perfect illusion of nobility.
At the top of the endless staircase, ornate double doors of radiant silver awaited. They opened without a sound as he approached. The throne chamber was a vast circle of polished white marble and light-bending glass. Floating sun-like spheres orbited lazily overhead, bathing the room in sterile brilliance.
Eldric Dawnspire stood at its center. Golden hair. Chiseled features. Ceremonial armor embroidered with phoenix motifs that shimmered with divine enchantments. Even the way he stood—one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, the other tucked casually behind his back—radiated confidence designed to disarm. The System's chosen puppet.
Eldric smiled warmly, falsely. "Eryndor Vaelith," he said smoothly. "I wasn't sure you would come."
Eryndor stepped forward, unbothered by the display, cloak dragging faint traces of dust across the flawless floor. "I considered ignoring you."
Eldric chuckled softly as if indulging a difficult child. "I wished only to speak before the Faction War begins. Your… faction surprised many."
Eryndor said nothing. Eldric's tone shifted, just barely. A faint edge beneath the polite calm. "Whatever grudge you hold, whatever bitterness you carry… surrender the Sigil and dissolve your faction. You've made your point. There's no need for this to escalate."
Silence stretched between them. Eryndor tilted his head slowly, crimson eyes like frozen coals.
"I'm afraid I didn't come for mercy."
Eldric's smile thinned slightly. "I don't believe you understand the position you're in," he said softly. "The Faction War is tradition. It is structure. It is the way the Academy prevents chaos. You can still walk away."
Eryndor's gaze remained cold and steady. "You mean submit."
Eldric's knuckles whitened on the pommel of his sword. "I mean survive. Your people are outcasts, anomalies, rejects. The System is merciless to those who don't belong."
Eryndor moved forward one step. The sun-spheres flickered as if recoiling. "You speak of mercy, yet you never left your gilded cage. You've never had to survive under the System's boot. You were given your role."
Eldric straightened, posture tightening. "I earned my place."
Eryndor's voice dropped low, razor sharp. "No. You were written in. I clawed my way back from being erased."
The silence became suffocating. For the first time, Eldric's perfect composure cracked. "You intend to challenge me." It wasn't a question.
Eryndor offered a faint, joyless smile. "I intend to break the narrative."
The sun-spheres dimmed. Eryndor turned, already walking toward the exit with perfect calm. Eldric's voice called after him, sharper now, desperate to regain control. "The Academy will not protect you."
Eryndor didn't even slow. "I know."
As he crossed the threshold, the familiar cold weight of the System returned. Words only he could see burned into the air before him.
[Survivor of Severance Grounds: Confirmed.]
[Anomaly Persistence: Critical.]
[Emergency Suppression Event Scheduled.]
[Target: Eryndor Vaelith.]
[Initiating "First Culling."]
Eryndor stared for a single heartbeat. Then the faintest grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Let them try."
The shadows of the Academy swallowed him as the bells tolled ominously for the approaching war.