Arcane Academy: The Mob’s Rebellion

The Inquisition's Gaze

Dawn broke over Arcane Academy with the shrill cry of sanctus-bells. Aizen stood at his dorm window, watching black-robed figures march through the gates—the Church's Inquisitors, their faces hidden behind silver masks etched with weeping saints. Behind them floated a massive iron reliquary, its surface scarred with holy runes meant to suppress magic.

"Looks like someone's in trouble," Lira sing-songed, materializing beside him with a stolen pastry in hand. "Word is, the Archivists found two mana signatures in the Forbidden Archives last night. One lightning, one… glitchy."

Aizen shot her a glare. "You promised that vial would mask us."

"It did! Mostly. Think of it as… leaving a calling card." She crumpled the pastry wrapper into a lightning bolt shape and zapped it into ash. "Relax. They'll interrogate the whole student body. Just act mediocre."

"Mediocre is my default," Aizen muttered, though his forged Black Rune itched under his shirt.

The Inquisitors set up in the Grand Hall, converting it into a tribunal. Students were summoned one by one, forced to place their hands on a圣经 (holy text) that glowed red if they lied. By noon, rumors spread of three expelled for cheating and one noble sent to the Church's penitentiary for "soul impurity."

When Aizen's turn came, the lead Inquisitor—a skeletal woman with a voice like rusted chains—studied him. "Aizen Greythorn. Mortal. No Rune." Her gaze lingered on his chest. "How… unusual."

He placed his hand on the圣经. It flared crimson.

Gasps filled the hall.

"Interesting," the Inquisitor whispered. "What are you hiding, boy?"

"Quest Alert: Deceive the Inquisition."

"Reward: 'Silver Tongue' Skill. Failure: Execution."

Aizen summoned every ounce of his cynicism. "I'm hiding my embarrassment, ma'am. The only 'unusual' thing here is my student debt."

The圣经 flickered, then dimmed. The Inquisitor recoiled as if scalded. "Next!"

Lira whistled as Aizen exited. "Smooth. But they're not done with you."

The Hero's Judgment

At dusk, Kael cornered Aizen in the armory. The hero's Silver Rune, once radiant, now pulsed erratically, casting jagged shadows. His sapphire eyes were glacial.

"You've been skulking around my sister," Kael said, his tone devoid of its usual warmth. "Elara's fragile. She doesn't need a mortal playing knight."

Aizen scoffed, adjusting his fire-resistant gauntlets. "Jealous? Or just paranoid?"

Kael's blade materialized—a shimmering greatsword of condensed moonlight. "The Inquisitors are hunting a heretic. I wonder what they'd find if I told them about your… Rune."

"Quest Updated: Survive Kael's Wrath."

"Reward: Kael's Secrets. Failure: Death by 'Divine Accident.'"

Aizen activated his mimicry, copying Kael's Silver Rune. "You're slipping, hero. Real champions don't make threats. They make examples."

Their clash shattered the armory shelves. Kael fought with brutal elegance, his strikes precise. Aizen countered with chaos—throwing potions, flipping tables, exploiting every environmental hazard.

"You fight like a cornered animal," Kael sneered, parrying a fireball.

"You fight like a puppet," Aizen shot back. "Who's pulling your strings? The Church? Or the Eclipse?"

Kael froze. His blade wavered. For a heartbeat, fear flickered in his eyes.

Aizen struck, disarming him. "You're scared. Of the Arcanum. Of yourself."

The hero fled, but not before muttering, "Stay away from Elara."

The Villainess's Bargain

Seraphina awaited Aizen in the clocktower, her silhouette framed by crimson-stained glass. She tossed him a dagger—a cursed blade humming with necrotic energy.

"Lord Veynir," she said. "He's hosting a gala tonight. You'll kill him."

Aizen recognized the name. In the game, Veynir was a key supporter of Kael's. His death would cripple the hero's resources before the Blood Moon Festival.

"Why me?" Aizen asked.

"Because you're disposable. And… inventive." She smirked. "Succeed, and I'll teach you real fire magic. Fail, and I'll tell the Inquisitors where to find Lira's stash of stolen relics."

"Quest Alert: Assassinate Lord Veynir."

"Reward: Seraphina's Tutelage. 200 Arcane Points. Failure: Framed for Terrorism."

The gala was a masquerade. Aizen donned a raven mask and slipped through the crowd, blending with nobles guzzling moonwine. Lira, disguised as a minstrel, strummed a lute nearby.

"Veynir's in the east wing," she whispered. "But there's a snag—he's already dead."

Aizen stiffened. "What?"

"Saw it in a glitch-mirror. His corpse is in the study. Someone beat us to it."

They found Veynir slumped over his desk, a blackened hole where his heart should be. The killer's mark was etched into his skin: a crescent moon cradling an eye—the symbol of the Eclipse Cult.

"The plot's diverging," Lira muttered. "Original game didn't have cultists."

Aizen's system blared:

"World Anomaly Detected: Eclipse Cult Active."

"Warning: Blood Moon Festival now has a 92% casualty rate."

The Fractured Hourglass

As they fled the manor, reality itself spasmed. The sky cracked, revealing a void where constellations writhed like dying serpents. Students back at the academy screamed as their Runes flickered—all except Aizen's forged one.

In the chaos, Elara found him. Her Gold Rune was dim, her hands bloodied. "The Inquisitors took Kael. They think he's the heretic. You… you have to help me save him!"

Aizen hesitated. Saving Kael meant risking exposure. But Elara's tears mirrored his own buried guilt—guilt for fracturing this world.

"Please," she begged. "You're the only one reckless enough to try."

"Quest Alert: Storm the Penitentiary."

"Reward: Elara's Loyalty. Unlock 'Sacred Flame' Skill. Failure: Eternal Damnation (literally)."

As Aizen prepared to answer, the Blood Moon erupted in a pillar of crimson light. From it descended a figure cloaked in shadow, their voice echoing across time itself:

"We see you, Aizen Greythorn. The glitch. The anomaly. You will be corrected."

Chapter 3 End.