Raven jolted awake, gasping.
His breaths came fast and shallow, his eyes dilated, his entire body drenched in cold sweat.
He had a dream… was it a dream? It felt like one, yet far too vivid to be dismissed as such.
Raven forced himself to breathe slowly, calming the rising paranoia. He thought back to the “dream.”
His gaze swept the room. The walls stood tall and unbroken, no cracks, no blistering, nothing out of place. Everything was exactly as it had always been.
But in the dream, the Archmage had destroyed the entire dormitory and the surrounding area, lifting the debris into the air and leaving Raven’s room exposed on a pedestal.
Raven remembered everything, the Archmage standing in his room, unbothered, knowing his name, asking that strange question about whether Raven had noticed anything odd in his system or body.
“What was that about?” Raven muttered.
Why would the Archmage come to him just to ask something like that, especially if he knew who Raven was, and what he might do in the future?
Was it a dream? An illusion? Or did it happen exactly as he remembered?
He recalled talking back to the Archmage… angering him… provoking him.
Raven was inclined to believe it truly happened. But could it have been an advanced illusion, one so perfect that every detail felt real?
Whatever it was, it raised a terrifying question:
Why would the Archmage let him keep the memory?
Raven sighed. He didn’t want to dwell on it anymore. If the Archmage wanted him dead, he would be.
He left the room and headed to the training facility, to increase his mastery, his shadow essence, his level. His future enemy was formidable. Everything that could make him stronger mattered.
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The next day arrived. Students carried out their usual morning drill. Reaching the training grounds, Raven went to meet Wolfton.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” Wolfton replied.
Raven studied him. He seemed in a better state compared to yesterday. Raven smiled faintly.
Seems I don’t need to worry about him.
“You up for training today?”
“Seems so.”
“Too bad I’m not going.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I’m going to the library.”
“You finally want to know the celestial you champion. Tell me what you learn, okay?” Wolfton’s eyes glinted with curiosity.
“Right, right. See you later.”
Raven left the field, took a shower, and headed for the library. For the first time since his regression, he stepped onto the grounds used by regular cadets, the ones who would become semi-elite soldiers.
The Cadet Academy Library rose like a fortress of knowledge—broad, cold, and utilitarian. Tall metal shelves stood in precise military rows, filled with field manuals, battle histories, bestiary records, celestial archives, and tactical guides. Harsh, steady light shone from floating crystal lamps that brightened or dimmed depending on how many cadets were present.
Regular students crowded the main hall, a wide space with reinforced study tables bolted to the floor. Whispering scroll-indexes hovered near the entrance, projecting locations of common books.
Raven was in awe; he had never been inside before.
“Ahem. May I help you, young stickman?”
A soft voice snapped Raven out of his admiration.
A tall stickman stood before him, angular frame, joints etched with glowing runes. His eyes weren’t pupils, but rotating sigils that seemed to catalog everything they saw. His voice was soft, but the kind of soft that cut.
“Oh—yes, sir—”
“Sir?” The man cut him off sharply.
He studied Raven, then said:
“You’re new here, aren’t you? No one calls me ‘sir.’ I’ll overlook your ignorance this once. Next time, I won’t be so merciful.”
“Call me General Velsin. Understood?”
“Yes, General.” Raven snapped to attention. The hell… he cursed inwardly.
“You’re not a regular student. From the look of it, you’re a special-ability trainee. Who’s your instructor?”
“Gen— Sergeant Major Lupin, General.”
“Oh. Him.” Velsin rolled his eyes.
“You’re probably here to learn about champions and celestials. Follow me.”
Raven followed General Velsin as they moved from the bustling main area to the quieter upper floors where the number of cadets dwindled.
At the far end stood a massive, rune-sealed gate marked CLASSIFIED ZONE, off-limits to normal cadets. Only special-ability students, cleared officers, and instructors with proper insignia could pass. Shadows rippled on the other side, where censored documents, celestial case files, extradimensional combat reports, and sealed relics were kept.
The air carried a blend of paper, oiled metal, and faint mana bleed from the restricted archives. This place was known as Sector Delta-9.
It looked nothing like the library below. It looked like an armory forged by gods.
Walls of black alloy infused with celestial fragments.
Floating platforms instead of stairs, each responding only to verified essence signatures.
Every door sealed with mana-imprint locks requiring special abilities or high officer clearance, which General Velsin possessed.
The silence was absolute, no drafts, no insects, not even accidental noise.
Raven felt as if time thickened here, as though every second was watched by something unseen.
“The room is yours. Leave when you want. It’ll lock magically,” General Velsin said as he walked out.
“…”
“This is incredible… it feels like I’m in another space entirely,” Raven whispered.
“But how do I get the information I came for?”
“Just ask. The room listens,” General Velsin called back, poking his head in before disappearing again.
“…”
“Okay,” Raven breathed out. “I want to know who the Celestial of Eternal Darkness and Concealment is.”
A pitch-black tome wrapped in chains—chains that didn’t touch the cover, only floated around it—flew from a shelf into his hands.
No title.
No markings.
The pages smelled like the cold air before a storm.
The chains broke apart and the cover opened.
The first page bore the title:
“Codex Atramentis: The Eighth Veil of Erebus.”
