Chapter 7: Whispers Beneath Astra
Paul's voice echoed softly over the opening scene.
> "The school created homes for us.
Places we would call our dorms, our sanctuaries... or our cages.
I couldn't tell the difference anymore."
The camera panned across rows of beautiful dormitory houses, each designed uniquely for different students based on their affinity — wood-like structures for Nature magic students, metallic and shimmering houses for Tech-magic users, gothic stone dorms for Dark magic practitioners, and crystalline towers for Light wielders.
Inside, students bustled — decorating, unpacking, laughing. Astra Academy seemed like paradise.
But Paul... Paul was different.
He woke up, neat and calm, preparing for another day. His room was barely filled — just a bed, a table, and a simple chair. His magic books neatly stacked. No ornaments, no fun posters like the others.
He put on his simple dark uniform, brushed the slight dust from his sleeves, and walked out silently into the morning mist.
As he walked along the clean stone paths leading to the main building, his voice continued:
> "Several months have passed... and the mask of this school is starting to crack.
I can feel it.
Something isn't right."
We were shown flashes —
In classes, students no longer listened to the teachers.
Instead, little groups huddled, whispering, bragging, talking about what they would buy next with their gold allowances.
Expensive magical artifacts, enchanted armor, food, pets, vanity items.
The teachers barely seemed to care — they walked about half-heartedly through their lectures.
Even worse, in the halls, seniors bullied juniors more aggressively than before.
They shoved them into walls, spilled their books, cursed them openly.
Prefects, once seen as pillars of order, simply looked away — or smirked.
Paul noticed it all.
He recorded it all... in his mind.
The scene shifted:
Someone called out.
"Paul!"
He turned.
It was Joseph — a boy from Class C.
He was panting slightly as he jogged toward him, waving his hand nervously.
Paul narrowed his eyes slightly.
> Joseph? What's he doing here? From another class, and calling me?
I don't trust him.
Joseph caught up to him and smiled, awkwardly brushing his brown hair back.
"Hey man," Joseph said lightly, "mind if I walk with you?"
Paul gave a slight nod, his face unreadable, and they started walking together toward the classroom halls.
But Joseph soon grew tense.
He looked around, lowered his voice, and asked:
"Are you... a spy sent to this school?"
Paul stopped walking.
He slowly turned his head to look at Joseph, his face calm and dangerous, like a still lake hiding whirlpools underneath.
Joseph froze too, realizing he might have crossed a line.
Paul asked quietly:
"...What made you think so?"
Joseph bit his lip, then said:
"I-I heard rumors in my class... that spies were sent here by some organization to monitor Astra... I don't know what to believe anymore... I can't trust anyone."
Paul stared into Joseph's eyes for a long moment.
Then he stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Joseph's shoulder.
He said, voice calm but edged with something chilling:
"If there were spies... do you think they'd be foolish enough to act suspicious?"
"If there were spies... do you think you would even know until it was too late?"
"If there were spies... it would already be over before you even heard a rumor."
Joseph shivered slightly under Paul's piercing stare.
Paul smiled faintly — not friendly, not kind, but something knowing.
"Be careful, Joseph.
Never trust a rumor without knowing who started it... and why."
Joseph exhaled, nervous.
He smiled weakly, scratched the back of his head.
"Y-Yeah... sorry. Thanks, man."
They resumed walking.
---
In Class E
Prisca sat near the front, reading quietly, absorbed in a large old tome about 'Ancient Sealing Techniques'.
Felix leaned against his desk, laughing and chatting with Deborah who giggled back, oblivious to the world.
Paul sat in the back row.
His hands folded calmly on his desk.
Observing.
Soon Mrs. Elvara entered the classroom.
She had short silver hair, piercing violet eyes, and wore a long robe embroidered with complex runes. She looked stern but elegant — like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Good morning, Class E," she said, voice ringing clear like a bell.
Most of the class barely looked up.
Mrs. Elvara didn't even frown.
She smiled softly — a patient predator.
"Today," she announced, "we begin our deeper studies into the Formation and Evolution of Mana Constructs."
Some students blinked.
She continued, writing glowing words in the air with her fingers:
"Magic," she said, "is not merely a force.
It is a living extension of your will.
Mana Constructs are the shapes you form from raw mana...
Shields. Blades. Wings. Structures. Beasts. Anything."
She paused, looking at the disinterested faces.
"To master Constructs is to master manifestation itself.
You think it — it becomes reality."
She gestured at the air.
A gorgeous crystal sword formed instantly, glittering and humming.
Then it shattered into a thousand glowing butterflies.
"But," Elvara said, voice darkening, "a weak will creates unstable constructs.
Unstable constructs mean death."
Some students sat up straighter.
She began pacing.
"Your mind must be sharp.
Your intent, clear.
Your mana must obey you completely — like a loyal servant."
Her hands weaved in the air as she demonstrated different constructs: walls of fire, chains of light, spears of ice.
"Today we will begin basic Construct formation:
First, focus your mana into your palm.
Shape it into a sphere.
Stabilize it for at least ten seconds without it cracking or collapsing."
She clapped once.
"Begin."
Students groaned, some tried lazily.
But Paul... Paul was already forming a perfect glowing orb in his hand, without any cracks.
---
Trouble Begins
Suddenly, a boy named Jude Fenn raised his hand, looking upset.
"Mrs. Elvara!" he called.
She paused, raising a silver eyebrow.
"Yes, Jude?"
Jude stood up, voice raised:
"It's been over a month! We haven't received any money from the school!"
The class erupted into agreement — shouting, complaining, grumbling.
"Yeah!"
"They promised monthly pay!"
"This is a scam!"
Mrs. Elvara just smiled.
A cold, pitying smile.
"You are all... truly dumb," she said softly.
The entire class went silent in shock — except Paul, who narrowed his eyes.
> So it was a test all along...
Mrs. Elvara clasped her hands behind her back and paced slowly before them.
"The truth is...
Class E has failed the hidden evaluation."
Gasps echoed.
She gestured.
"Check your stats."
Students quickly cast the Stat Hologram Spell.
Each holographic panel appeared — and horror spread across their faces.
Mana Levels: Low.
Behavior Rating: Poor.
Discipline: Failed.
Class Reputation: In the negatives.
Mrs. Elvara chuckled.
"You stopped training.
You wasted your money on trivialities.
You disrespected your teachers.
You abandoned your studies for gossip and greed."
She turned, sweeping her arm dramatically.
"In the entire Astra Academy, only Class E has fallen so low."
Students panicked.
"I-It's not fair!"
"You didn't warn us!"
"How could you just watch us fail?!"
Mrs. Elvara's smile vanished, her voice cold:
"You think real life warns you before it crushes you?"
Silence.
Paul checked his own stats — all stable, above average.
Prisca glanced back at him, an admiring glint in her eye.
"So... you've been cautious all along," she whispered.
Paul nodded slightly.
"The school is filled with traps," he said simply.
"Better to walk carefully... than to fall foolishly."
Meanwhile, Felix stared at his crumbling stats in horror.
Tears welled up in his eyes as memories flashed:
Laughing with Deborah instead of training.
Skipping studying to plan a party.
Helping Deborah try to pair up with her crush, Peterson.
He buried his face in his hands.
"I messed up... I messed up..." he muttered brokenly.
Paul leaned toward him, voice steady:
"Felix.
Fall once.
Stand up stronger."
Deborah, meanwhile, coldly shut off her hologram, tossing her hair.
She acted like she didn't care — but her trembling fingers said otherwise.
---
Nightfall: Shadows Move
That night, the academy grounds were silent, lit only by the soft glow of the moon.
Down a narrow, empty alley near the abandoned library wing, footsteps echoed.
It was Amaria — one of the Prefects.
She walked carefully, nervously glancing around.
Finally, she reached an old crumbling wall covered in dead vines.
She whispered an incantation:
> "Krin-thol am'at revas..."
A swirling black smoke poured out of the wall.
The ground cracked.
Amaria knelt low, head bowed in terror.
From the smoke, a horrifying creature slowly emerged — only its twisted, clawed leg stepping through the portal.
A deep, rasping voice spoke:
"Have you... contacted... Prisca Dante?"
Amaria's voice shook.
"I-I'm still working on it, my lord."
The creature's voice grew colder:
"You must hurry.
We need her... to complete the Rituals."
Amaria swallowed hard.
"Y-Yes, my lord. I swear. I'll bring her soon."
The creature's claws twitched.
"Fail me... and your soul will be the first sacrifice."
The smoke receded, pulling the monster back into the darkness.
Amaria stood alone, trembling.
Sweat dripped from her forehead as she clenched her fists.
---
> Paul's voice returned, soft and grim:
> "Astra Academy promised us glory.
But beneath the shining halls...
darkness festers."