Chaos

Chaos

"Hammer it properly, dammit!"

The booming voice echoed through the vast forge hall of Elydrion Academy's Artifact Department. Smoke and magic shimmered in the air. A thick-bearded dwarf, his voice like rolling thunder, stomped toward a trembling student.

Professor Durgrim Ironflame, a Rank 7 Artifact Master, glared down at the boy's barely glowing metalwork.

"You call that rune engraving?! A blind goblin could carve better lines with his toenails!"

He yanked the hammer from the student's hands. "And you, wolf-boy—maybe stick to biting things! Your forging sounds like a banshee choking on metal!"

The students groaned, muttering curses under their breath. But they knew better than to talk back. After two weeks, they'd accepted that Durgrim yelled at everything and everyone.

Then it happened.

A quiet human student stood from his bench and raised his sword. At first, Durgrim ignored it, thinking he was just testing the blade's balance.

But then—steel flashed.

Shunk!

The blade pierced straight through a dwarf student's chest. Blood sprayed across the forge.

"WHAT IN THE SEVEN FORGES—?!"

Durgrim's rage exploded. He kicked the attacker backward with a crash of armor and spellcraft, knocking over a table.

But the boy rose again, eyes empty—soulless. He charged without a word.

Durgrim slammed his foot to the ground.

"EARTH CAGE!"

A dome of rock erupted, trapping the boy inside.

He spun toward the wounded student and yanked out a healing potion, pouring it over the wound. Nothing happened.

"Shit… it's cursed…" Durgrim muttered. "Evil Remnant."

He drew a glowing violet vial—advanced-grade healing—and forced it into the boy's mouth. Blood gushed from his lips, but the wound began to knit shut.

⸻

Meanwhile: Alchemy Department

Bottles shattered. Flames burst from cauldrons. Smoke turned a sickly green.

Students screamed as others turned on them—flinging boiling potions, alchemical knives, even raw transmutation spells.

A girl shrieked as her partner hurled acid at her. A werecat boy transformed mid-attack, growling as he slashed wildly.

Professor Kelyra, a high elf with cold precision, dropped her vial and raised her staff.

"By order of Academy Law—Seal 2: Containment Protocol—"

A glowing dome surrounded the lab as more and more students fell to a strange, violent madness.

⸻

Across Campus: Academy Restaurant "The Laughing Griffin"

It was lunchtime. Students from all departments filled the large, multi-tiered restaurant. Laughter, chatter, and the clatter of cutlery echoed across the hall.

At a corner table, Veylan sipped quietly from a cold glass. His silver hair caught the light, and his calm, icy aura chilled the air around him. Though human, something about him radiated stillness—like a blizzard trapped in skin.

He was reviewing alchemical notes when a scream pierced the air.

A boy from the Alchemy Department had drawn a dagger—his face twisted unnaturally—and stabbed a girl through the shoulder.

Panic erupted.

Tables flipped. Plates shattered. Students ran.

Veylan stood slowly, eyes narrowing.

"…Tch. Not again."

He extended his hand.

Frost spiraled out, coating the floor and freezing the attacker's legs in place. Then, a single flick of his wrist—

Crack!

The possessed boy fell, unconscious, trapped in a thin layer of ice.

From the entrance, Arthur Valerian, Elias, Threx, and Nyssara burst in, followed by others from the dorms.

"Secure the exits!" Arthur commanded.

Saintess Caelistra appeared behind him, golden light blooming from her hands as she rushed to the injured.

Elias leapt onto a table, surveying the madness.

"Something's spreading… it's not a normal curse."

⸻

Outside: The Grounds

Everywhere, students were turning—fighting, screaming, collapsing.

Arthur's group spread out. Nyssara and Caelistra used healing magic, but the spells weren't working. The wounds weren't magical—they were tainted.

Suddenly—

BOOM.

The air grew heavy. A presence far beyond any of them.

Headmaster Maxxarion had arrived.

His eyes, burning silver, scanned the battlefield. His voice was soft—but the world stopped moving.

"Stop."

Everyone froze.

The possessed dropped. The wounded held still. Even the air seemed trapped.

Maxxarion raised one hand.

"Time Rewind."

Light pulsed outward. Destroyed trees regrew. Blood vanished. The dead remained.

Arthur looked at them with sorrow.

Then—Maxxarion moved again.

His hand rose to the sky.

"Resurrection."

A crimson light exploded outward, engulfing every fallen student.

Arthur could barely breathe.

No—none of them could.

Elias. Synthros. Threx. Nyssara. Caelistra. Even Nyx, Julian, and Saryn—all stood still, eyes wide in disbelief.

The impossible was happening.

One by one, the bodies stirred.

Eyes opened.

They breathed again.

Not just one… not two…

All of them.

Resurrected.

Resurrection was the realm of legends. Rank 9 mages were rumored to touch such power—but few had ever seen it.

And here he was.

Maxxarion. Barely breaking a sweat.

When the final child rose, Maxxarion turned to the crowd.

His voice was colder than winter steel.

"Return to your dormitories," he said quietly. "None of you are permitted to leave until we find out what caused this."