Confrontation

Clayton adjusted the collar of his academy robe for the third time. It still didn't sit right. Not because of the stitching—he'd checked twice—but because of the weight of what they were about to do.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished table in Asher's study. The lights overhead were dimmed, a deliberate choice. Outside, Vyrith Academy's towers pulsed gently with arcane light. Everything looked peaceful. Untouched. But Clayton knew better.

Across from him, Asher sorted through thin sheets of parchment—reports, data logs, and fragmented arcane residue analysis. Eric stood to the side, arms crossed, the usual glint of humor in his eyes dulled by calculation.

"So," Clayton finally said, voice low, "this is really happening."

Asher didn't look up. "It has to. We're running out of shadows to chase."

Eric nodded. "Everything we've dug up—the illusion cards, the tampered electives, the weird behavioral shifts in students—it all traces back to Marvin in some way."

Clayton let out a breath. "We were so sure it was a grand scheme. Hollow Circle, secret organizations, layered misdirection. But now…"

"Now we know Hollow Circle was never real," Asher said, flatly. "Just a trail of bait meant to pull us off the real scent."

"And the cards," Clayton added, "weren't a project to distribute chaos evenly. They were trying to break one person."

"Or maybe," Eric said, tilting his head, "one of us."

That had been the scariest part. After weeks of investigations, they'd run every angle. What if the target wasn't just some unstable student? What if the cards, the lies, the misdirection—it was all part of testing them? Measuring them?

It was a possibility none of them liked. But none of them could dismiss it, either.

Still, they had a lead. One student—Rin Talver—had shown erratic magic signatures, fractured aura readings, and an unnaturally fast rise in casting skill. He'd also taken both of Marvin's electives.

"And Marvin," Clayton said, "has been acting too calm for someone who should've seen us coming."

"He's either arrogant or protected," Eric said. "Both are dangerous."

They had tried being subtle—questioning students, cross-checking card histories, even coercing one of Marvin's own students into using an Echo Chime inside the classroom. That was what finally confirmed it: the arcane traces tied to Mirage Cascade and Phantom Bloom were there, pulsing under the surface of Marvin's illusory lectures.

Now it was time.

No more watching.

No more speculating.

It was time to confront the instructor directly.

Clayton stood up from the table. "We do this clean. No accusations. No explosions unless we have to. We press him. Corner him. Make him show his cards."

Asher gave a tight smile. "Diplomatic approach?"

"Until it doesn't work," Eric said, already checking the concealed artifact clipped inside his coat. "Then we go loud."

Clayton tried to still his thoughts. There was a small tremor in his chest—not fear exactly, but a cold awareness of consequence. Things could spiral here. Once they confronted a teacher directly, even an elective-tier instructor, it would no longer be a student matter.

He had prepared for that.

"I'll talk first," Clayton said. "He doesn't see me as threatening. Let's use that."

They made their way down the east wing corridor. The route was quiet—oddly quiet. But maybe that was paranoia speaking. The sky above flickered with approaching dusk, casting a purple hue over the academy's rune-lit walkways.

Marvin's workshop-classroom hybrid sat behind a locked rune door embedded in ivy-stained stone. It looked old, worn down—intentionally, maybe, to give the illusion of harmless eccentricity.

Clayton knocked.

It took a moment, but eventually, the door creaked open.

Instructor Marvin stood in the archway, adjusting his round spectacles. His robes were dark green today, lined with thin silver threads. He looked like he belonged in a quiet library, not at the heart of an arcane conspiracy.

"Ah," Marvin said, his eyes scanning each of them. "Clayton. Asher. Eric. How unexpected."

Clayton smiled. "Sorry to drop in unannounced. We were hoping to speak with you. About your electives."

Marvin's expression didn't flicker. "My electives? They're not open for enrollment mid-term."

"We're not trying to join," Eric said casually. "Just curious. Some of your topics… intersect with projects we've been researching."

Asher added, "We've come across some interesting card patterns lately. Particularly illusion types. Advanced. Refined. Reminded us of your class structure."

Marvin's lips twitched, just slightly. "I see. Well, you'll find many things remind you of illusions. That's their nature."

Clayton stepped in, lowering his tone. "We've also detected traces of rare arcane residue in your class. Residue that aligns with certain untraceable cards currently in circulation."

Marvin paused.

There it was—that split second of stillness, the brief delay before answering.

"I don't know what you're implying," Marvin said smoothly. "But I assure you, all cards discussed in my classes are approved and regulated. Checked by the academy's own smiths."

"Is that why the illusion layers are reversed?" Asher asked sharply. "Why don't the glyph anchors follow any sanctioned pattern?"

"I design my own teaching glyphs."

Eric stepped closer. "So do criminals."

The tension cracked.

Marvin's hand twitched toward the edge of his sleeve, and Clayton saw it—a flicker of defensive magic, a containment sigil ready to be deployed.

"Careful," Clayton said. "We didn't come to fight."

Marvin smiled. This time, it wasn't warm. "Then don't push further."

But Clayton didn't stop. "One of your students—Zane Hollis—is showing signs of mental corruption. Illusory layering in his aura. He's been using cards that aren't listed anywhere in the records."

"That's not my concern," Marvin replied. "What students do outside my class is their responsibility."

"But you gave him the card," Asher said coldly.

For the first time, Marvin's smile vanished.

Clayton took a slow breath. "Why? Why are you doing this? Are you working with someone?"

Marvin's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't be here."

Clayton reached into his pocket and tossed a sealed Echo Chime onto the table beside them. "This device caught every frequency in your classroom last week. Every glyph, every enchantment, every unnatural energy pulse."

For a second, the room was dead silent.

Then Marvin stepped back.

And the runes in the walls flared.

"I warned you," he said, his voice no longer calm. "I told you not to push."

Clayton raised his hand—and the spell card in his sleeve flared to life.

"Asher, now!"

The air cracked with arcane force.

The battle had begun.