"Deceit wears many faces, but the deadliest is the one that tells you what you want to hear."
— Professor Marrow, Arcane Sciences (Non-Fiction Faculty)
- - -
The Simulation Wing of Academia Noctis was buried far beneath the main campus—so deep that not even the map implants registered it until authorized access was granted. The air shimmered with electromagnetic resonance. The walls were smooth obsidian, gleaming like black glass, etched faintly with neon veins pulsing like a heartbeat.
Lucian walked in silence alongside a crowd of candidates, each step echoing off the hollow corridor. Whispers of anxiety stirred among the students.
"Have you heard about the Gauntlet last year? Someone had a mental break after Stage Two…"
"They say it adapts to your psychological profile. Like it reads your mind while you're inside."
Lucian tuned them out.
When they entered the main testing chamber, a vast circular arena unfolded around them. Dozens of transparent pods formed a ring, each one suspended over a pit of dense mist, lit from below with a cold cerulean glow.
A synthesized voice—mechanical, yet disturbingly human—cut through the silence:
"Cipher Gauntlet: Stage One – The Room of Lies.
In this challenge, you will be placed into a simulation containing four individuals.
One speaks the truth. The rest lie.
Your objective: identify the truth-teller within five minutes.
Scores will determine mental clarity ratings and your place in the academic tier reshuffle.
Good luck, Candidates."
Lucian stepped into his pod.
It closed behind him with a soft hiss, plunging him into darkness.
Then, light.
He found himself seated in a square room—no windows, just pale walls with a flickering overhead bulb. A metal table sat at the center with four chairs arranged around it. The four figures were already seated, their bodies unnervingly still, eyes focused solely on him.
They weren't just NPCs. Each bore the subtleties of real people—flaws in skin texture, the flicker of eye movement, tension in their hands. The simulation was almost... too perfect.
The moment began.
Figure 1: A tall boy with narrow eyes and slicked-back hair. He leaned forward. "I was with Professor Rake at the time of the murder. He can vouch for me."
Figure 2: A freckled girl, fingers drumming on the table. Her tone was dismissive. "There was no murder. That's the lie here."
Figure 3: A stone-faced girl, hair braided tightly. She didn't blink. "The killer used a mirror trick. I saw it with my own eyes."
Figure 4: A solemn boy, older than the others, voice calm. "I know who died. Their name was Anna Vel."
Lucian leaned back, hands steepled beneath his chin.
He studied them one by one.
Figure 1 was overly confident. His tone had the rehearsed rhythm of someone trying too hard to sound innocent. There was no grief, no detail—just a name-drop and alibi.
Figure 2 was jittery. Too much motion. Avoiding his gaze. Why deny the murder itself unless you're deflecting?
Figure 3 was unsettlingly calm. Mechanical. Her words were vivid, but... hollow.
Then his eyes met Figure 4.
Something about the way he said the name. Not dramatic. Not guilty. Just… honest. Like it hurt him to say it.
Lucian asked no questions. He didn't need to.
He repeated the sentences in his mind. Again. Listening not to what was said, but how.
His breathing slowed.
"Truth," he whispered to himself, "doesn't ask to be believed. It simply is."
He looked up.
"Figure Four. Anna Vel."
A tense silence fell.
Then the room shimmered and dissolved.
The simulation faded.
Lucian found himself back in the pod, the glass hissing open. He stepped out calmly as others stumbled, blinking in confusion or shaking their heads in frustration.
Silas, two pods down, looked pale.
Nyra leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You look like you just took a nap."
Lucian didn't smile. "It was… enlightening."
From the overhead speakers, the voice returned.
"Stage One complete. Scores are being calculated. Prepare for Stage Two."
The atmosphere in the dormitories buzzed with electricity. News of who passed Stage One traveled faster than gossip at a House Arcanus banquet. Whispers, laughter, groans of defeat—all blended into the background symphony of Academia Noctis.
Lucian sat by the window, a notebook open on his lap, sketching the possible patterns he'd seen during the last cipher. He wasn't smiling, but a subtle intensity glimmered in his eyes. Across the room, Silas flopped dramatically onto his bed.
"Tell me again why I signed up for this? I could've been sipping sapphire tea and bullying freshmen, but noooo, I had to challenge the Gauntlet."
"You wanted a title," Lucian replied dryly. "'Silas the Shattered' has a nice ring."
"Cruel," Silas groaned, "but fair."
Across the hall, Nyra was piecing together her own notes with a highlighter in one hand and a caramel lollipop in the other. Her door was ajar, just wide enough to hear her mutter, "I swear if the next test is underwater calculus, I'm dropping out."
---
A pulse of obsidian light shot through the campus PA system. A moment later, the voice of the Arcane Dean echoed:
"To those who survived the First Cipher, congratulations. But the game continues. Prepare for Stage Two: Shattered Memory. You have until dusk. Come prepared to question not just what you know, but who you are."
---
In the Grand Commons, students gathered in study cliques and personal "memory chambers"—temporary simulation pods designed to train memory endurance.
"So let me get this straight," Nyx said as she joined Lucian and Silas at their table. "They're giving us fake memories and asking us to figure out what's real. That's... evil."
"It's brilliant," Lucian murmured. "It means the Gauntlet isn't testing knowledge. It's testing certainty. And how easily it can be unraveled."
Nyra walked in with two bags of snacks.
"I brought fuel. Brain food. And sugar bombs."
"The sugar bombs are for you," Nyx said, plucking a packet. "But thanks."
Across the room, one student had broken down crying because he swore he saw himself committing a crime in the simulation room.
"They're really messing with us," Silas muttered. "Some kid thought his roommate had stabbed him with a pencil during a math test."
"Maybe he deserved it," Nyra shrugged.
---
As the others chatted, Lucian remained still. Something about the phrase "Shattered Memory" gnawed at him. He remembered fragments from his own past—images of his mother's research, glimpses of a hidden laboratory, a book with a black cover and glowing sigil.
What if his own mind was already tampered with? Was this Gauntlet just a test—or a trap to reveal what he'd buried?
---