The incident within the dungeon sent waves through the academy, though only a handful of people knew the full details. Rumors spread like wildfire—an unknown dungeon appearing beneath the school, monstrous entities being fought off, and a mysterious student named Jin at the center of it all. Yet the faculty, under Headmaster Vael's orders, kept the official story quiet: it had been a magical surge, nothing more.
But the truth had already rooted itself in the minds of those who mattered.
Aira's daughter, Lira Helion, couldn't shake the image of Jin's figure holding his sword amidst the dust and glowing embers. Ryo's son, Kael Ren, trained harder than ever, silently comparing his progress to the boy who had stepped forward without hesitation. And Lucas's son, Theo Ward, had stopped trying to challenge Jin outright. Instead, he studied him, watched him, and tried to understand.
Jin, for his part, tried to remain in the background. But the dungeon had changed things. Not just for the academy, but for him. That strange room at the dungeon's heart—the way it pulsed with forgotten power, the glyphs that had responded to his presence—left a mark deeper than any sword wound.
---
On a cloudy morning, a light drizzle fell over Elysian Academy. Jin stood beneath the towering spires of the Grand Archive, the oldest building on the campus. This place was said to predate the founding of the academy, built upon ruins that existed long before.
The stone doors creaked open as he entered. A wave of ancient mana hit him like a wall. Lanterns hovered in the air, softly illuminating shelves that stretched skyward. Books, scrolls, tablets—knowledge long buried.
"Looking for something, Jin?" a voice echoed.
It was Professor Darius, the enigmatic mage who taught advanced theory of magic formations. His gray eyes always seemed to look too deeply, as if seeing more than just the surface.
"History," Jin replied curtly. "Of the gates."
Darius raised a brow but didn't question him further. He pointed toward the restricted section. "Be careful. Some knowledge bites."
---
Hours passed.
Jin flipped through dusty volumes and ancient manuscripts. Most were vague accounts—sightings, failed raids, casualties. But one caught his eye: "The Fracture Chronicles." It described the earliest dungeons, or "gates," as rifts torn open by unstable mana. Creatures poured through, born of chaos and corruption, each dungeon a piece of a broken realm leaking into their world.
And within these gates were relics: items that didn't just hold power but held memory. Soulbound weapons, armor forged by spirits, trinkets tied to prophecy.
His eyes narrowed as he read a single line, nearly faded from time:
"When the wandering soul returns, the echo shall stir. And with it, the Seven Locks shall break."
---
Later that night, Jin was called to the headmaster's tower.
Vael sat at his desk, flanked by advisors and two masked guards in ceremonial armor. On the desk was a silver amulet—the one retrieved from the dungeon.
"Do you recognize this?" Vael asked, eyes sharp.
Jin shook his head. "Should I?"
Vael studied him for a moment longer than necessary. "You were the only one who could enter the inner sanctum. The only one the guardian didn't attack."
"Luck."
"Or something else," Vael murmured, then dismissed him.
---
Outside the tower, Lira waited under the rain.
"Jin! Wait."
He stopped.
She stepped closer. "You knew what that place was, didn't you?"
He said nothing.
"Kael, Theo, even the staff… they're all acting like something changed. And it has. You changed it."
Jin looked up at the gray sky. "I just did what I had to."
Lira's voice softened. "You saved us. But more than that, you weren't surprised by any of it. It was like you were waiting for it."
He turned to face her fully. For a brief moment, his gaze was ancient.
"I wasn't waiting," he said. "I was remembering."
Before she could speak again, he vanished into the mist.
And far beneath the academy, deep within the sealed layers of the dungeon, something opened its eyes—a creature bound in chains of light, surrounded by glyphs of old.
It whispered a name no one had uttered in a thousand years.
"Jin."
And then, it smiled.