The transition was violent dimensional forces that felt like being dragged through broken glass while simultaneously drowning. Alex tumbled through space between dimensions, his partially-healed body screaming protest as reality bent around him.

Then he crashed onto corpse-strewn ground.

The impact drove air from his lungs. Pain flared through damaged ribs that his Enhanced Recovery hadn't fully repaired. He tasted blood, felt it running from his nose where capillaries had burst from the rough dimensional transit.

**[HP: 52/120]**

**[Essence Channels: 42% Functional]**

**[Warning: Extended combat inadvisable]**

**[Warning: Dimensional Marker Detected - Cannot Be Removed]**

Alex pushed himself upright, coughing blood onto the corrupted ground. His system notifications flickered quest rewards still trying to integrate, level advancement pending, but his body too damaged to process them fully.

He looked around, getting his bearings. The corpse-field stretched in every direction, more grotesque than he remembered. Bodies in various states of decay, some fresh enough that he could still identify their species, others reduced to bones and stains.

But in the distance northeast, maybe three kilometers he could see it.

A column of light. Faint but unmistakable. The dimensional breach his Academy had forced open, still active, still extracting survivors.

Still his only way home.

'Three kilometers. One hour maximum before it closes. Forty-two percent functional.'

The mathematics were brutal, but they weren't impossible.

Alex forced himself to stand, his legs trembling. His partially-healed essence channels couldn't support enhanced movement. His lungs burned with each breath. His ribs sent spikes of agony through his chest with every movement.

But he'd survived worse. He'd defeated an SS-Class guardian. He'd died and come back.

He could run three kilometers.

He started moving.

His body protested every step. Blood continued to leak from his nose, his damaged cardiovascular system struggling to maintain adequate circulation. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in as his brain fought against oxygen deprivation.

But the column of light ahead remained visible. A beacon. A promise.

Home.

A beast emerged from behind a corpse-pile, drawn by movement. Its chitinous armor gleamed with predatory hunger, multiple eyes tracking him with disturbing intelligence.

Alex didn't have reserves to fight. He created a weak burst of flame pathetic compared to his usual constructs, barely more than a large campfire's worth but enough to startle the creature. It recoiled, and he used the seconds bought to keep moving.

Two and a half kilometers. His legs were threatening to give out, muscles trembling from exhaustion and trauma.

The realm's collapse was accelerating around him. Cracks in the ground were widening, some sections simply vanishing into darkness as the pocket dimension fragmented. The crimson sky flickered like a dying flame, casting erratic shadows that made navigation treacherous.

Another beast phased from shadow directly in his path. Alex's Combat Echo barely warned him he threw himself sideways, claws missing by inches. He scrambled up and kept running, the Stalker pursuing for several seconds before losing interest when easier prey appeared nearby.

Two kilometers. Blood was running freely from his nose now, his damaged cardiovascular system straining under the exertion. Each breath tasted like copper and ash.

The column of light ahead seemed impossibly far. His Enhanced Recovery was trying to work, but the exertion was causing damage faster than his compromised healing could address.

One and a half kilometers. His legs gave out. He crashed face-first into corrupted ground, the impact jarring his broken ribs and sending white-hot agony through his chest.

Alex tried to stand. Failed. Tried again. His arms wouldn't support his weight.

'No. Not like this. Not when I'm this close.'

He thought of Petra, Gareth, Sarah his classmates who were being rescued right now, who thought he was dead.

He thought of the Masters watching, studying, calculating his survival probability at eleven percent.

Fuck their probability.

Alex forced himself up through sheer stubborn will, stumbling forward on legs that barely responded to mental commands. Every step was conscious effort, every meter gained through determination rather than physical capability.

One kilometer. The column of light was clearer now, close enough that he could see its dimensional structure, could feel the essence signature of Lucian Valorian maintaining the breach through his anchor position.

His system was screaming warnings about cardiovascular stress, about muscles tearing from overexertion, about essence channels approaching critical failure.

He ignored all of it.

Five hundred meters. He was running on pure willpower now, his body held upright only by the absolute refusal to give up after surviving everything else.

The ground beneath him cracked, a fissure opening that dropped into darkness. Alex jumped, barely clearing the gap, landing hard on the other side. The impact sent fresh spikes of agony through his damaged frame, and he felt something in his chest give way a rib finally breaking completely.

**[HP: 47/120]**

Three hundred meters. A Storm Wyrm descended from the dying sky, electricity crackling across its scales. It was fleeing the realm's collapse rather than hunting, but it saw him anyway wounded prey, easy target.

Lightning arced toward him.

Alex created a wall of flame weak, unstable, barely cohesive but enough to disrupt the Wyrm's targeting. The creature's electrical discharge struck corrupted ground instead, and it lost interest, more concerned with escaping the collapsing dimension than securing a meal.

Two hundred meters. His heart was beating irregularly, missing beats, his vision tunneling to just the column of light ahead.

Through his fragmenting perception, he could see figures near the portal. Master-ranked guards returning with the other rescued students. The organized chaos of an extraction operation that was running out of time.

One hundred meters. He tried to call out, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. Blood filled his mouth, his damaged lungs struggling with each breath.

Fifty meters. Reality around him was fragmenting, the realm entering its final death throes. Sections of ground simply ceased to exist, darkness spreading like infection.

Alex threw himself forward in a desperate lunge, his hand reaching toward the dimensional coordinates, toward home

He passed through the threshold.

The transition was instantaneous. One moment, collapsing realm. The next, Academy stone.

Alex crashed onto familiar ground, tumbling across the floor before slamming into a wall. The impact sent fresh spikes of agony through his damaged ribs.

Voices erupted around him shocked, confused, demanding explanations*****

"Possible survivor!" Aldric's tactical instincts engaged immediately. "All units, defensive positions! Do not assume friendly until confirmed!"

The figure drew closer, moving with the kind of determined desperation that came from pushing far beyond physical limits. Its silhouette was distinctly human two arms, two legs, proportions that matched Academy students rather than the twisted forms they'd seen in the corpse-field.

"It's going to try to cross," Vex warned, his academic knowledge providing grim context. "If it's human, if it still registers as originating from our dimension, the portal should allow transit. But if it's been corrupted, if its dimensional signature has been altered "

The figure reached the portal's event horizon and paused.

For one terrible moment, everyone held their breath, waiting to see if it would disperse like the beasts, waiting to learn if whatever approached was still human enough to cross.

Then it stepped through.

The portal didn't reject it.

The figure crossed the dimensional barrier and collapsed to its knees on Academy stone, coughing blood onto familiar ground. White hair matted with gore. Pale eyes struggling to focus through what looked like severe trauma. An Academy uniform so torn and bloodstained it was barely recognizable, but the insignia was still visible first year, Arena Combat division.

In the medical wing doorway, Damien enhanced perception locked onto the figure instantly.

For exactly three seconds, his carefully maintained composure held.

Then it shattered completely.

"KAEL!"

He was moving before anyone could stop him, his enhanced speed carrying him across the distance in seconds. as he dropped to his knees beside the collapsed figure.

Gareth followed close behind, his analytical mind cataloging details even through his shock. Kael Ashford. Alive. Here. Covered in blood both his own and others', bearing wounds that should have been fatal, but undeniably, impossibly alive.

"Kael, can you hear me?" Damien's hands hovered over him, his perception mapping his injuries with growing horror. "Gareth, get Harold! Now!"

But Alex wasn't responding. His pale eyes were open but unfocused, staring at nothing, his breathing shallow and irregular. Blood continued to leak from wounds across his body deep lacerations, burn marks, and something worse. His essence signature was fluctuating wildly, spiking to levels that made Petra's perception recoil, then dropping to almost nothing, then surging again.

Captain Aldric approached cautiously, his Master-ranked senses analyzing the returned student with professional wariness. "Everyone maintain distance. We don't know what condition he's in, or what he might have been exposed to."

"He needs medical attention!" Damien's voice carried an edge that suggested he wouldn't tolerate interference.

"He'll get it. But protocol requires "

"Protocol can wait until he's not dying on the floor!"

Professor Harold arrived at a run, medical supplies already manifesting in his hands. He took one look at Alex's condition and his professional calm wavered. "Get him to the medical wing immediately. I need full diagnostic equipment and "

Damien helped lift Alex's unconscious form, him strength making the burden a bit taxing. As he carried him toward the medical wing, Gareth fell into step beside him.

"He survived," Gareth said quietly, his analytical mind still struggling to process the probability violation. "Three days in that realm, facing whatever killed one hundred forty-eight others, and he survived."

"He always does," Damien replied, but his voice carried something beyond relief. Because he'd seen his wounds and had felt his essence signature fluctuating at impossible levels.

Kael Ashford had survived.

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