The southern corridor opened into a vast chamber whose ceiling disappeared into a haze of blue light. The walls shimmered faintly, covered in runes that seemed to breathe — sliding, reforming, pulsing in slow rhythm with the mana currents that filled the air. Each step echoed softly, the ground beneath their boots humming like a living heart.

Rhaldrin led the way, his small frame moving with quiet authority as a sphere of condensed mana hovered beside him, lighting the path ahead.

"Students," his rough voice began, echoing faintly across the chamber, "what you see here predates every recorded civilization. These ruins weren't built with ordinary methods. They were forged through a process we still can't comprehend — a fusion of mana, pressure, and time that no one alive could ever replicate."

He paused, looking around at the vast metallic walls. "Not even the Dvergar, the finest smiths of our age, have managed to recreate this alloy. And even Headmistress Selara herself failed to identify its core structure."

That drew murmurs of astonishment from the group. Barth looked like his heart might burst from excitement. "Professor, are you saying this material is unique to the Primordials?"

Rhaldrin nodded, whiskers twitching. "Precisely. Whatever process created this place, it's beyond the reach of modern magic and alchemy alike."

The blue light reflected in Barth's eyes as he frantically scribbled in his notebook. "Incredible… absolutely incredible…"

Trafalgar smirked faintly, folding his arms as he scanned the chamber. "This is… fucking awesome," he muttered under his breath. The words slipped out, but he didn't care.

Zafira heard and gave him a sideways look. "You're impressed."

"Who wouldn't be?" he replied casually, though his eyes stayed fixed on the flowing runes.

Rhaldrin's voice carried again, echoing off the metallic walls. "Do not underestimate what lies beneath your feet. The energy you feel is the residue of gods — or something close to it. No spells, no disruptions. Everything here responds to mana."

Trafalgar's gaze lingered on the glowing veins of light spiraling along the walls. 'For now, there's nothing that really catches my eye… but that feeling from before hasn't gone away. There's something here… I can feel it.'

The group moved deeper into the corridor, their reflections gliding across the glassy floor. Blue veins of mana pulsed beneath their boots, flowing like streams under ice. Rhaldrin's staff tapped steadily, his tone sharp. "Stay within the marked paths. I repeat—do not touch anything. These mechanisms still react to foreign mana."

Barth nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, Professor."

Trafalgar, however, slowed his pace, studying the faint patterns along the wall. The lines weren't random—they were shifting, aligning with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

'It's responding to me again… great.' He turned his head slightly, pretending to observe casually.

That's when the deep voice of the Myrrhvale guard broke through the silence. "You there," he said, tone curt. "Step back. You're too close to the boundary."

Trafalgar arched a brow. "I didn't even cross it."

"Didn't look that way," the guard replied flatly, scales glinting under the light. His eyes narrowed. "This area isn't for wandering. Stay in line."

Rhaldrin didn't turn around but sighed audibly. "He's fine, Captain. Lord Morgain knows how to control himself."

The guard grunted. "Control or not, the rules apply to everyone."

Trafalgar's smirk returned—thin, cold. "Of course. Wouldn't want to cause trouble."

He stepped back without argument, though his thoughts darkened. 'The same bastard from before. Still barking orders. If this weren't his territory…'

Zafira glanced sideways at him. She could tell from his eyes that he remembered the girl, but he stayed silent—hands in his pockets, gaze fixed forward. The pain in his arm pulsed again, faint but present.

Barth, oblivious to the tension, pointed excitedly toward the far end of the hall. "Professor, that doorway—does it lead deeper underground?"

"Yes," Rhaldrin answered, his whiskers twitching. "That's where the southern data chambers begin. Even I have only seen fragments of what lies beyond."

'Data chambers,' Trafalgar thought. 'What the hell does that even mean?

They passed through another archway—this one far older than the rest. The light here dimmed to a deep, muted blue, and strange circular glyphs lined the walls like eyes watching them. Every few seconds, one would blink with a pulse of mana, humming low and constant.

Trafalgar trailed near the back of the group, his gaze drifting from one rune to another. His eyes narrowed slightly. 'The air feels… heavier here.'

The hum deepened—an invisible vibration crawling through his bones. And then it struck.

A sharp surge of agony shot through his forearm, white-hot and merciless. The veins beneath his skin flared with light, tracing the shape of the tattoo like molten metal.

"Gh—" He gritted his teeth, his knees buckling before he could stop himself. His vision blurred, the floor rushing up to meet him.

"Trafalgar!" Zafira's voice cut through the haze as she grabbed his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

He clutched his arm, trying to hide it, the burning spreading like wildfire. 'Fuck!'

The light beneath his sleeve flickered once more, reacting violently to something ahead—a sealed doorway etched with patterns eerily similar to the lines that burned across his arm.

Before he realized it, his hand brushed against the ancient wall itself. The runes there pulsed faintly in response to his touch, sending a soft ripple of light across the stone.

"Hey!" The Myrrhvale guard's shout cracked across the hall like a whip. He strode forward instantly, scales glinting under the rune light. "I told you not to touch anything!"

Zafira turned on him, eyes narrowing. "He didn't—"

"Enough!" the guard barked, his voice echoing sharply. "One mistake here could destroy everything in this chamber. These ruins are unstable—one surge of mana in the wrong place and the entire southern sector could collapse. Do you want that on your name, Lord Morgain?"

Trafalgar's expression hardened. His breathing steadied, but the fury in his chest didn't fade.

"…Didn't mean to," he muttered, straightening slowly. "Won't happen again."

The guard's gaze lingered, suspicious, before he finally stepped back to his post. Rhaldrin watched silently, concern hidden beneath his scholarly calm.

Zafira leaned closer and whispered, "What really happened?"

Trafalgar shook his head slightly. "Nothing. Bad headache." But deep inside, he knew better. 'That door reacted to me. Whatever's behind it—it's connected to me somehow.'

The group continued deeper into the corridor, the tension from before still faint but persistent. Rhaldrin led at the front, his tone calm and firm. "Stay close. We'll finish mapping the southern route and regroup with the others in two hours. Be careful with your mana output—these walls are fragile."

"Yes, Professor," several students echoed obediently.

Trafalgar walked quietly beside Zafira, his pace slower now. The searing pain in his arm had dulled, leaving behind a faint, rhythmic heat that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He flexed his fingers discreetly, keeping his sleeve low. 'It's not stopping… whatever this place is, it's reacting to me. I need to find a way into that chamber… somehow.'

Ahead, Bartholomew was still scribbling furiously in his notebook, his face glowing with excitement as Rhaldrin explained the structure's mana channels and stability seals. His enthusiasm almost made Trafalgar smirk. 'The guy really is made for this.'

They reached the end of the hall — a vast circular chamber crowned by a towering crystal column that pulsed with translucent waves of light. Its glow painted the metallic floor in pale blue and silver, making the whole space feel alive.

Rhaldrin adjusted his spectacles, awe in his crimson eyes. "Even after all these years… it's still stable. These conduits function without a core—self-sustaining, perfectly balanced. The craftsmanship here is beyond anything our era can reproduce."

Trafalgar's eyes flickered toward the pillar. The hum in the air deepened, resonating through his bones. His arm burned faintly again, a whisper under the skin. 'It's like it's calling me…'

"Careful, Trafalgar," Rhaldrin said suddenly, glancing back. "I know that look. Curiosity is good—but don't let it pull you in too far. The Primordials weren't kind to those who trespassed."

Trafalgar gave a small, forced grin. "Don't worry, Professor. I'm just observing."

Zafira leaned closer, her voice low. "Be careful. That guard's already got his eye on you… and I think he remembers us. You're the one who told me not to cause trouble, remember?"

Trafalgar exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Yeah… guess it's my turn to listen."

Still, as his gaze lingered on the crystal core, that faint, magnetic pull inside him refused to fade. 'I have to find a way to reach it… no matter what.'

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