The night fell thick over Starpower Academy.

The spires cut black shapes against the moon, and the lamps along the walkways flickered with a faint blue glow, powered by the academy's mana grid. Students had already returned to their dorms; even the training yards were silent, the echo of sparring long faded into the dark.

Merlin Everhart sat alone in his dorm room, a dim crystal light hovering above his desk.

On the table before him were stacks of documents, holographic projections, and his own notes, names, shipment routes, transaction IDs. All linked to one company.

Invoke Armaments.

His hand traced one of the lines on the map projected above the desk: a trade route connecting Alderport to Silverspire District. The shipping record showed "non-lethal artifact components," but the mana trace embedded in the seal said otherwise.

Someone had replaced Invoke's official signature rune with a disguised variant, a trick used by smugglers and black-market handlers.

Whoever was behind this wasn't sloppy. They were experienced.

He leaned back, exhaling slowly. His mind was sharper at night, the noise of the academy dimmed, the world clearer.

A faint knock broke the quiet.

Merlin didn't look up immediately.

Then, "Come in."

The door opened, and Elara Vaelith stepped in. Her silver-blonde hair glowed faintly under the crystal light, her violet eyes narrowing as she took in the papers spread across the desk.

"You're still at it," she said, closing the door behind her. "You haven't slept, have you?"

"Define 'sleep,'" Merlin said dryly, not glancing up.

Elara crossed the room, leaning over his shoulder to examine the holographic map. "You found something?"

He pointed to a glowing line branching from Silverspire to Oban Reach, a small industrial city two hundred kilometers east. "This shipment route doesn't exist in any of Invoke's public records. But look here—" he flicked his fingers, and another set of documents appeared beside it "—the same route appears in a minor trade manifest registered under the name Silverthorn Logistics. That company dissolved five years ago."

Elara frowned. "So Invoke's using ghost companies to move the weapons?"

"Not Invoke," Merlin murmured. "Someone inside it. A few board members were known to have private subsidiaries back in the novel… I mean, back before I—"

He stopped himself, the word catching on his tongue.

Elara raised an eyebrow. "Back before you what?"

He smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Back before I started following their work. Let's say I've studied them for a long time."

She didn't push further, though her gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than usual. "And what's in Oban Reach?"

"A research outpost. Officially abandoned. But if this data's right, that's where the missing prototypes are being rerouted."

Elara folded her arms. "So what, you're planning to just walk in there?"

"Not yet." He leaned forward again, pulling up another window. "First, we find the link between the academy and Invoke. Someone's feeding them information from inside."

Elara tilted her head. "You think it's a professor?"

"Or staff. Or even one of the logistics clerks. The weapons that appeared during the exam, someone had to smuggle them onto the grounds."

Elara was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "You're doing that thing again."

Merlin looked up. "What thing?"

"The thing where you start connecting strings until they turn into a web around you," she said. "You've done it before, when you dealt with those smugglers last year. You get too deep and forget to breathe."

He gave a small laugh. "You sound like Victoria."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He smirked, then froze.

There was a faint sound outside the window. A scrape. Like metal brushing stone.

Elara noticed it too. Her hand went immediately to the spear leaning against the wall, silent as her body tensed. Merlin gestured for her to wait, then flicked his fingers, summoning a faint shimmer of wind. The mana currents outside the glass bent around something, faintly human-shaped.

He spoke softly. "We're being watched."

Elara's eyes hardened. "How long?"

"Since before you came in, probably."

He raised his hand slightly, focusing mana into a point. The air shimmered, and in one smooth motion, he flicked it outward. The gust struck the window, shattering the illusion outside.

A cloaked figure tumbled from the ledge, landing with a grunt before vanishing in a swirl of shadow.

Elara lunged toward the window. "Do we chase?"

"No," Merlin said, already moving toward the desk. "They wanted us to know they were here. Whoever it was, they'll report back."

"To who?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he glanced at the papers again, and then froze.

Something was lying on top of the stack that hadn't been there before.

A letter.

No mana signature. No trace of how it was placed.

Elara's voice lowered. "Merlin…?"

He reached for it carefully, eyes narrowing. The paper was folded once, the seal stamped with a sigil he knew too well, a black triangle with a vertical slash.

Invoke's internal mark.

Elara stepped closer. "Is that—"

"Yeah." His voice was quiet.

He broke the seal.

Inside was a single line, written in black ink:

You're looking in the right place, Mr. Everhart.

And beneath it, coordinates.

Elara's pulse quickened. "That's in Oban Reach."

Merlin folded the paper slowly. His expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened, the faint golden hue shifting into something sharper.

"So they know," he murmured. "They know exactly who I am."

Elara frowned. "Then it's a trap."

"Obviously." He slipped the letter into his coat pocket. "But if they wanted me dead, they'd have sent more than one spy. This… this is an invitation."

"To what?"

Merlin turned toward the window, the city lights flickering far below. "To a game they think they can win."

Elara crossed her arms. "You're not going alone."

He smiled faintly. "I didn't plan to."

The following morning, the academy buzzed with rumors. The administration had quietly postponed all practical classes, citing "infrastructure repairs." Students didn't buy it. Word of the exam attack had spread faster than Morgana could contain.

Merlin and Elara moved through the halls like nothing had happened, but whispers followed in their wake.

"Is it true he fought off an entire squad of Veil agents?"

"They say he destroyed a prototype weapon with his bare hands."

"I heard he's connected to Invoke—"

He ignored them all.

By afternoon, they slipped out of the main building, heading toward the lower maintenance tunnels, unused service passages running beneath the academy grounds. From there, the mana rail could take them directly to Oban Reach without setting off the main travel registry.

Elara adjusted her cloak, glancing sideways. "You've done this before."

Merlin didn't deny it. "More times than I should've."

"And Morgana?"

"She'll notice eventually. But if I'm right, she'll already have her hands full with the academy's political fallout."

They descended into the dimly lit tunnel, the scent of old stone and mana crystals filling the air. The soft hum of the mana rail echoed ahead, a single small transport capsule waiting.

Elara stepped in beside him. "Still think this is just a coincidence?"

Merlin's eyes were unreadable. "No. But I want to know which piece moved first, the Veil, or Invoke."

The capsule's doors closed, light flickering as it powered up.

As the tunnel lights rushed past outside, Elara finally asked, "And what if you find out you're part of the reason all this is happening?"

Merlin didn't answer immediately.

Then, quietly: "Then I fix it."