(POV: Caspian)

"Ding."

The sharp chime of a notification ring.

Caspian barely glanced at it—until Kairos, who was walking beside him, stopped in his tracks and blinked at his phone.

"…What? Complete lockdown?" Kairos muttered.

Caspian turned toward him. "Lockdown? What happened?"

Kairos didn't respond right away. His fingers hovered over the glowing screen, rereading something.

Caspian reached out and snatched the phone from his hand.

"Hey—!" Kairos flinched, but Caspian ignored him.

His eyes scanned the screen.

---

[ACADEMY NOTICE - URGENT]

Status: PARTIAL LOCKDOWN

Effective Immediately

All students and faculty are restricted from leaving academy until further notice.

All post-10 PM activity—training, research lab access, library sessions, field simulations—is hereby suspended.

Violations will be met with severe disciplinary action.

—Union Oversight Division & Academy Directive Council

---

Caspian stared at the message for a long moment.

Lockdown? That wasn't supposed to happen. He couldn't recall any mention of this event from the novel.

"Is this… because of me?" Caspian thought.

But that didn't make sense. He had stayed under the radar, only making minor ripples. No overpowered displays, no major deviation in the timeline.

I haven't done anything that warrants this level of alert… right?

Kairos pulled the phone back from Caspian's hand with an annoyed flick. "You could've just asked."

He began typing quickly, muttering, "Wait, wait… let's check the Union Board Newsfeed—ah, here it is."

He turned the screen toward Caspian. "This is why they shut everything down."

A headline gleamed at the top of a sleek, dark-themed app interface.

---

[BREAKING]

Maximum-Security Prison Breach on Ruined Continent

Codename: KISMET Confirmed Missing.

Last seen: 02:41 AM, Cell 0-A, South Complex.

Union Authority suspects internal sabotage.

Containment Status: Red-Level Threat.

---

Caspian's mind went blank for a heartbeat.

"…Kismet?" he whispered.

Ruined Continent. That place wasn't just isolated—it was dead. A land swallowed by its own history, locked away from the rest of the world, a natural prison more than a territory.

"Wait, wait…" Caspian murmured, eyebrows tightening. "He escaped… from there?"

"Yeah. The article says even SS+ ranked officers failed to stop him. It's chaos out there." Kairos shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Dude broke through a gate that hadn't been opened in fifty years."

"That's…" Caspian couldn't finish the sentence.

Even SSS-ranked powerhouses were said to avoid going near the inner zones of the Ruined Continent. If someone escaped from that kind of cage... what kind of monster were they keeping there?

"And who the hell is Kismet?"

Caspian's voice cut through the silence.

He turned the question over in his head again and again. The name didn't exist in any chapter he remembered. Not in the background characters. Not in the villain line-up. Not even in the obscure world-building notes that had obsessed him for years before he'd been dragged into this world.

"I never heard that name before," Caspian muttered under his breath.

"You're right," Kairos replied, still staring at his phone. "If someone this dangerous existed… someone capable of breaking out of the Ruined Continent's prison, there would've been records. Rumors. Folk tales. Something."

He tapped rapidly on the screen, searching newsfeeds, history archives, bounty networks. Nothing.

"Look," he turned the phone around.

The screen simply said:

'No relevant matches found for: Kismet'

Not even a footnote. Not even a pseudonym.

It was as if the name had been deliberately erased from history.

Caspian's brow furrowed, unease blooming in his chest.

Someone like that shouldn't be nameless.

.....

{Somewhere in Arcwright Duchy}

Nightfall. Rain.

Tap. Tap.

Raindrops kissed the tall windows of the ancient stone manor.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bootsteps echoed down the marble hallway—steady,The library wing lay ahead, long abandoned this late at night. The world outside was soaked in darkness.

The figure walked alone, the long hem of his coat damp from the rain.

He passed through the vast library entrance, its heavy oak doors creaking faintly.

But the figure didn't stop at the shelves.

He climbed the narrow spiral staircase tucked into the corner—up to the third floor. The topmost level. The private wing of the Arcwright archive.

It was darker here. Less touched. Lit only by the flickering small light along the stone walls and the cold silver sheen of moonlight bleeding through the open balcony doors.

And there—outside, seated on a reclining wooden chair—was a man.

White hair. Grey eyes that caught the moonlight like mirrors. His posture was relaxed, one leg over the other, arms folded behind his head. Rain misted his shoulders, but he didn't move.

Alaric Arcwright stepped into view and raised a mage-torch. Its soft light flickered to life, casting long shadows across the balcony.

"You're here," the seated man said, as if continuing a conversation that had never started.

Alaric's brows narrowed.

"I was just passing by," the man continues lazily. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything. I needed a quiet place to think."

He slowly sat upright in the chair, brushing a hand through his damp white hair.

"I'll be borrowing a few books. Third Epoch history. Specifically Arcwright-era materials," he said, as casually as someone asking for tea. "Since your family once sat on the old thrones, I figured your private archives would be… more honest."

Alaric's hand gripped the hilt of the ceremonial sword at his waist. His jaw clenched.

"Who the fuck are you to sit there and spout such nonsense?"

The man turned toward him fully now, eyes pale and strangely calm.

"Kismet," Alaric spat.

The man smiled faintly.

"So you do know me."

The tension in the air was a blade. Even the rain seemed to pause.

"I'm not in the mood to fight tonight," he said quietly.

And then—like a breath in fog—he vanished.

...

(POV: Kismet)

The wind stung his face as he soared above the Arcwright estate, cutting through the rain.

Below him, the sprawling mansion glittered faintly with lanternlight and magical wards—pale blue barriers rippling against the black sky, unaware that their intruder had already come and gone.

In his arms, three heavy books rested—bound in age-stiffened leather, their spines etched with ancient silver lettering.

"3rd Epoch—Royal History of the Union. Arcwright Archives. Unedited."

He smirked beneath his soaked cloak, droplets sliding down his pale hair and dripping from his chin.

It's great that I had enough mana reserved for this escape technique, Kismet thought, adjusting his grip on the books as he rose higher into the storm.

Didn't expect Alaric Arcwright to sense me. Guess I underestimated the old bastard.

A flash of lightning split the clouds above, illuminating the full stretch of the Arcwright estate—the marble towers, the vast rose gardens below, the curved wings of their private library. It looked like something carved from ancient myth, untouched by time.

The wind shifted. He angled his body to ride it eastward, toward the ridgeline. His eyes, grey, fixed on the horizon—past the rain, past the flicker of city lights.

I'll work through these later, he thought, glancing at the tomes. There's something else I need to do first.

His expression hardened, the playful air gone in an instant.

The Academic Order.

A faint glow pulsed under his skin—residual traces of his mana still stabilizing from the short-range teleport technique he'd used moments before. It left a dull ache in his bones.

His eyes flickered once more in the direction of the Arcwright mansion. The balcony where Alaric had stood was empty now, but he knew the man would be watching.

Good.

I need him to be this powerful.

He tightened the strap across his shoulder, securing the books, and vanished into the rain.