The library's atmosphere was thick with the scent of old parchment and the low, rhythmic hum of the mana-lamps. Lucas moved through the familiar, shadowed aisles of the Beast Taxonomy section. He found Valorie exactly where he had left her—slumped over a desk, her glasses slipping down her nose as she pored over a scroll regarding ancient feline bone densities.
She didn't look up at first. "The archives are closed, student. Come back when the sun is up."
"I was hoping for a more personal consultation," Lucas said softly.
Valorie froze. She pushed her spectacles up and squinted into the gloom. When her eyes landed on Lucas, her expression shifted from annoyance to a frantic, whispered shock. "Lucas? You're alive? The rumors from the trenches said—"
She stopped mid-sentence. Her gaze dropped to the creature sitting at Lucas's heel.
Moxie stepped into the pool of light. Her fur, once the dull white of a common stray, now shone with an iridescent, pearlescent sheen. Her twin tails swayed behind her in a rhythmic, hypnotic dance, and her violet eyes glowed with a terrifyingly sharp intelligence.
Valorie's breath hitched. She scrambled backward, knocking over a stack of books. "By the Ancestors... a Twin-Tailed Spectral Fox? No... the bone structure is too feline. Lucas, did you find a Nine-Tailed Phantasm cub in the deep mountains? The aura... it's unmistakably General-level."
She moved closer, her fingers trembling as she reached out to examine the air around Moxie. "The dual-tail mutation... it's a sign of a high-tier bloodline awakening. If this creature grows more tails, it could reach the Commander rank. How did a boy like you manage to contract a beast of the Fox-Lord lineage?"
Lucas let out a short, dry laugh. "Valorie, look closer. Don't look at the tails. Look at the ears. Look at the way she sits."
Valorie frowned, adjusting her glasses. She leaned in, her nose inches from Moxie's snout. She looked at the specific curve of the jaw and the way the mana flowed through the creature's veins. Her eyes went wide. Her hands flew to her mouth.
"No," she whispered. "The mana signature is identical to... but that's impossible. Wisdom Felines are trash-tier by design. They don't evolve; they just grow larger until they die."
"This is Moxie," Lucas said firmly. "The same one you told me was buried in the dust of history."
"Impossible!" Valorie hissed, her voice cracking. She began pacing the small alcove, pulling her hair. "Logic dictates that a Bronze-tier core cannot support Silver-rank evolution! If the Academy hears that a Wisdom Feline evolved into a Silver-rank Sphinx-variant, they won't just study her—they'll dissect her. They'll dissect you to find out how your soul Pagoda survived the feedback."
She grabbed a blank scroll and began scribbling frantically. "From this moment on, she is a Bifurcated Phantasm Cat, a rare descendant of the Nine-Tailed Fox lineage. It explains the tails, the psychic aura, and the Silver-rank power. People will be jealous of a Fox-descendant, but they won't be suspicious. A Fox-descendant is a lucky find. A Wisdom Feline evolution is a world-altering anomaly."
"And the other one?" Valorie asked, her eyes darting to a small, white snake coiled around Lucas's wrist.
Nyxia had reverted to her beast form—a slender, snow-white serpent with scales that shimmered like crushed diamonds. Her violet eyes watched Valorie with a cold, draconic depth. Lucas had already discovered that Nyxia could shift into a humanoid form—a "Demi-human" existence that the Sanctuary's current history didn't even have a name for. Fearing the chaos that such a revelation would cause, he had ordered her to stay in her snake form.
"Just a Frost-Vein Serpent I found near the river," Lucas lied smoothly. "She's quiet. Mostly stays in the Grimoire."
Valorie poked at the snake, but Nyxia let out a tiny, icy hiss that frosted the table. Valorie jumped back. "Fierce thing. Keep her tucked away for now. Focus on the 'Fox' descendant. It's your ticket in."
The plaza of the Aetheria Grand Academy was a sprawling sea of marble and ambition. Under the scorching midday sun, thousands of hopefuls stood in rigid lines, their nervous energy thick enough to taste. This wasn't just an enrollment; it was a public display of the province's future power.
High above on the Plaza, three massive, obsidian pillars—the Mirrors of Truth—loomed over the crowd. Each time a student stepped forward, the mirrors would pulse with light, projecting the color of their Grimoire and the silhouette of their primary beast into the sky for everyone to see.
For hours, the sky had been stained with a monotonous, flickering yellow.
"Another Yellow," the proctor's voice boomed, weary and unimpressed. "Proceed to the secondary line."
The crowd murmured. In any other year, a batch of Yellow-tier holders would be celebrated, but today, the air felt different.
It felt like the calm before a storm.
The silence was shattered when the first pillar erupted into a pillar of brilliant, sapphire light. The sky turned a deep, resonant blue.
"Blue Grimoire!" the proctor shouted, her voice finally losing its boredom.
From the front of the leftmost line, a girl stepped forward with a serene, regal gait. She wore the jade-and-gold silks of the Everbloom Clan, the city's undisputed masters of flora. Behind her, a Verdant Thorn-Crowned Dryad drifted, its body woven from ancient vines and glowing emerald sap.
"Elara Everbloom," the proctor announced, her eyes wide. "Beast: Ancient Dryad. Silver Rank, Level 2. Primary Class: Weaver."
The plaza erupted in cheers. The Everbloom genius had set the bar. But the blue light in the sky hadn't even begun to fade when the second pillar roared into life, casting another sapphire glow that clashed with the first.
A boy with sharp, predatory features and a cloak made of iridescent feathers stepped up. He bore the crest of the Sky-Rupture Clan, the lords of the avian beasts.
"Kaelen Sky-Rupture," the booming voice continued. "Blue Grimoire. Beast: Storm-Winged Peregrine. Silver Rank, Level 3. Primary Class: Reaper."
The two geniuses stood on the high plaza, looking down at the commoners like gods among men. The tension between the plant-based Weaver and the avian Reaper was palpable—a silent declaration that this year, the Academy belonged to the Major Clans.
Then, Lucas stepped forward.
He moved with a quiet, shadowed intensity that drew eyes not for his status, but for his lack of it. His clothes were plain, his face partially obscured by a traveler's hood. When he reached the center pillar, the students from the Everbloom and Sky-Rupture entourages began to jeer.
"A commoner in the genius line?" Kaelen sneered from above. "Move to the yellow gate, boy. Don't waste the proctor's—"
The mirror didn't just pulse; it thrummed.
A third pillar of blue light shot into the sky, deeper and more piercing than the other two. It cut through the clashing lights of Elara and Kaelen, claiming the center of the horizon.
The plaza went deathly silent. Three Blue-tier holders in a single batch was a phenomenon that occurred once a century.
The proctor, a stern woman with a hawk-like familiar, gripped her ledger so hard her knuckles turned white. "Another... another Blue Grimoire," she stammered. "Name?"
"Lucas," he replied, his voice a calm blade that sliced through the shock.
"And your beast?"
Lucas tapped the cover of his book. From the shadows of his cloak, Moxie stepped out. She didn't growl; she simply stood there, her two tails swishing in a mesmerizing, rhythmic arc. Her violet eyes scanned the crowd, her psychic aura rippling outward like a physical weight.
"Species: Bifurcated Phantasm," Lucas announced, keeping his voice steady despite the dragon-soul of Nyxia burning like a cold star inside his Grimoire. "General-level bloodline. Silver Rank, Level 1."
The proctor's hawk familiar let out a terrified screech, ruffling its feathers and hiding behind its master's head. The proctor stared at Moxie, then at the mirror, which was struggling to calculate the psychic depth of the "fox" variant.
"A Fox-descendant..." the proctor whispered, her hand trembling as she took the golden seal. "Rare... dangerously rare."
She slammed the seal onto his papers, the sound echoing in the silent plaza. "Proceed to the Gloom-Weave Forest for the survival trial. And may the Ancestors have mercy on anyone who crosses your path."
Lucas turned, feeling the burning glares of Elara and Kaelen. They were no longer the only gods on the plaza. As he walked toward the forest gates, the white snake coiled around his wrist under his sleeve tightened its grip—a silent promise of the Mythical power he was still holding back.
The two clan geniuses had their status, but Lucas had something they didn't: vengeance.