The symbols stuck at the edge of Clayton's mind like a dream half-forgotten.
He sat alone in his dorm room, hunched over a spread of rune diagrams, old faction charts, and card border sketches he'd drawn from memory. A small arcane lamp hovered over his desk, shedding soft gold light—but it didn't help.
That broken sun in green wax.
He had seen it before. Or maybe not.
Was it from Arcane Gambit?
Or just one of the thousand novels I read before waking up here?
His fingers tightened around a worn quill as he frowned at the parchment. The problem wasn't that the sigil was complex—it was simple. Elegant. Which made it worse. Half the secret tribes and lost orders in fiction loved subtle marks. But in a world like this, where real factions used symbols to encode history, lineage, or magical affinity... everything blurred together.
People really are corny here; everyone wants to be an ulluminati ripoff, secretive my ass. if you really want to be secret, why use a symbol at all to have recognition? It's just demanding attention. When I make my secret group, I will not use a symbol at all
The Arcane Gambit.
A world of balance mechanics, arcane politics, subtle traps, and layered betrayals.
And now he was stuck chasing sigils.
Still, he wasn't completely lost.
He eyed the sketches again.
The broken sun with inward-curving rays—like a collapsed eclipse—didn't match any known faction emblems in the academy: not the Iron Ring's jagged flame, not the Pioneer Tower's open eye, not the Rose Pact's blooming seal, nor the Black Veil's ink-splatter mask.
But the negative space—the part Eric pointed out—that was familiar.
A hidden weave embedded in the design. That weave structure looked like a support rune used in memory magic. Or maybe perception shielding. It was faint, like a whisper layered into noise.
Whoever made this wanted their symbol to say nothing and everything.
He didn't have solid evidence yet. But he had guesses.
Private collectors. Rogue branches of the Rose Pact. A forgotten sect from the east.
Maybe even a faction that wasn't part of the current five. The world was broader than the academy liked to admit.
He scribbled a few more notes, then eventually let the tension slide from his shoulders. If he stared at it any longer, he'd start seeing conspiracies in the tea leaves.
He needed sleep.
—
The next morning, Clayton woke early.
His dreams had been quiet for once. No looming suns, no cards whispering from across the veil.
He threw on his training gear and stepped into the practice yard just as the sky began to lighten. A few Novices were already stretching, and a group from the Iron Ring were sparring with echo illusions on the eastern side.
Clayton moved to a quiet corner and began his drills.
Nothing flashy. Just rhythm and flow.
Step. Draw. Cast. Recenter.
He cycled through basic maneuvers with his stimulus deck—controlled bursts of Arcane Projection followed by defensive reflexes. As his breathing steadied, he felt that familiar click in his focus. The smooth hum of patterns aligning.
"One thing at a time," he reminded himself. Control what I can.
By the time he was done, sweat clung to his collar and the sun had risen fully.
His first class of the day was Deck Analysis and Reconstruction. Predictably, half the class was yawning, the other half still trying to memorize last week's rune shift patterns. But Clayton felt sharper now, and when he entered the hall, a familiar voice greeted him.
"Well, look who's finally decided to be punctual," Lily said, sliding into step beside him.
Clayton arched a brow. "I've been here early all week."
"Early by your standards is ten seconds before the bell," she teased. "That barely counts."
He rolled his eyes. "Some of us were training. You know, trying not to die during the next surprise duel."
"Or plotting in secret mirror rooms," she added innocently.
Clayton paused. "What?"
"Oh, please." She smirked. "I saw you disappear with Asher and Eric yesterday. You three walked off like some secret faction council. Very subtle."
"You, Asher, and Eric disappearing together during class hours, then looking more grim than usual the next day? Come on, Clay. Even Cynthia noticed. And she's busy being perfect in three different electives."
"Right," he muttered. "Because it's totally normal to form a conspiracy triangle in our second month."
She laughed. "So you admit it's a conspiracy."
Clayton gave her a flat look. "We were just—"
"Let me guess: talking about rune curves and study schedules?"
"Exactly."
She snorted. "You're a terrible liar, Clay. Seriously. What's going on with you three? You've been orbiting each other for days now. And don't pretend it's nothing, because even Cynthia noticed."
Clayton hesitated. For a moment, he debated brushing her off. But Lily wasn't stupid. And more importantly, she was sharp with factional history and rune lore—areas where he was still weak.
Clayton decided to play bold; if Lily is involved with it, she will definitely be a bit flustered and make a mistake
So he decided to take a step.
"A symbol showed up," he said carefully. "On something Asher received. Eric tracked it. And I've seen it before… or I think I have."
Lily's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression shifting. "What kind of symbol?"
He pulled a folded parchment from his sleeve and handed it to her.
She studied it in silence.
"…It's faint," she murmured. "But… yeah. That negative space—there's a weave hidden in it."
"You see it too?"
She nodded slowly. "Memory resonance. Or something similar. This design… it's not standard. Not taught in any curriculum. But I think I've seen it in one of Professor Rhysenne's old lectures about lost glyph traditions."
Clayton leaned in. "Lost traditions?"
"Yeah. Pre-Gambit era. Before the factions unified their systems. There were dozens of micro-sects back then—some lasted only a few years. One was rumored to use 'reversal sigils'—designs that looked incomplete until seen from a mirrored angle."
Clayton blinked.
Mirrored angle?
Like... a Mirror Room?
"You're kidding."
"I'm not," Lily said. "They called themselves The Hollow Circle—but the records are fragmented. Most of their members went mad or vanished."
"And you're telling me that this," he pointed to the sigil, "looks like one of theirs?"
"I'm saying it might be."
Clayton exhaled slowly. "Lily… if I gave you more details, would you help us look into it?"
She gave him a long look.
Then smiled.
"You had me at secret sigils and rogue factions."