They told her Caelum was dangerous.
From the moment he stepped into Class B-1, eyes half-lidded, tone sharper than steel, Sylva Ren was instructed to observe him, assist him… and contain him, if necessary.
But no one said what to do when he changed the world.
And no one told her what to feel when she liked it.
The courtyard clock struck dusk.
Sylva perched on a railing outside the upper library, boots resting on a horizontal beam, dagger balanced on her knee. Students passed below her—normal students, laughing about mana theory, potion failures, elemental duels.
She didn't belong with them.
Neither did Caelum.
But he was rewriting the system.
And she was letting him.
[System Subprocess: Sylva Ren – Role: Supporting Heroine]Primary Alignment: Lawful AdaptiveBehavioral Drift Detected: +9.2% Toward Variable AlignmentWarning: Interference from external entity "Caelum Veritas" detected.Recommended Action: Reinforce Loyalty to Central Narrative.
She ignored the system prompt.
Let it scream.
It always did when she began to think for herself.
In the main hall, she passed Professor Varin, who eyed her with his usual mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
"He's changing things, isn't he?" the old mage said, leaning on his cane.
Sylva didn't slow. "You already know the answer."
Varin gave a gruff snort. "I knew the moment he started asking about inversion glyphs. He's not just a student."
"No. He's not."
Varin's voice dropped. "And what are you?"
Sylva paused.
"I used to think I was the story's sword," she said softly.
"Now I'm not sure I'm not the target."
That night, she watched Caelum from the balcony of their shared wing. He sat in the center of a candlelit circle, eyes closed, threads of dark script swirling around his fingers like shadows in orbit.
It wasn't magic.
It was rewriting.
Every night he altered something. The shape of a minor character. The rules of a duel. The foundational truth of a spell. He no longer asked for permission.
He imposed.
And yet… Sylva didn't feel fear.
She felt relief.
Finally, someone was doing what needed to be done.
But relief wasn't the same as trust.
So she tested him.
"I want to challenge you," she said the next morning, standing before Caelum's desk in the sparsely attended Theory of Truth class.
He blinked. "Challenge me?"
"A duel. In the East Arena. One hour."
His eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because you need to be reminded that not everyone is your pawn."
He tilted his head, amused. "You think that's what I believe?"
"I know that's what you act like."
Caelum's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Alright, then. One hour."
The East Arena was a relic from an earlier narrative—wide, circular, bordered by wards meant to prevent death but not pain.
Spectators arrived quickly. Word spread even faster.
Sylva stood in the center, blades unsheathed, hair tied back.
Caelum entered without fanfare, coat fluttering like midnight ink.
System Notice:Non-lethal combat engaged. Duel parameters approved.Participants: Caelum Veritas vs. Sylva RenLive Spectator Count: 213Thread Pressure: 2.1% increaseEntropy Surge: Controlled
The match began.
And Sylva struck first.
She moved like a blade drawn in silence—fast, exact, uncompromising. Her twin daggers wove arcs of reflective steel around Caelum's shifting script.
But Caelum didn't block.
He didn't even chant.
He simply rewrote.
Each time her dagger should've met his skin, it found air.
Each time she turned to dodge, he was already beside her.
Sylva gritted her teeth. "Fight me properly."
He finally spoke.
"This is properly."
She threw a knife at his shadow—he caught it mid-spin and twisted it into dust.
Sylva activated her arcane tracer spell: Phantom Step: Triple Echo.
Three of her moved at once.
But Caelum reached forward, tapped the air, and whispered a single glyph:
Pause.
Time hiccuped.
And her clones vanished.
He stood before her.
"I'm not your enemy, Sylva."
She stared at him, breath heaving. "Then stop hiding behind scripts. Prove it."
Caelum hesitated.
Then he stepped back, dropped his hands, and let her strike.
Her blade sliced across his cheek. Blood welled up.
The system shrieked.
[System Emergency Flag – Forbidden Damage Type Detected]Narrative Host has sustained injury outside valid combat bounds.Query: Do you wish to enforce system correction?
Sylva didn't respond.
Neither did Caelum.
He simply wiped the blood away and said, "Now you understand."
She lowered her dagger. "You wanted me to hurt you."
"No," he said. "I wanted you to see that I could be hurt—and not break the world."
After the duel, she sat beside him beneath the hanging moons.
"Why do you keep going?"
He looked up.
"Because if I stop, I go back to being written."
She watched the stars for a long time.
Then asked, "What happens if I stop following the system?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
She already had.
[Narrative Alignment Update: Sylva Ren]Old Role: Supporting Heroine (Stabilizer)New Role: Rogue Companion (Variable Ally)Behavioral Override AcceptedPersonal Loyalty: 71% – Caelum Veritas
In the shadows of the wall, someone watched them.
A boy with silver-rimmed eyes.
Tarn. Listening. Processing.
And somewhere, far beneath the Academy's marble foundations, a second system thread stirred.
One that neither Caelum nor Sylva had written.
One that had no loyalty at all.