The cssroom air was thick with the scent of cheap ink and eraser dust, but to Rynn, it reeked of something worse—boredom. The droning voice of Professor Thaddeus Grayfur, a grizzled Bearkin, dragged on, each sylble grating against Rynn's heightened senses. The ticking of the clock seemed deliberately slow, stretching every second into an eternity. Rynn leaned back, his sapphire eyes half-lidded as he tapped his fingers against the desk, his sheepkin ears flicking at the incessant clicking of a nearby student’s pen.

  Annoyances. Small, insignificant, but they piled up like kindling waiting for a spark.

  Then it happened. The teacher called on him.

  “Rynn, would you care to enlighten us with the answer?” Professor Grayfur’s condescending tone was unbearable.

  Rynn’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t been paying attention, and they both knew it. The room fell silent, eyes locking onto him like predators circling a wounded animal. He could hear whispers—some amused, some mocking. He could feel the weight of their stares, the expectation of failure. A flicker of psionic energy rippled through his fingertips, barely restrained.

  “Rynn,” Professor Grayfur repeated, adjusting his spectacles, “expin the alchemic ritual that uses runic inscriptions.”

  Humiliation.

  The pressure of unspoken judgment coiled in his gut, twisting into something votile. A smirk tugged at his lips, but it was forced, a defense mechanism. “Why don’t you answer it, Teach? You’re the one getting paid.”

  Scattered ughter. A few gasps. The teacher’s expression darkened, but Rynn barely registered it. The heat in his chest was rising. Then came the final straw—a snicker from the seat behind him.

  “You really are just a mutt, huh?” It was **Zack Thorncw**, a Ratkin with a penchant for provocation.

  Provocation.

  Rynn froze. The room around him seemed to blur as a deep, throbbing pulse echoed in his ears. His cws dug into the desk, the wood creaking beneath the pressure. His breathing slowed, but each inhale felt heavier, deeper. His Rage Meter was filling, an instinctual warning system fshing red in his mind.

  He could see it—his vision darkening at the edges, an ethereal crack forming in his perception of reality. Shadows around him flickered unnaturally, drawn to him like moths to a fme. His fingers twitched, the psionic energy barely contained beneath his skin. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white.

  Tick. Tick.

  The meter hit max.

  Detonation.

  A sudden surge of psionic force burst outward from Rynn’s body, rattling desks and sending a chilling wave through the room. The air around him warped, a tangible distortion in reality itself. His eyes flickered—sapphire irises turning to an unnatural glow of deep violet.

  Shadows pooled at his feet, writhing like living tendrils. The fluorescent lights above dimmed as if afraid to shine too brightly in his presence. Gasps filled the air. Chairs scraped against the floor as students instinctively backed away. Even Professor Grayfur stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

  “Rynn…” The teacher’s voice was hesitant now, the authority stripped away by something primal. Fear.

  Rynn exhaled slowly, the sound carrying a guttural edge. His Shadow Self whispered in his mind, a voice slick with malice and amusement.

  Why hold back?

  The temptation to sh out was overwhelming, but before he could act, reality fractured.

  The cssroom twisted. The walls stretched and distorted, the ceiling seeming miles away. The floor cracked open into an abyss, bck tendrils creeping from its depths. The students were gone—no, not gone. They had become silhouettes, hollow versions of themselves, their faces indistinct smudges of gray.

  Rynn knew this pce.

  The Spirit World.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Emerging from the darkness was a monstrous figure—a being woven from shadows, its form shifting between familiar and grotesque. It had his shape, his movements, but its eyes were endless voids, staring into him. It smiled, jagged and unnatural.

  “You can’t fight me,” it taunted. “I am you.”

  Rynn’s heart pounded, but fear wasn’t what he felt. No, this was something else. Recognition. He had been here before, in nightmares that never truly felt like dreams. He took a step forward, the shadows curling around his feet like welcoming hands. His pulse steadied. His breathing evened.

  Not today.

  A fierce howl split the air.

  From the fractured sky above, a beast descended—a blur of silver fur and luminous, piercing eyes. Rynn’s Spirit Beast.

  The Wolf nded beside him, its form radiating an ethereal glow. Its presence was grounding, its aura cshing against the darkness trying to consume him. It was his anchor, his reminder that he wasn’t just rage and destruction—he was control.

  The Shadow lunged, and the battle began.

  Blows exchanged, each impact shaking the distorted remains of the cssroom. The Shadow struck with overwhelming force, but Rynn countered, his movements sharpened by the Wolf’s presence. Every punch, every ssh, every burst of psionic energy was calcuted. He wasn’t just reacting—he was dominating.

  The Shadow faltered. Rynn seized the moment.

  A final strike, guided by his Spirit Beast’s howl, tore through the darkness. The Shadow’s form cracked, splintering into wisps of nothingness. The Spirit World trembled before shattering like gss.

  And just like that, he was back.

  The cssroom remained eerily silent. The desks were still in disarray, students pressed against the walls, eyes wide with terror. The air was thick with tension, the echoes of something otherworldly still lingering.

  And in Rynn’s hand, a new weight.

  He gnced down.

  The Wolf was gone, but in its pce, resting against his palm, were Moonfang Cws—jagged, silver-edged weapons pulsing with psionic energy. His breath hitched. This was new.

  He flexed his fingers, feeling the cws respond like an extension of himself.

  The cssroom would never look at him the same way again.

  Rynn smirked, his confidence returning in full force. He wasn’t just some outcast anymore.

  He was something more.

  ---

  Before Rynn could bask in his newfound power, Professor Grayfur cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “Rynn, since you’re so eager to demonstrate your capabilities, why don’t you expin the difference between alchemic runic enchantments and blood infusions?”

  Rynn’s smirk widened. “Gdly.”

  He stood, the Moonfang Cws vanishing into wisps of psionic energy as he walked to the front of the cssroom. “Alchemy, as we know, is the art of transformation. Runic enchantments involve inscribing runes with specific alchemic symbols onto an object to enhance its properties. This method, while effective, is not always the most efficient.”

  Professor Grayfur raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

  “Because it’s a static enhancement,” Rynn continued. “The runes must be meticulously inscribed, and their effects are limited to the properties of the symbols used. On the other hand, blood infusions involve combining alchemic principles with the user’s own life force, creating a dynamic enhancement that can adapt and grow with the user.”

  He turned to the css, his eyes gleaming. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

  ---

  Rynn turned to Teris, Aelor, and Eva, his trusted allies in the student council. “I’m going to need your help for this.”

  Professor Grayfur nodded. “You may use anything avaible in the cssroom for the remainder of the time.”

  Teris stepped forward, his Catkin ears twitching with curiosity. “What do you need us to do?”

  Rynn smiled. “We’re going to perform a basic alchemic runic enchantment and compare it to a blood infusion.”

  Aelor’s antlers gleamed as he nodded. “I’ll prepare the runes.”

  Eva’s cerulean eyes sparkled with excitement. “And I’ll gather the materials for the infusion.”

  They quickly set to work. Aelor meticulously inscribed the runes onto a metal gauntlet, his movements precise and measured. Teris prepared the alchemic reagents, his focus unwavering. Eva mixed the infusion materials, her hands deftly handling the delicate components.

  Rynn guided them through the process, expining each step in great detail. “For the runic enchantment, we use symbols that represent strength, durability, and agility. The alchemic reagents enhance these properties, creating a static boost to the gauntlet’s capabilities.”

  He gestured to the gauntlet, now glowing faintly with the power of the runes. “This is the result—a powerful, but ultimately limited enhancement.”

  Next, Rynn turned to the infusion materials. “Now, for the blood infusion. By combining the alchemic principles with my own life force, we create a living enhancement that can adapt and grow.”

  He carefully performed the infusion, the mixture glowing with a vibrant energy as it merged with his blood. The gauntlet pulsed with power, the runes shifting and changing as they absorbed the life force.

  “This,” Rynn said, his voice resonant, “is the difference. The blood infusion creates a dynamic, evolving enhancement that grows with the user’s own capabilities. It’s a symbiotic process that merges alchemy with the user’s life force.”

  He held up the gauntlet, now pulsing with a vibrant, almost living energy. The runes on its surface glowed and shifted, adapting to the slightest movements of his hand.

  Professor Grayfur watched with a mixture of curiosity and begrudging respect. “An impressive demonstration, Rynn. But can you expin the underlying principles for the css?”

  Rynn nodded, turning back to his peers. “Runic inscriptions rely on the precise alignment of alchemic symbols, which are then activated by specific reagents. This creates a fixed, predictable outcome, which can be powerful but cks flexibility.”

  He pointed to the gauntlet. “In this case, the runes for strength, durability, and agility are inscribed with alchemic ink, and activated with a combination of reagents designed to enhance these specific traits.”

  “However,” he continued, gesturing to the blood-infused gauntlet, “blood infusions go a step further. By merging the alchemic mixture with the user’s life force, the enhancement becomes part of the user, adapting and evolving over time. This method allows for greater flexibility and growth, but also comes with increased risk, as the user’s own vitality is tied to the enchantment.”

  The css watched in awe as Rynn flexed his hand, the gauntlet responding with a fluid grace, the runes shifting and glowing in perfect harmony with his movements.

  Eva stepped forward, her cerulean eyes wide with fascination. “It’s like the gauntlet is alive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Rynn smiled, nodding. “In a way, it is. The blood infusion creates a bond between the user and the object, making it an extension of the user’s own abilities.”

  Aelor’s antlers glowed faintly as he studied the gauntlet. “It’s a remarkable process, but it must be incredibly draining. How do you maintain the bance between the enhancement and your own vitality?”

  Rynn’s expression grew more serious. “That’s the challenge. It requires constant focus and control. The bond can strengthen both the user and the object, but if the bance is disrupted, it can have severe consequences.”

  Professor Grayfur nodded, his fur bristling with approval. “An excellent expnation, Rynn. You’ve shown not only a deep understanding of the principles but also an impressive practical application. Css dismissed.”

  ---

  Rynn felt a strange shift within him. He gnced at his status and found his css had changed to Juggernaut/Psionic Spirit Guide: Moonfang Cws. This was unexpected, but it expined the newfound abilities coursing through him.

  Outside the cssroom, Teris, Eva, and Aelor were waiting, their faces etched with concern.

  “Rynn, what was all that glowing about?” Teris asked, his Catkin ears twitching. “Were you about to lose it? Was it another Gnaw Kin Craze episode?”

  Rynn brushed them off with a fmboyant wave of his hand, summoning the Moonfang Cws for dramatic effect. “Rex, everyone. No more rage fits. My css is now Juggernaut, see?”

  Teris’s eyes widened. “Changing one’s css more than once in a year is unheard of!”

  Rynn shrugged, his smirk never faltering. “It’s true. I don’t feel the rage anymore. You have no idea how heavy that burden was.”

  The academy bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Students began to disperse, their conversations buzzing with excitement and curiosity. Rynn knew he had one more task to complete—talking to his father about Aria’s disappearance.

  ---

  Rynn made his way to the Twilight Concve Citadel, an imposing structure of dark stone and arcane runes. The citadel loomed over the city, its presence a constant reminder of the Concve’s power. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense and the murmurs of ancient rituals.

  He found his father, Baelor Yogini, in the midst of a ritual, baptizing newly acquired acolytes in alchemic blood. The acolytes, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and reverence, stood in a circle around a glowing altar.

  Baelor’s eyes narrowed as he noticed his son's urgent approach. Recognizing the urgency in Rynn's demeanor, he decided to pass the task of holding the ritual to one of his more devout followers, a stoic Bearkin named Jorn.

  “What is it, Rynn?” Baelor asked, his voice a deep rumble.

  “It’s Aria. Everyone has forgotten her. It’s like she never existed,” Rynn replied, his frustration evident.

  Baelor frowned, taking out what appeared to be a pill and swallowing it. He murmured an incantation, his eyes glowing briefly. “Slippery Hex,” he muttered. “A witch coven must be involved.”

  “A witch coven?” Rynn echoed, his sapphire eyes narrowing.

  Baelor nodded. “Such mass amnesia can only be the result of powerful magic. I will investigate this and let you know what I find.”

  Rynn nodded, his determination renewed. “Thanks, Father.”

  Baelor pced a heavy hand on Rynn’s shoulder. “The path you tread is fraught with danger.”

  Rynn smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Danger is my middle name.”

  --