[System Record: Atmospheric Log] Location: The Stratosphere (Above Neutral Land – Near Western Border) Time: 16:50 PM (The Violet Night) Date: Year 61, March 94th Status: Observation Mode

  The world did not sleep. It merely held its breath.

  High above the clouds, where the air was thin enough to freeze oxygen in the lungs, the Nullity Ship hovered. It was not a vessel of metal and rivets; it was a scar on the sky—a needle of absolute, reflective chrome that refused to obey the laws of aerodynamics.

  Inside, there were no buttons. No levers. No mana.

  Observer X-9 stood before the viewing pane. He did not wear robes of silk or armour of light. He wore a pristine, white environmental suit that hissed softly, recycling his own exhaled carbon dioxide into sterile air.

  He looked down at the planet below.

  Aethalgard was not a world of magic and wonder. It was merely a petri dish.

  "Subject 77-Beta," X-9 stated. His voice was not spoken; it was transmitted via sub-vocal vibration directly into the ship's neural network. "Status."

  [Analysis: The Cage] [Mana Density: High (Toxic)] [Logic Stability: 42% (Critical Failure)] [Anomaly Detected: Sector 98]

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  "The Anomaly," X-9 noted, his black glass visor reflecting the violet glow of the planet's rings. "The 'Glitch'."

  On the holographic display—a construct of hard-light physics, not magic—a replay was looping.

  It showed Lack Flameheart. It showed the punch. It showed the Vibration.

  "Primitive," X-9 whispered. "He strikes matter to disrupt waves. He uses kinetic energy to cancel thermal output. It is... crude."

  "But effective," a second voice vibrated.

  Observer Y-1 walked into the bridge. She carried a datapad that looked like a sheet of glass. "The Councilman—Subject Aamon—was a Tier 4 Energy Manipulator. And yet, he was defeated by... gravity."

  "Gravity is a constant," X-9 corrected. "Magic is a variable. The variable failed."

  He tapped the glass. The image of Lack Flameheart zoomed in.

  "The Subject is not using Mana," X-9 analysed. "He is using Physics. He is playing by Our rules."

  "Then we should delete him," Y-1 suggested, her tone devoid of malice, purely efficient. "Sanitation Protocol."

  "No."

  X-9 turned back to the window. The Violet Night was ending. The True Dawn was breaking, painting the horizon in hues of grey and pale steel.

  "The Architect sent us for a reason. The 'Creator' wants a test."

  X-9 touched the console. A new marker appeared on the planetary map. It wasn't over the University. It wasn't over the Wall.

  It was over the Neutral Zone.

  "Deploy the Beacons," X-9 ordered. "Let us see if the Glitch can survive a System Update."

  [Command Accepted] [Deploying: The Monoliths]

  Beneath the ship, a bay door opened silently.

  Three massive, rectangular pillars of black metal dropped into the atmosphere. They didn't burn up on re-entry. They didn't slow down.

  They fell like hammers of judgment.

  [Target: The Integration Camp] [Objective: Stress Test]

  The monoliths plummeted through the atmosphere.

  "Welcome to Semester Two, Lieutenant Flameheart," the Alien whispered. "Let us see whose Logic breaks first."

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