As the lecture concluded, the audience stirred with a mix of reactions. Some appeared dazed, blinking rapidly as they readjusted to ordinary perception after removing their headbands. Others whispered intensely to their neighbors, excitement or concern coloring their voices. A few—those who had declined to participate—watched the headband wearers with wary expressions.

  Nick remained seated, tracking Professor Harrington's movements on stage. The professor was engaged in animated conversation with two assistants, his expression tightly controlled but his gestures betraying frustration. Whatever outcome he had anticipated for tonight's demonstration, this wasn't it.

  The Arcadian System glyph pulsed gently in Nick's peripheral vision:

  [Mana signature analysis ongoing. Detecting multiple residual patterns. Recommend immediate withdrawal from the area.]

  Nick ignored the suggestion. Something felt unfinished—a tension in the room that hadn't dissipated with the end of the lecture. He glanced toward Professor Feldman, who had risen from her seat but lingered near the faculty section, her posture alert as she observed Harrington and his team dismantling equipment.

  A soft chime preceded the System's next alert:

  [Warning: Elevated mana fluctuations detected. Origin: northwest quadrant of auditorium. Unstable emotional signature identified: Subject 'Dawson'.]

  Nick's gaze snapped to the side exit where Officer Dawson stood. The security officer was no longer maintaining his professional detachment. His jaw was clenched, eyes fixed on Harrington with an intensity that radiated across the room. One hand remained inside his jacket, gripping something concealed within.

  As if sensing Nick's attention, Dawson's eyes briefly flicked toward him. Nick expected to see the same cold calculation he'd encountered before, but instead found something unexpected—a flash of raw anguish quickly masked by resolve.

  The System's warning intensified:

  [Threat assessment updated. Subject 'Dawson' exhibiting pre-combat indicators. Weapon signature detected. Threat escalation: imminent.]

  Nick half-rose from his seat, uncertain what to do. Around him, the audience continued their gradual exodus, faculty members lingering to speak with colleagues, students gathering their belongings. None seemed aware of the coiled tension emanating from the security officer.

  As Harrington's assistants began collecting the Neural Amplifier headbands, Dawson stepped away from the wall and began walking purposefully down the center aisle toward the stage. His movements were measured, deliberate—a stark contrast to the causal flow of departing attendees.

  The System flashed an urgent alert:

  [Combat potential elevated 87%. Calculating defensive options. Arcadian combat protocols partially accessible.]

  Nick's mana responded instinctively to the warning, flowing beneath his skin in preparation for whatever was about to happen. He edged toward the aisle, positioning himself to intervene if necessary, though he had no clear plan of what that intervention might entail.

  Several rows ahead, Professor Feldman had also noticed Dawson's approach. Her eyes narrowed, hand slipping into her pocket—reaching for what, Nick couldn't tell.

  The security officer was halfway to the stage when he suddenly stopped. In the momentary quiet between conversations, his voice carried throughout the auditorium with unexpected clarity:

  "My name is Jonathan Dawson. I am Subject 27 of the Resonant Cognition trials conducted at Callahan Industries' Zurich facility."

  The scattered conversations died instantly. Heads turned toward Dawson, confusion rippling through the remaining audience members. On stage, Harrington froze, the color draining from his face.

  "For three years," Dawson continued, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it, "I and thirty-two others were subjected to experimental neural interface procedures without proper consent or oversight."

  He took another step forward, and now everyone could see that he had removed his hand from his jacket, revealing a compact device attached to his palm—something that resembled a pistol but with strange blue-glowing modifications along its barrel.

  "Professor William Harrington is personally responsible for the deaths of seventeen subjects in that program," Dawson declared, raising the weapon. "The technology he demonstrated tonight is built on their suffering—and he knows exactly what it really does to human minds."

  Security personnel stationed near the stage moved toward Dawson, but too slowly, too late.

  "This is for Subjects 8 through 24 who didn't survive," Dawson shouted. "And for the truth about Callahan Industries!"

  Two shots rang out in rapid succession—precise, deliberate. The first struck Harrington squarely in the chest, sending him staggering backward. The second hit the control console behind him, the impact triggering an immediate cascade of electrical failures.

  The System exploded into full interface mode across Nick's vision:

  [EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ENGAGED]

  Without conscious thought, Nick found his mana surging outward, forming a protective field around himself and several nearby students. The shield shimmered into existence just as the control panel exploded in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.

  Chaos erupted instantaneously. The holographic displays shattered into fragments of light before winking out. The stage partially collapsed under Harrington's falling body. Emergency sirens wailed as fire suppression systems activated, spraying fine mist from ceiling nozzles.

  Most terrifying of all, students and faculty who still wore the Neural Amplifier headbands suddenly convulsed, some dropping to the ground, others clutching their heads in obvious agony as the technology's neural connection severed catastrophically.

  "Everyone out!" someone shouted, triggering a stampede toward the exits.

  Through the pandemonium, Nick saw Professor Feldman moving not away from the danger but toward the collapsed stage, pulling injured students to safety. There was no sign of Professor Ellis—he had vanished at the first shot.

  The System interface tracked multiple threats:

  [Primary threat: Subject 'Dawson' - currently stationary, weapon still active] [Secondary threat: Electrical fire spreading from control console] [Tertiary threat: Neural feedback affecting headband wearers] [Recommendation: Prioritize evacuation of civilian subjects]

  As security guards tackled Dawson to the ground, something unexpected happened. The massive projection screen behind the stage flickered, then displayed new content—clearly not part of the original presentation.

  The footage was clinical, horrifying in its sterile documentation: children and young adults connected to advanced machinery, electrodes attached to their shaved heads, expressions contorted in pain or blank with artificial sedation. Arcadian symbols—similar to those in Nick's interface—appeared on some of the monitoring equipment.

  Text overlays identified these as "Resonant Cognition Trials" with dates, subject numbers, and clinical observations. Many entries ended with the same notation: "Subject non-responsive. Trial terminated."

  The System confirmed what Nick was seeing:

  [Analyzing footage. Timestamp authentication: genuine. Subjects exhibiting early-stage mana pathway formation. Methodology consistent with prohibited forced attunement protocols.]

  As the auditorium continued to empty, many paused despite the danger, transfixed by the images. The footage shifted to show laboratory logs, experimental data, and most damning of all, correspondence bearing Callahan Industries letterhead and William Harrington's signature, detailing "acceptable casualty thresholds" in pursuit of "weaponizable resonance capabilities."

  Dawson had planned this—not just an assassination but a revelation. Even pinned to the floor by security, he was smiling through bloodied lips, watching his evidence play for all to see.

  Nick stood frozen in the chaos, confronted with an impossible choice. The exit was clear—he could escape now, meet with Maggie as planned, process what he'd just witnessed from safety. But dozens of headband wearers remained incapacitated, vulnerable in the evacuation. And Dawson—Dawson might have answers about Callahan, about the Arcadian System, about Nick himself.

  The System offered its analysis:

  [Assessment: Probability of secondary actors in vicinity: 72%. Recommend immediate extraction. Subject 'Dawson' likely monitored by multiple parties.]

  Nick made his decision. Moving against the flow of fleeing students, he approached a young woman who lay unconscious, her headband still glowing faintly. With careful movements, he removed the device and lifted her, carrying her toward the nearest exit where paramedics had begun to arrive.

  He turned back, repeating the process with two more students before the flow of evacuees thinned enough for him to focus on Dawson. The security officer was being dragged toward a side exit by campus police, his evidence still playing on the massive screen.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Throughout the auditorium, faculty members and students who hadn't worn headbands were doing the same—Professor Feldman directed a group of teaching assistants, methodically moving through rows to identify anyone still incapacitated. Even in crisis, the professor maintained her air of calm authority, though the strain showed in the tightness around her eyes.

  "Her first," Nick told a paramedic as he reached the exit with the unconscious student. "Neural device feedback. There are more inside."

  Nick had just set the young woman down on a stretcher when the System flashed an urgent alert:

  [CRITICAL DANGER: Weapon energy signature spiking. Immediate threat escalation!]

  He spun around just in time to see Dawson, still being restrained by two security guards, suddenly twist with unexpected strength. In one fluid motion, the security officer wrenched a sidearm from one of his captors.

  "For the subjects!" Dawson screamed, his voice cracking with emotion.

  Instead of aiming at people, he swung the weapon toward the experimental equipment at the back of the stage—the core of Harrington's neural interface system.

  The Arcadian System's interface expanded across Nick's vision:

  [Mana-resonant weapon targeting unstable energy core. Catastrophic reaction imminent!]

  "Everyone out now!" Nick shouted, but his warning came too late.

  Dawson fired repeatedly into the machines, each impact causing cascading sparks and flares of blue energy. The equipment began to emit a high-pitched whine that made Nick's teeth ache and his mana surge defensively.

  Too late.

  The air snapped like a wire stretched too far.

  Everything went white.

  [DANGER: Resonance cascade initiating. Protective protocols engaged. Brace for impact.]

  Nick had barely processed the warning when the back of the stage exploded in a devastating blast of blue-white energy.

  The shockwave tore through the auditorium, flinging bodies and debris in all directions. Nick witnessed Dawson and the security personnel nearest to him instantly engulfed in the initial fireball.

  The last thing Nick saw was a wall of energy rushing toward him before everything went dark.

  [System restoration initiated. Host neural patterns stabilizing. Physical damage assessment: moderate concussive trauma. Non-critical. Time elapsed since consciousness loss: 17 minutes, 43 seconds.]

  Nick's eyes fluttered open to a hazy, smoke-filled world. He was lying on grass outside the auditorium, his body aching in ways he couldn't immediately categorize.

  The Arcadian System's interface appeared more transparent than usual, as if conserving energy.

  [During unconsciousness: Emergency services responded. Current count: 7 deceased, 23 critically injured, 74 with minor injuries. Harrington confirmed deceased. Dawson confirmed deceased. "Neural Amplifier" technology destroyed. Arcadian defense protocols prevented fatal damage to the host.]

  Nick blinked, trying to process the information through his pounding headache.

  Around him, a scene of controlled chaos unfolded.

  Rows of injured students and faculty lay on the lawn, attended by paramedics, campus medical staff, and what appeared to be doctors from the nearby hospital. Police established perimeters while firefighters battled flames still visible through the shattered windows of Willard Hall.

  He pushed himself to a sitting position, triggering an immediate response from a nearby paramedic.

  "Easy there," the woman said, kneeling beside him. "You were in the blast radius. Can you tell me your name?"

  "Nick Valiente," he managed, his voice rougher than expected. "What happened?"

  "Some kind of explosion during that tech demonstration," she explained, shining a penlight into his eyes. "Follow the light, please." After checking his pupillary response, she continued, "You got lucky. No signs of serious concussion, no obvious fractures. How's your hearing?"

  Nick hadn't even registered the muffled quality of sound until she mentioned it. "A little dulled."

  "Normal after a blast like that. Should clear up within 24-48 hours." She checked a few more vital signs before nodding decisively. "You're cleared to return to your residence, but come to the medical center immediately if you experience severe headache, vomiting, or vision changes."

  As she moved to the next patient, Nick's phone vibrated in his pocket. Somehow it survived the explosion. A text from Maggie appeared on the screen:

  Holy shit. Are you alive?? Meet at the gazebo behind the old library in 20 min if you can move.

  Checking the time of the text, she’d sent it about 10 minutes ago. So he had another 10 minutes to get to the gazebo on the east side of campus behind the old African Studies Library.

  Nick slowly got to his feet, testing his balance. His body felt oddly disconnected, like he was operating it from a slight distance.

  The System noted:

  [Mana pathways temporarily destabilized by energy surge. Recalibration in progress. Current functionality: 64%.]

  He made his way across campus, passing clusters of stunned students and staff. Emergency vehicles continued to arrive, their lights painting the night in alternating red and blue. The air smelled of smoke, chemicals, and the distinctive ozone scent of discharged mana.

  The gazebo behind the old library stood isolated from the chaos, its white-painted structure ghostly in the darkness. Maggie was already waiting, pacing tight circles inside. When she spotted Nick, she rushed forward but stopped short of touching him, her eyes scanning him for injuries.

  "You look like hell," she said, her usual snark undermined by genuine concern.

  "Feels about right," Nick replied, lowering himself onto a bench. "What's happening?"

  Maggie sat beside him, tablet already in hand. "Everything. The university's on official lockdown. They're trying to determine if Dawson was working alone or if there's a broader threat." She tapped the screen, showing Nick a news feed. "But it's too late for damage control. I helped Dawson's video get released to multiple platforms simultaneously. It's trending globally—Callahan Industries can't bury this."

  The tablet showed social media erupting with screenshots from Dawson's footage, hashtags multiplying: #CallahanCrimes, #TheResonanceTruth, #JusticeForSubjects.

  "Half the world thinks it's a hoax," Maggie continued, "but enough people recognize it's genuine. Independent journalists are already connecting dots between Zurich, the explosion there yesterday, and tonight's events."

  Nick nodded, finding it difficult to focus on the scrolling information. The events of the past 48 hours—his abduction, the poison, the Arcadian System activation, and now the explosion—had pushed him beyond exhaustion into a state of numb detachment.

  Maggie seemed to notice his fading attention. "Hey," she said, gentler than usual, "you look dead on your feet. We can break this down tomorrow when your brain's actually working."

  "Yeah," Nick agreed, grateful for the reprieve. "I just... need sleep."

  "I'll text you in the morning," she promised, closing her tablet. "Campus security's spread thin, so be careful going back to your dorm. We still don't know who else might be involved."

  “Will do.” Nick said, “You get back safe yourself.”

  Maggie nodded before using hand motions to sho him off.

  The walk back to his residence hall passed in a blur but at the same time felt like the slowest walk of his life. The campus around him felt eerily quiet away from the emergency activity, most students either evacuated or sheltering in place.

  The Arcadian System remained in minimal interface mode, occasionally noting:

  [Perimeter scan clear. No immediate threats detected.]

  Inside his dorm, Nick took the stairs. Every step was torture on his already spent body, but he didn’t trust tight enclosed spaces—not tonight.

  Finally making it to his floor, Nick approached his door, noticing a figure pacing back and forth in the hallway. Ah, Jordan. His roommate froze mid-stride when he spotted Nick, relief flooding his face before being quickly masked by forced neutrality.

  "Dude, I've been trying to reach you for—" Jordan began.

  Nick raised a hand, cutting him off. "I'm exhausted, Jordan. It's been quite a day. Let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

  Something like hurt flashed in Jordan's eyes, but he nodded, stepping aside. "Yeah, sure," he said. Then almost as if he didn’t want Nick to hear, he added softly. "It’s good to see you made it back."

  Inside his room, Nick barely managed to remove his shoes before collapsing onto his bed. As he drifted toward unconsciousness, his phone pinged with an email notification. Forcing his eyes open one last time, he saw a university-wide alert:

  CAMPUS UPDATE: Security lockdown lifted. All classes canceled for the coming week. Counseling services available 24/7. Further information regarding tonight's incident will be provided as it becomes available.

  The Arcadian System offered one final notification before Nick surrendered to sleep:

  [Beginning deep repair cycle. Full diagnostics and memory integration will continue during the rest phase. Mana stabilization at 26%. Residual toxins detected. Memory integration and system detox ongoing during rest phase. Arcadian protocols will maintain passive scan for threats.]

  Nick’s last coherent thought, before sleep dragged him under, wasn’t about conspiracies or explosions.

  It was a quieter, heavier realization:

  he had been murdered, reborn, poisoned.

  The trauma hadn’t stopped.

  And now, as the Arcadian System slipped into quiet repair mode, he wondered what would be harder to face when he woke—

  the truth that he truly had reincarnated…

  or everything that had happened since.

  The footage played across four screens in Marcus Eidolon's private suite, each from a different angle—one from the auditorium's surveillance system, another from a hacked security drone, and two from wearable cams Dawson had been outfitted with days ago.

  He stood by the window, one hand resting on the obsidian cane that rarely left his side, the other swirling amber liquid in a crystal glass. Below him, the city lights blinked like nervous satellites—oblivious, for now.

  “Messier than I’d hoped,” he murmured.

  Behind him, a digital assistant projected diagnostics in his field of view: explosion radius, casualty projections, reaction velocity curves. The numbers didn't matter. What mattered was the truth reaching the surface.

  Dawson had played his role perfectly. A martyr, yes—but also a door kicker. And Nicholas Valiente… Marcus smiled faintly. The boy had exceeded expectations.

  He tapped his glass once against the window, a silent toast. “Welcome to the long war, Arlize.”

  A voice buzzed in from the intercom. “Sir. The university's internal investigation is requesting access to our Zurich files.”

  Marcus turned from the window, smile vanishing. “Deny them. Redirect to Legal. Begin purging tier-three archives.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The screens continued replaying the moment of detonation. He let them loop. Rewind. Play. Again.

  Behind the chaos, his trap had sprung—and Nick had survived. That was all that mattered.

  [Arcadian Oversight Node – Remote Access Detected]

  ? Sync Trace: Passive resonance piggyback confirmed

  ? Source: [REDACTED – Privilege Level Insufficient]

  ? Alignment: Partial – Subject exhibits non-hostile protocol compliance /

  ? User Alias: “Marcus Eidolon”

  ? Known Identifier: Eidolon Entity Designate #042-Ω

  ? Status: Dormant Arcadian Interface detected within subject

  ? Observation Pattern: Non-invasive, strategic augmentation

  ? Behavioral Note: Subject facilitated Catalyst Event through proxy activation (Subject 'Dawson')

  [Internal Directive Conflict Flagged]

  ? Arcadian Host Protection Priority: Nicholas Valiente (Codename: Arlize Dentragon)

  ? Eidolon Entity classified as: Contingent Ally / Potential System Echo

  ? Recommendation: Continue passive observation. Await host memory integration update.

  ?? SYSTEM STATUS: All is not yet remembered.