Chapter 28: Capacity Limits and Competing Claims!

Archway after archway lit up one by one, not all at once, but in sequence. From the originally pitch‑black entrances lining the plaza’s surrounding walls, blue‑white radiance flickered to life in turn, as if someone was lighting lamps one after another along a circular corridor.

Once the glow stabilized, distinct symbols materialized above each arch: some carved with gaping beast maws, others swirling cyclones, leaping flames, layered rolling waves, coiling thorned vines, jagged fractured stone, and one door bore nothing but a straight vertical line.

Embedded into the wall beside every arch was a small glowing number plaque. Cecil counted seven arches in total.

The beast emblem door bore the number "3", the storm emblem "3", flame "2", waves "2", the vine emblem "2", the fractured‑stone emblem "2", and the plain vertical line "1".

"...What does this mean?" Freddy caught his breath, squatting on the ground and gazing up at the arches. "Are those numbers telling us which path to take?"

"They’re capacity limits," Gwendolyn perched on Cecil’s shoulder, her voice cold and steady as usual. "Each door only allows a maximum number of people equal to its marked digit. Exceeding it might trigger additional traps—or the door simply won’t open at all."

Leon stepped over from ten paces away, standing a short distance beside Cecil, also looking up at the arches. His complexion was paler than before, and the arcs of electricity on his thunder griffin’s golden feathers dimmed noticeably. "Seven doors, and two pairs share the same number. What’s the total maximum capacity?"

"That means—" Lydia stared at the arches, speaking slowly, "—we have to split up. No way all of us go through the same door; each entrance only holds its allotted number."

Silence fell over the plaza for a heartbeat. The surviving members of the stranded group exchanged uneasy glances; some clenched their fists, others glanced down at their injured wind falcon. The Group‑A students traded looks, none daring to speak first.

Leon turned to his people, speaking quickly but in a hushed tone: "We seven split into three teams. Three of us take the beast door with me, two head to the flame door, and the remaining two take the waves." He distributed assignments swiftly, as if he had already planned for such a scenario beforehand. "I will head to the Beast‑door. The rest is up to you."

Having finished allocating his team, he turned to Cecil, his ice‑blue eyes holding no trace of inquiry—only a silent declaration: I’ve made my arrangements, you figure out the rest.

Cecil paid no mind to Leon’s tone. His gaze was fixed on the beast‑marked arch. The carving was intricately detailed: an open beast head with interlocking fangs, rough and powerful lines as if clawed directly into the stone. The cold glowing number "3" beside it stood out starkly against the blue‑white hue.

"Our five take the beast door," Cecil said.

"That’s the most dangerous one," Lydia murmured.

"Precisely why we need to go in," Cecil glanced back at her. "If there’s something inside that only I can handle, it’s safer for me to go than anyone else."

Lydia studied him for two seconds, then nodded, saying no more.

Freddy had already stood up, Turner resettling on his shoulder, his grey fur neater than before. "Beast door it is. Perfect for the five of us."

"Five exceeds the limit of three," Edwin pointed at the number beside the beast door. "The door only lets three people in."

Cecil fell silent for a moment. The beast door capped at three; all five of them couldn’t enter. As for the other doors—storm, flame, waves, vine, fractured stone—he wasn’t sure if their environments would align with his frost affinity. Splitting their core strength across separate entrances left all future rendezvous timing and routes completely uncertain.

Gwendolyn brushed her tail lightly against the back of his neck. She said nothing, but he understood the gesture: stick with what you know best.

"The beast door," Cecil repeated. "But only three of us go in."

"I’ll go," Freddy replied instantly. "Turner’s fast. He can’t tank head‑on attacks, but he’s great for support."

"I’m in too," Lydia added. "Ivy’s binding ability works far better in narrow passages than open spaces."

Oliver opened his mouth then closed it again, lifting Robin from his shoulder and cupping the falcon gently in his palm, nodding. "The three of you take the beast door. I’ll go through the storm door—Robin can fly in stormy conditions, and I have experience navigating such terrain."

Edwin said nothing for a beat. He glanced down at Rust the beetle clinging to his collar, its antennae twitching faintly. Then he looked up: "I’ll take the wave door. Rust is highly sensitive to water flow. If the area behind it is water‑related, it’ll perform better than me in combat."

Cecil looked at his four companions. Four pairs of eyes met his, no hesitation, no second‑guessing. The assignments were settled in less than ten seconds. He nodded, holding back thanks—the word felt far too shallow for the moment.

"The routes out of storm and wave doors are unknown," he turned to Oliver and Edwin. "If we get separated, meet at the first safe spot we find. We have no maps, so we’ll use the simplest method: markers."

Oliver pulled a stick of charcoal from his waist and drew a diagonal slash on the wall beside the passage entrance. "Leave a mark at every fork in the road. Whoever spots another’s trail follows it."

Edwin nodded, pulling a scrap of scrap iron Rust had gnawed off from his pocket, carving an arc with a dot in the center onto the stone wall.

Once the split was finalized, Cecil led Freddy and Lydia toward the beast door.

When they drew near, Leon was already standing at the archway with Swan and Walter—his two chosen companions for this door—while Irene and the others had already peeled off toward the flame door. The three students and their three spirit‑beasts stood at the entrance. Leon’s thunder griffin crouched at his side, golden feathers slightly ruffled, crackling electricity sparking between its plumage.

The silver‑maned wolf lay at Swan’s feet, its dark grey fur shimmering like metal under the blue glow. The fire‑feathered hawk perched on Walter’s shoulder, claws digging into his clothing.

Catching sight of Cecil approaching, Leon’s gaze swept over Freddy and Lydia behind him, then spoke flatly.

"Three of us already. The quota’s full. Group‑A claims this door. You’ll have to pick another."

Cecil halted three paces from the archway. Freddy and Lydia stopped two steps behind him, Gwendolyn’s tail slowly rising as she perched on Cecil’s shoulder.

"We spotted this door first," Cecil said. "You go choose one of the others."

"Just because you saw it first means it’s yours?" Leon’s voice carried a thin layer of sarcasm. "This maze falls under the academy’s teleportation jurisdiction. Every academy student has equal right to explore. I arrived here first, I’m blocking the entrance—do you acknowledge the rule of first come, first served?"

"Blocking the entrance doesn’t equal lawful possession," Cecil retorted. "Step aside."

"I won’t."

The conversation ended there.

Leon struck first. He drew a short staff from his waist, swiping the tip toward Cecil—a thin arc of electricity snapped from the staff, cutting a blue‑white streak through the air at blistering speed. Cecil ducked his head, the current grazing his left shoulder and slamming into the wall behind him, bursting into sparks and sending pebbles scattering across the ground.

"—Fight!" Freddy shouted from behind. Turner darted off his shoulder, a grey blur skittering along the ground to circle Leon’s flank. Lydia’s Ivy slid down her wrist, its emerald body creeping quickly along the wall in the shadows, targeting the silver‑maned wolf’s front legs behind Leon’s right side.

Leon’s companions moved in response. The fire‑feathered hawk launched from Walter’s shoulder, spreading its wings mid‑air and unleashing a burst of tiny flames straight at Freddy’s face. Freddy rolled sideways, the fire scorching a black circular patch where he had stood moments earlier. Under Swan’s command, the silver‑maned wolf lowered its body and charged toward Lydia, but halfway there its front leg was snagged—Ivy had wrapped around its ankle.

"Bind it tight!" Lydia yelled. Ivy constricted, throwing the wolf’s stride off balance, cutting its charging speed by a third.

Cecil locked his focus entirely on Leon. After firing the first bolt of electricity, Leon did not pause, drawing a second arc with his staff—this time a thicker current aimed straight for Cecil’s chest.

Cecil charged forward instead of retreating, leaning left, his [Agility] and [Speed] boosted to such a degree his movements blurred beyond Leon’s naked eye. The electricity grazed his right rib, and he closed the distance into Leon’s close‑quarters defense range.

He coiled his right fist with frost energy, slamming it toward Leon’s wrist gripping the staff.

Leon reacted just as fast, yanking the staff back as the thunder griffin lunged from the side—the golden bird spread its wings, lightning crackling densely through its feathers, the entire beast a living weapon wreathed in storm clouds crashing toward Cecil.

Cecil was forced to pull back his fist and block sideways; the griffin’s wing struck his left arm, electricity seeping through the outer leather of his bracers, a numbing pain spreading up to his shoulder blade.

Gwendolyn leaped from his shoulder, exhaling a concentrated blast of frost at the thunder griffin’s face mid‑air. The griffin jerked its head away, the frost grazing its ear and freezing a patch of its left feathers, coating them in a layer of white rime. It let out an angry screech, stepping back to peck at the frozen plumage.

Landing without pause, Gwendolyn pushed off the ground and launched herself again, spitting another frost bolt straight for Leon’s wrist. Leon was forced to switch hands to hold the staff, his movement delayed by half a beat. Cecil seized that opening, pressing forward once more. The lingering numbness in his left arm didn’t hinder his strength, and his right fist hooked upward toward Leon’s jaw, wreathed in frost.

Leon leaned backward to dodge the punch, his back slamming into the edge of the archway frame. The blue‑white glow of the frame flickered sharply at the impact, emitting a short, low hum.

"Everyone step back a little," Gwendolyn said. Her voice was soft, yet cut clearly through the chaos of battle. "This door is about to trigger its mechanism."

Cecil and Leon both glanced at the number plaque above the arch. The digit "3" was flickering faintly, its blue‑white glow dimming like a lamp running out of oil. The blue‑white light curtain in the center of the arch wavered, fine cracks spiderwebbing along its edges.

"If more than three people crowd too close to the frame at once, the door might lock completely shut from magical instability," Gwendolyn explained. "Then none of us will get in."

Leon lowered his staff. He stood before the arch, his chest heaving, ice‑blue eyes fixed firmly on Cecil. The thunder griffin folded its wings behind him, the frost on its feathers still faintly steaming, shaking its head to dislodge ice shards.

Two paces separated them. Frost and lightning marks crisscrossed the ground between them, like a crumpled chessboard.

"We both want those three spots," Cecil said. "One for you, one for me. We decide fairly."

Leon’s jaw tightened. "How fairly?"

Cecil glanced down at Gwendolyn. She looked back up at him, sweeping her tail across the stone floor.

"A duel," Cecil stated. "Just you and me, one‑on‑one. The winner chooses who gets the remaining spot inside the door."

Leon stared at him for three seconds. Then he slipped his staff back into his waistband and gestured for his companions to retreat.

Swan and Walter stepped back several paces, moving to the wider section of the passage. The thunder griffin crouched at Leon’s side, not intervening, its golden eyes never leaving Gwendolyn.