Chapter 67: One Way In

Chapter 67: One Way In

The medic arrived at a run and dropped beside the injured man.

"Keep the pressure there," she told Maelin. "Until I say."

Maelin’s hands stayed on the folded cloth. Silas kept his shoulder between them and the people moving toward the academy along the east wall. The crowd had thinned, but the man still flinched whenever someone passed close to his injured leg.

The medic cut his trouser leg open, prepared a dressing, and nodded.

"Lift. Slowly."

Maelin lifted. The clean dressing replaced the blood-soaked cloth, and a second medic helped slide a board beneath the man. He caught Maelin’s sleeve before they carried him away.

"Thank you," he said. Then, more quietly, "Thank you."

She sat back on her heels, staring at her red fingers.

"Are you hurt?" Silas asked.

"No. It’s his blood." She tried wiping her hands on the cloth, which only spread it. Then she noticed his arm. "You’re holding that strangely."

"Oskar hits hard."

"I saw." Maelin almost smiled. "You won."

He had been pleased about that a few minutes ago. Now his padded blade hung uselessly at his hip, and someone was calling for another stretcher behind him.

A staff runner waved them toward the barriers inside the academy gate. Silas retrieved their bags before helping Maelin up. Her hands were steady when she took hers.

Portable barriers enclosed the forecourt. Students stood among staff carrying supplies, watching the red opening on the public approach. Beyond the cordon, a sheet covered the man who had struck his head against the cart.

Vice Principal Voss climbed onto a crate.

"People were pulled inside," she said. "We’re organizing a rescue attempt. Listen to the examiner before deciding whether to volunteer."

The Association examiner stood beside her with the reading instrument open in both hands.

"The readings match a known sealed-gate pattern," the examiner said. "Only Rank One Cores can pass its boundary. Those above that rank are refused."

Silas remembered the instructor’s hand stopping against empty air. Even the Rank Two staff member had been unable to push through.

"The formation surge has ended," the examiner continued. "The people caught in it were drawn inside before the entry conditions settled. The gate now has ten places for deliberate Core-bearing entrants. Those places are still available. After the tenth admission, entry closes."

A boy near the barrier lowered the bag he had been adjusting.

"Entry is one way," the examiner said. "Once you’re inside, you cannot return through the entrance. An exit opens only when the dungeon is cleared. Your communicators can connect to each other within the realm, but they cannot reach anyone outside."

Silas watched the boy’s hand leave his bag altogether.

Voss looked across the forecourt. "Our qualified adult responders exceed the entry limit. Being Rank One doesn’t make someone ready for this, either. Staff will assess combat ability, useful Talents, control, and teamwork. We will refuse unsuitable volunteers. This is a Red Gate. Nobody is being ordered inside."

Nobody moved when she asked them to step forward.

Then Isolde Arvane did, hands folded before her, watching the opening with the same interest Silas had noticed earlier.

Leander Solvain followed. Dagna Korr came beside him, rolling one shoulder. Tavi Ashmark slipped through a gap in the crowd, and Caelan Veyris unslung his bow case as he joined them.

Isolde’s SS-Rank Talent and four S-Rank bearers. Five people confident enough to stand in that line.

The rest stayed where they were. A Gold Class boy took half a step before stopping. Nearby, a girl held her friend’s sleeve with both hands.

Silas understood them. A Red Gate with no retreat was a perfectly reasonable thing to avoid.

He looked at Maelin.

In the game, she had entered this dungeon with Alden’s party. Her portrait had turned gray afterward. On his second playthrough, he had skipped the funeral scene because he already knew what happened.

She was standing close enough now for him to see blood drying beneath her fingernails.

I’m not watching that happen.

He wanted the regeneration waiting at the end, too. Remembering Lydia’s blade still made his stomach tighten. There was nothing noble about wanting never to bleed out on his bedroom floor, but he wanted it badly.

Beyond the barrier, a medic hurried past with an empty board. The people inside had been buying breakfast when the road took them.

Silas stepped forward before he could arrange his reasons into something more flattering.

"Rooke," Voss said.

"Remote Grasp. Precise work at range," Silas said. "I can shift loose rubble, move a weapon, or help pull someone from a gap without climbing in after them. Within what I can lift."

Instructor Ferrow spoke from beside the barrier. "I’ve seen his control at Morrowfen and in today’s duel. He can contribute."

The examiner checked Silas’s Core reading and made a note. Voss asked about his remaining reserve. He answered honestly, including the time he would need in his studio before returning.

Beside him, Maelin drew a breath.

"Maelin Sorne. Shadow Passage. Rank One." Her voice carried clearly. "If someone’s trapped beyond a blocked passage, I may be able to reach them through the shadows."

Silas turned toward her.

"Maelin—"

"Don’t," she said quietly. "My father held the return open at the Glasshouse so five people could get through. He kept the surge off them. Nobody could go back for him." She looked toward the gate. "I can help here."

He could have argued. Every argument would have led back to the thing he couldn’t tell her.

I’ve seen you die in there.

"Tell me before you use a shadow," Silas said. "Even if it’s only one word. I need to know where you’ve gone."

Maelin looked at him, then nodded. "I will."

Alden Cross left the duelists gathered by the barrier.

"Rank One," Alden said. "I can fight, carry, and help get people out of trouble."

He stood beside Maelin. Silas was glad to see him there, which made the next volunteer considerably less welcome.

Gareth glanced toward the Gold Class students before stepping forward. They had left a space around him. Nobody followed him with an encouraging word.

"Gareth Rooke," he said. "You saw my results today."

"I did," Voss replied. "I’ve also read your record. Volunteering doesn’t erase it. Inside, you follow the party’s orders."

"Understood, Vice Principal."

Gareth’s gaze passed over Silas without softening. Silas knew better than to mistake cooperation for forgiveness. Lydia was still dead, and Gareth still looked at him as the person responsible.

A sealed dungeon with my cousin. Wonderful.

Silas would watch him. If rescuing people helped Gareth recover some standing at the academy, perhaps he would concentrate on that long enough for them all to survive.

"Elyra Thale. Rank One."

She approached from the crowd’s edge, copper hair tied back. "Spirit Communion. I can recognize spirit presences and examine the residue around wards or bound entities. If the party meets something ordinary weapons can’t deal with, I can help identify it."

The examiner questioned her briefly, then added the last name.

"Ten candidates," Voss said. "We’ll finish checking each of you before entry. Fetch real equipment and return promptly. Staff will provide common rescue supplies."

The group broke apart. Elyra stayed beside Silas.

She had never entered this dungeon in any route he remembered. He had known the world was changing, but seeing her in this particular party unsettled him more than another altered conversation or tournament result.

"You look surprised," Elyra said.

"I didn’t expect you to volunteer."

"I wasn’t going to." She met his eyes with frank interest. "Then you did."