Asdras and his group arranged their desks in three columns and two rows, their movements echoing softly in the spacious classroom. Asdras, Joah, and Lisandra took the front row, while Finn, Stig, and Merida settled behind them, their chairs scraping lightly against the floor.

Asdras scanned the room, his eyes flitting over the organized rows of the other two teams. The classroom, with its high ceilings and iron pipes letting in streams, felt more spacious and emptier with just a few groups present, the silence punctuated by the occasional murmur and the rustle of papers.

"I expected more groups," Asdras remarked.

Finn tilted his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Can’t be helped. Not many are brave enough to face the Eruption. From what I’ve heard, there are usually only three or four teams each year.”

Merida shook her head, her dark hair swaying gently. "It's simple enough if you think about it. Out on the outskirts where I grew up, good food and safety were hard to come by. So when you stumble upon a safe haven with tasty meals, you'd want to hold onto that too."

"Aye, nothing lasts forever," Stig sighed, his rough voice adding a somber tone. "Me uncle always says good things are like a good harvest — rare as hen's teeth and gone before ya know it."

Merida chuckled, pointing at Stig with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You and your uncle again.”

Stig shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "If ya ever meet him, you'll see how amazing he is."

“Whatever,” Finn interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “The real question is, have any of you heard about what happened two days ago?”

“What?” Lisandra asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“About Sting breaking his finger when fighting me?” Merida said, giggling.

"Look 'ere," Stig showed his finger, "see, a proper and normal finger."

“That’s because of the academy healing team,” Merida said, her tone matter-of-fact.

“No, not that,” Finn said, shaking his head with a serious expression. “I’m talking about the student who was found dead.”

“Really? How come I never heard about it?” Asdras asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Me neither,” Lisandra and Merida said in unison, their voices overlapping.

“Seriously, guys,” Finn sighed with exasperation. “Information is key; gossip can be both good and bad — you just need to know how to listen. What about you, Joah? Have you heard anything?”

Joah tried to make himself invisible, his shoulders hunching slightly, but sitting next to Finn didn’t help. He shook his head, indicating he knew nothing about the subject.

"You need to train more, Finn," Stig said, flexing his arms, the muscles rippling under his uniform. "You’re skinny as a rake and got no muscles. Ya'll never handle a cow or beast like that."

“Why a cow, idiot?” Finn adjusted his seat and rolled his eyes. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of humanity and strength, said Stig. If you don’t know how to use your own strength effectively and don’t understand your enemy, then you’re just wasting energy.”

"But it don't change nothing — if ya face a beast, you'd lose," Stig replied, his tone challenging.

Finn sighed again, massaging his temples with his fingertips. “That’s why we’re a team, Stig. I’m the brain here; I can show you the best way to use your muscles. But back on topic, I heard they found him because someone in a nearby room smelled something rotten and checked it out.”

“How did the other student smell it?” Asdras asked, leaning forward, his curiosity piqued.

"The ventilation system," Merida chimed in eagerly, her eyes gleaming with insight. "Turns out the rooms are lined up side by side with an underground passage in between them. The vents are iron tubes connecting all the rooms."

“But how did he die?” Lisandra asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“That’s the chilling part, Lisandra,” Finn said, his brows knitting together in a deep frown. “I heard that when the teachers checked the body, it was missing its heart. At least, that’s what the student who smelled it gossiped about. He claimed he saw the body with a circular hole in the chest, like something had ripped the heart clean out.”

Merida's eyes widened as she looked at their faces, disbelief coloring her voice. "But how could that happen? Isn't this place supposed to be secure?"

“Yes.” Finn nodded seriously. “My brother told me that in this region, there are only a few truly safe places: the academy, the capital, the hunter’s tower, and the crafter’s city.”

"I've heard about the hunter’s tower from a deliverer in my village, but Crafter’s City? Never heard of it," Stig said, curiosity piqued. "What's it like?"

"I've heard about it," Merida said excitedly, her eyes sparkling. "It's the top spot for aspiring crafters in this region! I'm planning on heading there after I'm done here. I even talked to Teacher Vidar; he mentioned they have spots at the academy but only for seniors."

“Good luck with that,” Asdras said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “What did the academy say about the incident, Finn?”

“There’s no official word yet,” Finn replied thoughtfully. “Rumor has it that the teachers are still investigating. Some say he died from his strain; others believe he was killed by someone’s power. Maybe they’ll address it in the next lecture.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Strain,” Asdras said, running a hand through his hair, his voice tinged with worry. “It’s a dangerous thing.”

"Oh aye, tell me about it," Stig said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Asdras, your strain lets you not feel pain. That's amazing! Mine... I don't even want to talk about it."

Asdras was about to reply when he noticed a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The room, once filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the occasional scrape of chairs, fell silent.

He looked up, his curiosity piqued, and he saw someone he didn’t recognize. He only knew three teachers: the vice director, Vidar, and Rose.

The new teacher had a rugged, weary appearance. His long, dark hair was pulled back into a disheveled ponytail, framing a face etched with deep lines of fatigue. His eyes had a haunted appearance due to weeks of insomnia and dark circles that stood out sharply against his fair skin.

His left arm was a striking steampunk prosthesis, an intricate design of brass gears, polished steel, and leather straps, gleaming under the classroom lights. The mechanical limb seemed almost alive, its complexity and craftsmanship in sharp contrast to the teacher's worn expression.

As he made his way to the teacher’s chair, he paused, releasing a faint wisp of smoke from the corner of his lips. The acrid scent of cigarette smoke mingled with the musty smell of the iron pipes and chalk dust, adding to the room's already tense atmosphere.

He sat down heavily, took a slow, deep drag from his cigarette, and spoke. His voice was barely a whisper, a gravelly, low tone that forced the students to quiet down and strain to hear him.

“Hello,” he began, his words hanging in the air like the smoke he exhaled. “Name’s Zafir. I’m your new instructor for Eruptions.”

He adjusted his seat, placed his suitcase on the ground with a soft thud, and took off his shoes, propping his feet up on the leather surface. Some students exchanged confused and amused glances, the unconventional behavior unsettling them.

This was entirely different from the other teachers. Vidar was strict and unyielding, Rose was funny and easy-going, and the vice director remained an enigma.

“I don’t want any interruptions,” Zafir said firmly, his eyes narrowing. “Otherwise, you’ll see what real nightmares look like. This lecture wasn’t meant to be today; it was set for next month. But here we are, thanks to some last-minute changes that dragged me back to work — something I despise. So, keep quiet.”

The students were taken aback by his bluntness. Some felt a rebellious urge to interrupt him just to see what would happen, but their desire to learn about the Eruption was stronger.

Zafir took another drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing briefly in the dim light. “For everyone’s sake, I’ll explain in detail. The reason this lecture was moved up is that the Eruption we expected in four months will happen in three days.”

A chilling sensation ran down the students' spines. They exchanged whispers and murmurs about the news, their voices hushed and anxious. Despite their limited understanding, they had heard many tales of the dangers Eruptions posed.

Hearing that the event they had fantasized about was now imminent felt like a cold wave washing over them, the realization of their lack of preparation sinking in.

Zafir took a long drag from his cigarette before speaking again, his tone even more somber. “This is your final warning: don’t interrupt me! I’ll let this one slide because I get it — everyone’s scared of what’s coming, and that’s good. Fear is useful.”

“For the record,” Zafir continued, his voice steady and resonant, “in the past, folks faced Eruptions without any preparation or training because they hit out of nowhere. Nowadays, we’ve got tools to spot potential Eruptions and get ready for them. Now, let’s talk about what an Eruption is…”

Zafir paused, scanning the room with eyes that seemed to bore into each student. “An Eruption happens when a Breaker merges with a corrupted essence and detonates,” he explained, his tone heavy with the gravity of the subject. “I assume our vice director covered the basics about cores and path stages with you all. But just in case — and hoping not to be called back again — I’ll break it down.”

The room was eerily silent, the only sound being the occasional scratch of a pencil on paper. Zafir’s presence commanded attention, and the students were hanging on his every word.

“When someone awakens their power, they’re known as ‘Awakened.’ After that comes the stage of ‘Challengers,’ and with some luck, a few of you will reach that after the Eruption. Next up is the ‘Breaker’ stage.”

“Breakers are those who’ve shattered their path and conquered a Ruin,” he continued. “A Ruin’s not something you need to worry about just yet. What’s crucial to understand is that Breakers can significantly impact a region in Ars with their energy.”

Zafir paused, letting his words hang in the air thick with expectancy. “With every stage, your ars energy mutates and grows stronger. Breakers are at a critical juncture; it’s where your potential can truly shine or where you might literally break apart — your body crumbling into pieces.”

A collective gasp filled the room, with the students exchanging uneasy glances. Zafir’s bluntness left no room for doubt about the dangers they faced.

“When a Breaker with a core reaches the Tainted stage and falls apart after ingesting corrupted essence, an Eruption occurs in both Ars World and our world,” Zafir went on, his eyes narrowing slightly. “This happens because certain beings despise us enough to spark an Eruption affecting both realms. The only explanation is…”

He let the sentence hang. “If we fail to challenge it before it reaches the breaking point, a disaster will occur in the region where the Eruption happens. The type of disaster varies depending on the Breaker’s power, strain, and possibly curse.”

Zafir’s voice dropped to a near whisper, causing the students to lean in closer. “For instance, ten years ago, a failed Eruption in the West triggered a cyclone lasting three days. It obliterated a city, laid waste in a forest, and created two mountains. The region was altered so drastically that it severed food supplies to another city, leading to famine and chaos.”

“Even worse,” he added darkly, “the corrupted essence would spread throughout the region, turning Dreamers into monsters and causing some creatures to level up. It’s not easy for them to cause an Eruption; creating corrupted essence requires at least a Ravaged core from a Rank IV creature.”

Zafir paused again, the weight of his words pressing down on the room. The students sat in stunned silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

"An Eruption is a challenge," Zafir began, his voice settling into a steady rhythm. "We ain't got the full picture of how it works. But from what we've seen in past events, we know the entity Ars — that same voice we hear at the end of awakening — sets it up like some twisted game. Your job is to destroy the nexus supporting the Eruption; meanwhile, corruption's job is to take each one of you out."

"We don't know much about corruption either," Zafir admitted, scratching his nose thoughtfully. "What we do know is that it's the opposite of ars energy and deadly for any awakened being — worse still for dreamers."

"As for what kind of challenge you'll face," Zafir said with a frustrated shake of his head, "we can't say for sure till you're in it. Best guess? It's based on the Breaker's experiences and path."

"You might be wondering why we send Awakened instead of seasoned Challengers or Breakers," he continued, raising an eyebrow. "Simple answer: we can't. The Eruption rejects anyone who isn't Awakened. That's why the church and military pour so much into training kids like you."

Zafir stretched before rising and readying himself for the whiteboard. "Now I'll explain why none of you will back out from this Eruption and how we'll support you by providing a resource kit and teaching you how to use the system."