Chapter 107: The Foundation
Thousands of eyes followed the line of Ivan's blade.
The stadium crowd, still reacting to the brutal three-second defeat of a third-year mage, erupted into a deafening roar. The Knight faction pounded their boots against the stone bleachers. High above, in the VIP box, the white-robed Inquisitor leaned over the railing, her pale eyes fixed on the Magic Department stands.
Alex didn't stand up. He didn't sneer, shout, or reach for a weapon. He simply sat still, meeting Ivan's gaze across the sunlit sand with cold indifference.
Emma sat beside him, casually turning a page in her ledger.
"Are you going to wave back, or just let him point at you all afternoon?" Emma asked.
"Let him point," Alex said. His eyes were already moving away from the arena, toward the stadium's southern exit. "I have an errand."
Emma didn't look up. "Cassandra is doing a headcount before the afternoon combat block. If you're missing, she'll lock down the staging room."
"I just need five minutes."
"I'll tell her you went to the infirmary to have your burns checked," Emma said, writing a false entry into the ledger. "If you take more than ten minutes, I'll tell her the healer kept you there."
"Understood," Alex said, standing.
He slipped out of the stands, moving against the heavy flow of spectators crowding the concourse. The upper corridors were hot from the packed stadium and smelled of spilled ale and roasted meat. He avoided the main halls and followed the narrower stone corridors until he reached the heavy iron gates leading to the stadium's lower levels.
A single academy guard stood by the southern access door, distracted by the tournament and watching through a narrow observation slit.
Alex didn't try to talk his way past. He stopped several feet away and activated Phantom Tread. A small burst of mana moved into his boots, and the sound of his steps disappeared.
He slipped into the guard's blind spot as another roar came from the arena. The guard leaned toward the grate, and Alex moved. He opened the maintenance door just wide enough to pass through, then quietly closed it behind him.
The maintenance tunnels were a sharp contrast to the bright stadium. The air was damp and cold, carrying the smell of old mortar, stagnant water, and ozone from the warding arrays above.
Alex activated Vector Sight.
Faint lines of mana appeared across the dark stone corridor. He moved carefully, his footsteps completely silent. The roar of the crowd became a dull rumble above him.
He descended two flights of stairs, heading beneath the southern VIP grandstand. The deeper he went, the warmer the air became, changing from damp cold to dry heat.
At the bottom, the tunnel opened into a wide foundation chamber. Four massive stone pillars supported the ceiling and the weight of the grandstands above.
Alex stopped behind a stack of wooden crates and looked toward the nearest pillar.
The frost-silver mesh he had seen outside wasn't simply attached to the stone. It had been woven into grooves cut directly into the foundation. Silver lines spread across all four pillars before meeting at the center, where they connected to three heavy iron-cased alchemical batteries.
Olivia had been right. It was a thermal fracture device.
Alex stepped closer and studied the markings on the batteries. Frost-silver carried heat almost instantly, while the batteries were already filled with stored heat.
If all three discharged at once, the silver mesh would carry that heat deep into the stone pillars. The sudden expansion would crack the supports and bring the foundation down.
The VIP box above—and the Imperial Inquisitor inside it—would fall fifty feet into the rubble.
It was a perfect false-flag assassination. The Inquisition would find burned stone and traces of powerful fire magic, making the Magic Department an obvious suspect. The Emperor would then have the excuse he needed to purge the mages.
Alex reached toward the thick leather cable connecting the main battery to the silver mesh.
His Vector Sight suddenly flashed red.
He froze.
A thin loop of mana surrounded the connection. Alex focused on it carefully.
It was a tamper ward.
If he pulled the cable, the ward would trigger the batteries and bring the stadium down immediately.
He couldn't unplug it. He couldn't simply freeze the connection either.
He needed to drain the charge slowly.
Alex looked at his left wrist and checked the cloth-lined frost-silver bracelet Emily had modified. The replacement crystal was clear and empty. It wasn't nearly large enough to drain three industrial batteries, but perhaps he could change the flow and send the energy somewhere else.
The heavy iron door at the top of the stairs suddenly grated open.
Alex instantly dismissed Vector Sight and stepped backward into the deep shadow behind the nearest pillar.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs.
"The structural integrity is fully compromised, Director," a technician's voice called out. "The batteries are primed and fully loaded. We just need to connect the remote ignition signal."
"Excellent work, Elias."
Director Maelor Vane stepped into the dim chamber.
He wasn't wearing his usual white administrative robes. Instead, he wore a heavy dark cloak. His usual polite expression was gone, replaced by a cold and focused look.
"Set the ignition delay to coincide with the final match of the day," Maelor ordered as he walked toward the batteries. "When Ivan Baker strikes his final blow, trigger the array. In the chaos of the arena, no one will be able to identify the first burst of heat. It will look like a collapse caused by stray combat magic."
"And the Inquisitor?" Elias asked nervously. "She is sitting directly above the main fracture point."
"She is a necessary sacrifice," Maelor said smoothly.
He pulled a gold pocket watch from his cloak and checked the time.
"Her death ensures the Emperor's fury," Maelor continued. "By tomorrow morning, the Magic Department will be placed under martial law, and the remaining faculty will be under our control."
Alex remained perfectly still in the shadows.
He was only ten feet away from the Director of the Magic Department. Maelor was a master-tier mage. If Alex made a sound or was discovered, Maelor could kill him and leave his body in the rubble as the supposed terrorist.
"Finish the arming sequence, Elias," Maelor ordered, turning toward the stairs. "I must return to the administrative box before anyone notices my absence."