Chapter 20: Arc Conducted
The Umbraxis Arcanum had arranged a private dormitory for Corvin. Clean, quiet, and warded with layers of anti divination runes. It lay at the far corner of the Aetherreach Spire, close enough to the arcane chambers for quick access but remote enough to allow solitude.
His first scheduled lesson was Lightning Magic under Master Velkhar Ys’loren, a gray haired Dark Elf with steel sharp posture and deep scars running down one cheek. A veteran from the Tidefront campaigns, if Corvin recalled the memories he’d harvested correctly.
Corvin expected little from this lesson at least. He had centuries of knowledge from absorbed minds, techniques, theories, layered exercises, real combat experience all folded into his being. What he lacked in formal tradition, he made up for in raw synthesis.
But the academy itself? That was the real treasure.
It was an open buffet.
The Academy’s structure mirrored the hierarchies of Dark Elf society: quiet intensity, formal ritual, and ruthless ambition wrapped in silk etiquette. Every corridor was a theatre of posturing. Every bow, every phrase veiled a calculation. Students carried themselves with the arrogance of pedigree, instructors with the weight of centuries.
And Corvin moved among them like a ghost.
His spores were everywhere.
Drifting beneath the robes of instructors, latching onto overconfident duelists, listening at the edge of sparring rings. The Umbraxis Arcanum had a competitive backbone, leaderboards for each affinity, segmented into Basic, Secondary, and Rare classifications. Every day, ranking matches were held. Students were able to challenge one another. They fought to rise through the tiers, earning prestige, rare spell access, and faculty mentorship.
For Corvin, it was a catalog.
He didn’t need to win. He just needed to watch.