The journey to the capital took three weeks.

Iscara set a steady pace, stopping at villages along the way to rest the horses and resupply. She was professional but not unkind, explaining things about House Valeris and what Finn and Elara could expect at the Academy.

Finn listened with half his attention. The rest of his mind was occupied with practice.

At night, when they camped, he'd wait until the others were asleep, then slip away to a clearing and work on his magic. Creating small flames by intending cold. Lifting stones by willing them down. Weaving wind by visualizing stillness.

Error disguised as elemental versatility.

He was getting better. Faster. The inversion was becoming second nature, requiring less conscious thought each time.

On the third day of travel, Elara approached him during a rest stop.

"You're different from other boys our age," she said quietly, as if it had taken real effort to say the words.

Finn glanced at her. "How so?"

"You don't... talk much. Or joke around. You're always thinking… always watching." She paused. "My grandfather said you have unusual magic. That the tools — that reality itself, doesn't know what to do with you."

"Is there a question in there somewhere?"

She flushed slightly. "I was just... curious. About you."

"Don't be," Finn said flatly. "I'm not interesting at all. All my focus is dedicated to getting stronger."

"Everyone's focused on that. But you..." She trailed off, searching for words. "You act like nothing matters except that. Like people don't matter. Like life doesn't matter. That's the feeling I get from you… empty…"

Finn considered her for a long moment and his expression flickered, then eventually, he turned away. "Maybe it actually doesn't."

She didn't approach him again after that.

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.

.

The capital of Astoria.

Finally…

Finn breathed out a sigh of relief.

He had come to know the name of the city they were headed from Iscara's descriptions. She had proudly spoken of its glamour and its splendor. And she hadn't been wrong.

Even for Finn who was from a much later age, the city was magnificent. It had walls that reached a hundred feet. Buildings of marble and precious-looking stones. Streets wide enough for six wagons side-by-side. And people, tens of thousands of them, from every walk of life.

The ambient mana was even denser here. Artifacts were more plentiful, thrumming with mana on stall displays and Arcanist backs. The Arcanists themselves made up a large percentage of the population than the later age Finn came from.

Finn took it all in with analytical detachment.

This is what civilization looks like with high mana density. More Arcanists means more infrastructure. More power means more specialization. In a way, it's almost... industrial.

Without wasting time on sight-seeing, they headed straight for their destination. House Valeris occupied a district in the city's northern quarter. Not the absolute highest nobility, but close. Their compound sprawled across dozens of acres, with training grounds, libraries, laboratories, and dormitories for students.

Iscara led them through the gates like she owned the place — which, in a sense, she probably did. Master-rank Arcanists were rare enough to command significant respect even from Great Houses.

"You'll be tested and placed in appropriate classes," she explained as they walked. "House Valeris accepts students from across the continent, so competition is fierce. But you two have the talent to excel. Just don't waste it."

She left them at the administrative building, where stern-faced instructors processed their enrollment. Aptitude tests, background checks, assignment to dormitories.

Finn answered questions mechanically. Demonstrated his "multi-affinity" with carefully controlled use of his Error abstract magic. He accepted his room assignment straightforwardly and without comment.

Elara was placed in the second-year dormitory based on her age and skill level. Finn, on the other hand, despite being younger, was placed in third-year after his aptitude scores came back.

The instructor who delivered the news looked impressed. "Exceptional results. We'll be watching your progress closely."

Finn nodded. Of course they would. That was the point. Be good enough to draw positive attention, but not so unusual that people asked too many questions.

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.

.

The dormitory room was small but functional. It was split into two parts for two students, with a single communal space that joined the two smaller rooms together for when the roommates wanted company.

Immediately when Finn entered, he saw a boy — Corvas was his name, according to the nameplate on the door opposite Finn's. He barely glanced up when Finn entered, too absorbed in a scroll covered with magical theories.

Finn was satisfied with that. He'd never say no to minding one's business. He directly entered his own room, taking it in. It had a small bed, a desk, a chest for storing belongings, and a window overlooking the training grounds.

Very quickly, he got straight to unpacking his meager belongings. Placed his journal in the desk drawer, hidden under spare clothes. Then after everything, sat on the bed and stared at the wall.

This is it. This is where I'll be for... how long? Years, probably.

The thought should have been overwhelming. Devastating. But now there was only that familiar hollow numbness.

I need to get stronger. I need to master Error completely. So that when I find moments significant enough to trigger the tether…

He clenched his fist.

Everything else is just noise.

Finn lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Day 38 in the past, he thought, already composing his journal entry for later.

Arrived at House Valeris Academy. Classes begin tomorrow.

I don't know how long I'll be here. Don't know what 'defining moment' will be significant enough to send me back.

But I'll find it. I have to.

Because this hollow existence — this going through the motions of a life that isn't mine — I can't do this forever.

I won't.

Outside his window, students practiced in the training yards. Shooting flames. Blasting wind. Shifting earth...

Finn closed his eyes and let the sounds fade into background noise.

Tomorrow, the real work would begin.

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Two Years Later…

Finn — or Arros, as everyone knew him — stood at the edge of House Valeris's advanced training ground, watching a sparring match with detached interest.

Two years had passed. He was seventeen now in body, though his mind remained Finn's, still the same mind that was stubbornly and even more profoundly disconnected from everything.

The classes had been... manageable. Tedious, mostly, since he already understood some level of magical theory better than most instructors because he was raised in an Arcanist home as Finn in his own time. But occasionally, the classes still were useful for refining his technique and filling practical gaps, seeing as he could actually now use mana.

His Error magic had evolved significantly. He'd learned to disguise it so thoroughly that all Master-rank instructors believed he simply had exceptional multi-elemental affinity. Fire, wind, water, earth — he could fake them all by inverting reality in precise ways.

His combat skills had grown too, out of pure necessity. House Valeris emphasized practical application, and students were regularly sent on supervised missions to handle minor magical beast outbreaks or patrol border regions.

Finn excelled at it. Not because he enjoyed fighting, but because it required the same analytical detachment he applied to everything else. Calculate optimal approaches. Execute with precision. Return alive.

The other students found him... unsettling.

"The cold one," they called him. "The ghost." Some variation on that theme, always emphasizing his lack of emotional expression.

Finn didn't care.

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