Extra's POV: I am the Sixteenth Son

The air outside the Echovault still felt cold and creepy when Ares stepped inside, trying to shake off his weird encounter with that white-haired fifth-year. Vael had left behind a strange feeling, like a smile that didn't belong on the face wearing it. Ares didn't like it one bit. He'd never trusted charm that felt fake.

Inside, the reception room looked more like a dusty classroom than a place where people prepared for combat. Old wooden desks lined the walls, and the main table was covered with boring manuals about echo types and magic stability stuff. At the far end, Ethan stood near the giant glass window, chatting with a few third-years. He looked up when Ares walked in.

"Give me a second," he mouthed, waving casually at the older students.

After shooing away the third-years, Ethan strolled over with his usual cocky grin. "Back for more punishment, I see. What's it gonna be today - another round with the Zibrax?"

Ares shook his head. "Nah. I want to try something different. Something new. I'm sick of fighting slimes and those floating things."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. "Be careful what you wish for, prince." He tapped his ring, and a faint light shimmered around his hand. "Still gotta be a novice-level core, but... let's see what spicy options we've got today."

With that, he headed toward the Core Vault.

A few minutes later, Ethan came back carrying a deep purple echo core. Its surface pulsed with thin black veins that looked like poison spreading through glass. The energy inside hummed low and cold, making Ares's skin crawl.

"Meet your dinner date," Ethan said cheerfully, way too happy about this. "Novice-tier echo: Gloomantula. Nasty little ambush predator. You're gonna hate every second of it."

Before anything else, Ethan pointed Ares toward the payment socket on the wall. Ares sighed and walked over, sticking the gem from his ring into the slot. After the credits got deducted, Ethan had the biggest cheapskate grin plastered all over his face. The guy loved nothing more than collecting money from trainees.

Ares followed him into the main vault room. The Ring Area was already dimmed, with the platform glowing faintly like it was waiting for action. Ethan stepped onto the platform and fitted the core into the center slot with a quiet click. A sound like grinding teeth echoed from under the floor as the chamber started responding.

The core lit up with an angry red pulse.

The hexagonal ring carved into the floor lit up piece by piece, each section flashing with dull purple light. Weird mana patterns twisted through the stone, flickering like reflections in disturbed water. From the corners of the ring, thin threads of pale web stretched across the chamber, already forming before the creature even showed up.

The core pulsed again. A low, rumbling sound followed. Then dead silence.

Ethan stepped back, looking way too entertained. "It's active. Good luck, kid."

Ares took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and stepped into the arena.

The moment his boots hit the stone, everything felt wrong. It wasn't just cold - it was like the air itself was sick. Sounds got muffled. His mana felt sluggish, like trying to swim through thick honey. The torches on the walls dimmed, and above him...

Something scraped against the ceiling.

Ares spun around just in time to see nothing. His gut screamed danger. He dove forward, and the ceiling above him exploded as a massive shape slammed down where he'd been standing. Pieces of stone and dust shot everywhere. The echo had arrived.

It was like watching a nightmare come to life. The Gloomantula crouched low, its matte black legs pressing into the stone with creepy stillness. No eyes. No face. Just silent menace and twitching, barbed legs that looked like they could cut through steel.

It lunged again.

Ares moved on pure instinct, rolling to the side while drawing his short sword. He slashed at one of its legs but barely scratched the surface. The thing was covered in armor-like chitin - way too tough for normal attacks.

He tried using fire. Three quick bursts.

Fwoosh, Fwoosh, Fwoosh.

But the flames barely stuck to its slick, dust-covered hide. The webs in the air twisted his fire attacks, messing up his aim like funhouse mirrors.

Then the threads came. From above, delicate silver strands whipped toward his shoulders, wrapping around his wrist and left foot. Ares tried to jump, but his movements felt sluggish. The spider's webs were sucking his mana away, draining his core like invisible vacuums.

"Damn it!" he grunted, slashing the webline with his sword and shooting a burst of ice from his palm to break the other one.

Sweat was pouring down his face now.

The Gloomantula crept sideways up the wall like gravity didn't exist. It disappeared into the shadows above. Ares spun around, eyes darting everywhere, trying to spot it. His fire flickered weakly. The mana in the air felt unstable, slippery. Faint clicking sounds echoed around him, like the thing was laughing.

"I see how it is..." he muttered, planting his feet firmly. Then, raising his hand, he focused hard.

Lightning crackled across his skin. He shot forward with Static Body, zipping across the ring in a blur of movement. His sword scraped the spider's belly, but still - no real damage. He needed something bigger.

"I'll end this in one shot."

He gathered both fire and lightning in his palm. It crackled dangerously, making the air smell like burning metal.

"Fire Bolt!"

The golden projectile screamed toward the ceiling like a comet. It struck the Gloomantula mid-crawl, and the explosion rocked the entire vault. The spider dropped with an ear-splitting shriek, slamming onto the floor hard enough to crack the stone.

But it wasn't dead.

It was furious.

The thing surged up faster than Ares could blink, two massive legs raised to pin him down, fangs opening wide for a killing blow. He tried to step back, but his legs gave out. His vision flickered. He was completely drained.

The Gloomantula pounced.

Then - CRACK!

A blinding red light shattered the chamber like breaking glass.

The echo flickered apart mid-leap, scattering into shards of broken mana that fell like glittering rain. Ethan stood outside the ring with his arms folded, looking bored.

"System failsafe kicked in. You were about two seconds from becoming spider snacks."

Ares didn't say anything.

He just lay there for a few seconds, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Then, slowly, he sat up, breathing hard but grinning like a maniac.

"...That was incredible," he muttered. His body felt like he'd been hit by a truck. His arms were covered in web burns that stung like crazy. But his eyes gleamed with pure excitement.

Ares Eisenklinge had just found his new favorite challenge.

– – –

Later that night, the finalist wing of the Cradle was wrapped in thick, heavy silence. The kind that came from power, not peace. Here, every word was a weapon, and even footsteps had meaning.

Inside one of the fancier rooms, Vael de Eisenklinge stood half in shadow, facing the tall window that bathed him in cold moonlight. He wore a flowing black robe with silver trim, holding a teacup casually in one hand while twirling a small paper scroll between his fingers. His white hair sparkled in the light, eyes closed as always, but his lips curved in a faint smile that never meant anything good.

Behind him, Nyla Vayn, disguised as the mute cleaning maid Elyra, stood by the wall, looking completely unimportant. But she was anything but tharmt. Every muscle in her body was coiled like a spring, her posture perfect, hands folded politely in front of her apron. Her black eyes looked blank on the surface, but they caught every tiny detail.

"Funny how things work, isn't it?" Vael's voice cut through the silence like silk over steel. "The whole Cradle revolves around strength, but sometimes all it takes is one letter to destroy a legacy."

He unrolled the scroll in his hand, it was the same scroll he got weeks ago, the one Cassia sent. "She wants him dead, then so be it, all that matters is that i repay my families debt."

He didn't expect an answer. He loved talking when his audience couldn't interrupt. And Nyla played her part perfectly, silent, still, obedient.

"I'll make it quick and clean," he continued, his voice like a deadly lullaby. "The Vault is perfect. Late night, when the guards change shifts. Juno will create the opening. Ares will be alone... studying too hard, like always." He chuckled softly. "His dedication is really admirable. Too bad it's wasted on a dead man."

He turned, walking slowly back to his table. His teacup didn't even tremble in his fingers. "You'll tell the patrol guards that I was with you all evening. Give them wine if you need to. You're good at making yourself invisible."

At that, Nyla's eyes flickered, just barely. She'd already gotten her own scroll. Hers had much colder instructions, written in Cassia's sharp handwriting:

'Strike right after Vael does. Make it clean. Leave no evidence. Let him take all the blame.'

If Vael was the blade, Nyla was the poison on its edge. And when the time came, she would spill blood without hesitation.

Vael sipped his tea slowly. "Ares Eisenklinge... What a tragic ending. He should've stayed a nobody in the background. But fate made him loud. Bright."

His smile got wider, then he turned to Nyla. "Prepare my clothes for tomorrow's final year evaluation. I want something light, easy to move in."

Nyla bowed her head and stepped silently into the closet room.

As the door whispered shut behind her, her eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of cold calculation rising beneath her mask.

Two more days. Then she would disappear, her job finished. Cassia's order completed.

And Vael... would never see the betrayal coming.

– – –

A/N – Was it fire or mid? Don't just vanish—powerstone, comment, review. Let me feel your presence.