The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

As the training session concluded and students began dispersing toward their dormitories, Sylves walked at a steady pace, his shirt lightly damp from exertion, a relaxed air about him. Ashia trotted beside him, speaking animatedly about how proud she was of his victory over Prince Elas.

Just ahead of them walked Serena, her posture upright despite the duel earlier.

"Serena," Sylves called, catching up to her.

She turned, brushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear. "Yes?"

"What room are you in?"

"Room 105," she replied with a small smile.

Sylves blinked. "You're right next door to us."

Serena's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh... I suppose that's convenient."

They shared a quiet laugh, then walked together toward the dorms. When they reached their doors, a brief goodbye passed between them before they stepped inside to wash up and change out of their training attire.

---

Cafeteria, Noon

The cafeteria buzzed with life—students of all years sat at long enchanted tables, dishes appearing before them in gleaming arrays. Cooked vegetables, honeyed breads, fresh fruits, and crystal pitchers of cooling elixirs lined the buffet. It was a feast worthy of nobles (but non vegetarian food like meat were not provided with in there)—and indeed, most present were.

Yet Sylves and Ashia bypassed the main seating hall. Carrying their trays, they walked out into the sun-drenched lawn behind the cafeteria. They settled beneath the shade of a great maple tree, the breeze light and fragrant with summer.

Ashia smoothed her skirt before sitting beside her master on the grass, the tray balanced delicately in her lap.

Moments later, Elas approached—still dressed in his training gear, hair slightly tousled. "You don't mind if I join, do you?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Sylves grinned. "Only if you're ready to eat like a commoner."

The prince laughed and sat down, crossing his legs. For the first time in his life, he was eating lunch on the ground—grass stains and all. Gasps rippled faintly across the courtyard as students caught sight of the royal heir sharing shade with a duke's son and a maid.

"I can already hear the court gossip," Elas muttered.

"Let them talk," Sylves replied, biting into a slice of spiced bread.

Soon after, Serena approached, hesitant but smiling. "Mind if I sit?"

"Of course not," Sylves said, gesturing beside Ashia. "You're practically family now."

As Serena settled down, another voice called out.

"Excuse me... may I join as well?"

They turned to see a boy—short in height, with tousled dark brown hair and sharp, olive-green eyes. His uniform was pristine, his manner respectful.

"I'm Claude Meredin," he introduced himself. "Son of Count Meredin of the Western Borderlands. I saw your duel today, Mr. Ellesmere. It would be an honor to eat with you."

Sylves tilted his head, then gave a welcoming nod. "Claude, is it? Please, sit. No need for formalities."

Claude smiled gratefully and took a place under the tree, laying out his tray.

As the group of five began to talk, laugh, and share food, something quietly took root beneath that tree. What had started as a simple lunch soon began to feel like the birth of something more—a bond, a fledgling fellowship.

And in the weeks to come, that bond would face the fires of magic, fate, and war. But for now, they simply ate—young and full of potential, unaware of the trials waiting just beyond the horizon.

As the group enjoyed their lunch under the tree, laughter and light conversation flowed between them. Just then, a sudden hush fell across the lawn. A strikingly beautiful girl approached, her fourth-year badge gleaming under the sunlight.

She had flowing silvery-black hair and piercing green eyes—Calista Vermielle, famed across the academy not only for her mastery of wind and illusion magic, but also her noble lineage and elegance.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, her gaze fixed solely on Sylves.

Everyone turned. Serena and Ashia were visibly surprised, Elas raised an eyebrow, and Claude nearly dropped his fork.

Sylves gestured calmly to the grass beside him. "Go ahead."

Calista sat down with grace, not sparing a glance for the others. "You're Sylves Ellesmere—the first-year who bested Prince Elas."

"So it seems," Sylves replied.

"You're interesting," she said softly, "more than your title suggests."

Sylves smirked. "You too. Most nobles wouldn't sit in the grass."

She smiled, the kind of smile few ever saw from her. "Most nobles bore me. I am from another country where nobles don't mind behaving like commoners."

Ashia glanced at them, her chest tightening with a feeling she didn't quite understand. Serena lowered her eyes. Claude stayed silent. Even Elas watched in quiet curiosity.

Calista leaned in slightly. "You are not like any other student, are you?"

Sylves met her eyes. "Depends. Are you just another noble's daughter?"

Her laugh rang like wind through leaves. "We'll see."

The moment passed, but something subtle had shifted.

The Catalyst Sovereign was beginning to draw attention—from more than just enemies.

More than a month had passed since the term began.

The routine had become predictable—lectures on Catalyst theory, water magic fundamentals, and self-defense drills under Professor Castra Klint. Day after day, the schedule remained the same, and while the training was rigorous, it left little room for surprises.

Except one.

Calista Vermielle had been approaching Sylves more frequently. At first, it was casual—simple conversations during breaks, shared insights after class. But gradually, her presence became constant. Wherever Sylves was, Calista wasn't far behind.

Prince Elas and Serena had taken notice.

---

One quiet night

A knock came at Room 104.

Sylves opened it to find Elas standing there, Serena beside him. Their expressions were serious.

"We need to talk," said Elas, his voice low.

Once inside, Serena spoke first. "It's about Calista."

"I know," Sylves said calmly, leaning against his desk. "She's been persistent. Yesterday she even asked to come into my room. I said no, but... she's not backing off."

"She's up to something," Elas said. "Too charming, too curious—she never behaved this way with anyone before."

Sylves nodded slowly. "She's definitely playing a deeper game."

Suddenly—a knock at the door.

They froze.

Sylves turned quickly. "Elas, Serena—hide. Now."

Without hesitation, Elas ducked into the wardrobe while Serena slipped behind the curtain near the bed.

Ashia, always quick to read the mood, sat down on the nearby chair, flipping open a book with feigned casualness.

Sylves composed himself and opened the door.

It wasn't Calista.

It was Claude.

"Evening," Claude said, smiling lightly. "I was on a walk and saw your room light on. Thought I'd drop by."

Sylves let out a silent breath of relief.

"Sure. Come in."

But the tension hadn't left the room. Ashia kept reading, and behind the curtain and wardrobe, two pairs of eyes stayed sharp.

Something about Calista still lingered in the air.

Something none of them fully understood—yet.

---

Claude stepped inside with a hesitant smile—but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Actually…" he said, voice softer now, "I lied. I wasn't out on a walk. I came to see you, Sylves. I need help."

Sylves straightened slightly. "Help? Are you alright?"

Claude's eyes dropped to the floor. "Not really. I want to show you something… something no one else knows about. I've kept it a secret, but I think you'll understand if you see it for yourself." His voice trembled ever so slightly. "Can you come to my room? Now?"

Sylves didn't hesitate. "If it's serious, of course. What room number?"

"Room 142," Claude replied. "Please… don't take too long. I'll be waiting."

And with that, he turned and left.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Sylves locked it.

Elas and Serena emerged from their hiding spots, expressions tense. Ashia quietly closed her book, her eyes fixed on Sylves.

Serena spoke first. "He seemed… off. I'm worried. What kind of trouble is he in?"

Elas nodded. "He's always been polite. A little quiet, but kind. Still—he's clearly hiding something."

But Sylves didn't respond. He remained still, staring at the door, his expression frozen.

"...Sylves?" Elas called softly. "What is it?"

Sylves slowly turned to face him. His voice was low and cold.

"Elas… we four know what room I stay in. And the academy staff, of course. But they're bound by oath—no one leaks room information."

A dreadful silence followed.

Serena's eyes widened. "Then… how did Claude know?"

Sylves stared at the door as if it had whispered a secret only he could hear. The weight of the realization settled heavily over them all.

He turned toward the others, his voice grave.

"That wasn't the real Claude."

Ashia's breath caught.

Something was very wrong.

And Room 142… might be a trap.

The room fell into a heavy silence—thick, unnatural.

Only the soft ticking of the wall clock dared to make a sound, like a countdown to something unseen.

Ashia slowly stood from the chair, her face pale. "If that wasn't Claude… then what was it?"

Elas clenched his jaw. "A shapeshifter? A magic construct?"

"No…" Serena whispered, her voice trembling. "If it was a mimic, the illusion would've been perfect… but his behavior was off. It was trying to imitate Claude—but not well enough."

Sylves paced slowly across the room, his footsteps almost inaudible over the growing chill. "It asked me to come alone. And it said it wanted to show me something… That's bait."

"What if it's dangerous?" Ashia asked, stepping closer to him. "What if it's trying to isolate you and—"

"Then I'll walk into its jaws," Sylves interrupted, voice cool and focused. "But not unprepared."

He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small, enchanted dagger—the blade engraved with ancient runes. He tucked it beneath his sleeve.

Elas stepped forward. "You're not going alone. I'll follow from a distance. If something goes wrong—"

"No," Sylves cut in. "If it's watching, it'll notice. It called me. One mistake, and the trap closes early."

"Then take this," Serena said, reaching into her satchel. She handed him a small crystal. "A flare crystal. If you break it, we'll see the flash from any distance."

Ashia stood near the door, clutching his cloak. "You're not going alone forever, right? Just… long enough to see what it is."

Sylves looked at each of them—his closest allies in this strange new world—and nodded. "Just long enough."

He moved to the door and placed his hand on the handle, but paused.

Then, in a low voice, he added, "No one open this door for anyone until I return. Even if it's me."

The cold silence in the room deepened.

Ashia's voice shook as she whispered, "Understood."

And with that, Sylves stepped into the dim corridor. The lanterns along the walls flickered, as if sensing something wrong. Shadows stretched unnaturally far behind him as he walked, each footstep quieter than the last.

Room 142 waited.

And whatever wore Claude's face… waited with it.

Dormitory Corridor – Nightfall

The castle-like corridors of the Imperial Asphalia Academy were usually silent at night, but this silence felt wrong. Unsettling. As if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Sylves walked slowly, his hand never straying far from the hidden dagger beneath his sleeve. The polished stone floor reflected the dim lanternlight, flickering with every step — like shadows dancing just out of reach.

He passed by Room 130… then 136… and finally came upon it.

Room 142.

The door stood slightly ajar.

A thin sliver of light glowed from within — not warm like a candle, but pale. Cold. Unnatural.

Sylves took a slow breath, then tapped once on the frame.

No answer.

He pushed the door open.

Darkness. The glow had vanished.

"Claude?" Sylves called, voice steady.

No response.

He stepped inside.

The room was neat. Too neat. The bed was untouched, the desk spotless. Not a single personal belonging in sight — no bags, no books, no trace of a student living here.

A lie.

Sylves scanned the room, senses sharp. Just as he turned toward the wardrobe—

Creak.

The door behind him clicked shut.

He spun around. No one.

Then—

"You came."

The voice came from the darkness behind him. Smooth. Familiar. But hollow — like an echo of someone long dead.

Claude stepped forward from the shadows.

Only it wasn't Claude.

His face was the same. The hair, the eyes — identical. But his movements were wrong. Fluid, twitchy. And his smile… too wide.

"You're curious," the not-Claude whispered. "That's good. Curiosity brings the Catalyst Sovereign closer to truth."

Sylves didn't flinch. "What are you?"

The thing tilted its head. "I've worn many names. But none of them matter. What matters is… you've been marked."

Suddenly the illusion broke.

Claude's face ripped open, like glass cracking across his skin — the mask peeling back to reveal a black, featureless shape beneath. No eyes. No mouth. Just a seething void in humanoid form.

"You walk among friends," it hissed. "How pathetic can you be if you need friends... ha! You don't need them."

Sylves gripped his dagger tightly. "Try anything… and I'll cut you down."

It laughed — a chilling, distorted sound. "You're not ready… not yet. But you'll see. Soon."

FLASH.

Sylves shattered the flare crystal.

A bright burst of white-blue light lit the room, so blinding it burned the edges of the creature's form.

It screamed, recoiling—

And vanished.

Certainly — here is the dark, intense continuation of the horror scene, where illusions shatter and Sylves confronts something far more sinister:

The door burst open with a crash. Elas was the first to rush in, sword half-drawn, followed by Serena and Ashia.

Sylves stood frozen in the center of the room, the jagged remains of the flare crystal at his feet, the afterglow still sizzling in the air.

"Sylves!" Elas called, rushing toward him. "Are you—"

SHHK.

The glint of steel caught the lanternlight.

Sylves's dagger slid cleanly into Elas's stomach.

The prince staggered backward, eyes wide with disbelief.

"W-why…?" he whispered, blood staining his royal tunic.

---