The Inspector's measuring rod was screaming now, a high-pitched, metallic whine that set everyone's teeth on edge. The air in the F-Class common room had become physically heavy, a localized gravity well centered entirely on Matthew. His white evening gloves, still worn from the gala, began to fray at the fingertips as the violet energy of the "Ebb" he had swallowed the night before sought an exit.
"Step back," Matthew warned, his voice vibrating with a frequency that made the glass windowpanes rattle in their frames.
The Sun-Guards, veterans of a dozen skirmishes, actually retreated a step. They didn't see a student; they saw the same void that had stood alone at the North Gate.
"Enough of this theater."
The voice was like a bucket of ice water poured over a fever. Lyra Ignis stepped through the doorway, her crimson hair still slightly singed at the tips from the previous night's battle. She wasn't wearing her gown anymore; she was in her full Elite combat leathers, the crest of the House of Ignis—a rising phoenix—emblazoned in gold on her breastplate.
The lead Inspector stiffened, his arrogant sneer faltering. "Lady Lyra. This is a matter of High Council jurisdiction. These students have utilized unregistered, high-output artifacts—"
"These students," Lyra interrupted, walking past the guards as if they were furniture, "saved the lives of three Council sons who were too busy shaking from Vacuum Shock to hold a shield. As for the artifacts..."
She reached out and snatched the measuring rod from the Inspector's hand. With a brief, blinding flare of white heat, the device melted into a useless lump of slag.
"There," she said coolly. "It seems your equipment was faulty. Must have been the lingering Miasma."
The Inspector turned purple. "You cannot interfere! The Valerius boy is an orphan with no standing, and the Oakhaven boy is a Zero! By the laws of the Accord—"
"By the laws of the Accord," Lyra said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "the House of Ignis has the right to 'Sponsorship.' I am officially declaring Matthew and Andre as retainers under the protection of the Phoenix. Any attempt to seize their property is an act of aggression against my House. Do you really want to explain to my father why you started a blood-feud over a pair of gloves?"
The room fell into a stunned silence. Even Andre looked shocked. Retainer status was a legal loophole usually reserved for master assassins or high-tier researchers. It meant that, in the eyes of the law, Matthew and Andre were now part of the Ignis family's inner circle.
The Inspector looked at the Sun-Guards, then at the melted rod in his hand. He knew he was beaten. "The Council will hear of this, Lady Lyra. You are shielding a threat."
"I am shielding the people who did your job for you," she countered. "Get out. Before I decide the Miasma is still in this room and needs to be burned away."
As the Inspectors scurried out, followed by the silent Sun-Guards, the pressure in the room finally lifted. Matthew exhaled, his knees buckling slightly as the violet glow in his eyes faded.
Andre rushed over, grabbing Matthew's arm to steady him. "Retainers? Lyra, my father—well, if I had one—would probably be having a heart attack. You just declared war on the Council."
"The Council was already at war with you," Lyra said, turning to look at them. Her eyes softened as they landed on Matthew. "And they're going to lose. The Dean is already moving."
"What do you mean?" Matthew asked, his voice raspy.
"He didn't just tell Captain Allen to stay back," Lyra explained. "He sent messengers to the lower city this morning. The story of 'The Brave Warrior's Son' is already spreading through the markets and the slums. The commoners are hearing about how the Elite mages fell, and how a boy with no mana—the son of the man who held the Iron Gate—stood alone against the dark."
Matthew looked at his hands. He hated the idea of being a symbol. He just wanted to protect Emily.
"He's making me a hero," Matthew whispered.
"He's making you an icon," Lyra corrected. "He knows the Council can't touch you if the entire city is chanting your father's name. You aren't just a student anymore, Matthew. You're the reason the people think they might survive the next Ebb."
Later that evening, after the adrenaline had faded, Matthew sat on the roof of the North Wing, looking out at the city below. The lights of the lower districts seemed brighter tonight, as if the fear of the Miasma had been replaced by a new, flickering hope.
Andre climbed up through the hatch, carrying two bowls of stew. He handed one to Matthew and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge.
"So," Andre said, staring at the stars. "I guess I'm an Ignis retainer now. Does that mean I have to start acting noble? Because I really like swearing when my gears don't fit."
Matthew chuckled, a rare, genuine sound. "I think Lyra likes you better when you're swearing, Andre."
"Maybe," Andre said, his expression turning serious. "But Matthew... she's right. The Dean is using you. He's building you up into this 'Raven' figure to fight the Council. Just... don't forget why we're doing this. It's not for the stories. It's for Jax, and Sarah, and your sister."
"I know," Matthew said, looking at the black book hidden in his lap. "But to keep them safe, I have to be the monster the Council is afraid of. I have to eat more than just a few Husks next time."
The violet spark in his chest hummed, no longer a hunger, but a steady, cold engine. The journey was only half-over, and already, the boy from Oakhaven was gone, replaced by something the world wasn't ready to name.