Chapter 31: Historical Projection

"This..."

Lazarus remained still inside the Secluded Domain for several long seconds after closing the Door of Light.

The revelation sat heavily in his mind.

Lord Drakon was not a living Historian.

The perfectly symmetrical face, the fashionable leather jacket, the crimson eyes that had drawn so many admiring glances during Orientation—all of it belonged to a Historical Projection. The connection to the Celestial Library was fixed and complete, lacking the living flexibility that every true Anchor possessed. There was no growth, no fluctuation, no personal Integration to measure. Only a finished construct given form.

’A Prince-rank Projection at minimum,’ Lazarus thought. ’Possibly higher when he takes on his true form.’

He had sensed the difference the moment he looked closely. Living Historians carried a certain tension between knowledge and body. Projections did not. They were pure information given shape, and once that shape was set, it remained set unless the summoner altered it.

Someone in the Academy had summoned Drakon and left him active as staff.

The implications were not small.

A Historical Projection acting as an instructor meant the Academy itself was willing to use high-level knowledge in ways most institutions would consider reckless. It also meant Drakon’s loyalty was not to any individual, but to whatever purpose his summoner had assigned him. From the way he had been introduced, that purpose appeared to be the Academy itself.

Lazarus exhaled slowly and released the tension in his shoulders.

There was no immediate danger. Drakon had shown no hostility. If anything, the Projection seemed content in its role. Still, the fact that it existed at all was information Lazarus needed to keep private for now. Revealing that he could identify a Projection of that level would raise questions he was not prepared to answer.

He opened a fresh Door of Light, this time centered on his own body still standing in the quiet alcove of the corridor. The descent was smooth. The familiar weight of the physical world settled over him again.

Students continued to move through the halls, some heading toward their next classes, others lingering in conversation. No one paid him particular attention. The earlier incident with Neron had already begun to fade into background noise for most of them.

Lazarus checked the schedule once more.

His next class was Integration and Projection Familiarization, held in one of the larger training halls on the third floor of the western block. The instructor listed was Lord Drakon.

Of course it was.

He made his way there without hurry. By the time he arrived, most of the Class B students had already taken their places. The training hall was open and well-lit, with a polished floor marked by faint formation lines and a raised platform at the far end. Drakon stood on that platform, arms loosely crossed, crimson eyes scanning the arriving students with mild interest.

Up close, the difference was even clearer.

There was no subtle shift of breathing, no micro-adjustments of posture that living bodies made without thinking. Drakon’s presence was too still, too complete. Beautiful in the way a finished sculpture was beautiful.

Lazarus chose a seat near the middle of the left side and sat down.

A few moments later, the last students filed in. Drakon stepped forward.

"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was smooth, pleasant, and carried easily across the hall. "Today we will begin practical familiarization with your Historical Projections. Most of you have already summoned at least once. Some of you have done so under pressure. That is useful experience, but experience alone is not enough."

He raised one hand.

A soft pulse of light gathered above his palm and resolved into a small, translucent blade—no longer than a dagger. It hovered for a moment before dissolving again.

"Control begins with understanding the nature of what you have called," Drakon continued. "An Echo is not a tool you simply point at an enemy. It is a fragment of recorded existence. It carries habits, limitations, and residual will. If you treat it as a mindless weapon, it will eventually fail you at the worst possible moment."

Several students nodded and began taking notes.

Lazarus watched quietly.

Drakon’s lecture was clean and well-structured—far more coherent than Neron’s earlier session. The Projection spoke with the confidence of someone who had delivered the same material many times. There was no hesitation, no search for the next point. Everything flowed in perfect sequence.

’He has been doing this for a long time,’ Lazarus thought. ’Possibly longer than most of the living instructors.’

The class moved into practical work soon after. Students were instructed to summon their weakest, most stable Echo and maintain it for a full ten minutes while observing its behavior. Most of the Projections that appeared were modest—simple weapons, small animals, or ordinary historical figures of limited presence.

Lazarus summoned the Paper Tiger again, keeping its form restrained and its presence muted. The white tiger with black stripes materialized at his side, roughly the size of a large dog this time. It sat quietly, tail curled around its paws, and did nothing more than exist.

Drakon moved through the rows, offering brief comments and corrections. When he reached Lazarus, he paused for a moment longer than usual.

His crimson eyes studied the Paper Tiger, then shifted to Lazarus himself.

"An interesting choice," Drakon said. "Intimidation without substance. Effective against the inexperienced, but limited once the bluff is understood."

"I am aware," Lazarus replied.

Drakon’s mouth curved in a small, almost amused smile.

"Good. Awareness is the first step. Continue."

He moved on.

Lazarus dismissed the Paper Tiger once the allotted time ended and spent the remainder of the class listening. Drakon’s explanations of Resonant Presence, residual will, and the dangers of prolonged manifestation were accurate and precise. Nothing the Projection said contradicted the knowledge Lazarus already possessed. If anything, the lecture confirmed that whoever had designed Drakon’s role had given him a thorough foundation.

When the class finally ended, students began packing their materials.

A few lingered to ask Drakon questions.

Lazarus did not.

He left the training hall at a steady pace, mind already turning over the new information.

A Historical Projection serving as permanent staff... and an instructor whose rank he could not fully measure.

’How interesting...’