SHAMAN PROTOCOL-Chapter 127: The Neglected One

[Host: Mikel Graves]

[Status: Protocol Warden II]

[New Skill Acquired: The Broken Hour – Book of the Dead]

[Type: Forbidden]

[Description: The Broken Hour does not turn back time. Instead, it pulls fragments of the past into the present as if the timeline had always been bent, distorting and altering reality.]

[Side Effects:

– Unseen Consequences

– Risk of attracting anomalies

– Each use weakens the caster’s spiritual integrity.]

[Cost: Massive Soul Credits + Permanent Soul Burn (Imprint)]

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Days had passed, and slowly things were returning to normal around the academy. If Mikel didn’t know better, he might’ve thought the whole incident was just a figment of his imagination. Hence, he kept staring at the newly acquired skill from that night—his only proof that he hadn’t dreamed it all.

[Good morning, Master. You haven’t gotten up. Are you not going to school?]

Mikel blinked at Doom’s message as the previous one vanished.

"I’m just thinking why I’m looking at that forbidden skill, just to make sure I didn’t dream a long one," he muttered, turning toward the empty bed across his own. "When my roommate still hasn’t come back yet."

The incident had cost lives, and the academy was tangled in its aftermath—dealing with bereaved families, Zone Zero investigations, and the survivors. Some were sent home to recover, like Ran, who left with Zira. Even Tahu had been dispatched to assist Zone Zero agents.

As for Boom and Blitz, Mikel had no idea what became of them. Only that Grandpa Eli had been tasked to watch over the twins. That left Mikel idle for days since being released from the clinic. Thankfully, the Blood Chain’s ravenous appetite kept him busy, feeding it whenever he had the chance.

[Are you going to skip class again?]

Mikel arched a brow at the hovering screen. "Should I? They told me to join other classes since it’s only me right now."

[Master, I suggest you finish your main task.]

Doom pulled up Mikel’s main objective, the one he’d been ignoring for months. Mikel scowled at it: to claim one true and complete soul.

His face soured as he sat up. "Honestly, Doom, the reward for this task isn’t tempting. Another cursed relic? No, thanks."

As the words left his mouth, Doom suddenly displayed a timer. Mikel glared at it and hissed.

"Nice try, but the good thing about being a Warden is I can just die without doing it," he snickered, stretching as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Should I go to school? Or not? I don’t really know. This academy just neglects its only student from my section."

Once the stiffness in his shoulders eased, he smacked his lips. "And Mister Nocty is still being investigated by Zone Zero."

[That faulty shaman resigned.]

"You think?"

[Even if he didn’t, he should. After all, you are a better fit to rule the academy, Master.]

"Doom, what do you want from me?" Mikel scrunched his nose, noticing Doom had been laying the praise on thick lately. "Ah, don’t bother. I don’t care."

He walked to the window, watching a few students sprinting out of the dormitory to catch their first classes. Meanwhile, Mikel idled as if he had all the time in the world.

"I’m really bored lately..." he grumbled, leaning against the study desk. "All my classmates were sent away. They should’ve sent me, too."

The thought of going home made him picture the ghosts still looking after his house. His nose wrinkled.

"Never mind," he muttered, glancing at his bracelet. "Doom, stats on this thing’s stomach?"

The bracelet glowed instantly, stinging his wrist. After nearly being burned alive by it before, the pain barely registered anymore.

[Master, the Blood Chain is full. You’ve been feeding him excessively.]

"Want to eat some more?"

[I suggest not.]

Mikel grinned anyway, plotting another feeding frenzy until the relic burst. Sneaking out had been tricky at first, with Zone Zero agents patrolling nightly, but he had already scouted escape routes.

Yawning, he covered his mouth. "Well, I guess I’ll sleep again."

He pushed off the desk and collapsed back onto the bed. Lying on his stomach, hugging the pillow, he let his eyes drift shut.

Minutes later, his brows furrowed. A steady snapping sound echoed in the room. He tried to ignore it, but it persisted. Opening his eyes, he glanced at the empty bed across from him—still unoccupied.

Turning his head, he spotted the source: a figure crouched on Ran’s desk, facing the window, fingers snapping in rhythm on either side.

Mikel frowned, studying him.

Isn’t this...?

[Your classmate, Master. In both the normal class and detention. It seems he’s back.]

Mikel’s brows rose as he sat up almost eagerly. "Hey!" he called, but the student ignored him. "Hey!"

On the second call, the finger-snapping student stopped. He turned slowly, blinked once at Mikel, then resumed his rhythm.

Mikel’s expression twisted. He had never spoken to this classmate, despite always being in detention together. One of the ones who had been sent home.

"No one is in the class," the student finally said, his voice low—at least the first time Mikel had heard him speak.

"I never realized it’s... sad to snap my fingers without an audience."

Mikel’s face twitched. "Take that finger snapping out of here. You can sit in other classes. There’s a whole room for you to annoy."

"But they’re not my classmates."

[Master, be careful with him.]

Mikel glanced at Doom’s warning before turning his attention back to the finger snapper. The boy was still crouched on the study desk, eyes fixed on the window, though there was nothing worth seeing outside the dormitory.

I know, Mikel thought. After all, this guy survived the Labyrinth, and his entire group survived because of him.

Every survivor in their class had come out of the Labyrinth with a different story. Mikel had overheard pieces here and there—from students, staff, even Zone Zero agents—but one fact was clear: the Labyrinth killed young shamans. Even red-stripe ones. He hadn’t seen some of those familiar uniforms again after leaving the clinic.

"Mikel Graves."

He snapped out of his thoughts when the finger snapper finally spoke.

"This place is strange, isn’t it?"

"It’s always been strange."

The boy turned his head, snapping slowing as he studied Mikel. "Not that," he said. "Something is wrong, but I can’t point out exactly what it is. I just... feel an omen is coming."