The air in the dungeon vibrated, thick with the stench of ozone and the raw power emanating from Eldridge. He was barely recognizable, his features warped, skin stretched taut over protruding bone, and eyes glowing with the baleful crimson light of the Ruby Eye. The Shadow Beast, a swirling vortex of darkness and fragmented nightmares, clawed at the edges of reality, tethered to Eldridge by shimmering, obsidian chains of arcane energy.

Ainsworth’s sacrifice hung heavy in the air. Her spectral form, fading and flickering, lingered near the shattered remnants of the ritual circle. Her final words, a murmured plea for Ethan to succeed, echoed in his mind, a chilling reminder of the stakes. He had to do this. He had to stop Eldridge, not just for Blackwell, but for Eleanor, for the petrified student, for everyone threatened by the Syndicate's twisted ambitions.

Fear threatened to paralyze him, but he fought it back, channeling the adrenaline surging through his veins. He was still just Ethan Bellweather, a struggling art student, completely out of his depth. But he also wasn't. He was Ethan Bellweather, temporary Professor of the Obscure Arts, survivor of shadow lessons, and unwilling participant in a centuries-old drama. He had seen things, learned things, and felt the terrifying currents of magic firsthand. He had to believe that was enough.

He took a deep breath, focusing on the sigils Ainsworth had etched into the dungeon floor before her sacrifice. They were a protective barrier, designed to weaken the Shadow Beast's hold on the physical plane. He just had to amplify them, strengthen them, and push back against Eldridge's corrupting influence.

"You can't control it, Eldridge!" Ethan yelled, his voice trembling but firm. "It's consuming you! The Ruby Eye… it's a parasite!"

Eldridge, or what remained of him, roared, a sound that was both human and utterly inhuman. He lunged, the Shadow Beast lashing out with tendrils of pure darkness. Ethan scrambled back, narrowly avoiding being engulfed.

He knew he couldn't fight Eldridge head-on. He was outmatched, outpowered, out everything. He had to use his head, his quick thinking, his artist's eye. He needed to exploit the ritual, the dungeon, the very nature of the Shadow Beast.

The creature, he realized, was a manifestation of fear, of repressed memories, of the darkest desires. It thrived on chaos and negativity. And Ethan knew exactly how to create chaos.

He glanced around the dungeon, taking in the ancient stonework, the scattered remnants of previous rituals, the pools of stagnant water reflecting the hellish glow of the Ruby Eye. An idea, a desperate, audacious plan, began to form in his mind.

Remembering the 'shadow lore' lectures he'd been forced to endure, he recalled the principles of sympathetic magic. Like calls to like. The creature fed on darkness, so he had to… reflect it.

He rummaged in his pockets, finding a small, charcoal pencil he always carried for sketching. It was his link to the world he knew, a tiny piece of normality in this nightmarish reality. He looked at the closest stone wall. It was smooth enough, but he needed something to really draw on. Ripping the lining of his jacket, he revealed a crude canvas of sorts beneath. Perfect.

"Eldridge!" Ethan shouted again, trying to draw the creature's attention. "Look at what you've become! Is this what Miriam would have wanted? A monster feeding on darkness?"

The words seemed to strike a nerve. Eldridge flinched, the Shadow Beast momentarily hesitating. It was all the opening Ethan needed.

He began to sketch, furiously, desperately, on the stone wall. He didn't try to create a perfect image, just a raw, visceral representation of what he saw: the distorted features of Eldridge, the writhing form of the Shadow Beast, the oppressive darkness of the dungeon. He sketched with a frenzied energy, pouring his fear, his anger, his grief into each stroke.

As he worked, the sigils etched by Ainsworth began to glow brighter, resonating with the energy of his drawing. He wasn't just sketching; he was channeling the dark energy, shaping it, focusing it. He was becoming a conduit, a lightning rod for the chaos.

He finished the sketch, a grotesque caricature of Eldridge and his monstrous familiar. He stepped back, breathing heavily, and waited.

The Shadow Beast, sensing the shift in energy, turned its attention to the drawing. It pulsed and throbbed, its shadowy tendrils reaching out to touch the image. As they made contact, the dungeon seemed to shimmer.

The drawing began to ripple, as if the stone wall itself was melting. The image of Eldridge and the Shadow Beast twisted and contorted, becoming even more grotesque, more terrifying. And then, with a deafening roar, the drawing came to life.

A miniature Shadow Beast, a smaller, less powerful version of the original, detached itself from the wall and lunged at the larger creature. The two entities clashed, a chaotic maelstrom of darkness and shadow. The dungeon floor trembled, and chunks of stone crumbled from the ceiling.

Ethan had created a mirror, a reflection of the Shadow Beast's own darkness. And now, that darkness was fighting itself.

The original Shadow Beast, weakened and distracted, began to lose its grip on the physical plane. Its form flickered, its edges blurring. The obsidian chains that bound it to Eldridge began to fray.

This was his chance.

Ethan focused on the sigils again, drawing on the last reserves of his strength. He amplified the protective energy, pushing it outwards, towards Eldridge. The sigils flared with a blinding light, pushing the corrupting influence of the Ruby Eye back.

Eldridge screamed, a high-pitched, agonizing sound. The crimson glow in his eyes flickered, and his distorted features began to revert to their original form. He was fighting the Ruby Eye, struggling to regain control.

Ethan knew he had to act quickly. He couldn't banish the Ruby Eye; he didn't have the power. But he could sever its connection to Eldridge.

He remembered something else from his forced 'shadow lore' education: the principle of transference. Energy couldn't be destroyed, only moved. He had to find a way to redirect the Ruby Eye's power, to disconnect it from Eldridge and shunt it somewhere… safe.

He looked around the dungeon, his eyes darting frantically. His gaze fell on a small, stone alcove, hidden behind a crumbling tapestry. It was dark, secluded, and… empty.

It was a long shot, but it was the only shot he had.

He closed his eyes, focusing all his will, all his intention, on the alcove. He imagined it as a void, a black hole, a place where the Ruby Eye's power could be contained, neutralized.

Then, he opened his eyes and unleashed a torrent of artistic energy, channeling it through the sigils, towards the alcove. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he trusted his instincts, his intuition, his newfound connection to the Obscure Arts.

The dungeon vibrated, the air crackling with energy. The Ruby Eye, sensing the threat, pulsed with increasing intensity. But Ethan held firm, pouring all his remaining strength into the transference.

With a final, earth-shattering surge of power, the Ruby Eye's connection to Eldridge snapped. The crimson glow vanished, replaced by the dull, lifeless grey of a regular, unremarkable gem. Eldridge collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The Shadow Beast, no longer tethered to its master, dissipated into nothingness, leaving behind only the faint scent of ozone and a lingering chill.

Silence descended on the dungeon, broken only by Ethan's ragged breathing. He stood there, swaying on his feet, feeling drained and exhausted. He had done it. He had banished the Shadow Beast, severed the Ruby Eye's connection, and saved Blackwell Academy.

He staggered over to Eldridge and checked his pulse. He was alive, but barely. Ethan knew he had to get him help, but first… he had to secure the Ruby Eye.

He carefully picked up the gem, feeling a faint tingle as it touched his skin. He walked over to the alcove and placed the Ruby Eye inside. He pulled the crumbling tapestry back into place, concealing the alcove and its dangerous contents.

He knew the Ruby Eye wouldn't stay contained forever. But for now, it was out of reach, its power neutralized. He had bought Blackwell, and the world, some time. Time to figure out what to do with it.

Exhausted, Ethan leaned against the cool stone wall, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. He looked at his charcoal-covered hands, the remnants of his frantic sketch. He was still just an art student, after all.

But he was also something more. He was a survivor. He was a protector. He was a reluctant hero.

And he knew, with a chilling certainty, that his involvement with the Shadow Syndicate, and the secrets of Blackwell Academy, was far from over. There was still graduation to face after all.