Part 12:
The days at Astradel Academy passed in an almost serene rhythm, exactly as Lucian preferred. Like a ghost, he moved unnoticed, his presence barely a ripple in the sea of students. He observed everything with cold calculation, always piecing together the threads of this institution's intricate web. The Academy's peace, however, was fragile. The pre-examinations—both theoretical and practical—loomed only a week or two away, forcing the students to prepare. Forming partnerships for the test had become the primary focus of the academy, but Lucian had long since picked his target: a pawn perfectly suited for his designs.
In the classroom, Lucian sat among his peers, his eyes wandering lazily over the scene. The professor droned on about the fundamentals of magic theory—material most students had already mastered. It was routine at first; the students, noble and common alike, slouched in their chairs, quietly whispering to friends, sneaking food under their desks, or pretending to listen. The academy gave them a great deal of freedom, and it showed. The professor seemed unconcerned by the lack of attention. Lucian silently noted how indifferent authority figures here could be, watching it all unfold as if observing pieces on a chessboard.
However, when the lecture progressed into more advanced territory, the room's atmosphere shifted. The professor introduced complex theories and strategies that demanded focus. Students sat up straighter, some scrambling to take notes, while others leaned forward with rapt attention. Yet Lucian's hand remained still. His mind absorbed everything like a sponge—every equation, theory, and obscure fact already committed to memory.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, students began gathering their belongings. They filed out of the room, chatting animatedly about the upcoming practical test. Lucian remained seated for a moment longer, his mind calculating the steps ahead. The practical test required students to form pairs, but unlike others, Lucian didn't worry about finding a competent partner. He had already chosen one, not for strength or talent, but for their malleability and usefulness.
After a brief pause, Lucian rose and silently left the classroom, his steps calm and deliberate. He took the garden path toward his dormitory, the cold breeze brushing against his hair as he passed the academy's towering structures. His mind continued working through the patterns he'd been observing—students, faculty, the very structure of the academy's rules. It was a delicate game of control and influence, and Lucian was intent on mastering it.
As he rounded a corner in the secluded section of the garden, his eyes fell upon a group of seniors surrounding a younger boy—Glad Wron from Class 1-D, a noble who had made a fool's mistake during lunch. Lucian knew the story. Glad had struck back at one of the minions of Kyle Stong, a notorious senior from an influential family, known for ruling the academy's underground social dynamics. That mistake was being corrected now, as Kyle and his group dragged the boy away, their cruel laughter filling the air.
Lucian's eyes stare as he watched them pull the boy deeper into the garden, away from prying eyes. Nine seniors, all stronger and more experienced than the trembling boy in their grasp. Lucian followed, silent as a shadow, keeping his distance as he observed. His thoughts were not of moral outrage or sympathy for the boy being beaten. No, he was far more interested in the mechanisms at play—the layers of manipulation, the exploitation of loopholes in the academy's surveillance system.
The academy's mana-tracking crystals should have prevented such incidents, tracing the location of every student through the mana embedded in their IDs. Yet these seniors had found a way around it, creating faint mana signatures in other areas to trick the system into believing they were somewhere else. Lucian's mind raced as he dissected the implications. It was clear the academy wasn't entirely ignorant of this loophole. They had likely allowed it to persist, encouraging students to exploit it, creating an environment where cunning and ruthlessness thrived. The academy was a place that rewarded intelligence over brute force, a notion that fascinated Lucian.
Kyle's group began their merciless assault on Glad Wron, delivering kick after kick as the boy curled into a ball, trying and failing to protect himself. Lucian continued to watch, indifferent to the violence but keenly aware of the nuances in the situation. He wasn't here to intervene, but something far more intricate had already begun to take shape in his mind.
Satisfied with what he had seen, Lucian turned away, making it appear as though he hadn't noticed the altercation. His movements were deliberate, drawing attention to himself just enough. One of the seniors, a tall, muscular human, called out to him. Lucian stopped, turning slightly as the group approached.
"Where do you think you're going?" one of them sneered, stepping forward.
Lucian's face remained blank, his voice devoid of emotion. "I didn't see anything. I have no interest in whatever this is."
But the seniors weren't in the mood to let him pass. As expected, one of them lunged at Lucian, throwing a wild punch. Lucian stepped aside effortlessly, his movement so fluid it was as though he anticipated every motion. The others, irritated by his calm demeanor, followed suit, launching themselves at him without thought.
Lucian acted quickly and efficiently. In a matter of moments, all three were on the ground, writhing in pain, groaning through bloodied lips. Lucian stood over them, his expression as cold and distant as ever. The entire confrontation had been so swift and clinical that it hardly felt real.
With a swift glance at the still-unconscious Glad Wron, Lucian leaned down and used a small healing spell to mend his injuries, careful to leave no trace of his interference. The narrative would be clear—Glad had somehow fended off his attackers, a feat that would go unexplained but accepted.
Lucian turned and walked away, leaving the scene as quietly as he had entered it. But something tugged at the edge of his awareness. As he moved through the shadows of the academy grounds, he sensed something—or someone—watching him. He didn't look back, but the presence was unmistakable.
In the distance, concealed behind a tree, a figure observed everything. Cloaked in darkness, the face hidden, the person watched Lucian with intense interest. A small, eerie smile curled at the person's lips as the whispered to itself, "Interesting…"
The shadowed figure vanished, leaving nothing but the faint rustle of leaves behind. Lucian continued on his path, his expression unchanging, but his mind now turning over the possibility of being observed. Was it part of his plan, or had something else slipped into his web of calculations?
When Lucian returned to his dorm, a notice had already been posted across the academy: Three students from Section C and one student from section D had been expelled for violent conduct. Lucian spared the notice a brief glance but didn't bother reading further. He already knew who they were.
As he closed the door to his room, The academy was proving to be far more layered than it appeared, and Lucian had only begun to unravel its secrets. Little did the academy know, Lucian wasn't just a player in their game—he was rewriting the rules.
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To be continued...