The sun had only just begun its lazy descent beyond the crimson-orange horizon when the Academy's upper terrace meeting room lit with the low murmur of conversation. A group of instructors sat around an oval table, their expressions thoughtful, their tones subdued.
Instructor Maelin spoke first, her voice crisp. "We've all seen the footage from yesterday's duel."
Silence followed. No one disagreed. How could they?
Master Nyros, head of the Combat Division, leaned forward, fingers tented. "That student… Kael Varian. He's hiding something."
"Obviously," said Instructor Teral, brows drawn together. "I've never seen anyone move like that. It wasn't martial technique from any region I've studied. And I've studied all the regional forms. That footwork—those transitions—it's not documented anywhere."
"It wasn't mana-reliant either," Maelin added, "not directly. No spell formations, no body enhancements. Just… raw, terrifying control."
"It was beautiful," murmured one of the younger faculty, a literature professor who had just happened to be present in the arena crowd. "It was like poetry in motion."
The combat instructors scoffed lightly, but didn't argue.
Maelin sighed. "We need to keep an eye on him. Not to stifle him—gods forbid—but to understand what he's capable of. And where he learned it."
Nyros grunted in agreement.
—
Across the Academy, in the upper dormitories of the elite first-years, the main cast was gathered in a quiet study room—an informal meet they sometimes used to discuss training or just relax. Today, however, the mood was anything but relaxed.
Aeris leaned against a shelf, arms folded. "He toyed with Garron. It wasn't even a fight."
Reon, always composed, tapped his fingers on the table. "He wasn't showing off. That's what bothers me. He moved like he had no interest in the crowd."
"I've watched the recording five times," said Lira, their tactician. "And every time, I'm struck by one thing: how precise it was. There wasn't a single wasted motion. No flourish. No stumble. It wasn't flashy—it was clinical."
Asha, their healer, hugged her knees to her chest on the couch. "What do we really know about him?"
Reon shook his head. "Not much. He keeps to himself. Doesn't talk unless he has to."
"He's strong," Aeris said. "Very strong. But it's more than that. He has purpose. Intent. Like he's already seen the path ahead."
None of them noticed the quietest among them staring out the window.
Sylara.
Her violet eyes reflected the stars.
She said nothing.
But her mind churned with memory.
Of Kael's eyes, calm and unreadable.
Of his movements—precise, fluid.
Of the moment he looked at her and said nothing.
Somehow, it had stayed with her.
She didn't know why.
She wasn't sure she wanted to.
—
Back in Kael's room, the boy in question sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the surface of his status screen. The blue light glowed softly, casting shadows across his face.
[STATUS: OPEN]
Name: Kael Varian
Rank: D
Physique: D
Mana Core: D
Affinity: Light, Darkness, Fire (Solar Flame), Lightning
Unlocked Skills: Verumkai (Intermediate - 12%), Kuntham Payattu (Beginner - 50%), Mukhtam Technique (Beginner - 47%), Mana Control (70%)
Passive: Status Sense (others)
Weapon: Vasavi Shakti / Vijay Dhanush (Bound, Adaptive Form)
He studied the numbers, then closed the panel.
He had no intention of remaining mysterious for the sake of mystery.
But it was better this way.
He remembered what the original protagonist was like. Boisterous. Friendly. Loud. Always attracting attention.
But Kael wasn't here to be the hero.
He was here to survive.
To rewrite the end.
And somewhere along the way… to protect the ones worth saving.
He glanced toward the window.
And just for a moment, the silver gleam of moonlight across stone reminded him of her hair.
Sylara.
He shut his eyes.
Tomorrow, everything would go back to normal.
Except it wouldn't.
Not anymore.