The morning after his third victory, Aiden felt strangely tired despite sleeping well. His muscles ached in ways that seemed disproportionate to what he remembered from the fights. But he pushed the discomfort aside as he headed to breakfast.
The dining hall buzzed with excitement about the fourth round matches. Students clustered around tables, analyzing yesterday's fights and speculating about today's matchups. Aiden noticed more people looking his way now, their expressions ranging from curiosity to unease.
He found Sarah at their usual table, but her smile seemed forced.
"How are you feeling?" she asked as he sat down.
"Fine. Why?"
"You just look... tired, I guess." She studied his face with a healer's attention to detail. "Are you getting enough sleep?"
"Plenty. Just focused on the evaluations."
Sarah nodded, but Aiden could see she wasn't entirely convinced. Before she could say more, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Blackwood.
"Cross. My office, after breakfast. We need to discuss your evaluation report."
After the instructor left, Sarah looked worried. "What do you think that's about?"
"Probably just standard post-evaluation feedback," Aiden said, though he suspected it was something more serious.
An hour later, Aiden knocked on Blackwood's office door. The instructor's workspace was spartanly decorated, filled with combat manuals and training equipment. Blackwood sat behind his desk with a tablet displaying what looked like an evaluation report.
"Sit," Blackwood commanded without looking up.
Aiden took the chair across from the desk, studying the instructor. Blackwood was lean but muscular, probably in his forties, with the confident posture of someone accustomed to authority. A former B-rank hero forced into teaching after a career-ending injury.
"Your performance yesterday was... interesting," Blackwood began. "The way you handled those opponents shows more sophistication than typical hypnosis applications."
"I used my talent within the rules," Aiden replied carefully. "No permanent harm was done."
"Perhaps. But I've been teaching here for fifteen years, Cross. I know the difference between standard talent use and something more concerning." Blackwood stood and walked around the desk. "Your opponents weren't just defeated. They were changed. Lisa Brennan spent last night confused about her own emotions. Kevin Marshall has memory gaps. Robert Kane is convinced you have supernatural durability."
The instructor loomed over Aiden's chair. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to help me with certain problematic students. Nothing dramatic, just attitude adjustments. In exchange, my evaluation report will focus on your tactical skills rather than your methods."
Aiden let nervousness show in his expression. "I'm not sure my talent works the way you think it does."
"Then you better figure it out quickly." Blackwood activated his tablet, showing a draft report filled with concerning observations about Aiden's psychological profile and potential danger to other students. "Because the alternative is expulsion for safety reasons."
As Blackwood outlined his demands, Aiden began working. Not the obvious hypnosis the instructor expected, but something far more subtle. He started with his own posture and breathing, projecting calm confidence while weaving barely perceptible suggestions into his responses.
*I am trustworthy.*
*I am exactly what you expected.*
*You are in complete control here.*
The suggestions were whisper-quiet, designed to reinforce Blackwood's existing beliefs rather than override them. The instructor wouldn't notice anything unusual.
"There's a student named Derek Mills," Blackwood continued. "C-rank earth manipulation, but he's been disruptive in my classes. I want you to make him more compliant."
"I understand," Aiden said, adding another layer to his subtle work. "Though it might take some time. These things work best when they seem natural."
"Good. I want results by week's end." Blackwood returned to his desk, already dismissing Aiden. "And Cross? Don't try anything clever. I've dealt with mental talents before."
As Aiden left the office, he felt satisfied with his progress. The seeds he'd planted would grow slowly, making Blackwood more receptive to future suggestions without the instructor realizing he was being influenced.
The fourth round of combat evaluations began that afternoon. Aiden's opponent was Catherine Pembroke, the barrier specialist with S-rank defensive abilities. She stood confidently in the arena, translucent energy walls already forming around her position.
"I've studied your previous matches," she called out. "Your hypnosis needs eye contact and verbal commands. My barriers prevent both."
Smart strategy, but based on incomplete information. Aiden had been developing techniques that went beyond the textbook applications everyone expected.
"Begin!" Professor Vale shouted.
Catherine immediately created a dome of energy around herself, then began expanding it to crush Aiden against the arena walls. It was tactically sound - contain the hypnotist, then eliminate him without allowing mental contact.
Aiden started his self-enhancement, but kept it moderate. "I am faster and stronger than normal," he whispered. The familiar tingle spread through his muscles, but he was careful not to push beyond reasonable human limits.
He ran toward the expanding barrier, timing his approach carefully. Just before the energy wall reached him, he leaped up and over it, using enhanced agility to clear the barrier's height.
Catherine spun to track him, creating new barriers to maintain distance. But Aiden had learned something important from his research - communication went far beyond words and eye contact.
He began moving in specific patterns, his posture and gestures carefully designed to trigger subconscious responses. Years of studying human psychology were paying off as he broadcast subtle suggestions through pure body language.
*You're working too hard.*
*Your concentration is wavering.*
*This fight is more exhausting than expected.*
Catherine's barriers flickered slightly as her subconscious absorbed the non-verbal messages. She shook her head, trying to clear a growing sense of fatigue.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Just fighting," Aiden replied, continuing his psychological pressure through movement and stance.
Catherine fought valiantly, but she was battling on two fronts - the physical combat and a mental intrusion she couldn't identify. Her noble training hadn't prepared her for this kind of warfare.
After several more minutes, her barriers began to weaken noticeably. "I yield," she said suddenly, collapsing her defenses. "I yield."
The crowd erupted in surprised cheers. Another upset victory for the slum rat with hypnosis.
But as Aiden walked off the arena floor, he noticed something concerning. His legs felt shaky, and there was a sharp ache in his chest that he didn't remember from the fight. He'd been careful with his self-enhancement, hadn't pushed beyond what seemed reasonable.
So why did his body feel like he'd been hit by a truck?
That evening, as Aiden made his way back to his dormitory, he found his path blocked by three figures in expensive uniforms. Marcus Aldrich stood in the center, flanked by two followers whose hands crackled with barely contained energy.
"Congratulations on another impressive victory," Marcus said, his voice carrying deadly calm. "Though I'm starting to wonder about your methods."
"I fight within the rules," Aiden replied, fighting to keep the fatigue out of his voice.
"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're doing something far beyond normal hypnosis applications." Marcus stepped closer. "Tell me, Cross - do you actually think those parlor tricks will protect you forever?"
One of Marcus's followers, a boy with lightning enhancement, let electricity arc between his fingers. "Want me to test how tough he really is?"
Marcus held up a hand. "Not here. Too many witnesses." His smile was cold as winter ice. "But don't worry, Cross. The semifinals are tomorrow. And I have a feeling we'll be matched against each other very soon."
As the nobles walked away, Aiden leaned against the wall, suddenly dizzy. The strange fatigue was getting worse, and he was starting to suspect it wasn't just from overwork.
Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. His hypnosis felt stronger than ever, his techniques more refined. Yet his body seemed to be paying a price he didn't understand.
He made it back to his room and collapsed on his bed, mind racing. Tomorrow would bring the semifinals, and probably a direct confrontation with Marcus. He needed to be at full strength for that fight.
But as exhaustion pulled him toward sleep, Aiden couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important about his own power. Something that might cost him everything if he didn't figure it out soon.