The metallic whir of Legnus Cross's advanced prosthetic right hand announced his arrival long before he entered. The sound, subtle yet impossible to ignore, preceded him like a herald in a quiet, wary court. The staff lounge, unlike the lecture hall with its sleek chrome panels and digital displays, carried the weight of decades of neglect. Beige walls bore scuff marks at the corners, furniture mismatched and worn, and the coffee table forever stained with the ghosts of lunches past. A large television hung above a cluster of bulletin boards cluttered with faded memos and announcements for faculty events long forgotten.
As Leo stepped through the frosted glass door, the low murmur of conversation dropped, replaced by a careful, almost tentative silence. A few teachers lifted their heads mid-sentence, eyes flicking toward him with clinical curiosity. Others, particularly those steeped in tradition, avoided his gaze entirely, pretending that the steam rising from their mugs held their full attention. At twenty-two, with a lean frame, sharp features, and dark, slightly unruly hair, Leo was unbothered by scrutiny. His gray-blue eyes swept across the room, noting micro-expressions, shifts in posture, subtle judgments. He was a mind tuned to observation, long trained to read the unspoken language of suspicion and envy.
"Well, if it isn't the Human Disruptor," a voice said, carrying amusement wrapped in steel. Dr. Elaine Morris, head of the Science department, rose from a battered armchair, graded papers clutched loosely in her hands. Elaine, thirty-four, with hair pulled into a severe bun and glasses perched just so on her nose, had the rare ability to combine pragmatism with composure. "I hear Mr. Vale's parents are already drafting a complaint to the Dean."
Leo allowed a faint, sardonic smile. "They are welcome to try. I merely pointed out the logical errors in young Mr. Vale's understanding of quantum mechanics and, shall we say, his over-reliance on his 'gifts.'" He air-quoted the word with deliberate disdain. "My qualifications rest on study, Dr. Morris, not on moving a pen with the flick of a finger." His gaze, steady and unsparing, betrayed no doubt.
Elaine pushed her glasses up her nose with a sigh. "One day, Leo, those rich brats will get you fired," she said, more in resignation than warning. She admired his brilliance but feared his recklessness. "You know how this place runs. Donor relations, influential families, the balance between the Magic Integration and Standard Programs. It is all politics." She gestured at the room as though to encompass the invisible threads of tension running through it, the fragile equilibrium they all maintained.
Leo grunted, moving toward the self-serve coffee machine whose ancient gurgle served as a counterpoint to the tense quiet. Politics were a game he understood perfectly; he simply did not care to play. His aim was knowledge, the pursuit of truth, not the delicate appeasement of the elite.
"You should be careful, Leo," came another voice, thin and reedy. Mr. Harrison, a history professor whose magical abilities were modest at best, peered over the top of his spectacles. "Influential families do not forget. You are brilliant, yes, but brilliance alone cannot shield you from their memory or their wrath." His words were not criticism but the caution of one who had watched ambition and defiance collide with power for decades.
Before Leo could deliver a biting reply, Sara Linton's bright voice cut through. "Do not listen to him, Leo. Someone has to speak the truth."
Sara, twenty-seven, stood by the microwave, a colorful bento box in hand. Wavy chestnut hair framed a warm, expressive face, her green eyes sparkling beneath the morning light. She always wore a scarf, bold and bright, as if to announce that she was a splash of life in an otherwise muted staffroom. Her affection for Leo was obvious, if entirely ignored by him.
"Lunch, Leo?" she asked, extending the box as if the act of offering could bridge the chasm of his focus. "Extra, just in case. My mum's kimchi fried rice. It has a kick."
Leo's prosthetic hand flexed slightly as he poured coffee, the faint whirring of servos a quiet metronome. "I appreciate it, Sara, but I have calculations to run," he said, polite but firm. His mind was already tracing quantum probability diagrams intertwined with mystical runes, a tapestry of logic and magic only he could decipher.
The television flickered suddenly, cutting off the half-hearted morning chatter. A polished news anchor, Kara Miles, appeared, announcing a breaking story.
"—unexplained magical energy surges have been reported across several major cities," she said, her voice calm, almost soothing. A world map appeared behind her, red dots blinking across North America, Europe, and parts of Asia. "Experts from the Arcane Bureau assure the public these are merely harmless fluctuations in the global mana field, sometimes observed during periods of intense magical activity."
Leo froze, coffee halfway to his lips. The Bureau's dismissal of the events as minor was a familiar pattern of control, designed to mask instability and maintain public confidence. He had seen enough anomalies, studied suppressed reports hinting at the Pillars of the Sky, vast structures said to connect realms, to know that this was not mere chance.
"Harmless fluctuations," he muttered, almost to himself, tone edged with sarcasm and skepticism. His mind moved swiftly, mapping vectors, correlating locations, calculating energy spikes. Patterns emerged where others saw chaos.
Sara hovered beside him. "One hundred years, and still no one knows why this happens," she said softly.
Leo did not look away from the screen. "Energy does not simply appear. There is always a source, a cost, a trigger," he said, repeating the lesson he had impressed upon his students. "The universe rarely acts without reason. What is labeled harmless is usually only convenient for those in power."
The red dots blinked, an ominous constellation on the global map. The world moved on, complacent in its illusion of stability, believing that magic had been tamed and that no greater upheaval could occur. But Leo, the skeptic among the Awakened, knew better.
He looked carefully at the dots on the map, "This isn't normal" he mumbled under his breath