Chapter 21
The hallway was silent—too silent.
Only the flickering bulb buzzed above Ethan as he stared at the scene before him.
The student slumped against the wall wasn't moving. His face was bruised, his shirt torn, his breathing shallow but steady. The faint shimmer of ectoplasm clung to his skin like frost after a storm.
And Luna stood there—black hair spilling down her shoulders, red eyes calm, almost serene. Two faintly translucent shapes hovered near her like obedient shadows until she lifted a hand.
"Vanish," she said softly.
The ghosts dissolved in an instant, their outlines unraveling into mist that drifted upward before fading completely. The hallway fell quiet again.
Ethan swallowed, his voice breaking the stillness. "Luna… what the hell happened?"
She looked at him. Not startled. Not apologetic. Just… unreadable.
A beat of silence passed. Then her expression shifted—barely a flicker of thought behind those crimson eyes.
"Nothing," she said, her tone even. "He just needed to learn when to stop talking."
Ethan took a slow step forward, glancing at the unconscious student. "You—Luna, did you do this?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze dropped for a moment, as if weighing the truth, then lifted again.
"He had it coming."
Before Ethan could speak, the world seemed to dim around them—his thoughts snagging on the words like threads pulling him backward.
Earlier That Evening…
The courtyard still buzzed with leftover energy from the day's sparring matches. Students clustered in corners, replaying moments, arguing about who landed what hit. Luna walked through it all in silence, her bag over her shoulder, her thoughts elsewhere.
Then she heard it.
"…can't believe that newbie still thinks he stands a chance," one voice said.
"Right? He's lost every fight he's had. He should just quit while he's behind."
"And that girl—Luna? Always tagging along like some quiet sidekick. Neither of them are Top Seven material."
A short laugh. "They're side characters. That's all they'll ever be."
The laughter twisted in her chest. She didn't stop walking. Not yet.
She told herself it didn't matter—that Ethan could handle words. But as the hours passed, the noise in her head refused to fade.
By nightfall, she'd found him—the same student leaning by the practice hall doors, grinning with a few of his friends.
"Hey," she said softly.
They turned. Her voice was calm, polite, even warm on the surface. But the look in her eyes froze them mid-smirk.
"Why were you saying those things about Ethan Carter?"
The student blinked, then scoffed. "You serious? It's just talk. Why do you care?"
"Because he's your classmate," Luna replied, tone still gentle. "And you should take it back."
That earned a full laugh this time. "You're defending him? You're both losers. Not even Top Seven."
He leaned in, the sneer deepening. "Face it—you're background characters. You'll never matter here."
Something inside her snapped. Not loudly. Just… snapped.
The air cooled. Shadows stretched long behind her as a faint, blue-white shimmer formed at her feet. Two ghosts materialized, their bodies coiling like smoke and steel, eyes glowing with faint hunger.
The laughter died instantly.
Luna's voice came quiet, almost a whisper.
"Say it again."
The student stumbled back, eyes wide as the ghosts leaned close, their mouths open in silent screams. He tried to speak, but the words choked out as Luna's gaze sharpened.
Back to Present
"…He had it coming," Luna repeated. But even she didn't sound convinced
Ethan didn't know what to say. He wanted to be angry, but all he saw was exhaustion in her eyes—like she'd fought something heavier than the boy on the floor.
As she turned to leave, she paused beside him. Her voice softened.
"You've gotten stronger, Ethan. Don't let anyone make you forget that."
He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… thanks?"
She gave a faint nod and walked past him, her footsteps echoing down the empty hall.
Ethan stayed there a long while, staring at the spot where the ghosts had vanished.
"…What the hell was that about?" he whispered.
The lights buzzed overhead, but no answer came.
The next day.
The library clock ticked softly beneath the hum of old ceiling lights. Dust drifted in golden beams between the shelves, and at the center of the quiet, two figures sat across from each other—Zoltan and Eric.
Between them, a chessboard gleamed. Half the pieces were gone already.
Cassie sat nearby with a book open on her lap, though she hadn't turned a page in ten minutes. William leaned lazily against a table, a travel bag slung over one shoulder, grinning like the world's most restless spectator.
"You're playing too cautiously," William said, watching Eric hover over his next move.
Eric's tone stayed level. "I'm thinking three turns ahead."
Zoltan smiled faintly. "And missing the one right in front of you."
A sharp click echoed as Eric finally moved his bishop. Zoltan immediately countered with his queen. The exchange was swift, deliberate, and merciless.
William whistled. "Well, at least someone's taking this seriously."
Cassie closed her book with a soft thump. "It's strange, isn't it? Everyone's either gone home already or packing to leave. The place feels empty."
"Can't blame them," William said, stretching. "The Academy finally giving us a break? I'm taking it. A few weeks away from ghosts, explosions, and egos the size of Eric's? That's heaven."
Eric didn't look up. "You talk a lot for someone who barely passed his last evaluation."
"Barely?" William grinned. "I call it dramatic timing."
Cassie laughed under her breath, then looked toward the tall window where pale light filtered through. "Almost all the third and fifth years left this morning. I'll be heading home tonight too."
"Same here," William added. "Warren ditched me hours ago, that bastard. Said he wasn't waiting."
Eric finally looked up, eyes flicking to Zoltan. "Sebastian's gone too. Won't be long before the rest of the second and first years follow."
"Two weeks," Cassie said softly. "That's all the break we get."
Zoltan didn't answer right away. He leaned back, studying the board as if the game and the conversation shared the same rhythm.
William's grin returned. "Well, whatever. We've earned it. The Top Seven are basically the strongest in the Academy anyway. We set the standard."
Eric nodded once. "He's not wrong. No one matches our level yet."
Cassie's expression darkened a touch. She shook her head. "That's not the mindset we should have."
William's brow furrowed. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
Before she could answer, Zoltan spoke—his tone light, but his eyes sharp.
"She's right."
The board fell silent.
He moved a single pawn forward, then looked up at them.
"We're not the standard," he said quietly. "We're just what came before it."
William blinked. "What the hell does that mean?"
Zoltan's gaze shifted to the board again, tracing invisible lines between the pieces.
"It means strength isn't a title. It's a moment. And there are students here who'll outgrow us before we even realize it."
Eric tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "Who?"
A small smile tugged at Zoltan's lips. "Freddie's the obvious one—his potential is raw, but focused. Then there's Benjamin Malachi the fourth year. And among the first years…" He paused, letting their attention sharpen. "Luna Diaz, Sage Winters, but I'm not gonna lie amongst all of them… that new kid Ethan Carter rocks me the most."
The reaction was immediate.
Eric froze mid-reach, hovering over a knight. "What?"
William straightened, almost laughing. "The Ethan Carter? The kid who has no magic ability?"
"Exactly," Zoltan said simply.
He moved his queen.
"Checkmate."
Eric blinked at the board, then at Zoltan. "Wait, what—?!"
Cassie sighed, half amused. "You really have the strangest opinions, Zoltan."
William rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. "Guess genius comes with delusion." He slung his bag higher and stretched. "Anyway, I'm out. Don't forget to pack, old man."
"Adios," he added with a lazy salute—then his body flared in a burst of white light, vanishing in an instant, the air rippling where he'd stood.
Cassie pushed her chair back. "Guess that's my cue. Try not to start another philosophical war without me."
Zoltan gave a faint nod. "Safe travels, Cassie."
She smiled, then walked out, her footsteps fading beyond the shelves.
That left only Zoltan and Eric, the chessboard still gleaming between them.
Eric exhaled. "You forgot to pack, didn't you?"
Zoltan looked at the board, then at his empty hands. "…Damn."
Eric laughed once. "Yeah, me too."
He stood up. "So, you waiting for me to reach the dorm first, or—"
Zoltan was already closing his eyes. "Not a chance."
The air shimmered, pressure bending for a split second before he vanished completely.
Eric stared at the empty space, muttered, "Every damn time," and took off down the hall.
The cafeteria was quieter than usual—chairs half-stacked, sunlight bleeding through tall windows, the smell of coffee and sterilized floors hanging in the air. Only four students occupied the long center table.
Ethan leaned back with a lazy sigh. "Finally. Break week. I thought we'd never make it."
Sage raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you survived a war."
He grinned. "Did you see my last fight? It was a war."
Freddie snorted into his drink. "A war you lost."
"Details, details," Ethan waved it off. "A wise man once said defeat is just victory doing a dress rehearsal."
Sage leaned forward, smirking. "That wise man was definitely an idiot."
"True," Ethan admitted, "but at least he had style."
Luna chuckled softly beside them. The sound was small, but it drew the group's attention. "You two never stop, do you?"
"Wouldn't want you to get bored," Ethan said, grinning her way. She shook her head, though a faint smile tugged her lips.
Freddie glanced around the empty room. "Hard to believe everyone's gone already. Feels like the whole place is holding its breath."
"Most of them left this morning," Sage said. "Even Warren. Didn't say goodbye."
Ethan shrugged. "He's not exactly the sentimental type."
"Still," Freddie murmured, "it's weird. The Academy's never this quiet."
Luna looked toward the window, eyes catching the fading light outside. "Quiet isn't always bad," she said, though her voice carried a faint, unreadable weight.
Ethan studied her for a moment, wanting to say something—about what happened the night before—but decided against it. "Yeah, well, I'll take quiet over ghosts any day."
That earned him a laugh from Sage. "You? Scared of ghosts? Kind of ironic, don't you think?"
"I'm not scared," Ethan said, feigning offense. "I just have a strong sense of self-preservation."
Freddie smirked. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."
They fell into easy chatter again—Sage teasing Ethan, Freddie offering his calm counterpoints, Luna occasionally chiming in with soft remarks that somehow cut sharper than any joke. For a moment, it felt like a real break. Like normal students.
Ethan leaned back, stretching his arms. "Man, two weeks off. I'm gonna sleep so hard I might miss the next semester."
Sage shot him a mock glare. "Don't you dare. I need someone to beat again."
"Ha-ha," Ethan muttered, "hilarious."
Freddie smiled faintly. "Home, huh? Feels like forever since that word meant anything."
"Speak for yourself," Ethan said, pushing away from the table. "I'm counting the minutes. Goodbye haunted dorms, hello hot showers and edible food."
Luna blinked at him, amused. "Homesick already?"
Ethan grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Meanwhile in zoltan and Eric's dorm room.
The room was half-packed—clothes folded in messy piles, a chessboard still set up near the window. Eric was stuffing a coat into his bag while Zoltan sat cross-legged on his bed, staring absently at the ceiling.
"You're still thinking about that chess match, aren't you?" Eric said.
Zoltan didn't answer right away. "Maybe. Or maybe about what comes next."
Eric glanced at him. "Meaning?"
Zoltan's expression shifted. The light in the room seemed to dim slightly. "Can you feel it?"
Eric frowned. "Feel what?"
Zoltan stood, eyes narrowing toward the window. "Something's wrong."
Cut back to the cafeteria.
The faint hum of conversation broke as a sharp, metallic wail cut through the air. An alarm—shrill, echoing, unnatural.
Ethan froze mid-sentence. "What the—"
Freddie was already on his feet, expression tightening. "That's the emergency siren."
Sage looked around, tense. "Don't tell me—"
They all turned toward the tall windows.
Beyond the glass, the sky burned gray, and figures moved across the courtyard—up to a dozen shadows twisting in the fog. Eyes glowing faintly in the half-light.
Ghosts.
Freddie's breath hitched. "No… this can't be happening. Not now."
Luna stepped closer to the window, her face pale. "The guards—"
"They're gone," Ethan said quietly. Bodies lay still near the outer gates. The barrier shimmered weakly, already splintering.
Sage clenched her fists. "How the hell did they breach the Academy?!"
Freddie's voice was low, controlled but shaking. "It doesn't matter how. We need to move. Now."
Ethan swallowed hard, every instinct screaming, not again. His heart pounded against his ribs as the shadows drew closer, crawling over the walls like living ink.
He exhaled slowly. "Aww… shit."
Luna's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah."
The glass trembled. The lights flickered once—then went out.
Darkness swallowed the cafeteria whole.