The morning light spilled through the tall window, painting faint gold lines across my desk.
I opened my eyes slowly. For a moment, I wasn't sure if I'd really woken up. The air felt still, heavier than usual, like the world itself was holding its breath.
My hand drifted to my chest. The seal was quiet — cool beneath the skin, a steady pulse hidden beneath the rhythm of my heart.
I exhaled. Are you there?
Silence.
No response — not even the faint whisper I'd felt weeks ago. Just the soft hum of mana threads flowing through the walls of the dormitory.
Eventually, I sat up. The bed sheets were warm from my body heat, but the air outside them was cold. Dawn mist clung to the glass, hiding the view of the academy's eastern cliffs.
I stood, stretching. My body felt lighter — stronger somehow — but still unfamiliar. Every movement carried an awareness that wasn't mine alone, like my reflection moved half a second too slow.
The shower steam filled the small room, carrying the scent of salt soap and mana-infused water. I let it wash over me until my thoughts quieted, then dressed in the black uniform of Nova Academy. The silver crest of the academy caught the morning light as I pinned it to my chest.
Breakfast was simple — bread, fruit, and a faintly sweet mana tea. I wasn't hungry, but the routine helped steady me.
When I stepped outside, the dormitory corridors buzzed faintly with students preparing for class. Voices echoed, laughter rose and fell — normal sounds, ordinary. But when I entered the hall, everything changed.
The mana in the air shifted.
Students turned as I passed. Conversations faded into whispers. Every step I took seemed to draw their eyes — curiosity, awe, and something sharper beneath it.
Their mana senses brushed against mine instinctively, then recoiled. Some looked away quickly, pretending not to stare. Others couldn't help but watch.
It wasn't hostility. It was reverence — and fear.
Their gazes followed me like moths drawn to flame. I didn't need to look to feel them. The world felt different now, heavier around me.
I boarded the mana lift. The circular platform hummed beneath my boots as it descended through the tower's shaft, arcs of blue light sliding down the walls.
When the doors opened, the morning breeze rushed in. I stepped into the courtyard, sunlight spilling across the stone walkways.
Dozens of students filled the space — some sparring, others hurrying to class. I moved through them in silence, their conversations parting like a wave.
"Is that him?" someone whispered. "The one who defeated an A-rank?"
"No way… he's only B-rank."
"I heard he didn't even use a spell."
Their voices chased me through the crowd.
I said nothing.
They didn't know the truth — that it hadn't been me who ended that fight, but someone else.
Even now, I could still see flashes of that day — the moment everything broke, the brief blur of impossible power, the silence that followed.
Their admiration felt undeserved. Their fear, perhaps, was not.
The academy's tall spires shimmered in the morning mana light as I reached the classroom hall. The carved runes along the walls pulsed softly, regulating the ley currents flowing through the building.
When I opened the door to my class, conversation died instantly.
Every gaze turned to me.
The mana in the room shifted, as if the air itself bent slightly toward me.
I crossed the room quietly and took my seat.
The silence lingered for a few heartbeats before voices returned — softer now, restrained. But every eye still followed me, watching for a reaction I didn't give.
Something had changed. They could all feel it.
A few moments later, the door opened again.
Selene Ravenshade entered first — the current heir of the Ravenshade family. Her black hair shimmered like ink under sunlight. She gave me a brief, assessing look, then sat near the front without a word.
Behind her came Theodore and Viviene Ashbourne, the silver-haired twins whose quiet grace carried the weight of nobility. Then the golden-haired Crown Prince Lucian Auraldane and his sister Evelyne followed, their presence commanding without effort.
Seris Eryndor of the Eryndor Empire entered next, her pale hair glinting like frost, followed by Carmila Noctharyn — red hair, crimson eyes, and that small, knowing smile she always wore.
Finally came Nymera Dravenholt — golden-blonde hair, proud green eyes, her steps steady and deliberate.
When our gazes met, she smiled faintly.
The classroom, once filled with tension, seemed to breathe again.
Except for Lucian, who ignored me completely, everyone greeted me as they settled. Questions followed — quiet ones, hesitant but curious.
"Is it true?""Did you really fight alone?""What happened in the ritual chamber?"
I gave calm, simple answers. Nothing more.
The silence that followed was awkward — heavy. Everyone could feel that something about me wasn't the same anymore.
Carmila's gaze lingered the longest.
She was there that day — though she'd lost consciousness before the end. Her crimson eyes searched mine, as if trying to find what had changed.
"What happened… really?" she whispered when the others looked away.
"Nothing," I said quietly.
It was a lie, and she knew it. But she didn't press.
The door opened once more, and the air itself seemed to tighten.
She entered.
Lysandra Vaelthorne — instructor, and the youngest mage to bear the rank of SS-. Her presence alone silenced the class.
Tall, poised, her dark hair streaked with silver, and eyes the color of amethyst, she carried herself like moonlight incarnate — serene but unyielding.
Her mana was overwhelming, yet perfectly controlled. She smiled faintly as she spoke.
"Good morning, everyone."
The tension eased slightly, and her voice carried like a melody through the air. She began distributing grades from the missions assigned earlier in the month.
When my name was called, she paused briefly before setting the paper on my desk.
Her eyes met mine for only a second, but it was enough.
Recognition. Curiosity. And something like unease.
I nodded slightly, and she moved on.
After that, classes began in earnest — mana theory, monster ecology, spell architecture. The hours passed quietly, filled with the sound of quills scratching parchment and faint mana hums from demonstration runes.
By noon, sunlight streamed through the tall windows. The atmosphere softened, the earlier tension fading beneath the rhythm of routine.
But even then, I could feel it — that faint echo beneath my ribs, pulsing in time with the mana around me.
When the final bell rang, the classroom came alive again. Desks shifted, chatter rose, laughter returned.
I stood, gathering my books, when Nymera approached.
"Adrian," she said softly.
Her tone carried that familiar spark — confident, yet warm.
"If you're free during the spring break, why not come to my family's estate? We can train — every day if you'd like."
She smiled, holding out a small, silver plaque embossed with the sigil of House Dravenholt.
Her eyes gleamed with something more than friendship.
Before I could answer, another voice cut through the noise.
"Sorry, Nymera," Carmila said sweetly, stepping closer. "But he already promised to visit me."
Her red hair caught the light as she smiled — sharp and beautiful, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
Nymera's expression didn't falter, but the air around them thickened instantly.
"Is that so?" she asked, her voice polite but edged.
Carmila's smile widened. "Indeed. We'll have a lovely time."
"I see," Nymera said, tilting her head. "Then perhaps he can decide for himself."
The silence that followed was charged.
Their mana flared — faint, restrained, but unmistakable. The pressure between them rippled through the air like heat.
I sighed quietly.
"Enough," I said. "I'll spend half of spring break with Carmila, and half with Nymera."
Both froze, then slowly turned toward each other.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then, almost in unison, they nodded — sharp, reluctant gestures of truce.
The rest of the class pretended not to watch.
When I left the room, the hallway felt strangely quiet.
Students passed by, their eyes lingering as before, but my thoughts were elsewhere.
The seal beneath my skin pulsed once — faint but certain.
Like a heartbeat answering another.
That night, I sat by the dorm window, watching the lights of Nova flicker below. Airships crossed the horizon, their mana engines glowing faintly against the mist.
A whole month had passed since the ritual — since that day.
I'd tried reaching out to the presence within me countless times. No answer ever came.
Maybe it slept. Or maybe it was waiting.
Either way, I couldn't rely on it.
So I trained. Studied. Learned. Improved my swordsmanship until even Christine Veynar, the A-rank second-year, had to use everything to match me.
Nymera's progress was startling, too. Her rank had risen to B-, her blade sharper, her resolve fierce. Our duels had become a rhythm — a conversation through steel.
Carmila, on the other hand, refused to be ignored. She'd drag me through the city whenever she could — shops, beaches, even the amusement grounds beyond the wards.
Despite myself, I'd begun to enjoy it. Her laughter was infectious, her confidence exhausting.
Sometimes, I wondered what she saw in me.
And sometimes, I didn't want to know.
Now, as I sat in the soft light of the dorm lamp, I let my hand rest over my chest. The seal was calm.
But beneath that calm, I felt something vast — quiet and patient, like an ocean waiting for the tide to turn.
Tomorrow, spring break would begin.
Tomorrow, everything would change again.
I closed my eyes, letting the hum of mana lull me toward sleep.
And deep within, in the space between dream and silence, something stirred — not awake, but aware.
Watching.
Waiting.