🌌 Chapter 14 – A Quiet Mask
Aurora sat by the farthest desk in the lecture hall, the one by the window where sunlight spilled across the wooden surface. Her quill hovered above parchment, but her thoughts weren't on the professor's droning voice.
They were on the whispers that never seemed to stop.
"Level nineteen…"
"Did she bribe the admissions?"
"Light attribute, 'good' amplitude. Pathetic."
The words pricked at her ears like needles. She had learned long ago how to wear an indifferent mask, but inside her chest, her pulse raced.
The system's calm voice chimed softly in her mind:
> [Reminder: Ignore distractions. Weakness is camouflage.]
[Note: Target hostility can be converted into negative emotions. Harvest value.]
Aurora almost laughed bitterly. So even my humiliation is fuel to this system?
She dipped her quill and wrote in clean strokes. She could at least pretend to be an ordinary student.
When the lecture ended, students filed out in groups—laughing, teasing, planning their sparring sessions. Aurora walked alone, her white dress flowing softly, attracting not admiration but dismissive glances.
It was easier this way.
Or at least, she kept telling herself that.
---
Her next class was Elemental Theory. Here, students practiced channeling their innate mana to demonstrate control.
The instructor, a strict elf with silver hair tied back, summoned each student to the front.
"Show me your strongest element," he commanded.
Aurora's heart sank.
One by one, students demonstrated—flames roaring, lightning crackling, earth pillars tearing the ground, ice blossoms blooming with delicate precision. Applause followed each performance.
Then came Aurora's turn.
She stood before the class, her hands trembling slightly. She inhaled and focused, letting her mana flow through her veins. Light flickered between her palms—soft, warm, but faint, like a candle flame lost in the sun.
The instructor raised an eyebrow. "That is all?"
Aurora nodded, swallowing her pride. "Yes, professor."
A few chuckles rippled through the students.
She returned to her seat, cheeks hot, though her face remained calm.
The system's voice whispered again:
> [Host, suppressing your true divinity preserves your life. This weakness is a shield. Endure.]
Aurora closed her eyes. Endure. Yes. That's all I can do.
---
Later that night, Aurora wandered the academy gardens. The stars above Avalon glittered like scattered diamonds, the moon casting silver light across the paths.
Here, away from the noise, she could breathe.
But her peace didn't last.
"You," a cold voice called.
Aurora turned to see a tall noble boy, his friends flanking him. His smirk was cruel.
"Level nineteen," he drawled. "I didn't think Avalon took charity cases."
The others snickered. "Maybe she's here to polish the floors?"
Aurora didn't respond. She stepped aside, intending to walk away.
But the boy blocked her path. His hand glowed faintly with magic, a spark of fire dancing at his fingertips.
"Let's see if you're good for anything."
Aurora's fingers curled. Her blood hummed—her divinity straining against the seal, begging to be unleashed. She wanted to burn the sneer off his face.
But the system's voice struck like a bell:
> [Warning: Reckless exposure risks identity breach. Stay hidden.]
Aurora exhaled slowly. "I don't fight weaklings."
His face reddened, his anger igniting. But before he could lash out, a professor's shout echoed across the garden.
"What's going on here?!"
The boys scattered like startled birds, leaving Aurora standing alone under the moonlight.
She pressed a hand over her heart, trembling.
For a brief moment, she had wanted to let go. To show them what she really was.
But she couldn't. Not yet.
So she stood there, small and alone, staring up at the vast, star-strewn sky.