Chapter 6: The Deliberate Fall
The morning bell was a physical blow, jolting Kael from a sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. His hand immediately clenched around the Nullstone, still tucked under his thin pillow. Its cool, dampening presence was the only thing that felt real. Lyra's visit hadn't been a dream. The threat of the Inquisitors was a cold knot in his stomach, and the memory of her ultimatum about Mira was a fresh, sharp ache.
He had to be the Sock Summoner again. The thought was like being asked to put on a suit of wet, filthy rags after tasting clean clothes. He dressed slowly, the phantom sensation of his permanent skills humming just beneath his skin, a symphony of power he was now commanded to silence.
The common room was its usual cacophony of pre-class chaos. The moment he stepped in, a pocket of silence spread around him like a ripple. Whispers followed. He heard his name, and Dren's, and the word "fluke." He kept his head down, making for the gruel line.
A hard shove sent him stumbling into a wall. Dren stood there, flanked by two of his usual lackeys. A fresh, purple bruise decorated his jaw, a testament to his impact with the arena floor. His eyes burned with pure, undiluted hatred.
"Watch where you're going, trash," Dren snarled, his voice low and venomous. "You got lucky. A flickering light and a cheap shot. It won't happen again."
This was it. His first test. The old Kael would have flinched, muttered an apology, and scurried away. The new Kael, the one with Fireball and Flame Burst etched permanently into his soul, wanted to shove a condensed spear of fire down Dren's throat. He felt the Mimic Energy stir in response to his anger.
But he remembered Lyra's words. You must recede back into the background.
He forced his shoulders to slump, his eyes to drop to the floor. "Whatever, Dren. Just leave me alone." The words tasted like ash.
Dren's lip curled in a triumphant sneer. The surrounding Wielders, who had been watching with bated breath, relaxed. The anomaly had corrected itself. The sock-boy was back in his place. Dren gave him one last, contemptuous look and turned away, the crowd parting for him.
Kael felt a hot flush of shame, so much more potent than any anger. Playing the coward was infinitely harder than being one.
He found Mira at their usual isolated table. She looked up as he approached, her expression fraught with worry. "Kael! Are you okay? I heard what happened with Dren just now... and last night... your eyes..."
"I'm fine," he said, sliding onto the bench. The Nullstone was a heavy secret in his pocket. He looked at her—her kind, open face, the slight tremble in her hands as she fussed with a small, wilting flower she'd grown on the tabletop. A liability that my faction will be forced to neutralize. Lyra's cold, pragmatic voice echoed in his mind.
He couldn't tell her. To burden her with this knowledge was to tie an anchor to her. But to leave her in the dark was to make her a blind pawn in a game she didn't know was being played. The lie stuck in his throat.
"It was... a system glitch," he managed, the half-truth feeling flimsy. "From the Experimental Wing. It supercharged me for a minute, but it's gone now. Back to normal." He summoned a single, argyle sock onto the table with a pathetic puff of air. "See?"
Mira's eyes searched his face. She wasn't stupid. She saw the tension in his jaw, the shadows under his eyes that spoke of a sleepless night, not a miraculous recovery. But her desire to believe him, to have things return to a safer, simpler normal, won out. A relieved smile touched her lips. "Oh. Okay. Just... be careful, Kael. Please."
The guilt was a physical weight. He had to change the subject. "I will. Hey, have you ever heard of the 'Grand Athenaeum'?"
Her smile vanished. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The system governors? Why? Kael, you don't want anything to do with them. They have... Inquisitors." She said the last word like a curse. "They came for a boy at the orphanage, years before you arrived. He had a system that let him hear other people's thoughts. Just for a second, sometimes. They said it was an 'unlicensed intrusion.' He was gone the next day."
The story landed like a punch. It confirmed everything Lyra had said. The world wasn't just unfair; it was actively hostile to anything that deviated. He just nodded, his appetite gone.
---
The day's Combat Theory class was held in a dusty lecture hall. Instructor Veyra stood at the front, her gaze sweeping over the students and lingering on Kael for a fraction of a second too long.
"Today," she announced, "we will be analyzing the Sparring Trials from yesterday. We learn from both victory and defeat."
Kael's heart sank. This was a public dissection of his greatest, most secretive mistake.
Veyra activated a large crystal scrying slate. It flickered to life, displaying a shimmering, ghostly replay of his fight with Dren. The class watched as Dren launched his Flame Burst. They watched Kael roll, summon the sock, and charge.
"Here," Veyra said, freezing the image. "Varn displays unexpected tactical acumen. He uses his environment—the dissipating heat—and his seemingly useless system in a creative, close-quarters application. A lesson for all of you: ingenuity can sometimes bridge a power gap."
Kael felt a bizarre mix of pride and terror. She was praising him. This was bad.
The recording continued, showing Kael's shove and the subsequent system surge that wreathed him in light. The image dissolved into static.
"The recording is corrupted from this point due to the anomalous energy discharge," Veyra said, her tone flat. She turned her eyes directly to Kael. "Varn. Explain your actions after the energy surge. Your movements were... erratic."
Every eye in the room was on him. Dren was smirking. Mira looked terrified. This was the inquisition, small 'i'. He had to sell this.
He forced a confused, slightly embarrassed expression. "I... I don't really know, Instructor. It was like a shock. My whole system just... buzzed. I couldn't think straight. I just grabbed Dren and pushed. I think I got lucky he lost his balance." He shrugged, the picture of bewildered mediocrity. "It all happened so fast."
Veyra studied him for a long, uncomfortable moment. He could feel her Rare-level Insight trying to pick him apart. He kept his mental shields up, imagining the Nullstone's dampening field extending to his very thoughts.
"See to it that you report any further... 'buzzing'... to the infirmary immediately," she said finally, her tone making it clear she didn't entirely believe him, but had no proof to contradict his story. "Uncontrolled system feedback is a pathway to becoming an Aberration."
The threat was veiled, but it was there. The class murmured, the brief flicker of interest in him dying out. He was just a glitchy Sock Summoner again. He had successfully become invisible.
The rest of the day was a masterclass in humiliation. He deliberately fumbled simple system-control exercises. In the courtyard, when a Rare-tier Earth Shaper student challenged him to an impromptu spar, he didn't even try to use Glimmer Veil to dodge the weak tremor sent his way. He took the hit, tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust and summoned socks. The laughter was back, familiar and biting.
Each failure, each flinch, was a deliberate sacrifice on the altar of his survival. And with every laugh, every sneer, the resolve hardened within him. This was just the mask. Tonight, he would take it off.
---
Two hours after curfew, the academy was a tomb. Kael moved through the shadows, the Nullstone a cold, comforting weight in his palm. He avoided the main corridors, taking the same service ducts and forgotten passages he'd used to reach the Experimental Wing the first time. This time, his purpose was different. He wasn't a curious outcast; he was an initiate answering a call.
He found the nondescript door, still bearing the faded "Restricted" sign. Last time, the lock had been a physical challenge. This time, as he approached with the Nullstone in hand, he felt a subtle shift in the air. The complex, interwoven wards meant to repel intruders sensed the stone and simply... parted. The door clicked open without him touching it.
He descended, the stairs spiraling down into a deeper, colder darkness than he remembered. The air grew thick with the smell of ozone and old stone. The "student" Experimental Wing was just an antechamber, a decoy. This was the real thing.
The stairs ended in a vast, cavernous space. It wasn't a lab; it was a temple. The walls were raw, living rock, and at its center, jutting from the stone floor, was a massive, pulsating crystal. It was a thousand times larger than the one that had changed him, its light not a harsh white, but a deep, rhythmic, internal blue, like a sleeping heart. This was the Skillforge Shard.
Lyra stood before it, her cloak discarded, wearing simple, functional gear. In the Shard's light, her features were sharper, her glowing eyes more intense.
"You're late," she said, without turning around. "And you reek of self-pity."
"How—"
"I spent the day watching you," she interrupted, finally looking at him. "I saw you take that Earth Shaper's hit. It was a convincing performance. The shame was a nice touch. Remember that feeling. Let it fuel you here, where it matters."
She gestured to the cavern. "This is your new classroom. The Shard's ambient energy will accelerate your skill growth and replenish your ME faster. But that is a secondary benefit. Your primary task is control. You have power, Kael. Now you must learn to wield it with the precision of a surgeon, not the brute force of Dren's fire."
She pointed a finger at a series of worn stone pillars on the far side of the cavern. "Your first lesson. Use Glimmer Veil. Not to hide, but to become a whisper. I want you to cross the chamber and touch the far wall without the dust on the floor stirring. Without the air currents shifting. Without my Insight being able to pinpoint your exact location."
Kael stared. It sounded impossible. Glimmer Veil was for hiding, for escaping. This was something else entirely.
He took a breath, pushing aside the day's frustrations. He focused, calling on the Glimmer Veil skill. The world wavered, and he vanished from sight.
"Wrong!" Lyra's voice cracked through the silence. "You're a blunt instrument. I can still feel the displacement of air, the crunch of grit under your boots. You are a man-shaped void. I want you to be nothing. Less than nothing. Dissipate. Let the light flow through you, not around you."
It was a fundamental shift in understanding. For an hour, he tried. He failed. He stumbled. He kicked up dust. Lyra's critiques were relentless, a verbal whetstone sharpening his blunted understanding.
Finally, exhausted and his ME running low, he tried a different approach. Instead of forcing the veil, he requested it. He used his high Insight not to command the skill, but to understand it, to align his own energy with its purpose. He stopped trying to be invisible and started trying to be empty.
He took a step. Then another. The dust didn't stir.
He crossed the chamber, a ghost in the Shard's pulsating light. He reached the far wall and placed his palm against the cool stone.
For the first time that day, he didn't feel weak. He felt… precise.
Lyra was silent for a long moment. "Better," she finally conceded, a note of grudging respect in her voice. "Now, do it again. And this time, don't let the Shard's heartbeat reveal you."
Kael turned, a real, unforced grin spreading across his face in the sacred darkness. The Sock Summoner was gone. Here, in the echoing deep, the Mimic was finally learning to hunt.