Sleep didn't come easily that night.
Kael lay on his back, staring at the faint lines of moonlight slicing across the dorm ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that faint blue flicker in his hand — the way the frost shattered like it had obeyed him.
It hadn't been copying. It had been something else.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Across the room, his roommate snored softly, wrapped in a blanket. The academy dorms were built for pairs, but Kael's side already looked like a crime scene of books and cracked mana cores.
He reached for the limiter bands. They vibrated faintly when touched, as if rejecting him.
"Adaptive Resonance," he murmured again, like the words might explain themselves.
The band gave a single pulse — a soft echo that shouldn't have been there. Kael froze.
He turned it over. A hairline rune glowed briefly on its surface, then faded. He hadn't activated anything.
Before he could react further, the door creaked open.
Lucen stepped in, arms crossed, hair still damp from the showers. "You're still awake."
Kael shrugged. "Hard to sleep after almost freezing to death."
Lucen glanced at the limiter bands. "You kept those?"
"I'm curious. They hum when I touch them."
"That's not normal."
"Neither am I."
Lucen sighed and leaned against the wall. "You realize they're probably tracking your Crest output. The academy doesn't hand out suppressors for fun."
Kael tilted his head. "You're saying Nyra's watching me right now?"
"I'd bet on it."
Kael smirked. "Then I'll give her a show."
Lucen groaned. "You're impossible."
Kael didn't answer. He slipped the limiter back on, just to test. This time, the hum didn't suppress — it aligned. A faint wave of calm rippled through him. The Crest under his skin pulsed once, slow and steady, like matching a heartbeat.
> Crest synchronization increased: 2%.
Observed pattern shift: self-harm reduction protocol.
Kael blinked. "Protocol?"
Lucen looked at him. "What?"
"Nothing." Kael stood quickly. "I'm going to the practice yard."
Lucen frowned. "It's midnight."
"I work better when no one's judging."
Lucen muttered something about lunatics and followed anyway.
The night air outside was cool and sharp. The training field was empty, save for a few mana lamps burning low. Kael took a stance in the center, raised his hand, and focused.
He remembered the frost. The motion. The sound of breaking ice.
The Crest responded faintly, forming a ghostly outline along his arm — not frost, but something more fluid, like shifting light.
Lucen's eyes widened. "That's not frost."
"No. It's... like it learned the shape but changed the texture."
Kael stepped forward and struck the ground lightly. The air rippled, leaving behind a circular mark burned into the dirt.
He laughed softly. "It listens."
Lucen shook his head. "You're enjoying this too much."
Before Kael could reply, the air around them distorted. A thin pulse swept across the field — a mana scan.
Lucen's expression turned sharp. "Someone's tracking crest activity."
Kael didn't even have time to react before the academy sirens blared once — short, clipped, controlled.
"Unauthorized activation detected. East field," a voice announced through the air.
Lucen cursed. "That's us."
Kael sighed. "At least they're consistent."
A figure dropped from above — Nyra, coat fluttering in the dim light. Her eyes didn't hold anger, just that calm, assessing stare.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
Kael shrugged. "Just testing a theory."
"And did it work?"
He hesitated. "It did something new. It copied frost before, but this time it... adjusted it."
"Adjusted?"
"It didn't repeat. It refined."
Nyra nodded slowly. "Good. That confirms my suspicion."
Lucen frowned. "You knew this would happen?"
"I suspected. The Mimic Soul lineage wasn't just imitation. It was adaptive learning. Most hosts burn out before it reaches stage three. You're accelerating."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Should I be proud or scared?"
"Both."
She stepped closer. "From now on, you'll train under tighter supervision. The academy council wants data. And you…" She looked at Lucen. "You'll ensure he doesn't go missing."
Lucen muttered, "Great. Babysitter duty."
Nyra ignored the tone. "Report to the lower wing at dawn. I'll explain the next phase then."
She vanished as quietly as she arrived.
Silence returned, heavy and cold.
Lucen turned to Kael. "You do realize they're turning you into a lab experiment."
Kael stared at his hand, where faint lines of light still pulsed beneath the skin. "Maybe. But if I'm the experiment, I might as well choose the results."
Lucen sighed. "You're insane."
Kael grinned. "And you're still here."
Lucen looked skyward, muttering something about regretting life choices.
Kael didn't answer. His eyes followed the faint pulse of his Crest — each beat now syncing with his actual heart. It wasn't just power. It was presence. Awareness.
And as the night deepened, one thought kept circling in his mind:
If his Crest could learn from others… what would happen when it started learning from him?