Dawn broke quietly over the eastern towers.
Kael hadn't slept. He stood in the hallway outside the lower wing, trying not to look too nervous while Lucen yawned beside him. The corridor stretched endlessly, white tiles reflecting the soft glow of runes.
"This place feels like a hospital," Lucen muttered.
Kael replied, "Or a lab."
"Same thing here."
The metal door at the end hissed open. Nyra stepped out, holding a datapad, her face as unreadable as ever.
"You're early," she said.
"Couldn't sleep," Kael replied.
"That's becoming a theme." She gestured for them to follow.
Inside, the room felt colder — circular, lined with glass partitions where mana streams pulsed in rhythm. In the center stood a raised platform surrounded by pillars humming with faint light.
"This is the Crest Resonance Chamber," Nyra said. "It tracks how your soul pattern reacts under stress."
Lucen crossed his arms. "And by stress you mean pain?"
"Among other things."
Kael gave a thin smile. "Charming."
Nyra tapped the console. "You'll stand in the center. The machine will create a feedback loop based on your Crest signature. We need to see how far it's evolved since the Frost incident."
He stepped onto the platform without hesitation. The surface vibrated faintly under his boots.
Nyra's voice turned crisp. "Starting sequence."
Light speared upward, surrounding him in a dome. The first pulse hit — a deep vibration that rattled his chest. It wasn't painful, just heavy, like someone pushing into his thoughts.
He felt the Crest stir in response.
> Crest synchronization: 12%
Emotional interference detected.
The light intensified. Memories flickered — fragments of sound, laughter, pain. Then the air twisted again, and he felt something push back.
The Crest wasn't following orders. It was responding on its own.
"Nyra," Lucen said quietly, "is it supposed to do that?"
Her eyes flicked to the readings. "No."
The light around Kael thickened, turning silver-white. Energy began leaking from the containment pillars, forming thin arcs.
Kael's heartbeat matched the rhythm — steady, deliberate. He wasn't panicking. It almost felt like the Crest was shielding him.
> Crest function override: Adaptive Resonance engaged.
Analyzing external patterns… completed.
Counter-feedback initiated.
The next pulse didn't hit him. It bounced outward — harmless to him but strong enough to short two monitors.
Lucen jumped back. "That's definitely not supposed to happen."
Nyra slammed a control rune, cutting the field. The dome vanished, leaving Kael standing perfectly still, faint light flickering along his arm.
Smoke rose from the equipment.
"Report that," Nyra ordered sharply to a nearby assistant.
Kael blinked slowly. "So… how'd I do?"
Nyra exhaled. "You broke a Tier-Five regulator. That's usually a bad sign."
Lucen smirked. "For him or the regulator?"
Nyra ignored that. "Kael, what did you feel?"
He hesitated. "It wasn't resisting. It was adjusting the force. Like… learning the rhythm until it found the opposite tone."
Lucen frowned. "Opposite tone?"
"Imagine hearing a song you don't like and changing the pitch until it fits."
Nyra stared at him for a moment, then said quietly, "You're describing phase three resonance behavior."
"That's… good?"
"It's impossible at this stage."
The assistants exchanged uneasy glances. Kael didn't need to read the screens to know he'd crossed another invisible line.
Nyra finally turned off the console and spoke softer. "Kael, listen. What you're doing shouldn't be possible without artificial augmentation. Someone, somewhere, will want to know how."
He smiled faintly. "Then they can come ask nicely."
Lucen muttered, "You'll regret that line."
Nyra stepped closer, her tone dropping lower. "You don't understand. The last recorded Adaptive user in this academy ended up dissected for study. I'm the reason the files still exist."
Kael's grin faded. "And you're warning me why?"
"Because I'm not planning to watch it happen again."
For a long second, the room was silent except for the soft hum of ruined equipment.
Nyra straightened. "You'll stay off the radar for now. No public duels, no spectacle. I'll reassign your class slot. Let the Council think your Crest is stabilizing."
Kael nodded. "And when they come anyway?"
"Then we adapt faster than they do."
Lucen raised an eyebrow. "You sound almost optimistic."
"Survival usually requires it."
As they left the lab, Kael glanced once more at the broken machinery. The Crest under his skin glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his heart — almost like it was listening to every word.
Outside, the morning light finally reached the courtyard. Students were gathering for drills, laughter echoing in the distance. Everything looked normal.
But inside, Kael felt the shift — the quiet awareness threading deeper through his body. His Crest wasn't just mimicking anymore.
It was thinking.
And that, he realized, was what scared the academy most.