Chapter 5: System Update
Silence returned first.
Not the comforting kind — just the absence left behind after something fundamental finished rearranging itself.
He lay awake on the infirmary bed, staring at the faint orange glow of dawn creeping through the narrow window. His body felt… settled. Heavy in the right places. Light where it mattered. As if something that had never belonged there had finally found its position and decided to stay.
Pain was still present, but distant. Manageable.
More importantly, his breathing was steady.
That alone unsettled him.
He had learned, long ago, to associate calm with vulnerability.
The system responded without ceremony.
[System Update Complete]
No surge followed. No heat, no shock, no dramatic pressure flooding his veins. Just a quiet sense of alignment, like a lens snapping into focus.
New data unfolded slowly.
[– Perception of the Heart]
[– Insight of the Living]
[–Threads of Intent]
He didn't touch them immediately.
Instead, he waited.
A part of him expected something to go wrong — a backlash, a delayed consequence, proof that power always demanded payment. When nothing happened, he forced himself to sit up, feet touching the cold stone floor.
So this was stability.
A nurse passed the doorway, her steps unhurried. On impulse, he focused.
The effect was subtle.
There was no blinding overlay, no intrusive flood of information. Just a gentle nudge at the edge of his awareness — impressions rather than facts.
Fatigue. Mild irritation. A lingering desire for tea strong enough to cut through morning fog.
An interface flickered briefly.
[Name: Elira Voss]
[Age: 27]
[Cultivation: Early Body Tempering]
[Current Emotion: Mild Discontent]
[Recent Event: Disagreement with senior staff]
It vanished the moment his attention shifted.
He exhaled.
It didn't feel like spying.
It felt like noticing.
That distinction mattered more than he expected.
Footsteps approached again. Two students entered — second-years, judging by their robes. They slowed when they noticed him awake, whispering in low tones as they passed.
He didn't look at them directly.
He didn't need to.
Unease brushed against his senses, sharp but shallow. Embarrassment. A trace of guilt.
"They said he stood up too fast," one murmured. "Probably stubborn," the other replied. "Still weak."
The words were dismissive.
The emotions were not.
A faint warmth settled in his chest — restrained, controlled.
[Emotion Absorbed: Unease]
[Resonance: Minor]
His heartbeat steadied.
That… was new.
So it wasn't hatred.
Emotion wasn't fuel because it was negative.
Emotion was fuel because it was focused.
The students lingered only a moment longer before convincing themselves nothing had changed and leaving. Their emotions faded quickly once their curiosity was satisfied.
He remained seated, staring at the floor.
That reaction mattered.
They hadn't come to mock him.
They'd come because yesterday unsettled them.
Because something hadn't aligned with their expectations.
Understanding bloomed slowly.
Emotion wasn't just something he received.
It was something he influenced.
By midday, he was cleared to leave.
The academy grounds were alive with noise — training shouts echoing from the fields, clusters of students discussing rankings and future placements. He moved through them quietly, not hiding, but not inviting attention either.
Awareness spread naturally.
A girl glanced at him — pity laced with curiosity. A boy scoffed — contempt covering insecurity. An instructor watched for a heartbeat too long — interest held in check.
Each emotion brushed against him like passing wind.
Each fed him.
Not enough to change him.
Enough to confirm the pattern.
Near the outer training grounds, a group of first-years sparred clumsily. One of them — short, tense, desperate to prove something — kept stealing glances his way.
Jealousy. Raw and poorly hidden.
He stopped walking.
Adjusted his posture — just slightly straighter.
The boy stiffened. Grip tightened.
The emotion spiked.
[Emotion Absorbed: Envy]
[Resonance: Stable]
Warmth flowed again.
No effort.
No command.
He stepped away before the boy could speak, leaving confusion behind instead of confrontation.
As he walked, a thought surfaced — unwelcome, but honest.
I could do this on purpose.
The realization didn't thrill him.
It disturbed him.
Back in his room, the door clicked shut behind him. He didn't hesitate this time.
Veil of Dormant Blood activated silently.
The pressure vanished.
Mask of the Unremarkable followed, softening features, dulling presence. He looked exactly as he had before — forgettable, unremarkable, safe.
He sat on the bed, elbows resting on his knees.
Yesterday, he endured.
Today, he observed.
But tomorrow wouldn't be about survival or curiosity.
Tomorrow would require choice.
Manipulation was easy.
Control was tempting.
But losing himself to it would be worse than staying weak.
Outside, academy lights flickered on one by one as evening settled in.
Somewhere within those walls, emotions were already forming — admiration, resentment, fear, curiosity.
They would come to him eventually.
The question was no longer whether he could take them.
It was how — and why.