Chapter 6: Crisis

Damus's eyes went wide, and his face... oh, his face was turning a fascinating shade of red that had nothing to do with acne.

"...What did you say?" Damus's voice was low, his eyes darting around to check if anyone had dared to laugh.

"Oh," Adom said, raising his voice to ensure perfect clarity across the courtyard. "I SAID," He inspired, then, "YOU SHOULD AVOID SCRATCHING YOUR ACNE." He enunciated each word with deliberate precision. "AND THAT MOONWEAVER APOTHECARY MAKES A REALLY EFFECTIVE MAGICAL OINTMENT FOR IT. NOT VERY WELL-KNOWN, BUT IT WORKS WONDERS."

The words rang out across the suddenly silent courtyard. A few students who hadn't heard the first time stopped to stare. Someone gasped. A group of third-years paused their conversation mid-sentence.

Adom maintained eye contact with Damus, his expression perfectly neutral, as if he'd just commented on the weather rather than committed what amounted to social suicide in the hierarchy of Xerkes.

One might argue there was no need for this - Adom was technically an adult now, and stooping to teenager-level provocations seemed beneath him.

But this was long overdue.

Because here's the thing about letting people treat you however they want: you're not just setting your own boundaries, sometimes you're teaching them how to treat others around you. Adom's passivity, his weakness, his desperate hope that things would get better if he just endured it quietly - all of that had consequences. Consequences that extended far beyond his own suffering.

Sam.

It started in their third year. The signs were all there, crystal clear in hindsight. Sam switched rooms suddenly, made excuses not to be seen with Adom anymore. Then came the bruises he couldn't explain, the way he'd flinch at sudden movements.

The final straw came at their third end-of-year ceremony. Damus' friends thought it would be hilarious to project images across the great hall - images of Sam, naked, being forced to dance and pose, tears streaming down his face. They played it in front of everyone: the entire school, visiting dignitaries from the city, Sam's family. His little sister had been there.

If Adom had just once taken Sam aside, really talked to him, instead of pretending not to notice. If he'd asked about those bruises, about why Sam suddenly couldn't look him in the eye anymore. If he'd just... done something. Anything.

But he hadn't. Even though his own illness was already starting to show back then, even though his legs would sometimes give out without warning, even though he was scared and in pain - that wasn't really an excuse, was it? Because he could have still spoken up. Could have told a professor, could have confronted Damus, could have at least let Sam know he wasn't alone.

Instead, his silence had sent a message: if Adom wouldn't even stand up for himself, he definitely wouldn't stand up for Sam. It made Sam an easy target - the quiet kid whose only friend wouldn't even snitch. Free game, as they say.

One conversation. That's all it might have taken. One moment of courage, one decision to set boundaries, one friend actually being a friend instead of a coward.

But he'd chosen to watch instead. To stay quiet. To hope it would all just go away on its own.

It didn't.

Sam didn't live to see the next sunrise. He preferred ending his life than facing the humiliation.

And Adom? Adom just watched. Like he always did.

But not this time.

Not. This. Time.

The reasonable course of action, the mature one, would be to report any bullying to a professor. That's what any sensible adult would advise.

But sometimes, kids didn't need a scolding. Especially not privileged, self-absorbed little shits who were completely oblivious to the suffering they caused others. Sometimes, what they really needed was a good punch in the face.

Of course, it would be completely unethical for an adult to go around punching twelve-year-olds. That would be wrong on so many levels.

Oh, but wait.

Technically speaking, in this exact moment, Adom wasn't an adult at all. In fact, he was very much twelve years old too.

His lips curved into a smile.

Damus grabbed Adom's collar, yanking him close. "Have you gone completely insane?!"

"Easy, Damus, we could be se-"

"SHUT UP, LEON!"

Leon's mouth snapped shut.

"Mind letting go? I don't like being this close to people." His eyes flickered to Damus's face. "Especially with a face like that."

Damus's face contorted, a vein visibly pulsing in his forehead. His free hand clenched into a fist, drawing back.

Here we go.

Now, Adom wasn't a battle mage by any means. Though decades of practicing defensive and offensive spells did count for something. In his current physical state, he probably couldn't win a straight-up fight with Damus - the boy had at least twenty pounds on him, all muscle.

But street fights didn't work like duels.

Adom had read about this during one of his longer hospital stays, in a book that definitely shouldn't have been in the children's ward. Rule number one of street fighting:

The element of surprise.

As Damus's fist came sailing toward his face, Adom's mind was already moving, conceptualizing the pattern of a barrier spell. No time for hand gestures - just pure visualization, drawing mana from his surroundings and shaping it with practiced precision. The geometric patterns formed in his mind: hexagonal reinforcement, distributed force dispersion, minimal energy waste.

[Aegis Barrier]

Damus's fist slammed into the barrier with a sound like hitting thick glass. He stumbled back with a howl, clutching his hand. "What did- what did you do?!"

The translucent barrier shimmered around Adom, its hexagonal patterns catching the sunlight. He hadn't moved an inch, hadn't even raised his hands - the spell had simply... appeared.

"FIGHTING!" someone excitedly shouted as gasps and whispers rippled through the growing crowd.

"Isn't that an Aegis Barrier spell?" a voice cut through the murmurs. "That's a third-year defensive spell. How's he weaving it without gestures or grimoire?"

The barrier hummed softly, steady and unwavering, while Damus stared at his reddening knuckles in disbelief. His eyes darted between his injured hand and Adom's calm face, trying to process what had just happened.

Second rule of street fighting: double down on the surprise.

While Damus was still blabbering, Adom charged forward.

The fifth of Sapin, year 847 after restoration - today, when Damus had used the spell 'Hardening' during their "practice session," knocking Adom unconscious with a blow to the face. That's when he'd returned to this time, waking up on the ground with the taste of blood in his mouth and decades of memories suddenly crammed into his twelve-year-old brain.

He couldn't avoid taking that hit - it had already happened. But now? Now he was grateful for it.

Because it made this moment so much sweeter.

As he closed the distance, mana flowed around his fist, condensing into a dark, metallic coating that seemed to drink in the light.

The little shi- no, the little noble's mouth was still open, probably forming some threat or insult, when Adom's mana-enhanced fist connected with his jaw. The impact rang out like a hammer striking an anvil, a satisfying CRACK that seemed to echo across the suddenly silent courtyard.

Damus spun, actually spun, from the force of it, saliva and blood arcing through the air, before crumpling to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

This felt really, really good.

[You have dealt 32 damage.]

[You have received 5 recoil damage.]

[+1 Endurance]

[+1 Agility]

Adom froze momentarily as the words materialized in his mind.

What was that?

It was there when he came to. And here again. It surely was not magic. Spells could easily be identified since they had mana traces in them. This felt... like nothing at all.

Adom quickly glanced around. Had anyone else noticed? No, it seemed not.

Damage? Recoil? He instinctively understood their meaning, though the implications were foreign and troubling.

He pushed the thought aside, forcing himself to focus. This wasn't the time.

Damus groaned, his hands pressing against the ground as he tried to push himself up. Blood trickled from his split lip, and his eyes were unfocused, but somehow he was still conscious. Had to give it to him - the guy was stubborn.

Rule three of street fighting: When in doubt, hit them again.

Adom took two quick steps forward and brought his foot up in a clean arc, connecting solidly with Damus's face just as he managed to get his head off the ground. The impact made a sound that was somehow both wet and crunchy and the strange blue messages appeared again.

"STOP!"

Leon and Marcus rushed forward, with Marcus grabbing Adom's arm while Leo positioned himself between them and Damus, who had finally, properly collapsed.

"You've lost your mind!" Marcus shouted, trying to pull Adom back. "You could have killed him!"

Adom looked at the hand gripping his arm with the same detached interest he'd shown Damus earlier. "Let go."

Marcus flinched at his tone, and Finn - who'd been watching from the side - cleared his throat. "Marcus. Let him go."

At least one of them was smart.

As they hauled Damus's limp form toward the infirmary, Adom called after them: "If any of you want some more, you know where to find me."

They didn't answer.

The courtyard erupted.

"Did you see that?!" "Without hand gestures-" "He just-" "Someone get Professor Meris!" The voices overlapped, creating a wall of sound.

"That was AMAZING!" a first-year practically bounced in place.

"He's going to be in so much trouble," a prefect muttered, already heading for the faculty wing.

"Damus had it coming," someone whispered, then louder when others nodded. "He really did."

"Professor Meris is going to FLIP-"

"Did anyone else see the barrier pattern? That was advanced geometric-"

"But from HIM? Isn't he barely passing-"

"I heard Damus was bullying-"

Adom looked up, scanning the growing crowd, and there - on the second-floor balcony - stood Sam. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open, hands gripping the railing.

He smiled, gave a little wave, then pointed up: 'I'm coming there.'

The crowd parted as he approached the stairs. He could feel their stares - most of them just confused. A few older students were already theorizing about his spell work, gesturing at each other with academic excitement. Others whispered behind their hands, no doubt already drafting letters home about this.

"Someone should tell a professor," a girl insisted.

"Shut up, Maya, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

"Did you see his face? He wasn't even worried-"

"Damus was bleeding-"

"Good."

His legs worked - for now at least - and he savored the simple ability to climb stairs without pain. The students on the stairwell pressed themselves against the walls, giving him a wide berth.

"That barrier spell though-"

"Forget the barrier, did you see that punch?"

"My sister said Finn made someone cry yesterday-"

"Yeah but this isn't the way-"

"Isn't it though?"

He kept climbing, one step at a time, heading toward Sam.

Toward a future he was going to change.