Chapter 3.2

The days after my victory are not peaceful.

The academy has changed. Or maybe I have changed.

Before, they whispered about me like I was a passing shadow. Now, the whispers have weight. They watch me with narrowed eyes. They do not laugh anymore. They do not mock. They study me. Some with curiosity. Some with hate.

I walk the halls, always listening. Always watching. I can feel the shift in the air. I survived the trial, but survival is not the same as safety.

I have painted a target on my back.

---

My body is slow to heal. Every muscle aches, every movement is a reminder of the battle. My ribs throb where Lenhardt's flames touched me. The bruises on my arms are deep, purple and angry.

Pain is nothing new to me. Pain is my companion.

But even pain has limits.

Training continues as if nothing has changed. The nobles practice their spells with ease, but I struggle. My limbs are heavy, my reaction time slower. They notice. They see weakness. And in this academy, weakness is death.

I push myself harder. Faster. I refuse to fall behind. But my body is breaking, and I know it won't hold out forever.

One night, after training, I find a letter slipped under my door. No name. No seal. Just a single sentence.

"Rest while you can. You are being watched."

---

Something is wrong with me.

My wounds heal faster than they should. My cuts close overnight. My bruises fade in days instead of weeks. At first, I think I imagined it. But then I push my body past exhaustion—beyond what should be possible—and I keep going.

I should be weaker. I should be struggling. But instead, I feel... sharper.

More aware.

The world moves slower in battle. I see openings before they happen. I react before my opponent has even finished their thought. It's not magic. Not in the way the nobles understand it. But it is something.

Something that should not be happening.

I do not tell anyone. Not yet. Not until I understand what this means.

---

Lenhardt is not the kind to forgive.

He lost in front of the entire academy. His name, his honor, was crushed beneath my fists. And nobles do not forget humiliation.

He does not challenge me openly. That would be beneath him. Instead, he waits. He watches. And then, one night, when I am walking alone, he strikes.

I hear them before I see them. Footsteps. Low whispers. Then, movement. Four of them. No magic—yet. They want to do this the dirty way first.

I breathe slowly. My ribs ache, but I force myself to stand straight.

"Out late, commoner?" Lenhardt steps forward, his voice smooth, controlled. But his eyes burn with anger. "It must be exhausting, pretending to be one of us."

I say nothing.

He moves closer. "You embarrassed me. That was a mistake."

The others spread out, surrounding me. The air is tense. One of them cracks their knuckles. Another shifts, ready to strike.

They think I am alone.

They are wrong.

A sharp gust of wind cuts through the alley. Then, a voice.

"Enough."

From the shadows, a figure steps forward. A girl, tall, with silver hair and eyes that shine like steel. She is not just any noble.

She is Mira Valienne.

Top of the academy. Strongest of the new generation.

And she is smiling.

"I've been watching you, Cid," she says, her gaze flickering over me like she's sizing me up. "You're more interesting than I thought."

She turns to Lenhardt. "Run along. Unless you want to embarrass yourself again."

Lenhardt clenches his fists. His pride wars with his fear. Then, with a glare, he turns and leaves, his lackeys following.

I look at Mira, wary. "Why did you stop them?"

She tilts her head, her smile widening. "Because I don't like wasting my time on weaklings."

---

The next day, I am called to the headmaster's office.

I expect punishment. Or worse. But when I arrive, someone else is waiting.

An instructor I have never met before. A man with sharp eyes and a presence that fills the room. His robes are simple, but his aura is suffocating. A warrior. A mage. A killer.

"Cid Nelaoji," he says, his voice like a blade scraping against stone. "You fight like a man who has nothing to lose."

I meet his gaze. "Maybe I don't."

He chuckles. "Good."

He steps forward, studying me. "Magic is power. But power is not always magic. You've proven that. And I think I can make you stronger."

I narrow my eyes. "Why?"

He smirks. "Because I like underdogs."

Then, his expression hardens. "And because this academy needs someone like you more than you realize."

---

Days pass. Whispers grow.

Students are disappearing.

Not failing. Not expelled. Disappearing. No one speaks of it openly. But I hear the murmurs. I see the empty seats in class. I see the tension in the nobles, in the instructors.

Something is wrong in Kadven.

One night, I wake to a sound at my door. A single knock. When I open it, there is no one there.

Only a note.

"Meet me at the eastern tower. Midnight. Come alone."

I hold the note tightly, my heartbeat steady.

The academy is dangerous. But this?

This feels like something worse.

Something waiting in the dark.

And I have never been one to run from the dark.