Morning Sparks and Silent Rivalry (Filler Story)

7:35 AM.

Jimmy sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes as golden rays filtered in through the thin curtains. A cool breeze slid in from the open window, stirring the scent of dew and wildflowers.

Outside in the training lawn, two figures stood still under the morning sun.

Peeko was perched on the edge of the stone fountain, wings flared slightly, his azure-gold feathers shimmering with heat.

Opposite him, Luna stood on all fours, tail swaying lazily, but her eyes were locked onto his like polished mirrors.

A quiet rivalry had formed.

Their auras hummed faintly in the air, and Jimmy could sense it even from his room — something had shifted during the night.

Skill Tier Status: All Attacks Reached Tier 2+

Jimmy blinked in smile, 'my method works.'

He scrolled Luna's data also. It's also climbing too. 

He stepped out onto the porch, hair still messy from sleep.

"Luna," he called softly by his mind. "Well done."

She glanced back over her shoulder, gave him a slow blink, and nodded.

"On on."

Peeko flapped his wings and chirped.

"Tata!"

He sounded half-ready to brag, half-ready to spar again.

Jimmy smiled.

Just then, from the left side of the yard, a series of soft mud thuds approached.

Bruno appeared — floating invisibly but giving himself away with the smell of roasted herb-nuts and seared eggroot.

He dropped a warm wooden tray on the porch steps with care.

"Delivery: breakfast," his voice echoed, low and satisfied.

Jimmy sat down on the steps, stretching one leg out as he grabbed a skewer of firefruit slices and fed it to peeko.

Then, he remembered — with a slow sigh — the principal's summons.

"We'll see you in my office," the principal had said last night, after the Arcana raid.

Jimmy could still feel the sting in that man's voice.

He wiped his hands and grabbed his tablet.

As he scrolled through nexus alerts, his eyes paused on something new — an announcement banner:

📣 Upcoming Young Whisp Combat Competition: Open Challenge Bracket (Individual Category).

Starts in 2 days.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

He looked back at Luna and Peeko — now both sitting on opposite sides of the lawn, devouring breakfast like royal rivals after a diplomatic duel.

Then back at the screen.

"Looks like it's time for another trial."

He finished the last bite of his firefruit, then stood up and brushed off his coat.

"Bruno, stay hidden. Keep scanning."

"Luna, Peeko — rest well. We've got training after school."

Peeko gave a sleepy, "dumtadum…" before dozing off, beak buried in his tail feathers.

Luna had already curled up near the fountain, her tail gently coiling around her legs like a misty river.

Jimmy nodded.

Backpack slung, data sphere in hand, he stepped toward the road, adjusting the blindfold over his eyes just a little tighter. He call them back in his mind's garden.

10:02 AM.

The day had just begun — but his mind was already three moves ahead.

............

The Principal's Office — Unveiled Tensions

Jimmy stood quietly just beyond the iron archway of the school's administration wing, one hand tucked in his coat pocket, the other lightly resting on his side. His ears picked up the low murmur of conversation from inside — familiar voices: Arcana agents, school board members, a few city officers.

They were all there.

The same people who had barged into his home last night with eyes full of suspicion and clipboards full of authority.

He didn't enter right away.

He stayed by the gate — silent, still, letting the shadows hide him.

That's when he heard the soft crunch of footsteps from the gravel path behind him.

A man approached, slow but deliberate. Round glasses glinting in the light, a long salt-and-pepper beard, and a stack of papers tucked beneath one arm. There was something eccentric about him — not chaotic, but deliberate. Like a researcher who had stared too long into truths others were afraid to touch.

The man adjusted his glasses and looked directly at Jimmy.

"Are you the boy they're all whispering about?"

Jimmy didn't nod, didn't flinch — just offered the faintest tilt of his head. Enough.

The man studied him more intently.

"Blind. And mute too, I hear."

He gave a small, sharp exhale through his nose — not quite a laugh.

"You're interesting."

Jimmy tapped his coat twice.

From the folds of his belt, Bruno — still in stealth — slid forward a small voice recorder, specially tuned and shielded. Jimmy discreetly slipped it into the waistband of his pants. Just in case.

More time passed. Jimmy waited.

Eventually, the office doors opened. The crowd of officers and agents began filing out — some with tired expressions, others exchanging whispers. A few of them glanced Jimmy's way but didn't stop.

He didn't acknowledge them.

He was half-dozing against the cold metal pole when a familiar voice snapped him back.

"Tch. Hey, Feather Boy."

Jimmy's eyes opened slowly.

Standing before him was Ms. Illna — a long black coat over her arcana uniform, her hair tied up, but strands still catching the morning breeze like a character from a noir film. The ghost Whisp still hovered faintly at her shoulder like a tattoo made of fog.

"Go inside. Teacher wants you."

Her tone was casual, too casual, but her eyes were sharp as ever.

"Also… classes are suspended for a week. Lucky you."

Jimmy tilted his head again.

"I have to leave the city for now," she added, then smirked.

"Tell your classmates not to do too much hand work while I'm gone, yeah?"

Jimmy blinked slowly, unimpressed.

She waved a hand.

"Go on. You've got fans waiting."

Inside the Office

Jimmy stepped inside.

A heavy silence greeted him. Wood-panelled walls, floor-length windows veiled in cream curtains. The principal's desk sat like a throne. On either side stood two figures:

The Principal — sharp-voiced, silk-suited, eyes like glass beads under pressure.

The Combat Instructor — arms crossed, muscle-bound with a pragmatic gaze. He had always watched students like chess pieces on a battle board.

Jimmy sat quietly in the farthest chair.

The principal leaned forward.

"So," he said, slowly.

"What is your problem?"

Jimmy stayed still.

"Why don't you talk to anyone?" the principal continued.

"More conversation brings more understanding. Empathy. You should try it."

Jimmy blinked once.

The principal pressed his palms together, considering him.

"That aside," he added, voice tightening, "I've been made aware of your recent... progress. And I must say — I'm impressed. Deeply. Few students ever build such a close bond with their Whisps. Even fewer see such rapid growth across multiple companions."

The combat instructor nodded.

"It's not just luck," he said gruffly.

"He's got control. Emotional synchronization. Tactile rhythm. The kind of instincts you can't teach."

The principal gave a practiced smile.

"All the more reason," he said, "for you to consider your future seriously. Why struggle alone? Why not align yourself with a good family? A capable guild? Even a proper Caretaker Lineage. They could offer you elite training. Better environments. Better Whisps."

"Resources you'll never get in the lower circle."

Jimmy stayed still.

His gaze flicked between them but no sound.

.......................

The principal leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh, fingers steepled in front of his chest. His smile remained professional, but his voice dropped in tone — edging closer to irritation.

"The more time you waste like this… the more problems you'll create for your own future, boy."

His gaze narrowed slightly, eyes studying Jimmy as though trying to decipher some code beneath his calm exterior.

"Don't stay isolated. If there's anything troubling you — anything at all — come to us. Speak up. We're here to help, even if you don't trust us yet."

Jimmy blinked once. He didn't move.

The principal's next words came slowly, deliberately:

"Forget about the Arcana. They won't bother you anymore."

No reaction from him.

No thank you.

No relief.

Just that steady, unreadable silence.

..............................

The combat instructor stepped forward now, voice gruff but less rigid than before.

"Have you chosen your second Whisp yet?" he asked, arms folded.

"I've got a few strong recommendations. Good synergy with your current line-up."

Jimmy finally moved.

He raised his hand and typed something into his phone, then displayed the screen:

"No need. I'll find the one I'm meant to."

There was no arrogance in it — just certainty.

A pause.

The principal let out a breath, clearly dissatisfied.

"You still don't believe in us, do you?" he said softly.

"Even after all this? Very well. There's nothing more we can do."

The instructor turned slightly, glancing back at Jimmy with an odd glint of professional curiosity.

"Regardless," he said, tone lighter, "you've done well in your training. Impressive work. I'd be interested to see your Whisps in person. I'm a certified Grade A Beast Breeder, after all."

He gave a casual smirk.

"If you show me, I could suggest growth formulas — potions, nutrient routines, behavioural training. Could speed things up. Maybe even unlock hidden potential..."

Jimmy stared at him.

Then he simply typed:

"No."

The room grew very quiet.

The instructor raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue.

The principal gave a tired shake of his head.

"Dismissed."

Jimmy stood slowly, gave a small respectful nod — neither hostile nor warm — and turned toward the door.

As he left, his fingers brushed his phone, still recording.

Not because he feared them.

But because he knew exactly who was trying to help... and who was trying to own.