KAEL'S POV
The next few days after the Professor Anlor "incident" were strangely quiet, which, in Aetherion Academy, meant that one of two things: either nothing was happening or something terrible was going to happen, with such momentum that I could not see.
Sadly, my compiled experience suggested the second option was most likely.
I stood in front of my narrow mirror in the dorm room, adjusting the collar of my uniform while Ryn remained buried beneath his blanket on the other side of the room like a corpse that had lost a battle with its laundry. He had one arm hanging off his bed; his hair was dishevelled, and his breathing had a heavy, uneven rhythm, as if someone was trying to sleep with enough determination that would be considered offensive to someone who didn't.
I decided not to wake him up because he didn't have the same elective that I had, this early in the morning.
But I mostly didn't because I valued my life.
Luckily for him, he had the morning period off.
The usual bright and beautiful morning light filtered through the wide window, falling across the white stone ceiling and the gold geometric trim in thin bands. Somewhere below, the lower terrace was already alive with older students moving between classes, their murmurs rising through the glass like a distant sea.
I buttoned the last part of my coat and headed to the first class of my second elective.
Composite Casting Theory.
The name alone had been enough to interest me when I first saw the elective list. Combining affinities was not exactly a safe subject, which meant the Academy either trusted its students more than I expected or had very good medical facilities.
Hopefully it's not because of the latter.
I grabbed my notebook, checked that my cuffs were properly aligned, then stepped out into the corridor.
The walk to class was uneventful, which should have been comforting, but it was not.
As I strolled through the halls of Aetherion, its surroundings were polished and excessive as always. They were bright with morning light and silver-lined walls; students somehow looked more awake than usual. I moved past them at a slower pace than I'm used to, partly because I was tired, but mainly because my thoughts had recently and unpleasantly been occupied by one thing.
Taron.
Or more specifically, Taron's recent behaviour.
Ever since Professor Anlor's little personal challenge in ABT, Taron had become... let's say different. His personality was more or less the same; in fact, there wasn't really much to say about how he visibly presented himself. He was still the same loud, overly dramatic, strangely graceful when he remembered he was supposed to be noble self; if there was one visibly different thing, it was that he somehow got annoyingly good at appearing beside me when I couldn't sense him approaching.
But there was something else now.
A kind of open protectiveness. Don't get me wrong, I'm not blind. Ryn's protectiveness was obvious. It was aggressive, loud and typically accompanied by insults, suspicion, and a willingness to fight anyone who so much as breathed at me incorrectly.
However, Taron's was different. His was lighter on the surface, but sharper underneath.
Whenever Professor Anlor tried to put me in an unfavourable position during an ABT class, Taron just happened to be there. If Professor Anlor asked me to do a practical demonstration, Taron would volunteer to partner with me or even take my place before anyone else could move. If Professor Anlor tested me on material he had barely introduced, Taron would ask a politely inconvenient question that forced him to explain the premise first. If there was a comment on my posture, timing, note-taking, or apparent lack of what the Professor called "field readiness," Taron would somehow insert himself into the situation with the cheerfulness of a man committing social obstruction as a form of ancient art.
There was a point in the lecture where I accidentally choked on my own spit, embarrassing, I know.
It wasn't dramatic or even that loud. It was a small, unfortunate cough. Professor Anlor didn't see it that way, though, as he stopped mid-lesson to turn toward me and ask if I wished to "share something with the class?"
I must've looked shocked by what had happened because Taron had immediately and stupidly raised his hand, mocking Professor Anlor by saying, "Actually, Professor, I had a question about throat-based poison projected by Aethren in camouflage."
The entire class had stared at him, Professor Anlor included, and I... couldn't tell whether to be appreciative or embarrassed by what I had seen.
'I'm grateful that he's being so helpful,' I thought while turning down the hall that led to the first-year corridors, 'but I'm not sure where this sudden change has come from. He truly is a fascinating character.'
I would be lying if I said that the timing didn't bother me. It coincided with Taron leaving for something after class a few days ago.
He had told me he would catch up with me in the cafeteria, said he had something to take care of, then arrived later acting almost exactly like himself.
The key word being 'almost.'
There had been this weird brightness in him that was too deliberate. A carefulness beneath the jokes he would make. He didn't tell me what had happened, or what he had done, and I didn't choose to press him about it.
Friendship, apparently, involved respecting a person's mysteries.
Which was very inconvenient.
I reached the classroom and slowed.
It was the same room Professor Naeric used for Fundamentals.
'Huh, this is unexpected.'
A familiar heavy door. Familiar tiered seating. Familiar central floor. Familiar air of academic judgment.
I stepped inside and saw the confirmation immediately.
Professor Naeric stood at the front.
He was arranging several projections along his desk with the same demeanour of someone about to force a bunch of kids into severe intellectual labour.
I paused just inside the doorway.
'He teaches Fundamentals and an elective for the same year?'
That was odd.
Back in my old world, professors sometimes taught multiple modules, obviously, but not usually like this. Compulsory foundational classes and specialised topics for the same cohort required different teaching structures, different learning objectives, different—
As I tried to remember something, I saw flashes.
A lecture hall.
A professor from my old life.
Skimming through schedules on my wall.
A name at the top of them.
I tried to force the memories to come, but they did not. Instead, all I got was sharp and sudden pain inflicted upon my head. It lanced through the side of my head; the pain was so severe that it forced me to stop walking.
For a second, my vision blurred. Objects in the classroom began to overlap and grow dull, and I tightened my grip on my notebook.
And then, out of nowhere, as soon as I tried to stop thinking— stop remembering- the pain vanished.
Not gradually fade away.
But vanished.
As if a door leaking out agonising pain had closed.
I exhaled sharply.
"Arghh, what the hell was that?"
A voice cut in from nearby.
"Wow. Taron did mention that you were exhausting yourself training all night, but I didn't think you'd look this bad. You need to up your sleeping hours."
I turned my head.
It was Elya Veyrannis who approached from the aisle beside me.
She looked exactly as unsettlingly composed as I remembered. Pale pink hair fell neatly around her face, catching the light in soft strands that made her seem almost gentle from a distance. Up close, that impression failed. Her eyes were too observant, her expression too quiet, as if she were always able to peek into a conversation that no one else could hear.
She stopped beside my seat while I sat down, facing me with a slight tilt of her head.
For a moment, she looked as if she were deciding whether she wanted to sit next to me.
I strongly considered pretending not to notice her.
Unfortunately, she was difficult to ignore.
"Is there something you need from me?" I asked.
"No."
"Then why are you here?"
"To see if you're okay."
"... So, you need something from me."
"The only thing I need," she said softly. "Is to satisfy my current curiosity."
I stared at her.
"So tell me, are you okay?"
"... I'm fine; it's just a small headache."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"Hmmm, you sure? It didn't look small?"
"... Yes."
"Good. You should be careful, Kael." A faint smile touched her lips. "How else are you going to beat Darius and win the bet for Professor Orin?"
The air around me seemed to go still.
My face hardened.
"How do you know about that?"
Elya's smile did not widen.
That made it worse.
"Oh, I know a lot more than that."
My fingers tightened against the edge of the desk.
"Such as?"
"For instance," she said, leaning slightly closer, "how you've changed since you read the book I gave you not too long ago at the library."
For a moment, everything inside me froze. A recall of those horrid events came back to me all at once. The Memory-Relic. The battlefield. The smell of blood and ash. The broken sky.
Maelor Veyrannis.
Alaric Edrin.
And the certainty that some buried thread existed between things I was not yet allowed to understand.
I could physically feel my anger rise before being able to stop it. Meanwhile, Elya was watching everything, watching my expression change, and for the first time since I had met her, I saw something akin to satisfaction in her eyes.
As for the reason why, I couldn't tell.
I looked at her with a stillness that made even my breathing feel deliberate.
"You—"
"Everyone settle down into your seats."
Professor Naeric's voice cut through the classroom like iron striking stone.
The room quieted immediately.
Elya straightened.
"Oops," she said lightly. "Looks like that's all the time we have for now."
I did not look away from her.
"You can always catch me at the end of class," she continued, then finally slid into the seat beside me as if she had chosen it from the beginning. "Goodbye... for now."
I stared ahead.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
My anger did not fade.
The Codex pulsed.
[EMOTIONAL ELEVATION DETECTED]
[COGNITIVE FOCUS DISRUPTION LIKELY]
[STABILISATION PROTOCOL INITIATING]
My breathing changed, and not because I chose to.
The tightness in my jaw eased. The heat behind my eyes dulled down. My fingers loosened from the desk. The anger rising through me became distant, muffled, placed behind glass.
Whatever the Codex did. It helped.
And that was a problem.
For the first time, the helpfulness bothered me.
'Codex.'
[YES]
'Did you just regulate my emotional state?'
[ACCURATE]
'Without asking?'
[IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION DEEMED BENEFICIAL]
My gaze stayed forward as Professor Naeric began arranging the final crystal.
That should have unsettled me more.
A system inside my mind had adjusted my body because it decided I needed it, and to be fair, it had saved me more than once. It had cut off my Aether perception when pressure became dangerous. It had helped me survive, learn, cast, train, and grow through situations that should have broken me.
But the more it acted, the more obvious the question became.
Where does assistance end?
Where does its control begin?
For that... I had no answer.
Even if I wanted to do something about it, what exactly could I do?
Argue with an invisible system that sits in my soul?
Ask it to leave?
File a complaint with whoever reincarnated me here, as if they were some delivery service?
I had no choice but to accept the help it provides me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to turn a blind eye to whatever the cost could be.
[USER CONCERN DETECTED]
'We'll discuss it later.'
[ACKNOWLEDGED]