Kyle POV
The healer was touching his ribs softly.
As if afraid he might make Kyle angry.
Kyle ignored him.
His attention had already shifted to the voices nearby.
Not the words.
What lay beneath them.
Kyle turned his head slightly and saw where their eyes had gone.
Xavier.
Already inside one of the teleportation pods.
The rest of Spades stood a short distance away, speaking in low, overlapping voices.
Relief.
Wonder.
Resolve.
Kyle understood it at once.
They wanted to become stronger.
More useful.
Closer to the one person who now mattered most.
It was always the same.
People drifted towards value.
Towards strength.
Towards whatever force seemed most capable of shaping the future.
Kyle had lived with that truth since the day he emerged from seclusion.
But the thing forming around Xavier was not the same thing that had ever formed around him.
The awe Kyle inspired had always been absolute.
Cold.
People looked at him and saw the summit.
A wall too high to scale.
A standard too merciless to question.
What they gave him was reverence.
What they gave Xavier now was something else.
Something warmer.
Something far uglier to witness.
Hope.
The healer reached for his ribs again.
Kyle moved before the hand could touch him a second time.
His gaze remained on Xavier.
So this was what it looked like.
To be seen not only as powerful—
but as someone worth believing in.
A quiet laugh left him then, low and without warmth.
Funny.
'So this is what it feels like.'
'Jealousy.'
Kyle clenched his hand and stared at it as though it no longer belonged to him.
'How ugly.'
The healer was still speaking when Kyle stood.
He offered no reply. He simply took his blazer and draped it over his left shoulder before walking away.
A hush spread through Spades.
Only then did the students seem to remember he was still there.
Kyle ignored them.
As he passed the pod, his eyes shifted towards it for a moment.
Xavier lay inside, pale and motionless.
At peace.
As though he had done what he came to do and had finally allowed himself to rest.
Kyle's gaze lingered for half a heartbeat.
'Is this what you meant?'
The old words rose in his mind, clearer now than they had ever been.
'The first light taught men to lower their eyes.'
'The second shall teach them where to raise them.'
He looked away and continued forward.
The teleportation formation ahead was already glowing faintly beneath his feet.
Then the scent of lavender reached him.
Kyle turned slightly.
Lyra.
Her eyes were clear for once.
Not empty.
Not wandering.
Fixed on Xavier.
Kyle slowed.
He had never understood what lived behind Lyra's gaze. It gave nothing willingly. Thought and feeling alike seemed to sink into that quiet haze and vanish before they could be named.
So he did not know what she saw when she looked at Xavier.
But he could make an assumption.
And he found that he disliked it immediately.
Something tightened in his chest.
Small.
Ugly.
Sharper than the crowd's admiration had ever been.
His jaw hardened.
The formation beneath him began to shine.
Kyle kept his eyes on Lyra for one second longer.
'Then I will become a light that is both beheld and believed.'
The vow settled in him, cold and still.
Then another thought followed.
'Something greater than that.'
And space swallowed him whole.
.
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Xavier POV
Pure agony.
That was the first thing.
It began at his skin.
Then flesh.
Then bone.
Then deeper.
Every thread of him.
Every nerve.
Every hidden place within his body that should never have known pain at all.
The light that had once caressed him like a child of its own had changed.
It was no longer kind.
It still burned bright.
But now it burned slowly.
With absolute cruelty.
White flooded his veins like molten iron, merciless and searing, forcing its way through channels too narrow, too fragile, too human to contain it.
Every heartbeat drove it deeper.
Branding itself into him.
Etching its presence into flesh, marrow, and soul alike.
But beneath the heat was weight.
A crushing pressure descended onto his soul.
Heavy.
Sticky.
Relentless.
As though every eye that had once looked to his back had left something there.
A plea.
A prayer.
A burden.
A hope.
And now he was carrying all of it.
The light did not simply burn.
It was speaking.
Teaching.
It pressed the truth of protection into him with merciless hands until it felt as though his very soul was being forced to bow beneath it.
To protect was to bear.
To save was to carry.
And Xavier was carrying too much.
He tried to breathe.
A mistake.
Fire rushed into his lungs.
Heat and burden came together, crushing his chest from within as though invisible hands had wrapped around his ribs and begun to squeeze.
His body twitched once.
Then locked.
He could not move.
Could not open his eyes.
Could not even curl in on himself like a wounded animal and beg his body to survive.
The light kept carving.
Slowly.
Patiently.
As though it had all the time in the world.
Each time darkness tried to take him, the light dragged him back and forced him awake within the torment.
As though punishing him for daring to shoulder what his body had no right to bear.
Then he felt it.
His mana core.
The pain changed.
No longer only heat.
No longer only weight.
This was loss.
Light gathered above the core and fell upon it in slow, merciless drops.
One.
D+.
His scream never reached his throat.
It tore through his skull instead.
Two.
D.
His thoughts spasmed. Fragments of memory churned and twisted as though even his mind were being scraped raw.
Three.
D-.
Weakness flooded his body like poison.
His vessel had not survived the burden.
It had been burnt backward.
Broken for reaching beyond itself.
And still, through the ruin, one thought remained.
Unsteady.
Faint.
Unbroken.
'Everyone...'
Another pulse of pain tore through him.
'Made it... right?'
.
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Aeron POV
Patches of blue shone between the clouds overhead, and behind them the sun lingered, half-veiled, spilling muted gold across the world below.
The air was rich with the scent of green, woven through with blooming flowers and the soft, papery trace of falling leaves. Even the wind felt suspended between moods, neither harsh nor gentle.
They stood atop a broad boulder overlooking the forest. The encampment lay behind and below them, distant enough that its presence blurred into the background, yet near enough that every shift and stir could still be seen.
"Can you see it?"
Aeron's voice was solemn.
"What?"
"I know you can see it. The pain Xavier is going through."
"I can."
Aeron turned.
His face was tense, yet oddly accepting.
He looked at Iori.
The boy's eyes were unreadable, his expression was blank rather then the usual drowsiness.
"That is his path, and we cannot interrupt it. You know that too, don't you, Iori?"
It came out more as a statement than a question.
Iori gave a silent nod.
But he did not seem to care.
'Who is Iori?'
The question had troubled Aeron more than once, but he had always chosen to leave it alone.
And he would do the same today.
Because he had no way of unraveling the mystery of the boy beside him—
the one who simply stood there, watching with that same neutral face, as though Xavier's suffering meant nothing at all. If anything, he seemed more focused on Aeron's words themselves than on the meaning behind them.
Aeron sighed.
'I suppose this feeling is part of watching them grow.'
"Let's go back to the academy and grab an early dinner."
The rift did not appear immediately at the mention of food.
Aeron raised an eyebrow.
"Iori?"
"Would you like to meet my family?"
'Eh, what the—?'
Aeron's mind blanked for a second.
'Is he alright?'
But he recovered quickly and turned inward, weighing the question seriously.
'I could learn more about him, but—'
Aeron did not like it.
Somewhere within him, deeper than mana threads and beyond his understanding, he felt something pull taut.
A string.
It tightened at the thought of saying yes, sending silent whispers through his instincts.
Aeron knew, somehow, that this choice would affect something far beyond his current understanding.
The corner of his lips twitched upward.
"Iori, let's save that for later."
Iori showed no reaction. He simply nodded and opened the portal.
'I truly wonder who this Iori is...'
'And what I am.'
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.
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Lyra POV
She flipped back, dodging the fist of fire that came hurtling towards her from the dummy.
Her arm was encased in translucent white ice, so pure it seemed forged from frozen light. Jagged spires curved along it in sleek, lethal symmetry, each edge gleaming with a cold beauty that felt almost divine.
Partial transformation.
A form she had never revealed to anyone except her father and her butler.
Lyra made a single slashing motion.
The dummy across the room was cut apart.
As though space itself had been severed.
A heartbeat later, frost spilled from the wound, crawling over the split surface before sealing it in crystal.
Lyra flicked her finger.
The frozen shell shattered into countless particles, each one catching the light before fading into the air.
This was the only way she could wield her space affinity.
Lyra lowered her gaze to the arm.
It was beautiful.
And already, the cold was spreading.
A sharp, spiteful freeze crept from the arm with slow certainty, as though the ice were testing the edges of her resistance, waiting for the moment she would finally yield.
That was what this form demanded.
Not strength.
Submission.
Lyra had been training herself to resist it.
The power was immense, but she could not maintain it for more than a minute before the pain began.
And once it began, it only deepened.
A cruel, invasive cold that did not merely freeze the body, but whispered to the mind.
Let go.
Yield.
Become.
That was what frightened her.
Not the pain.
What waited beyond it.
What she might become if she ever stopped fighting.
What she might do.
Everything had changed after witnessing Xavier's light.
When he was near, the burden lessened.
The cold slowed.
The pain came later.
She could endure longer.
The thought filled her with disgust.
Reliance.
How pathetic.
How unbearable.
Lyra's expression did not change, but her fingers tightened slightly.
She would rather break than depend on anyone.
And yet, before his light, even the ice seemed to falter.
No one could save her but herself.
She had always hated the idea of fate.
And yet it seemed determined to draw her towards him all the same.
'Even light can be frozen.'
Then she paused.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Why did she feel like this?
No.
'When?'
At first, she had welcomed that light.
The faint comfort it radiated during the entrance exam.
If ice could be soothed, his light had done exactly that.
And after that, she found her thoughts lingering on him longer than they should have.
The second time she had ever done so.
For a boy.
'When was it?'
Her brows furrowed as she searched her memory.
Every moment since the entrance exam replayed itself in the silence, while splintered crystals continued to scatter across the floor.
The first lesson.
The first time she had used her ice in front of the class.
Ah.
It was the fire.
That moment.
When he had looked at the boy clutching a corpse in a world of flames.
After that, she had begun resisting the pull Xavier seemed to have on her.
As though some part of her had already realised it was not natural.
Something beyond her wanted them to grow closer.
No.
Wanted her to grow reliant on him.
To become helpless.
A burden.
A damsel.
Her fist drove into the floor in silent rage.
Ice crystallised across the stone, spreading out in jagged white fractures. The ground cracked before the frost did.
'Is this some kind of destiny?'
She had been deceived once before.
But now she was aware.
Lyra knew she had been cast onto a web.
A thread had already been laid around her.
But the game would have to continue.
For now.
Until she had the strength to refuse.
No.
'To fight back.'
'To freeze it.'
'To shatter it.'
Her core suddenly tightened.
Then condensed.
A pulse of mana rippled through the room.
Lyra had ranked up.
C-.
The first to do so.
The fastest in human history.
And all she felt was colder.
.
.
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Aeron POV
It was the next day.
Optional classes would begin soon.
Sleep still evaded him.
At four in the morning, he was in the library once more. His memorisation of magic circles was being tested again and again, each pattern drawn into the air with careful precision before being cancelled just before manifestation.
'I need a way to get rich, gain reputation, and secure allies.'
'Without disturbing the storyline.'
The Threadmoth cocoon remained suspended within the black cloth in his subspace, and he still wanted a perfect awakening.
Which would be—
'Expensive.'
That was the problem.
He had no reliable way to gain wealth or allies. Most of the knowledge he carried from the show was tied directly to the plot. If he took something too early, changed one event too soon, or created an opportunity before its proper time, the consequences could spread far beyond his control.
Perhaps he could clear dungeons and take whatever the main cast would never use?
'Inefficient.'
Ask Iori?
'Too reliant.'
'And I want him in my business.'
Aeron's fingers stilled in the air.
'A source of income that changes nothing...'
He pursed his lips.
'What if I use magic circles?'
'And my Observer trait?'
A small idea began to take shape in his mind.
Then a chill crept up the left side of his body.
Aeron slowly turned.
The half-cancelled magic circle was still hanging there.
'Oh no.'
Ice burst from it.
Books crackled as frost spread across their spines, locking entire shelves in crystal.
Aeron's eyes flicked around the library.
Empty.
He nodded once to himself and walked out without the slightest trace of guilt.
'Yeah. I'll call it—'
'Arcline.'
.
There was no class with Eliza today, since everyone was meant to attend their optionals.
Or skip them.
Aeron, unfortunately, had chosen all five.
His first was Rune Studies.
'This should be interesting.'
There had been no mention of runes in the show. The subject had apparently been deemed too academic, too dry, and too likely to make the audience lose interest.
So the animation studio had cut it entirely.
Which meant Aeron had no idea who else might have selected it.
So when he stepped into the classroom, the very first thing he did was search his watch.
'Can optionals be cancelled after selection?'
A single word appeared in reply.
'No.'
Silent tears rolled down his face.
He slipped past the students, seated himself at the back, and slumped forward onto the table.
'My life.'
'Why is half the main cast here?!'
Angelina, Quin, Valir, and Seth were seated together.
Will was near the middle, off by himself.
'So this is where Quin first appears. Not tomorrow.'
Freckled, ginger-haired, and auburn-eyed, he was handsome in a clean sort of way.
Still below Kyle and Xavier, but not by much.
He was the party's archer.
Its marksman.
And later on, one of its most monstrously powerful members.
Aeron rubbed his fingers together.
'And more importantly, he is absurdly rich.'
Then she entered.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees.
A subtle but cutting presence settled over the class.
Aeron's eyes narrowed.
'Lyra?'
He saw it at once.
Her mana core.
'Why is she already C-rank?'
His stomach lurched.
'What happened?'
'What went wrong?'
And her aura had changed too.
If anything, it felt even more distant than before.
'This was meant to happen after she grew closer to Xavier.'
'And only after Kyle.'
Nausea came in waves.
Aeron felt something cold sink deep into his stomach.
Ignoring every stare, Lyra walked past them and took the seat directly in front of him.
The room stayed quiet.
Not because no one had noticed—
but because everyone had.
Something about her was wrong.
No one could have named it. No one could have explained it properly. And yet the feeling lingered all the same, prickling at the backs of their necks.
Lyra had grown stronger overnight.
Far stronger.
Quin noticed first.
He muttered something quickly beneath his breath to the others beside him.
It was soft, but not soft enough.
A beat later, their eyes widened in shared shock.
Only seven students were in attendance, but the rumours would spread fast.
Not that Lyra cared.
Aeron's confusion was cut short when the chalkboard at the front of the classroom shimmered.
Scribbles were already scrawled across its surface, strange layered symbols he could only assume were runes.
Then they moved.
The runes peeled themselves from the board one by one, lifting into the air like strips of dark light.
A wave of darkness swept across the room and swallowed Aeron's vision whole.
When the light returned, a thin, wiry professor was standing at the front.
He wore a neatly fitted black-and-grey striped suit. His frizzy black hair was streaked with white, and his curled moustache shone suspiciously under the light, drenched in far too much gel.
His face, however, was young.
And he was smiling far too widely.
His voice boomed through the classroom.
"Welcome!"
"Fellow disciples of the primordial language!"
More runes peeled themselves from the board behind him, spiralling through the air as sparks burst at his sides like fireworks.
Quin, Seth, and Valir broke into claps of admiration.
Will followed a moment later in a stiff, awkward rhythm.
Aeron did not clap.
His eyes stayed on Lyra's back.
The class had only just begun, and already it felt as though something had gone terribly off script.