A few days after the intensive training regimen began, the medical training hall had fallen into its usual silence—one that was only occasionally broken by the rhythmic hum of mana pulses or the soft clink of vials and tools. The overhead crystals glowed with a muted white light, casting a clinical, serene aura over the whitewashed chamber.
Kara stood in front of a long, reinforced table. A row of caged animals lined the surface—frogs, mice, rats, and the largest among them, a plump rabbit—each waiting their turn for the day's healing exercise. In front of her, out of its cage and lying in a pool of its own blood, was a rat. The creature had been torn nearly in half, its internal organs twitching with the final spasms of life, its breaths shallow and weak.
Her hands hovered above it, trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer concentration required to maintain her essence output.
The enhancer earring, a slim silver piece humming faintly on her ear, pulsed softly with each beat of her mana. She'd spent the past few days attuning herself to it, gradually learning to amplify her healing aura without overwhelming her target. And today, it felt… aligned.
Control, not force.
The words of her instructor, Professor Seraphis Alden, echoed in her mind. He had been relentless in drilling the fundamentals into her—precision before power, stability before speed. Healing wasn't about how much mana you could push into a wound—it was about how gently, how wisely, you guided it.
She exhaled slowly, narrowing her focus.
A pale green glow shimmered at her fingertips as she lowered them onto the rat's torn body. Slowly, bones began to knit together with delicate clicks, the ragged spine reconnecting vertebra by vertebra. The organs pulsed and shifted, realigning with unnatural smoothness. Muscle fibers twisted like thread, wrapping around the bone and fusing in place. Tendons stretched. Flesh grew back. Then skin. Then fur.
Finally, the glow began to fade, and the rat's breathing steadied.
It was whole again.
The earring dimmed, falling silent.
Kara, now drenched in sweat, sank into her seat, breathing heavily as she gently picked up the small creature. Its body was warm, trembling in her hands, but its eyes blinked slowly—alive, alert, and healing.
A tiny smile curved her lips.
"Finally," she whispered, stroking the top of its head. "I was able to do it…"
She looked down at the creature with a strange mix of pride and guilt. She had lost count of how many rats and frogs had died during her earlier attempts. Today felt like redemption. She carefully returned it to its cage and placed a piece of cheese near the edge before gently closing the door.
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.
The sharp sound broke the silence like a snap of thunder.
Kara stiffened and turned toward the entrance.
Leaning against the doorway, arms folded, was Angus. He wore a smug, almost lazy grin, but there was something else behind his eyes—interest, perhaps even admiration.
"That was quite intense," he said, stepping into the room. "So, I guess you're officially qualified to reattach my limbs if I get dismembered in the dungeon, huh?"
Kara rolled her eyes and turned back toward the sink. "Fantastic. Now you're stalking me."
Angus laughed, a light chuckle as he strolled casually past the cages, pausing in front of the rabbit. "Come on, stalking takes too much effort. I just came to witness the best healer in our class at work."
Kara washed her hands, letting the cool water soothe her overheated fingers. She turned the faucet off and faced him, drying her hands with a light spell. "Angus, what game are you playing now?"
He blinked, feigning innocence. "Game? What game?"
"You've been acting different," she said firmly, folding her arms. "Ever since the semester started, you've been… too nice. Too quiet. Like someone swapped you out for a tamer version."
Angus chuckled again, but his eyes drifted toward the frog's cage. He reached in and let it crawl up his fingers. "So, being helpful is now considered 'acting weird'? That's a bit harsh."
"You know it's weird," Kara said, stepping closer, voice quieter but sharper. "No snide remarks. No picking fights. You didn't even mouth off to Denwen during sparring. You actually put in effort. Who are you, really?"
He paused, the frog hopping back into its enclosure as he placed it gently down. Then he turned to face her, and for the first time, his smile faded.
"You know there's a time limit for how long a person can hold a grudge," he said, his voice low and measured. "During the holiday… I had time to think. About a lot of things. About myself. About what's happening in the world right now."
He looked down at his hands, curling them slowly into fists.
"There's too much darkness out there right now. Too many things spiraling beyond our control. I decided that if I'm ever going to protect what matters to me, I need to start letting go of the things that don't."
Kara watched him closely, her expression unreadable, but her posture softened slightly.
"And I'm sorry," Angus added, voice sincere. "For everything. For how I acted all these years. I know I've built a reputation—one that's not easy to undo. But I've made the choice to change. One step at a time."
Before Kara could respond, a low commotion rose in the hallway outside. Voices. Movement. A disturbance building rapidly.
She and Angus stepped toward the door. A small crowd had gathered near the corridor junction.
And in the center of it—a boy. Fragile, smaller than the others, cowering as three older students loomed over him.
"Please," the boy cried, his voice cracking. "I promise. I'll let go of the bed space. You can have it—just don't—"
The tallest of the bullies shoved him against the wall.
Kara's face darkened as she took a step forward, but Angus had already moved ahead of her.
"Wait…" she whispered, recognizing the aggressors. She knew them. Room C students—Angus's old crew. She expected him to hesitate, maybe even stay quiet. But instead…
He walked right into the middle of the crowd.
"Enough."
His voice was calm. But commanding.
The bullies froze instantly, as if the air had turned to stone.
"Boss?" one of them asked hesitantly. "We were just—he has the best space in the dorm. If we don't do this, he'll keep thinking he can—"
Angus's gaze snapped toward the speaker.
"In what world," he said slowly, dangerously, "did you suddenly grow the balls to question my orders?"
The boy paled. "I—I'm sorry, boss," he stammered, falling to his knees in a desperate plea.
"Get lost."
The order was delivered cold and final.
Without another word, the bullies scattered. The air slowly returned to its normal weight.
Angus walked over to the boy still curled up against the wall. He bent down and helped him to his feet, dusting his shoulders off with care.
"No one deserves that," he said quietly. "Not in this Academy. Not anywhere."
The boy nodded repeatedly, bowing over and over in thanks as Angus gently guided him away.
Murmurs spread throughout the hallway. Shock. Confusion. Awe.
Kara stood at the door, watching in silence.
When Angus returned to her side, she raised a brow and crossed her arms. "That was… almost heroic. Maybe even scum like you can change."
He placed a hand over his chest with a mock wince. "Ouch. Wounded. Right in the heart."
Kara's expression cracked into a smile, followed by a rare laugh—soft, genuine.
But the moment was interrupted as her gaze shifted to the end of the corridor.
Standing there—Roy and Denwen. The two had been on their way, now frozen in place, surprised by what they had just witnessed.
Roy's brows lifted slightly in amused curiosity.
Denwen… just stared.
Angus met their gaze.
And didn't flinch.