Her hands worked fast, steady. This wasn't the first time she'd patched him up. Probably wouldn't be the last. He'd lost track of the number of times she'd come rushing in like this—too fast, too bright, too angry to admit how scared she was.
Cassian watched from a distance now, arms crossed, his smirk long gone. Liora didn't even glance at him. Her full attention was on Aelius. It always had been.
"I told you," she muttered, this time quieter, her voice losing some of its sharpness. "That guy hates you. He's not trying to teach you. He wants to break you. Make you give up so he can stand taller on the wreckage."
Aelius looked at her then, wincing. "I know."
"Then why—"
"Because," he cut in, softer than before, "I need to know what I'm up against. I need to know how far I have to go."
She sighed. It was long and weary and full of that same familiar ache she always got whenever he started talking like he carried the whole sky on his back.
"You already know how far," she said. "You've always known. The difference is, I'm not gonna let you bleed alone on the way there."
A pause. Then, her lips quirked into the smallest, reluctant smile.
"Though for the love of all things sacred, next time, maybe don't pick the training partner who literally tried to incinerate you last week."
"Noted," Aelius murmured, finally allowing himself to lean against her shoulder.
Liora didn't push him off.
She just stayed there. Holding him upright. Healing what she could.
And when he couldn't stand, she stood for both of them.
Instructor Halvern's cold gaze swept over the watching crowd like a drawn blade—sharp and without tolerance.
"That will be all for today," he said. "Back to your dorms. Tomorrow, you'll be crossing into the Wild Realm Gate for your mandatory test."
The silence that followed was tense, almost brittle. Even the braver students who usually joked after training knew better than to say a word.
Halvern's eyes fell squarely on Aelius then, still leaning against Liora, who met the instructor's stare with no fear—only defiance.
"As for you, Aelius Gray," Halvern said slowly, "you already failed your initial beast resonance evaluation. You barely passed your fundamentals. And your last Wild Gate trial was a disaster."
No one said anything. But no one needed to. Aelius could feel every pair of eyes, every stifled whisper behind fake coughs. He felt small, like a statue half-carved and already cracking.
Halvern took a step closer, boots thudding softly. "This is your final chance. If you fail this test… you're out. Expelled. I suggest you do whatever you can to change that outcome."
A pause.
"If there is anything you can do."
With that, Halvern turned on his heel, cloak whispering behind him like the last page of a book slamming shut.
Cassian, smug as ever, took that as his cue to stroll past. His footsteps echoed louder than necessary, each one like a sneer.
As he passed Aelius, he leaned just close enough for his words to pierce like glass.
"It's about time they took out the trash," he murmured with a grin, not even bothering to hide the venom.
Aelius didn't respond. Not with words. He just clenched his jaw, hard enough his teeth ached. His fingers tightened around his broken spear shaft until his knuckles turned white.
Because deep down, he knew the truth.
He wasn't going to pass.
Not because he lacked skill. Not entirely.
But because he lacked what every other student in Stol Academy took for granted: a beast soul.
Where others summoned wolves of flame or drakes of ice, Aelius had only his battered weapon—infused with nothing but sheer will and far too much desperation.
And worse, his curse. No, not a curse—an illness.
Mana Sensitivity Disorder.
The name sounded deceptively elegant, like it belonged in an alchemist's tome rather than on a medical record stamped with the word terminal. But Aelius knew the truth of it intimately. His body rejected mana like poison. The denser the concentration, the weaker he became. Dungeons were saturated in it. Just standing in them made his limbs feel like lead, his lungs squeeze like they were wrapped in wire.
He wasn't just weaker than the others.
He was falling apart in the very environment they were expected to thrive in.
He knew how it would go. The Gate would open. The students would surge in, confident and radiant, their summoned beasts roaring alongside them. He'd trail behind, a silent liability. Monsters would attack. They'd defend. He'd try.
And he'd fail.
Again.
Beside him, Liora still held onto him, and when she spoke, her voice was low. "You don't have to go through with this, you know. You could walk away. There's no shame in surviving."
But there was. For Aelius, there was.
He looked up at the horizon beyond the training grounds, where the sky was just beginning to burn gold behind the academy spires.
"I made a promise," he said softly, almost to himself.
Liora blinked. "To who?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "To someone I couldn't protect."
And with that, he stood. Wounded. Unarmed. Barely upright.
But standing.
Because if he was going to fall—he'd fall forward.
Aelius let out a soft breath as the last of the stinging pain in his ribs faded beneath the gentle glow of Liora's healing spell. The golden shimmer pulsed once more, then vanished, leaving behind only faint bruises where gashes once burned.
"Thanks," he said, smiling faintly as he rubbed the side of his neck. "I owe you—again. At this rate, I should start bringing you snacks every time I get beat up."
Liora raised a single blue eyebrow, unimpressed. "You should start by not getting beat up in the first place."
He chuckled, shifting the broken shaft of his spear over his shoulder like it was still whole. "Fair. But y'know… since we're heading to different dorms, I guess I'll see you later."
She gave him a flat look. Not angry, just… done with his nonsense.
"Aelius," she said, deadpan. "We walk down the same path to the dorms. You make it sound like the boys' and girls' wings are in opposite kingdoms."
He blinked. "Oh."
"Yeah."
There was a beat. Then Aelius forced out an awkward, slightly too-loud laugh that even he cringed at.
"Right, right—you have a point. I just thought… well, actually, there's something I need to take care of," he added, eyes sliding off to the side. "So… I guess I'll catch you later."
Liora studied him for a second, lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't buying it. Not entirely. But she didn't push either. She just crossed her arms and said, "Fine. But don't wander off too far. The infirmary won't always be there to patch you back together when you do something dumb."
Aelius gave her a mock salute and turned away, the weight of her gaze lingering on his back as he took the steps toward the edge of the training field.
Something he needed to take care of, he said.
That was technically true.
It just wasn't something he could explain in words.
Not yet.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, something stirred
〘 ⋄ Re-attempting soul synchronicity... ⋄ 〙