Jonah woke up to the smell of disinfectant and the mechanical beep of a medical monitor.
The first thing he felt was a dull, throbbing ache behind his eyes, like a drum that had been beaten for two days straight. The second thing he saw was a plain white ceiling. He blinked, trying to chase away the fuzzy edges of his vision. He was in the Academy infirmary.
"He's awake."
The voice was low and familiar. Seraph.
He turned his head, the simple movement feeling like a monumental effort. Vanessa was slumped in a chair beside his bed, her head resting on her arms, fast asleep. Her usually neat dark hair was a bit of a mess, and there were faint shadows under her eyes. It looked like she'd been there for a while.
Seraph stood by the window, her arms crossed. Her posture was as rigid as ever, but the look on her face was one of quiet relief.
"How…?" Jonah's voice was a dry croak.
Seraph pushed a glass of water with a straw toward him. "You've been out for two days. Drink."
He gratefully took a long sip. The cool water felt incredible. "What happened?"
"You did something ridiculously stupid," Seraph stated, her tone flat. "And spectacularly effective."
At the sound of their voices, Vanessa stirred. She shot upright, her eyes wide and panicked for a second before they focused on Jonah. A wave of relief washed over her face, so potent it was almost visible.
"Jonah! You're awake!" she exclaimed, leaning forward. "How do you feel? Any cognitive dissonance? hallucinations? Do you know who you are?"
"I think so," he managed, a weak smile tugging at his lips. "My head just feels… loud."
Vanessa nodded, all business now. "That's to be expected. You suffered from severe psychic shock. When you absorbed that essence, you didn't just absorb data; you absorbed the warring psychic echoes of a dozen tortured creatures, all screaming at once. It was actively trying to tear your mind apart from the inside out."
She looked down at her hands. "I… I've been studying mana stabilization theory. I built a sort of psychic containment field around the chaotic energy in your mind. It was like putting a bomb in a box. It wasn't a fix, but it kept you from… fragmenting… until we could get you back here and the specialized healers could take over."
Jonah stared at her, stunned. She said it so simply, but he could feel the truth of it.
Deep inside him, that screaming vortex of black and red was still there, but it was contained, walled off behind a shimmering, complex barrier he now recognized as Vanessa's own mana signature. She had saved his life. And probably his sanity.
"You're a genius, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with awe.
She looked down with a shy smile. "Couldn't have done it without my partner."
Seraph cleared her throat, bringing them back to the present. "The mission was a success. We recovered a surviving researcher. He was locked in a panic room.
"That surviving researcher... what did he say they were doing?" Jonah asked
Seraph's face grew grim. "They weren't creating. They were splicing. Forcibly injecting captured beasts with essences they couldn't handle, trying to create unstable super-weapons. The Headmaster has ordered the station decommissioned and all related research sealed."
She paused, a rare hint of pride in her eyes. "Word of what happened has already spread through the Rank Two Elites. The official report is heavily redacted, of course. It just credits the team's success to the deployment of 'unorthodox tactical assets'."
She smirked. "Everyone knows that means you, Jonah."
He wasn't a secret anymore. He wasn't the Headmaster's pet or some strange anomaly. He was an asset. A weapon. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Vanessa and Seraph both turned, their expressions shifting to surprise. Seraph's hand instinctively went to the hilt of the knife she always wore.
The door opened slowly, and a figure Jonah never expected to see in his infirmary room stepped inside.
It was Draven.
His usual arrogant swagger was gone. His arm was bound in a magical sling and his face was pale. He looked humbled. He looked… small.
He stood by the door, his eyes avoiding Jonah's as he looked at the floor. The other Elites from their team were nowhere to be seen. He had come alone.
"Sergeant," he said, nodding respectfully to Seraph. "Vanessa."
"Draven," Seraph said, her voice a warning. "He needs to rest."
"I know. This will be quick," he said. He finally looked at Jonah, his gaze direct and filled with a complex mix of shame, respect, and something else Jonah couldn't quite name.
"I came to apologize," Draven said, his voice low but clear. "My pride, my arrogance… it nearly got us all killed. I thought strength was about charging in, about overwhelming force."
He gestured with his good hand toward Jonah. "But that thing… I couldn't even scratch it. You, on the other hand… you had a plan. You used your team. Your strategic mind, your unique abilities… they are a form of power I never understood. A power that won where mine failed."
He took a deep breath, the confession seeming to cost him dearly. "I was wrong. About you. About everything. Thank you for saving our lives."
He bowed his head slightly. "I offer you my respect."
The room was silent. Jonah didn't know what to say. He'd expected hatred, or resentment, or denial. Not this. Not a genuine, heartfelt apology from the proudest student at the Academy.
"It's over, Draven," Jonah said finally. "We all made it back. That's what matters."
Draven nodded once, a look of deep relief on his face. He gave one last look at Jonah, then turned and left without another word, closing the door softly behind him.
The rivalry was over. The loud, angry presence that had shadowed him since his first day in the training hall was gone, replaced by a grudging, professional respect.
Jonah sank back into his pillows, the throbbing in his head seeming to lessen. He was no longer scrapper from the Undercroft.
He was Jonah, the undisputed hero of Station Chimera.
And as he felt the caged storm of the chimera's essence stirring deep within his mind, he realized that in place of his rivalry with Draven was something far heavier.