The Magus's glacial voice cut through the infirmary silence like shards of ice. "Cadet Ashblade. The energy signature observed during the Ravager termination bears no resemblance to documented mana patterns. Describe its origin. In detail." Her frost-embroidered robes seemed to leach warmth from the air itself.
I forced myself to meet her pale eyes, a feat that took every ounce of my courage. "I saw it going for Lira. I moved without thinking. It was pure instinct."
Artificer Silas adjusted his bronze-rimmed spectacles, his geometrically patterned device emitting a low white glow and an analytical hum. "Our inspections show no precursor mana buildup. Zero kinetic priming. Explain the discharge mechanism that bypassed all known mana laws." He projected a shimmering hologram replaying my final, impossible strike, the obsidian-violet energy shearing through the Ravager's core.
My knuckles whitened on the blanket. Instinct. Survival. "I just reacted. I saw claws about to rip her apart. There was fire... then darkness." I kept my answers anchored to visceral truths: the fear, the movement, the exhaustion. I clung to the physical memory, hoping it would mask the digital one.
Blue text flared in my vision, a private lifeline in the storm:
[New Quest: Silence of the Mark]
[Objective: Reveal nothing of the Crimson Mark or System under interrogation.]
[Reward: 50 Aether Shards]
The Magus leaned closer, her breath a visible mist. She slammed her hands on the table, the sound cracking through the room. "Instinct does not rewrite reality, Cadet. It does not produce energy signatures that register as void-adjacent. What conduit did you utilize? Was it gifted? Stolen? Forged within you?"
I clung to fractured honesty. "Whatever happened... it came from me. Or through me. I don't understand it." I repeated the core of my defense for another relentless hour: the desperate lunge, the heat, the protective fury focused on Lira, the consuming darkness afterward. The interrogators dissected timings, angles, sensory inputs. Silas's scanners whirred; the Magus's gaze dissected every micro-expression. They found frustration, trauma, confusion, but no deceit.
A final, soft chime echoed in my mind.
[Quest Completed: Silence of the Mark]
[Reward: 50 Aether Shards]
[New Balance: 50 Aether Shards]
[Info: (System Store Currency)]
Garrick finally grunted, a sound like stone grating on stone. "Enough. Recess bells have tolled. Cadet Ashblade gather your kit. You're departing for home."
The granite dormitory corridor buzzed with the controlled chaos of departure. Trunks thumped, voices called out goodbyes, boots scuffed stone. I passed the open door to the room shared by the Vale twins. Inside, Raven moved with methodical efficiency, folding uniforms and stacking books into a sturdy trunk. Wren, however, was sprawled dramatically across his unmade bed, one arm flung over his eyes.
"Wren, if your socks aren't in that trunk in ten seconds, I'm leaving them for the dust imps," Raven stated, not looking up from neatly rolling a bandage set.
"Ugh. Holidays are for resting, my dearest brother. Packing is antithetical to repose," Wren groaned.
Raven snatched a worn boot from the floor and hurled it with startling accuracy. It thumped Wren squarely in the stomach. "Pack. Now. Or the next one flies at your head."
Wren yelped, scrambling upright. He spotted me in the doorway. "Adam! Save me from this tyrant! Tell him vacations demand laziness!"
Raven looked up, a flicker of relief in his tired eyes. "Heading out? Try to actually rest that back, will you? Don't come back looking worse than when you left." He shoved a final book into the trunk and slammed the lid. "Wren! Trunk. Now. Carriage won't wait."
Wren heaved a theatrical sigh but started haphazardly stuffing clothes into a sack. "Fine, fine. See you in next week, Adam! Try not to fight any more S-Tiers before breakfast!" Raven gave me a final nod, firm and supportive, before herding his grumbling brother and their luggage down the hall.
My own room felt sparse and quiet after the twins' energy. I quickly packed my spare uniforms, a few worn textbooks, and Storm's favorite polished river stone into my knapsack. Stepping back into the sunlit courtyard, the cacophony of departure surrounded me – creaking carriages, whinnying horses, shouted farewells. Beneath the ancient oak tree near the main gate, an island of stillness caught my eye.
Kael sat on a stone bench, a heavy tome open on his lap. His posture was rigid, his focus absolute, yet the usual icy detachment seemed brittle. No trunk sat beside him. No carriage waited.
I hesitated, then approached. "Kael. Heading out soon?"
He didn't look up immediately. When he did, his pale blue eyes held dark sacs beneath them I hadn't seen before. "No." The single word was flat. He snapped the book shut. "The Frost estate... finds my presence disruptive during extended recesses. My quarters here are deemed sufficient." A muscle twitched in his jaw. "It seems even monsters need containment protocols."
I was stunned. I'd known Kael was isolated, but this deliberate exile by his own family was stark. Before I could find words, he stood abruptly. "Safe journey, Adam." He turned and walked back towards the silent academy buildings, his back straight, his solitude a palpable cloak.
As I turned from Kael's retreating figure, my gaze caught movement near a sleek, lacquered carriage. Lira stood beside it, speaking with a stern-faced butler in immaculate livery. She noticed me looking and immediately broke into a warm smile, waving goodbye. Her earlier seriousness melted away.
"See you next week, Adam!" she called out, her voice bright against the courtyard clamor.
I returned her smile and wave. "Safe travels, Lira!"
Garrick's heavy hand landed on my shoulder almost immediately after. "This way, Ashblade. Replacement steel won't choose itself." He steered me away from the departing crowds towards the large, open-fronted stone building near the training grounds. The rhythmic clang-clang-clang of hammer on anvil grew louder, accompanied by the roar of bellows and the hiss of quenching steel. The air shimmered with heat and smelled of coal smoke, hot metal, and scorched oil.
The school forge was a place of organized chaos. Apprentices sweated at benches, senior smiths worked crafting tables, and weapons in various states of completion lined racks and workbenches. Garrick led me past glowing forges and spark-showering grinding wheels to a section dedicated to finished blades. Racks held everything from simple practice swords to ornate elemental blades crackling with contained power.
"Ashblade doctrine favors resilience over flash," Garrick stated, stopping before a rack of sturdy, unadorned longswords. "Neutral steel. Reliable. Choose one that feels right in the hand."
My gaze swept over the blades. One, seemingly no different from the others, drew my eye. I grasped the leather-wrapped hilt. It felt solid, perfectly balanced. I focused.
[Appraisal: Fire Aspects Standard Long Blade]
[Material: Starfall Iron | Terra Flame Core]
[Affinity: Flame Enhancement]
["Forged to resonate with inherent fire affinities, amplifying focus and thermal output."]
As my fingers tightened, a faint, comforting warmth pulsed from the blade into my palm, resonating with the familiar heat deep within me. A single, brief spark, tiny and golden, flickered near the crossguard.
Garrick grunted, tossing me a plain leather scabbard. "Don't lose it. Or break it on something ridiculous before next week."
I settled onto the hard bench opposite Garrick in the rattling Academy carriage, the new sword resting across my knees. Storm chirped sleepily from within my knapsack. Pine forests blurred past the window as the carriage climbed into the foothills. Garrick stared out, his profile hard against the passing scenery.
After a long silence, he spoke, his voice a low rumble beneath the clatter of wheels. "Frost."
I blinked. "Sir?"
"The boy. Kael." Garrick didn't turn. "Been wrapped tighter than a siege engine spring since he got here. Barely spoke. Trained alone. Ate alone. Like he was carved from glacier ice and expected to stay frozen." A faint, almost imperceptible snort escaped him. "Then you happen. Dragged him out of his shell. Made him fight beside others. Saw him actually talk to the Vale twins. And now..." Garrick finally glanced at me, a flicker of something like grim amusement in his flinty eyes. "...thanks to you dragging him through hell, the damn ice block finally cracked a little. Saw him watching the carriages leave. Actually looked... human. For a minute." He shook his head, looking back out the window. "Didn't think anything could thaw that one. Suppose I owe you a point for unintended consequences, Ashblade. Try not to make a habit of it."
I stared at Garrick, momentarily speechless. My fingers touched the new sword's pommel, the memory of Kael's brittle solitude under the oak tree vivid. The system's text glowed softly in my mind, a silent counterpoint to the Instructor's rare praise:
[Urgent quest to level up]
[EXP: 80/100]
The carriage jolted over a rocky stretch of road. Ahead, beyond the final mountain pass, the familiar smoke of my hometown hearths promised respite, and finally, the sight of my cozy home came into view.