The simulated world was quiet here. A forest clearing stretched before her, thick with dew and the hum of artificial life. Birds chirped—fake, of course—and the sun above wasn't real, just a golden construct pulsing from the academy's high-level illusion generators. Still, it was enough to cast shadows.
She moved between them, slow and silent. She was a girl cloaked in black, her hood drawn low over her eyes. Pale legs shifted through brush like whispers. Around her waist, small flasks of greenish liquid clinked softly in pouches. Her steps left no sound, no scent. Even the fabricated wildlife didn't react to her presence.
Because they didn't know she was there.
And neither did the students.
She crouched behind a moss-covered ridge and peered down into a valley clearing below, where two groups clashed loudly over food supplies. Lightning crashed against stone. A boy flung flames at another while a girl screamed and tried to shield her team with a barrier of water. The terrain here wasn't real, but the panic was. The fear, the desperation. That was the point.
She tilted her head, watching. Memorizing.
The flame user is sloppy—he's running hot and emotionally unstable.
The water girl is reactive—too dependent on teammates. No initiative.
Her hand reached into a pocket and retrieved a thin, black notebook. She scribbled quick notes with an inkless pen. The page shimmered as each word appeared, absorbing her thoughts directly.
— Unfit leaders. Too loud. Too obvious. Weak under pressure.
She flipped to a previous page. One name—or rather, a vague description—was already highlighted.
Violet-Eyed Boy. Fire / Unknown. Moved with control. Then broke. Potential trigger event? Target of interest.
She blinked slowly. His face was still clear in her mind—the boy with fire that screamed louder than she did. He had defended someone and risked his life. Then cracked. Lost control. Just for a second. It was beautiful.
Below, the fighting ended. One team surrendered, and another cheered. The ranking system, invisible to the students, is adjusted in real time. She didn't need to see it. She already knew who would rise and who would crumble.
Footsteps echoed to her left—two boys wandering alone, whispering about teaming up before nightfall. She didn't move. One boy glanced toward her hiding spot, sensing something. He stepped forward. And just like that, she was gone.
Illusions shimmered behind him. Shadows curled inward. A faint trace of green lingered in the air, like wilted jasmine. When he turned back to his friend, he said, "We're not alone out here." But his friend only laughed. "It's just your nerves, man." They walked on.
Far behind them, from a higher ledge, the girl watched. Smiling, then writing.
Fear is the best teacher.
Let them learn.
She closed the book and vanished into the trees once more—quiet, clever, unseen.