Three weeks into my time at the academy, the novelty of mocking me had started to wear off. The nobles still whispered and pointed, but their attention had shifted to newer entertainment. A first-year had accidentally set his dorm room on fire during practice. A girl from House Pembroke had been caught sneaking out to meet boys from the local town.
I preferred being ignored. It gave me time to experiment.
Every morning before dawn, I snuck down to the basement training rooms. The academy had dozens of them, but the ones in the sub-levels were rarely used. Too dingy for the precious noble children, too far from the main facilities for most instructors to bother with.
Perfect for my purposes.
"I am stronger than before," I whispered to myself, staring at my reflection in the cracked mirror. The familiar tingle ran through my body as the hypnosis took hold. My muscles didn't grow, but somehow they felt different. Denser. More capable.
I walked over to the weights I'd been gradually increasing. Three weeks ago, I could barely bench press my own body weight. Now, under hypnosis, I was lifting nearly double that.
The enhancement wore off after about ten minutes, leaving me gasping and shaky. But each session seemed to last a little longer, the effects a little stronger. I was getting better at this.
More importantly, I was starting to understand how it worked.
Hypnosis wasn't magic. It was psychology. Convincing the mind to override the body's normal limitations. Everyone had mental blocks that prevented them from using their full potential. Fear of injury, learned helplessness, societal conditioning. My talent let me bypass those blocks, temporarily rewriting what my brain believed was possible.
The question was, how far could I push it?
"I feel no pain," I muttered, then slammed my fist into the concrete wall. The impact should have broken bones, but my hand felt nothing. I could see the damage, see the blood on my knuckles, but the pain signals weren't reaching my brain.
Interesting. And terrifying.
I released the hypnosis and immediately regretted it. Agony shot up my arm as the pain hit all at once. My knuckles were indeed broken, probably in several places.
Worth it, though. I'd learned something valuable.
The dining hall was buzzing with excitement when I arrived for breakfast, my hand wrapped in bandages I'd claimed came from a training accident. Students clustered around tables, voices raised in animated discussion.
"Combat evaluations next week..."
"Finally get to show what we can do..."
"Father says the Hero Guild sends scouts..."
Combat evaluations. I'd heard about them but hadn't paid much attention. A chance for students to demonstrate their abilities in mock battles, with real consequences. Good performances could lead to internships, sponsorships, early graduation. Poor ones meant being held back or expelled entirely.
Sarah waved me over to her usual table. "Did you hear? Combat evals start Monday. We'll be matched against other students based on talent rank and class performance."
"Wonderful," I muttered. "Can't wait to get humiliated in front of the whole academy."
"What happened to your hand?"
"Training accident. It's fine."
Sarah frowned but didn't push. She'd learned I didn't like talking about my private practice sessions.
"Don't be so negative about the evaluations," she said. "You've been making real progress. I can see the difference in how you carry yourself."
She was right about that. The constant self-hypnosis had changed me in subtle ways. I stood straighter, moved with more confidence, spoke without the nervous stutter that had plagued me since childhood. My body was adapting to the mental changes I kept imposing on it.
But in a real fight against someone with a combat-focused talent, would it be enough?
I was walking back to my dorm after dinner when I heard voices from an empty classroom. The door was slightly ajar, and curiosity got the better of me. I crept closer and peered inside.
Marcus Aldrich stood at the center of the room, surrounded by his usual crowd of admirers. But their expressions weren't the typical hero worship. They looked worried, almost frightened.
"You all know what's at stake," Marcus was saying. "These evaluations determine everything. Class rankings, internship opportunities, future career prospects. Some of you have been slacking off."
A girl I recognized as Emily Forsythe shifted nervously. "My barriers are stronger than ever, Marcus. I've been practicing every day."
"Not strong enough," Marcus snapped. "You lost to Catherine in last week's sparring match. Unacceptable."
He stepped closer to Emily, golden electricity crackling around his fingers. She flinched back.
"If any of you embarrass me during evaluations, there will be consequences," he continued. "My father has invested too much in this academy to tolerate failure from my associates."
The group nodded quickly, fear clear in their eyes. Whatever hold Marcus had over them went beyond friendship.
I was about to leave when his next words stopped me cold.
"And that slum rat Cross better not make it past the first round. It would be embarrassing for everyone if trash like him lasted longer than his betters."
"What if he does?" someone asked.
Marcus smiled coldly. "Then we make sure he learns his place. Combat accidents happen all the time during evaluations. The instructors can't watch everything."
My blood turned to ice. Several of the group looked uncomfortable, but none spoke up. They were all too scared of Marcus, too dependent on his family's influence.
I slipped away from the door and hurried back to my room, mind racing. Marcus wasn't just planning to beat me. He was planning to seriously hurt me, maybe kill me if I performed too well.
That night, I lay awake thinking about what I'd overheard. The smart thing would be to report Marcus's threats. But who would believe a slum kid against a duke's son? And even if they did, it would only make him more careful.
No, I needed a different approach.
The next morning, instead of going to the training room, I went to the library. If I was going to survive the combat evaluations, I needed to understand my talent better. Not just the physical enhancement I'd been focusing on, but its other applications.
I pulled every book on psychology, hypnosis, and mental manipulation I could find. Most were theoretical, written by academics who'd never actually used the techniques they described. But buried in the dry academic language were hints of something more.
"The human mind is remarkably malleable when proper pressure is applied..."
"Subjects under deep hypnosis have been observed to perform actions completely contrary to their normal behavior..."
"Memory is not fixed but reconstructive, allowing for significant modification under the right conditions..."
By afternoon, I had a stack of notebooks filled with theories and techniques. But theory wasn't enough. I needed practice.
That evening, I found Jamie in our room, struggling with homework from Advanced Botany. His plant growth talent was useful but required extensive knowledge of biology to use effectively.
"Hey Jamie," I said, sitting on my bed. "Want to try something?"
He looked up from his textbook. "What kind of something?"
"Hypnosis. I'm trying to understand my talent better, and I need someone to practice on."
Jamie hesitated. "Is it safe?"
"Completely. I'll just help you relax, maybe improve your focus for studying. Nothing dramatic."
After some coaxing, Jamie agreed. I had him sit in the desk chair while I stood behind him, hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
"Just relax," I said softly, letting my talent flow. "Let your mind go quiet. Focus on my voice and nothing else."
Jamie's breathing slowed, his posture relaxing. I could feel the moment my hypnosis took hold, his mind becoming open and receptive.
"Good," I whispered. "Now, when you wake up, you'll remember everything you've read about plant biology perfectly. Every fact, every diagram, every formula. It'll all be crystal clear in your mind."
I counted him out of the trance and watched as his eyes refocused. Then he looked down at his textbook and his jaw dropped.
"I... I understand all of this," he said in amazement. "It's like someone just downloaded the information directly into my brain."
The hypnosis had worked perfectly. But as I watched Jamie frantically scribbling answers to homework problems that had stumped him for hours, another idea began forming.
If I could enhance memory and learning, what else could I do? Could I make someone forget things? Change their personality? Alter their behavior?
The possibilities were both exciting and terrifying.
Over the next few days, I experimented carefully with different students. Nothing dramatic, just small suggestions that helped me understand the limits of my power.
I helped a girl overcome her fear of heights by convincing her subconscious that falling was impossible. I made a boy forget he'd ever been bullied, watching his confidence bloom overnight. I even managed to temporarily change someone's food preferences, making them crave vegetables instead of sweets.
Each success taught me something new about how minds worked, how easily they could be molded and shaped.
The night before combat evaluations began, I stood in my empty training room, looking at my reflection in the cracked mirror. The boy staring back at me looked different than the one who'd been mocked in the Awakening Hall a month ago. Stronger, more confident, more dangerous.
I'd learned to enhance my body beyond normal human limits. I'd discovered I could rewrite memories and alter personalities with a few whispered words. I could make people forget pain, overcome fears, act against their nature.
And tomorrow, I'd finally get to put it all to the test.
Marcus wanted to show me my place? Fine. Let him try.
I had a few surprises of my own now. And unlike his flashy lightning, my tricks would be invisible until it was too late to stop them.
The slums had taught me that the smartest predators were the ones their prey never saw coming.