The guard led Orion down the corridor, keeping him just ahead and slightly to the side. It was standard procedure — not harsh, not sloppy, just routine. Hospital security doing its job.
Still, Orion's shoulders were tight. The escort wasn't threatening, but that didn't ease the weight in his chest. He didn't know where this was going.
The door ahead slid open with a hiss. Light spilled out, the hum of machines washing over him as he stepped inside. A wall of monitors filled the far side of the room, each screen flickering through different camera angles. A guard sat at the console, headset cocked over one ear, eyes locked on the feeds.
Without looking up, he asked, "Did you find the anomaly on the roof?"
"Yeah. I found the anomaly." The escort's hand pressed lightly at Orion's back, nudging him forward.
The console guard finally turned, frowning at the sight.
"A kid?"
"If you're not going to say anything," the man added, "we can check the cameras."
Orion gave a small shrug. "Check whatever you want. If something's there, you'll see it. If not, then I guess there's nothing to talk about."
His voice was steady, but his thoughts weren't. I don't know their laws. Carter wouldn't either. Back home, throwing something off a roof? That's trouble. Here? Could be worse. Until they say they've got me, I'm not admitting to anything.
They sat him in a chair against the wall. The escort slipped into the radio station, headset crackling with chatter.
"…deploying anti-stealth now."
"…movement along the east wall."
Orion leaned back, listening. Fragments, but enough. Security had gear that countered concealment. Hunters had tools to drag the hidden into view. Another lesson to file away.
"Captain en route from the director's office," a voice cut in.
"Intruder's done. Captain's an A-Rank," the escort muttered.
"Old, sure," the console guard replied. "But an A's an A."
Orion sat still, but suspicion pressed heavy in the silence. Something dropped from the roof. A concealed climber exposed. And him, caught near the stairwell right after. Too neat.
Less than five minutes later, the radio flared again.
"Intruder secured. Captain en route to Security."
Orion's fingers twitched against his leg. That fast? A whole team couldn't close him in twenty minutes. Captain walks in, done in five.
Carter's memories had no answers. What can an A-Rank even do? A B-Rank? His thoughts stretched further. And above them—Constellation Hunters, S-Ranks. How many steps are there between me and them?
The door opened hard. Another guard held it for the Captain, who walked in with a subdued man pinned under his grip.
The intruder wore dark clothes built for climbing. His arms were locked together in restraints glowing faint blue, the light crawling over his skin like smoke.
Orion's eyes fixed on it. Ghostly blue — the same shade as his status screen after the Constellation's voice had faded.
The Captain passed the intruder to waiting guards, then swept the room with his gaze until it landed on Orion. He stepped forward.
"Who's the kid?"
"Found him near the rooftop stairwell," the escort said.
"The roof, huh?" The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Got anything to say, kid?"
Orion met his look. "Depends on what being said gets me."
The Captain chuckled. "I could wait for the police and let them drag you off. Or…" He leaned forward. "…we can handle this here. What did you do?"
"I saw him," Orion said. "I don't know how, but I knew he was invisible. Stealth, concealment, whatever. I knew I could see it. So I called it in, went up to the roof, and did what I could."
The Captain studied him, then glanced at the restrained intruder.
"An E-Rank seeing through concealment? Low B-Rank, maybe high C. Nobody would buy it. They'd call you a boy crying wolf."
"See? Exactly." Orion shrugged. "So am I in trouble or not?"
The Captain crouched, hand settling on his shoulder.
"Kid, you might've saved this hospital from a major mess. You didn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it." He jerked his chin toward the intruder. "If anything, the hospital owes you. You're a Hunter. Student or not, that counts. And the law… it's tricky when Hunters deal with Hunters. We're not above it, but we are expected to stop our own when they cross the line."
He straightened. "So here's the deal. We keep this quiet. You'll get a small reward. If he has a room, take him back."
"I do," Orion said. "I'm technically a patient."
***
Back in his room, Orion sat on the edge of the bed. The silence pressed in harder than the radios had. His mind snagged on one simple thought.
Cameras. How did I forget cameras?
The guard had said it like it was obvious. If they wanted, they could have seen everything. And he hadn't even considered it.
He rubbed his face. Too focused on mana and Constellations. Forgot the basics.
The world didn't stop just because my body did. I can't think only about mana.
He sifted through Carter's memories. Mana cores powering engines. Reagents in markets. Alchemy labs registered as businesses. Even everyday tech ran hotter, faster, tuned by mana. This world wasn't Earth plus magic. It was Earth reshaped by it.
Not magic stacked on technology, Orion thought. Both pushing forward together.
He leaned back, decision made. What I can do right now is train Chronostasis.
He fixed on a point across the room and triggered it. The world hiccupped, froze for a blink, then flowed again. Ten seconds later, he did it again. And again.
The effect was faint, barely there. The drain wasn't. Mana threaded into his mind, sharpening, straining. Fatigue piled on, slow and steady.
Two hours blurred into three. His head felt heavy, eyes blurred. Still, he sensed something — a faint sharpening at the edges, like progress hiding behind fog.
"I caught it," he whispered. "But how? A thousandth of a second isn't something you see. Just a flicker."
His brow tightened. It has to be mana. Back home it didn't exist. Maybe it's pushing my brain further. Or maybe it's just how Hunters are built. Something I don't know yet.
Either way, the conclusion was the same: he needed knowledge.
At some point exhaustion dragged him under, and the night passed without him knowing it.
***
When light finally cut through the curtains, it felt harsh and sudden. Orion stirred with a low groan, hand covering his eyes as if to block the morning out. A faint headache pulsed — not sharp, just the echo of strain — and his thoughts crawled, sluggish from the hours of pushing his limits.
He forced himself upright a little at a time. "Alright," he muttered, voice rough, "maybe that was a bit much."
Orion pushed himself off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. Cold water against his face helped clear the haze, though the faint ache behind his eyes lingered. He dragged his fingers back through his damp hair, breathed deep, and tried to steady himself.
When he stepped out, toweling off, the door to his room opened. A nurse walked in with a clipboard.
"You're being discharged," she said, setting the papers on the desk. Her hands moved briskly, checking his vitals one last time before sliding the forms toward him.
Orion was still glancing at the paperwork when the door opened again. This time it wasn't the nurse.
The Captain stepped inside.
Orion blinked. He hadn't expected to see him again so soon.
The Captain didn't waste words. "Two things. First—your reward." He held out a slip of paper.
Orion took it. A check. 1,000 credits.
He stared at it, brows drawing together. Credits. Carter's memories… pocket money never more than twenty. The academy gear his dad bought him had cost a few hundred at most. And this… this is a thousand.
He looked up, holding the check. "This is the first one. You said two things. What's the second?"
"One of the VIPs upstairs heard about last night," the Captain said. "Their own channels told them about the intruder. The target wasn't hospital records. It was a VIP room."
Orion narrowed his eyes. "And what does that mean?"
"It means," the Captain said evenly, "they also heard the security team didn't bring the intruder down alone. That someone else was involved."
Orion's chest tightened.
The Captain met his eyes. "They want to meet you."
"…They want to meet me. An E-Rank."
"An E-Rank who stopped an intruder from reaching their room," the Captain corrected. His tone was steady, measured.
The words landed heavier than Orion wanted to admit. This wasn't about rank. It was about the act itself.
Orion folded the check between his fingers, thoughts tightening. The Captain's gaze didn't waver, leaving the weight of it all squarely in Orion's lap.
***
The walk through the restricted halls was silent. The polished floor reflected bright overhead lights, the air almost too clean.
Orion finally broke the quiet. "So… before we get there. What can you tell me about this person?"
"VIPs are usually airlifted in," the Captain said. "Straight past security. If you asked any random guard, they'd know nothing. But me—I handle their landings." He paused, then added, "And this one's a big shot."
"…Big shot how?"
"Constellation Hunter."
Orion stiffened. Constellation Hunter.
"…What's a Constellation Hunter doing in an Association hospital?"
"Not for them," the Captain said. "For someone else." His tone clipped there, shutting down further questions.
They stopped outside a reinforced door. Security posted nearby gave a nod and opened it.
Inside wasn't a hospital ward. It was a suite — a spacious common room with couches and a kitchenette, sunlight spilling across polished flooring from wide balcony windows. A private chamber lay beyond, fitted for a medical bed.
It looked more like an upscale apartment than a patient ward.
On the couch near the windows sat a woman.
Her hair was white-silver, catching the light like strands of frost. Violet eyes cut sharper than steel. Her face looked no older than late twenties, but her presence carried the weight of decades.
Melissa Stravos.
Her posture was relaxed, but the room bent toward her regardless. She lifted her gaze to Orion as he stepped inside.
"I thought you'd be more impressive," she said flatly. "When they told me an E-Rank, I thought maybe you were hiding something."
Orion's brow twitched. Who starts like this? They asked to see me, then critique me?
He forced his voice steady. "If you look at my mana, I'm nothing special."
Melissa tilted her head, reassessing. "Oh. Something did happen to you."
Orion stiffened. Did she sense the Constellation? That's not possible… is it?
"You survived a mana surge," Melissa continued. "Survived your circuits overloading. But you didn't rank up. That makes you an anomaly."
Orion breathed slow. Thank goodness you didn't recognize the truth.
Out loud he said, "…And is that a good anomaly, or a bad anomaly?"
Melissa's mouth curved faintly. "Remains to be seen."
She went on, voice cool. "Regardless, you inadvertently saved someone important to me. If that intruder had gotten past her Shadow Guard in the first place…"
Shadow Guard? Orion thought. Who names a team like that? Sounds like eighth-grade syndrome.
"I didn't know anyone was up here," he said. "I just acted."
"Then you're either a fool, or an attention seeker."
"Whatever I am, I did it."
"…Right. You did."
Melissa straightened slightly. "So, I'll offer you a reward. A B-Rank item. A B-Rank technique. Or the monetary equivalent."
Orion hesitated. I don't even know what a B-Rank looks like. How much they cost. But Carter's memories made one thing clear: money isn't the bottleneck. If I'm smart, I can dive gates. Credits will come.
Out loud, he said, "Money isn't the issue. But I don't know what B-Rank items or techniques even look like."
"You're an Academy student who hasn't even started. Of course you don't." Melissa's fingers flicked, and a curl of violet mana carried a card into the air. It floated across the space between them.
Orion reached, but misjudged. The card stopped just short of his chest, hovering in place. He blinked, startled, before plucking it the rest of the way.
Melissa's eyes narrowed slightly, though she said nothing. Still, he felt her measuring him.
He tucked the card into his jacket.
The door to the inner room opened. A girl stood there, framed by the light spilling through.
Orion froze as her gaze met his.