Aren's treatment was brief. Because the Academy's primary Healer was away on a scheduled holiday, the school nurse had to settle for traditional medicine, cleaning the wound and wrapping his shoulder in a sturdy bandage.
"The Healer really picked the wrong day to take a break," Evy remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Aren. Her voice was unusually soft, lacking its typical teasing edge.
Aren winced as he tried to sit up. Evy immediately reached out, her hand steadying him. "Does it still hurt? You shouldn't be moving so much."
Aren awkwardly pulled his arm back, clearing his throat. "I'm fine. I'm used to this," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand bruises from his life before the Academy.
Evy looked at him, her gaze lingering a moment too long. She leaned closer, her voice a sweet, sympathetic whisper. "Aren... are you really okay?"
The proximity was overwhelming. Aren could smell a faint scent of jasmine on her, and his face flushed a deep, unmistakable red. He opened his mouth to reply, but the words died in his throat.
Cough.
The sudden sound made both of them jump. They spun around to find Theo leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous, cat-like grin plastered across his face.
"Oh, my bad," Theo teased, his eyes dancing with delight. "Looks like I walked in at the exact wrong time. Don't let me interrupt; I'll just... come back later."
"Theo, wait!" Aren stammered, his face burning even hotter. "It's not what it looks like! Stop!"
Ignoring his protest, Aren glared at a giggling Evy before scrambling off the bed to chase after his friend. Evy stayed in the infirmary for a moment, her laughter echoing in the small room. She pulled out her notepad, scribbled a few more lines with a cryptic smile, and then slipped away into the halls.
The atmosphere in the Group D training gym was anything but peaceful.
Thud! Thud! CRACK!
Faith was a whirlwind of fury. She slammed punch after punch into the strength-testing wall, her knuckles raw, her eyes burning with humiliated tears.
Every strike was fueled by the memory of the laughing students and the image of Aren Vox standing over her with her own spear.
"Aren Vox..." she hissed, her breath hitching. "You have no idea what you've started. I will make you crawl for what you did today."
With a scream of rage, she encased her fist in a thick, jagged layer of ice and delivered one final, bone-jarring blow to the wall.
Far from the sounds of training, a different kind of tension filled Director Wayland's office. The Director sat behind his desk, staring intensely at a glowing holographic report. Beside him, Silvia and Hildred waited in a heavy, expectant silence.
"What is the current threat level of this unknown wormhole?" Wayland asked, his tone grave.
"It only manifested forty-eight hours ago, sir," Silvia reported. "Until we send a scouting party inside to measure the dimensional stability, determining a threat level is impossible."
Wayland leaned back, his fingers steepled. "The Order has requested an inspection outing. However, the semester has just begun; I cannot spare any of the senior faculty for a scouting mission of this magnitude."
Hildred stepped forward, a smug, arrogant smirk on his face. "Leave this to me, Director. I know someone an external asset who can handle this quietly and efficiently."
Wayland studied Hildred for a moment. "Do what you must, but keep it discreet. The Order is already breathing down our necks." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand, but his eyes remained troubled.
The following morning, a thin, irritable man marched through the silver corridors of the Academy. He muttered under his breath, his face twisted in a permanent scowl.
"I don't understand why they picked me for this," he grumbled. "Out of all the qualified staff, they stick me in a basement with the dregs."
He kicked the door to the Group D classroom open. Aren, Theo, and Duke were already in their seats. The class stood to greet him, but the man merely made a dismissive gesture for them to sit down.
"My name is Linwood. I am your new homeroom teacher," he announced, his voice dripping with annoyance.
Linwood had previously been a high-ranking instructor for Group C, but Director Wayland had abruptly transferred him to Group D. The only explanation he'd been given was a simple order: Watch Aren Vox.
He glanced at Aren, who was busy scribbling in a notebook. This kid? Linwood thought skeptically. He looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over. What is the Director so afraid of? Shrugging off his irritation, he turned to the board and began the lecture.
Once the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Theo turned to Aren. "Hey, we're heading to the cafeteria. Coming?"
Aren looked up, hesitating. "You guys go ahead. I actually need to head to the library."
Theo chuckled, shaking his head. "Exams are months away, Aren! Why are you burying yourself in books already?"
Aren rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to find a believable excuse. Theo saw his discomfort and laughed, patting him on the back. "Relax, I'm just messing with you. Go be a scholar. We'll meet you at Combat Class."
As Theo and Duke headed for lunch, Aren felt a pang of guilt. Sorry, Theo. But I need to know the truth about these Vessels... and the Gods.
He slipped out of the classroom, unaware that a hooded figure was lingering in the shadow of the doorway, watching his every move.
The Academy library was a cavernous, awe-inspiring space. Tens of thousands of physical books lined the lower levels, while glowing digital archives floated in the upper tiers. It was a cathedral of knowledge.
Aren was still gaping at the sheer scale of the place when a Librarian Bot glided over to him. "Greetings, student. State your query."
"Do you... do you have anything on the history of Divine Vessels?" Aren asked tentatively.
The bot's head whirred as it searched its database. Moments later, it retrieved a sleek, glass-faced tablet and handed it to him. Aren took it to a secluded corner, sitting on a lonely bench tucked behind a massive stone pillar.
He pressed the digital activation key. Bold, gold-leaf lettering appeared on the screen: THE ESTABLISHMENT OF ORDER.
The tablet offered two settings: Audio or Reading.
Reading mode, Aren decided. I can't risk anyone overhearing what I'm looking for.
The first page loaded. It was a historical account detailing the aftermath of the Second Great Demon War. Aren's eyes narrowed as he scanned the text. He had heard the name "The Order" mentioned by the teachers, but he had no idea of their true role.
Why is the history of the Gods so closely tied to a political organization? he wondered.
As he began to dive deeper into the forbidden texts, he failed to notice the faint sound of a footstep behind a nearby bookshelf. Someone was standing in the darkness, their eyes fixed on the back of his head.