The Academy did not announce that it had changed.
There was no assembly.
No declaration carved into stone.
No emergency bells ringing through the spires or banners unfurled from the towers.
If you weren't paying attention, you might have thought everything was the same.
I noticed it the moment my boots touched the main corridor.
Footsteps echoed differently.
Not louder—heavier. Measured. Controlled. Every pace deliberate, like the stone itself was listening now. Knights stood in places where students used to loiter. Not blocking paths. Not glaring.
Just present.
Observation towers that had once been ceremonial—decorative scars from older wars—were occupied now. I could feel eyes tracing movement from above. Counting breaths. Measuring posture.
Preparation.
Not fear.
That distinction mattered more than people realized.
Fear was loud.
Preparation was quiet—and far more dangerous.
The air itself felt disciplined. Like it had been told not to move unless ordered.
The Academy was bracing.
For what, I didn't know.
But whatever it was…
It wasn't something they expected students to survive unchanged.
Morning drills passed without incident.
Too smooth.
Too controlled.
No shouting instructors. No overcorrections. No humiliations masquerading as training. Everyone was being watched, not pushed.
That alone made my shoulders tense.
Sir Aldred dismissed the class with a sharp motion—then flicked two fingers in my direction.
No words.
Just an expectation.
I followed him down a narrow side corridor beside the armory. The walls were bare stone, cold enough that sound felt swallowed instead of echoed. This was not a place where you spoke carelessly.
Aldred stopped halfway down the hall and turned.
He didn't cross his arms. Didn't reach for his blade.
He simply looked at me.
Measured. Searching.
"Rain," he said.
"Yes, sir."
He didn't respond immediately. His gaze dropped—just briefly—to my hands, before returning to my eyes.
"What do you do," he asked, tone even, "when your aura fails you?"
Not if.
When.
The word settled into my chest and stayed there.
I didn't answer right away.
Because it wasn't a theoretical question.
Because I'd already lived the answer.
Images rose uninvited.
A tunnel collapsing inwards, dust so thick you couldn't see your own hands. A man pinned beneath stone, coughing blood, still reaching. A village edge burning—not everywhere, just enough—just one house screaming louder than the others.
Moments where strength didn't arrive on time.
Moments where permission never came.
I lifted my head.
"I move," I said.
Aldred's expression didn't change.
"And if you're ordered not to?" he asked.
The question sharpened.
I exhaled slowly, choosing honesty over safety.
"If there's a life in front of me," I said, voice steady despite the weight pressing down on it, "I don't care who's standing behind me."
A quiet followed.
The kind that meant your words had landed somewhere irreversible.
Aldred studied me—not like an instructor evaluating a student, but like a knight measuring another knight's edge.
"Even if it's only one?" he pressed.
I answered immediately.
"Especially if it's only one."
Because a single life didn't weigh less.
It weighed everything.
For a moment, I thought he might reprimand me. Or warn me. Or tell me that ideals like that got people killed.
Instead, Aldred turned away.
"Then learn restraint," he said, already walking.
"Or your convictions will crush more than they save."
He didn't say whether he agreed.
He didn't have to.
The sparring ring smelled like stone dust and metal.
Aura-light flickered faintly at the edges as students took positions. Controlled matches only. No escalation. No dominance.
I stepped onto the ring opposite Kai.
Katana loose at his side. Eyes sharp. Balanced.
We'd fought countless times.
He knew my rhythm.
I knew his.
Steel met steel—once, twice, three times.
I didn't press.
Didn't chase.
Every cut stopped half an inch short of where it could've ended things.
Kai noticed.
He always did.
"You're late on purpose," he muttered after parrying another strike.
"Focus," I said.
We clashed again.
He disengaged suddenly, stepping back with a sharp laugh that didn't sound amused.
"You holding back?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
His jaw tightened.
"No," he said slowly, eyes narrowing. "You are holding back."
The class's attention shifted.
Seraphyne's gaze sharpened.
Kazen tilted his head, unreadable.
Theon shifted his footing uneasily.
Kai raised his voice just enough to be heard.
"What—are you too good for this now?"
"Kai," I said, low, "drop it."
He scoffed.
"Ever since you came back, you've been acting like we wouldn't survive what you did."
That struck deeper than it should have.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then explain it," he snapped. "Because from where I'm standing, it feels like you decided the rest of us are fragile."
Something inside me fractured.
Not violently.
Not visibly.
But sharply.
The air compressed.
I didn't move.
Didn't draw aura.
Didn't command anything.
Yet it answered.
Will surged outward—not force, not energy—
intent.
Condensed.
Focused.
It slammed into Kai like invisible blades.
Not one.
Many.
Pressure spiked sharply, surgically, like ten swords stabbing at once—pinpoint, relentless, unavoidable.
Kai froze.
His eyes widened as if he'd been struck, breath ripping out of him as his knees buckled.
And it didn't stop there.
The room reacted.
Students stiffened. Gasped. Flinched.
It wasn't pain.
It was presence.
A suffocating weight that pressed into chests and joints. Sharp pressure drove inward, not crushing—but threatening.
Seraphyne's fingers curled, knuckles whitening.
Kazen's shoulders trembled.
Theon went pale.
They felt it.
All of them.
Judgment without words.
Resolve sharpened to a blade.
"RAIN!"
Sir Aldred's voice cracked the air.
Everything vanished.
The pressure disappeared instantly—like a blade sheathed mid-strike.
Kai collapsed to one knee, gasping, hands shaking like he'd just escaped death.
I stared at him.
At my hands.
"What…?" I whispered.
Aldred was already between us.
"Stop," he ordered.
I stepped back automatically.
"I—I didn't—Sir, I—"
"Out," he said. "Now."
The command wasn't loud.
It was final.
I bowed sharply.
"I'm sorry," I said—to Kai, to the class, to the silence I'd shattered.
Then I turned and walked away.
I didn't look back.
I didn't trust myself to.
Behind me, no one spoke.
Not because they were angry.
Because something had finally clicked.
That's what Rain carries.
That's what he's been holding back.
And guilt followed me down the corridor, heavy and unavoidable.
The suppression drill came much later.
Aura dampening fields flared beneath our feet without warning. Enchantments dragged at limbs, making weapons feel heavier than steel had any right to be.
No instruction to win.
Just one rule:
Survive.
I moved efficiently. Conservatively.
No aura spikes.
No risks.
When my breathing shifted—when I felt the edge approaching—I stepped off the field.
"Overextension," I reported.
A lie.
Aldred looked at me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
Aura answers will.
But will can burn out.
Strength made you arrogant.
Resolve made you dangerous.
If I relied on one to support the other…
Eventually, one would fail.
And when it did—
Lives paid the price.
The Student Council met without me.
I knew because Seraphyne avoided my gaze afterward.
Because Varein didn't acknowledge my presence.
Because silence can be louder than any accusation.
I caught fragments passing corridors:
"Transparency—"
"Resource allocation—"
"Risk assessment—"
And then my name.
Used carefully.
"Threshold Candidate."
I heard it whispered near the administration wing.
No explanation.
No definition.
Just a tone reserved for things you don't want to finish thinking about.
That night, I trained alone.
Empty yard.
Cold stone.
One cut.
Again.
Again.
I stopped before the aura surfaced.
If I couldn't draw the blade without it—
Then I didn't deserve it when I did.
I overheard Aldred arguing with another instructor.
"Restraint," Aldred said.
"And if he crosses it early?" the other snapped.
"The Academy won't be able to pull him back."
I left before they noticed me.
The envelope waited for me in my quarters.
Plain.
Sealed.
Four words etched into the paper:
Attend. Alone. Do not prepare.
White lightning scorched the edge.
My chest tightened.
Whatever line they were watching—
Tomorrow, they intended to see if I crossed it.