Valencrest – Deep Library Sector
Day 10 – Second phase of the exam, second night
The air down here was different.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Compressed.
I walked along the lower corridor of the library, the one the first-years avoided without knowing why. The ceiling was lower, the lights spaced out, and the sound of footsteps… didn't echo. It was absorbed.
A perfect place for someone who wanted to disappear.
Or for someone who wanted to hunt.
The system had diverted the students' flow. A mistake? No.
A choice.
The headmaster was tightening the field.
The new "first-year friendly" exam had a second side: reduce space, increase pressure, bring out those who knew how to move when the environment became hostile.
I advanced without hurry. I wasn't looking for the intruder.
I was waiting.
PERCEPTION
Three signals.
The distant sound of a door closing two seconds too late.
A change in the echo to my left.
My instinct slowing my step before I even decided.
There you are.
I didn't turn.
I didn't speed up.
I let the body speak for me.
FIRST ATTACK WITHOUT CONTACT
The first attack came without touch.
A wave of air.
Not wind.
Impulse.
I lowered half a step as something passed over the back of my neck. Not strong enough to hurt. Precise enough to test.
The floor behind me creaked.
I smiled. Inside.
You just made your first mistake.
ZERO CONTACT
I turned slowly, as if I didn't know exactly where to look.
But the body did.
Two meters ahead, to my right, the air vibrated. It wasn't total invisibility. It was control of movement. Every minimized step. Every broken breath.
The intruder didn't speak.
He didn't strike.
He studied me.
Then I did something no one expected.
I sat down.
Back against the shelf. Elbows on knees. Eyes lowered.
A scared first-year.
An easy target.
The system didn't react.
The bracelet stayed silent.
The intruder… advanced.
THE BODY DECIDES
When he got close enough, I felt it clearly.
The weight.
The tension in his ankles.
The held breath.
I struck.
No punches.
No kicks.
I took the space.
A step forward, shoulder rotated, forearm slicing the air where his neck would have been.
No contact occurred.
But the effect did.
The intruder lost balance for half a second.
Half a second was all it took.
I moved behind him without a sound, using his own momentum. Hand on his shoulder. Not to hit.
To feel.
The muscle was tense. Trained.
Not by school.
Not by a first-year.
Interesting.
He reacted immediately, shifting sideways, trying to free himself. Good.
But not enough.
I blocked his movement with a sharp pressure behind the knee. Not to make him fall. Just to remind him I was there.
We separated.
No one spoke.
The silence had become a blade.
AROUND US
The first-years were far, but I could feel them.
Fear growing.
Confusion.
A girl was crying without knowing why.
The intruder was using the environment to wear them down.
I wasn't.
I was using him.
Do you want to see how far you can push? Let's push together.
I stepped back three paces, deliberately leaving an open area. A narrow corridor. An invitation.
The intruder hesitated.
One instant too long.
He entered.
EXCHANGE
It wasn't a clash.
It was a collision of wills.
He attacked low, aiming for my center of gravity.
I let the strike pass, rotating my torso, and struck with an open palm on the chest.
No force.
Rhythm.
The impact unbalanced him. Two steps back.
Breathing altered.
For the first time, I felt something new.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Surprise.
The intruder understood.
I'm not like the others.
He stopped.
So did I.
Between us, the space was tense like a rope ready to snap.
The bracelet vibrated.
+300 points.
Reason: Advanced control in hostile scenario.
The system was watching.
RETREAT
The intruder did something smart.
He left.
Not a chaotic flight.
A clean retreat.
He disappeared through side doors, leaving only silence… and an unpleasant feeling behind.
He didn't want to win today.
I stayed still for a few more seconds.
I breathed.
I let my body relax.
Then I turned toward the dormitory corridors.
The night wasn't over.
END OF SESSION
When the silent bell marked the end of the three hours, the first-years were destroyed. No one spoke. No one truly understood what had happened.
I crossed the corridor like any other student.
Inside, though, I chuckled softly.
You're not a first-year.
You're not a teacher.
And you're not here by chance.
I looked up at the cameras.
Now it's up to me to decide when the game ends.
Behind a door, somewhere in the school, someone held their breath.
And I felt it.