The academy courtyard was louder than usual.
Students clustered in small groups, their voices overlapping in excited chatter. Some were still discussing yesterday's sparring matches, others gossiping about rankings, instructors, and rumors that spread faster than wildfire in a place filled with ambitious youths.
Kael walked through it all unnoticed, his hands tucked into the pockets of his academy coat, expression calm and indifferent.
But inside, his mind was anything but quiet.
The Hollow pulsed faintly in his chest.
Not painfully. Not aggressively.
Just… present.
It was like a second heartbeat now—subtle, steady, always there.
Since the extraction from Renn, Kael had felt different. Not in a dramatic way. No sudden surge of power, no intoxicating high.
Instead, it felt like clarity.
His breathing was smoother. His balance more stable. Even his thoughts felt sharper, as if some internal fog had thinned.
And that alone unsettled him.
This is only 0.3%.
Kael leaned against the stone railing near the courtyard edge, watching students train with aura constructs—blades of light, reinforced limbs, elemental manifestations.
All of them burning energy openly.
All of them unaware.
If this is what a fraction feels like… what happens at 10%? 50%?
The Hollow stirred faintly at the thought, as if responding to his curiosity.
Kael suppressed it immediately.
Not here.
Not now.
He had learned something critical yesterday.
The Hollow wasn't passive anymore.
It was hungry.
Leon stood across the courtyard, surrounded by a group of second-year elites. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes occasionally swept the area like a predator scanning territory.
Kael noticed.
Leon wasn't looking for anyone in particular.
He was sensing.
Searching for the anomaly he'd felt during Renn's match.
So even that tiny extraction left a trace.
Kael exhaled slowly.
This confirmed something important: The Hollow's influence wasn't perfectly invisible. High-level sensitives could detect disturbances in ambient energy.
Not him.
Not yet.
But eventually.
Which meant Kael's greatest advantage—secrecy—had a timer.
That afternoon, Kael skipped the public training fields and headed to one of the abandoned inner halls of the academy. Old stone corridors, forgotten by most students, used only by the occasional instructor or maintenance staff.
Here, the air was still.
The mana density lower.
Perfect for testing.
Kael sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes.
The world faded.
The Hollow responded instantly.
Unlike before, Kael didn't need to search for it. The sensation surfaced naturally, like slipping into a familiar mental space.
A dark, formless core.
Endless depth.
And a quiet, subtle pull.
Kael focused—not on absorbing anything—but on observing.
"Show me your limits," he whispered internally.
No response.
But something shifted.
Information flowed into his perception—not in words, but impressions.
The Hollow did not generate power.
It processed it.
Refined it.
Rewrote it.
It was not a source.
It was a system.
And systems could grow.
Kael's lips curved faintly.
"So you're not a cheat… you're an engine."
That was better.
Much better.
Cheats could be taken away.
Engines could evolve.
He extended his senses outward.
Not to a person.
Not to a living target.
But to the environment.
The ambient aura in the hall was thin, but present. Residual energy from years of spell usage, training, and artifacts embedded in the walls.
The Hollow reacted.
A gentle pull.
Barely noticeable.
Kael allowed it.
A trickle of energy flowed inward—so small it was practically meaningless.
But the Hollow processed it anyway.
Refined.
Stabilized.
Integrated.
Kael felt nothing dramatic.
No rush.
No surge.
But something subtle changed again.
His perception of the space sharpened.
He could almost feel the texture of the mana in the air.
Not visually.
Not audibly.
More like… pressure.
Density.
Weight.
"This is dangerous," Kael murmured.
Not because it was powerful.
But because it was comfortable.
The Hollow made absorption feel natural.
Normal.
Like breathing.
And anything that felt that natural could become addictive.
That evening, Kael encountered Renn again.
The boy sat alone in the dining hall, staring at his food with a frustrated expression. His aura felt slightly unstable—nothing obvious, nothing alarming, but weaker than before.
Renn hadn't noticed yet.
But Kael had.
So the extraction effect persists.
Not permanently damaging.
But not instantly reversible either.
Kael walked past him without stopping.
He had no intention of extracting again.
Not from Renn.
Not today.
He needed data.
Not victims.
Still, the Hollow reacted faintly as he passed.
A whisper of hunger.
Kael clenched his jaw.
Control first. Growth later.
That night, Kael dreamed.
Not of Earth.
Not of his past life.
But of standing in a vast, dark ocean.
No sky.
No stars.
Only endless black water stretching into infinity.
He looked down at his reflection.
And saw nothing.
Where his chest should have been, there was only a hollow void—pulling the world inward.
When he woke up, his sheets were damp with sweat.
And the Hollow was awake.
More awake than ever.
The next day, the academy announced internal evaluations.
Not official rankings.
Not public matches.
But private assessments conducted by senior instructors to identify potential assets.
Students were assigned time slots.
Kael received his in the afternoon.
Room 7-B.
Evaluator: Instructor Mareth.
Kael stared at the slip of paper.
This was dangerous.
Private evaluations meant close observation.
Energy scans.
Aura readings.
Exactly the kind of situation where anomalies got noticed.
He considered skipping.
Then dismissed the thought.
Avoiding attention entirely was impossible.
The goal wasn't to disappear.
It was to appear normal.
Room 7-B was small and sterile.
No windows.
Only a circular platform in the center, etched with faint runes.
Instructor Mareth stood near the wall—an older man with sharp eyes and a neutral expression.
"Kael Arden," he said calmly. "Step onto the platform."
Kael complied.
The runes activated, glowing softly.
Kael felt a faint pressure around his body.
A scan.
Not invasive.
But thorough.
Mareth studied a floating projection of data.
Aura capacity.
Flow rate.
Stability.
Resonance.
Kael kept his breathing steady.
The Hollow remained silent.
Passive.
For once.
Minutes passed.
Mareth frowned slightly.
Then nodded.
"…Interesting."
Kael's heart skipped half a beat.
"Your aura capacity is below average," Mareth continued. "But your stability is unusually high for a first-year."
Kael said nothing.
"Most students with your capacity would show erratic flow. Yours is… refined. Controlled."
Mareth looked up at him.
"Have you trained before entering the academy?"
Kael hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
"Only basic meditation and physical conditioning, sir."
Mareth studied him for a long moment.
Then waved a hand, deactivating the runes.
"You're not exceptional," he said flatly.
Kael felt relief.
"But you're not ordinary either."
Not ideal.
But acceptable.
"You'll remain unranked for now. Focus on development. If your growth continues at this rate, you'll be worth monitoring."
Kael bowed slightly.
"Yes, sir."
As he left the room, his legs felt lighter.
He hadn't been exposed.
But he had been noticed.
And that was the first ripple.
Small.
Subtle.
But in a world driven by power, even the smallest ripple could become a wave.
Kael looked down at his hand, clenching it slowly.
The Hollow pulsed once.
Quiet.
Patient.
Waiting.
"This world thinks I'm normal," he whispered.
A faint smile formed.
"Let's keep it that way… for now."