The council chamber had not been opened in years.
Ancient runes flared to life along the circular walls, each one tied to a seal powerful enough to suppress disasters. A long obsidian table dominated the center, its surface etched with names of past catastrophes the academy had survived—or failed to.
One by one, figures appeared.
Teleportation.
Projection.
Some in flesh.
Some in shadow.
The highest authorities of the Blackstone Combat Academy.
The silver-haired instructor stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back.
"We have confirmation," he said calmly. "The anomaly has been observed."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
"A Corrupted Guardian appearing during the exam was already unacceptable," a hooded elder said. "But this—"
"This is different," the blue-eyed instructor interrupted. Her voice was tight. "That presence did not originate from the combat zone."
She waved her hand.
A projection formed above the table—an image of distorted sky, reality folding inward on itself.
Several elders stiffened.
"…A Watcher," one whispered.
"No," another said sharply. "That classification is forbidden."
"Call it what you want," the woman replied. "It noticed a student."
Silence slammed down hard.
The silver-haired man spoke again. "Kai."
The name echoed unnaturally in the chamber.
A tall figure seated at the far end leaned forward, fingers steepled. "The boy who destroyed the Guardian."
"Yes."
"And survived backlash that should have shattered his soul," the figure said. "Convenient timing."
Suspicion crept into the room.
"Are we certain," another elder asked slowly, "that the anomaly wasn't drawn by him?"
The blue-eyed instructor's eyes flashed. "Be careful."
"Careful?" the elder snapped. "A presence beyond our detection grid breached a sealed zone and ignored every candidate except one."
The silver-haired man raised a hand.
"Enough."
The room quieted instantly.
"He is not the cause," he said. "But he may be a signal."
That word landed heavily.
"A signal to what?" someone asked.
"To things that should not yet be aware of this world," he replied.
Another elder exhaled slowly. "Then the answer is obvious."
A pause.
"Erase him."
The word lingered.
The blue-eyed instructor's mana spiked violently. "Absolutely not."
"He is a student under our protection," she continued coldly. "You will not turn the academy into an execution ground."
"And if he becomes a beacon?" the elder countered. "If more of them look down?"
The silver-haired man closed his eyes briefly.
"When they do," he said, opening them again,
"we will need someone who can look back."
No one spoke.
Because everyone understood what that meant.
Weapon.
Bait.
Shield.
A girl's image flickered into the projection—silver hair, calm eyes.
"Another student was affected," the man added. "Lena."
Several heads turned.
"That lineage still exists?" someone murmured.
"Barely," he replied. "Which means the Watcher's interest may not be singular."
The council fell silent again.
Finally, the man spoke.
"Kai will remain in the academy," he said. "Under maximum observation."
The blue-eyed instructor relaxed slightly—but not fully.
"And if he loses control?" someone asked.
The silver-haired man's gaze hardened.
"Then we'll learn," he said quietly,
"whether monsters are born… or made."
The runes dimmed.
The council dissolved.
But the decision had already reshaped the future.
Far below, in the student quarters, I sat on my bed, eyes closed.
The blade whispered.
"They are afraid."
I opened my eyes slowly.
"Good," I murmured.
Because fear made people predictable.
And somewhere beyond the sky—
Something ancient was waiting to see what I would become.