Crossing back through the boundary felt different this time.
Not like a gate.
Like a threshold.
Ren stumbled out first, hands on her knees, dramatically gasping. "Ah, civilization. Flat ground. My beloved."
Cael followed—calm, unreadable, already adjusting to indoor air. Lami emerged next, clutching her pack like someone might snatch it.
Ayla stepped through last.
The air shifted.
Not physically—socially.
Students gathered in the courtyard turned. Noticed. Whispered. Watched.
Team 47 had returned early.
Not first.
Not last.
Confidently in-between—the most suspicious place to be.
Ren looked around. "So... applause? Parade? Free lunch?"
No response.
"Rude," she muttered.
Lami leaned closer. "Do you think many teams failed?"
Cael's mouth tightened. "We heard two explosions. Possibly more."
Ayla's eyes scanned faces—not for grief. For calculation.
And she saw it.
Teams assessing them—not for rankings, but threat level.
They didn't care how Team 47 survived.
Only that they had.
Thalen approached with a slate in hand—expression neutral, eyes sharp. "Report."
Cael straightened. "Objective completed. Sky-iron shard retrieved. No casualties. No violations."
Thalen didn't congratulate. He didn't even blink.
He simply held out his hand.
Cael placed the wrapped shard into it.
Thalen weighed it—literally, metaphorically—then nodded.
"One hour until ranking release," he said. "Remain on Academy grounds."
Ren saluted sloppily. "Yes, Captain Doom."
Thalen walked away, either not hearing or not caring.
Ren sighed. "I miss when instructors ignored us."
"Not me," Cael said.
"That's because you crave suffering," Ren replied.
Ayla didn't speak.
Because she felt something else.
A gaze.
Not hostile.
Evaluating.
She turned—slow, casual.
Master Orrin stood near the colonnade—hands clasped behind him, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.
But his eyes?
Focused. Knowing. Waiting.
Their gazes met briefly.
Then Orrin turned and walked away—like he'd gotten the answer he came for.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Ren shivered. "That man scares me, and he hasn't even spoken to me."
"He has," Cael said. "You just weren't paying attention."
"Oh right," Ren said. "He said 'Leave the courtyard.' Iconic."
Lami giggled nervously.
Ayla looked at the spot where Orrin vanished.
Not fear.
Awareness.
?
The dining hall buzzed louder than usual—forks clinking, benches scraping, nerves vibrating under every conversation. Students compared wounds, theories, and near-death experiences like gossip.
Ren dropped onto the bench beside Ayla. "I swear that forest aged me five years."
"You were already elderly inside," Cael said, sitting across from them.
"Thank you," Ren said. "I take that as wisdom."
Lami pushed her soup around. "Do you think we'll go up?"
Ren gasped. "Up? Girl, dream bigger—FIRST PLACE."
"No," Cael said.
Ren pointed aggressively. "NEGATIVITY. Banished."
"It's probability," Cael said. "We completed the objective, but we didn't fight other teams or collect extra resources."
"That's because we're not bloodthirsty," Lami said softly.
"Exactly," Cael said. "And the Academy values violence."
Alya tilted her head. "Not violence. Capability."
Ren narrowed her eyes. "That sounded like a threat but in poetry form."
Ayla took a sip of water.
Ren pointed harder. "See? Poetry."
Before Ayla could reply, the dining hall dimmed slightly—not lights, but atmosphere.
Eris Valenne entered.
She didn't make an announcement, didn't perform.
She just existed.
And people adjusted.
Students straightened. Voices softened. Attention shifted subtly toward her—as if gravity preferred her.
She walked toward the instructors' table, spoke quietly with Seris, then continued toward the exit.
Not once did she look at Team 47.
Ren groaned loudly. "She ignored us. Worse—she purposely ignored us. That's emotional warfare."
"She doesn't need to acknowledge us," Cael said. "She already acted on us."
Lami blinked. "How?"
Ayla answered softly. "She warned us."
Ren froze mid-bite. "Oh. Ohhhh. Right."
Cael nodded. "She expected us to make use of it. Now she'll expect us to continue doing so."
"Is that bad?" Lami asked.
"Not yet," Ayla said.
Ren threw her arms up. "Fantastic. We live in a maybe."
Cael stood. "Ranking will be posted soon. Let's go."
Ren saluted again. "Lead the way, my anxious liege."
They headed toward the courtyard—along with every other first-year in the Academy.
The entire student body seemed to breathe in one massive inhale.
Then—
Thalen appeared.
No speech. No buildup.
He pinned the parchment to the board.
Let go.
Walked away.
Silence.
Students surged forward.
Ren grabbed Ayla's wrist. "If we die in this stampede, tell my family I fought bravely."
"No one will believe that," Cael said.
"Tell them anyway," Ren insisted.
Lami squeezed between taller students like a polite ferret. "I see numbers—wait—oh—oh—"
Ren shoved two people aside. "Excuse me, important emotional moment incoming—"
She stared.
Mouth open.
Eyes huge.
Cael reached the board next.
A muscle near his jaw jumped.
Ayla didn't move. She already knew.
Ren turned slowly, voice high and thin.
"We're THIRD."
Lami clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes watering. "Third. Third. Third!"
Cael exhaled—long, conflicted. "Unfortunate."
"UNFORTUNATE?" Ren shrieked. "IT'S MIRACULOUS!"
Alya finally stepped forward enough to see the list.
1st — Team 2
2nd — Team 9
3rd — Team 47
4th — Team 5
5th — Team 12
They hadn't leapfrogged the elites.
They'd entered their orbit.
Ren hugged all three of them at once—nearly suffocating Lami. "We're legends! Icons! Future cautionary tales!"
Lami laughed through tears. "My mother will faint."
Cael didn't smile—but he didn't frown either.
He was calculating.
Planning.
Preparing.
Alya watched the students around them—not the board.
Reactions varied.
Shock.
Annoyance.
Curiosity.
Fear.
But the most dangerous reaction?
Interest.
Ayla felt it settle on her skin like dust.
Unavoidable. Persistent.
Ren finally released them. "We have to celebrate. Cake. No—toast. No—cake TOAST."
"No," Cael said.
"We can't celebrate publicly," Ayla added.
Ren pouted. "Because secrecy is sexy?"
"No," Cael said. "Because celebration gives enemies timing."
Ayla nodded. "We're loud enough by existing."
Lami wiped her eyes. "So... what do we do now?"
"Same thing we've been doing," Ayla said. "Be underestimated correctly."
Ren paused. "And incorrectly?"
Ayla glanced back at the rankings—at their new position.
"At third," she said, "everyone begins rewriting us in their heads."
Cael nodded. "Which means we don't correct them."
Lami exhaled. "Oh. Oh I like that."
"Good," Ren said. "Because I was not planning on changing anything about myself."
"We know," Cael said.
They walked away from the board—calm, steady, refusing to linger.
Not claiming victory.
Not running from it.
Owning it.
Evening settled across the courtyard as lanterns flickered on, casting the Academy in warm glow.
Students dispersed.
Silence followed.
Ayla turned toward the upper balcony—and wasn't surprised to see Eris there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Their eyes met across distance.
Not rivalry.
Understanding.
Uncomfortable, undeniable, unfinished.
Eris didn't smirk.
She nodded—small, deliberate.
Acknowledgment.
Then she stepped back into shadow and disappeared.
Ren flopped dramatically against Ayla's shoulder. "Okay, either she wants to be your mentor or your nemesis or your roommate—"
"Or all three," Lami whispered.
Cael looked at Ayla—not with awe or confusion.
With clarity.
"They're noticing you," he said. "Individually."
"I know," Ayla said quietly.
"Are you afraid?" Lami asked.
Ayla considered.
"No."
She wasn't lying.
"What are you, then?" Ren asked.
Ayla watched lantern light reflect off the stone courtyard—soft, harmless-looking, hiding everything beneath.
"Becoming," she said.
And the Academy, for the first time,
seemed to notice.
??
