CHAPTER 33
Sorayael's room was quiet save for the soft rustle of curtains swaying with the afternoon breeze.
Her friends had reluctantly left after checking in, heeding the doctor's advice not to bring up the incident again.
Their concern was painted across their faces, but none of them dared question her directly.
The physician, an elderly woman with gentle eyes, had just completed her rounds.
Sorayael offered a small nod, weary but listening. She didn't argue.
Throughout the days, her group came and went, sometimes in pairs, sometimes all together leaving flowers, small gifts, or ridiculous inside jokes scribbled on parchment that made her smile despite herself. Even Zarethian brought a book, his way of saying "rest well" without words.
Then the Headmaster Xiaven came.
He entered like a breeze cloaked in secrets, pulling the chair by her bedside with a soft scrape. His usual mirth was subdued, replaced by something more thoughtful.
Headmaster Xiaven nodded. "It always does. It chooses. It remembers."
Her gaze sharpened slightly. "Then... do you know Velthira?"
There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, quickly masked by a cryptic smile.
She didn't press further. She already knew, it was useless when the Headmaster smiled like that.
When he left, silence settled again... until it was broken by a familiar voice.
Azi stood by the doorway, arms crossed, his usual smug grin dimmed with concern. He walked in, holding something in his hand, a box of sweets he never admitted he liked.
They sat there in comfortable banter, the tension from days prior softening like mist under the sun. But in both their eyes, beneath the teasing, a deeper current flowed, a bond being tempered by fire, secrecy, and something far older than both of them.
The morning sun filtered through the curtains as Sorayael sat on the edge of her bed, already dressed in her uniform. A knock came at the door, her clearance slip. The doctor said she could finally return to her classes.
Though she had missed several lessons, it didn't take long for her to catch up. Her mind, always sharp, seemed to work faster than her hand could write, and half the material felt like she'd already studied it in another life.
In the midst of reviewing notes during a short break, a sealed letter was slid onto her desk.
Her eyes softened at the familiar scrawl.
Krios.
-Krios
She clasped the letter gently against her chest, a bittersweet smile tugging her lips.
But then, another delivery arrived.
A slender black box, sealed in silver ribbon. Nestled inside was a glimmering device she had only ever admired from afar.
'A cellphone?'
The sleek body is hummed faintly with mana, its core powered by a magic crystal, it is rare, refined, and pulsing with energy from a dungeon beast. Her reflection warped on its polished surface as she touched the screen. The moment she tapped it, a familiar name lit up.
: Hope you like my gift, starling. Rest well.
She laughed softly. She remembered all those times she saw noble kids flaunt their magical devices in town. She had stared, wide-eyed, from across the dusty market stalls with her little brother tugging on her hand.
She gripped the box a little tighter.
'Tonight,' she thought. 'I'll go out and see if I can take on work. I'll get one for Krios. I promised.'
Later that day, after classes...
Just as the bell rang and her group prepared to leave, a senior student arrived with a stiff expression.
Her smile from earlier faded in an instant. Her fingers stopped mid-motion as she packed her bag. A blank expression slid into place like armor.
But before she could step forward, Zarethian blocked her path.
They followed the upperclassman through winding halls and forgotten corridors, the ceilings darker, the walls older.
Eventually, they reached a part of the Academy grounds cloaked in silence, the edge of the Disciplinary Wing, an area often whispered about.
It was where unruly students were taken for "reform." Few ever spoke of what happened there.
They stopped before a door hanging off its hinge.
Sorayael let out a dry breath and muttered, "Ha.. It's never-ending."
Her group, tense and battle-ready, surrounded her like wolves. Whatever lay ahead, they were ready to face it.
The group halted as the eerie, rust-bitten doors of the Disciplinary Wing loomed before them. The air smelled of dust and stagnant mana.
Kieran clicked his tongue, eyes scanning the cracked floor and flickering sconces. "You know, if this was supposed to be intimidating, they could've at least cleaned the place."
He glanced at Sorayael. "Remind me why we're following shady summons like obedient sheep?"
Ravelia, arms crossed, let out a light scoff, "Because someone didn't grow up with the concept of danger. Or maybe she just likes collecting chaos." But despite her biting words, her eyes stayed fixed on Sorayael with concern.
Karsen, who had been quietly observing the surroundings with a hand hovering near the hilt of his blade, muttered, "I've read about this wing. It's not used often anymore. Only when someone wants things... off-record."
He looked at the door with a frown. "We're not letting her go in alone."
Silas, hands in his pockets, let out a low whistle.
"Nothing says warm welcome like rotting doors and magical dampening fields." He met Sorayael's eyes with a calm gaze.
"Just say the word and we'll turn around. Or burn it down. I'm flexible."
Celene, who had been silent until then, walked forward and stood beside Sorayael. "You shouldn't have to face things like this alone." She smiled softly.
Sorayael looked at each of them at the stubborn fire in their eyes, at the unwavering loyalty. Her heart ached a little, full and heavy at the same time.
She adjusted her stance, forcing a breath out through her nose.
The group pushed the doors open, stepping together into the shadows.
They were led to the secluded wing at the side of the Academy, where disciplinary cases were dumped and where the walls smelled of burnt mana and trouble. As the group stepped inside, the air grew heavier. It was quiet, but not the peaceful kind.
A group of upperclassmen stood waiting. Some were unfamiliar, new faces, rough and unruly, others visibly older than they should be for students.
'Tsk! Kailangan pa bumulong.' - Sorayael.
At the center, Orran stood, trembling, his back hunched, eyes to the ground. His fists were clenched tight, not out of defiance, but fear. He didn't move when Sorayael's group arrived.
One of the upperclassmen smirked, stepping forward lazily, arms crossed.
Orran flinched and whispered, voice cracking, "I'm sorry... I didn't want to-th-they said they'd-"
He didn't need to finish. Her eyes narrowed. The air changed.
Without another word, four of the upperclassmen lunged toward her and the group. Swift. Reckless. But not fast enough.
Sorayael moved like water.
Golden chains, laced with celestial runes, exploded outward like a halo. In less than a heartbeat, the four attackers were frozen mid-air, bound by shimmering binds of light.
Then...
A blinding surge of lightning, pure, white-hot mana laced with starlight, crackled through the air and struck the chains.
The air rippled. The attackers dropped to the ground unconscious, their bodies twitching from the residual shock, mana cores overloaded.
Everyone froze.
Even Zacchaeus blinked.
"She combo'd that like a seasoned duelist."
Before the last, and strongest delinquent could react, he felt wind split.
She was already in front of him.
Eyes glowing faintly, Sorayael's voice was deadly calm.
"Do you want to be next?"
He tried to move, raise a hand, gather mana, but before he could do anything she placed one finger on his forehead. Just a pulse of her Auctoritas, barely a fraction of it, and his eyes rolled back.
He collapsed without a sound.
Only the sound of Orran quietly crying broke the tension and silence.
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