Capítulo 3: The whisper behind their eyes
When the bell rang, no one moved.
Professor Elian had already swept from the room, her cloak trailing like a closing argument. But the silence she left behind was louder than anything she said.
The classroom buzzed with low whispers.
"Logic? Seriously?"
"He just got lucky. That Clawrat was half-dead."
"Still... he killed it."
"Barely. Looked like he was about to pass out."
I pulled a spare cloak from my bag and wrapped it tight. The arm still throbbed beneath the bandages, but I didn't flinch. Let them think I was worse off than I was. Let them think I wouldn't last another day.
Eran Vellhart was watching from his desk, arms crossed. Eyes sharp, mouth curled into something between amusement and scorn.
"One scratch and he's limping. What a joke."
"He did win, Eran."
"Against a rat. Let's see how he handles a duel."
I passed them without a word.
***
The hallway outside was cooler, quieter. Magic still hummed faintly through the rune-lit walls. I followed the blue mana line toward the infirmary, then veered into a side corridor.
I leaned back against the stone and took a breath.
The pain was dull now, but the pressure in my chest wasn't. It wasn't fear. Just the echo of forty confused eyes, unsure what to make of me.
They didn't see strength.
They saw a contradiction.
"You took the hit on purpose."
I turned.
A girl stood a few feet away. Short white hair. Round glasses. Robe too large for her frame. She looked like she'd walked out of a library, not a training yard.
"Calculated risk," she said. "You knew it wouldn't kill you."
I studied her face. Calm. Curious. No mockery.
"Who are you?"
"Arin Deyel. Mind Affinity. Level 13. Third seat in Logic Theory."
She held out a folded paper cloth.
"You're still bleeding."
I took it and pressed it under the cloak.
"Thanks."
She tilted her head.
"They think you're weak."
"I want them to."
"That's dangerous."
"Exactly."
She nodded like that made perfect sense, then turned and walked away without another word.
---
The infirmary was half-empty. A healer with glowing runes on her hands motioned me over.
"Sit. Cloak off."
She barely glanced as her hands hovered above the wound.
Warmth spread through the skin, numbing the ache.
"Two inches deeper and you'd have torn the tendon. Lucky."
"I'll keep that in mind next time I fight a rat."
She snorted.
"Logic Affinity, right?"
I didn't answer.
"Only student bleeding after a classroom test. You're memorable."
She wrapped the arm in a thin mana band.
"Monsters aren't just claws and teeth. Some wear robes. Speak politely. They smile when you fail."
I met her gaze.
"Noted."
***
The dining hall pulsed with life that didn't include me.
Students filled tables in tight circles. Spells buzzed over food trays. Laughter came in bursts.
I sat alone.
Their eyes flicked toward me, pretending not to.
"He stabbed it with furniture?"
"That's not magic, that's desperation."
"Bet he folds in a real duel."
But none of them sat near me. And none of them stepped forward, either.
Good.
I ate in silence.
Halfway through, a tray landed across from mine.
Arin again.
Same oversized sleeves. Same unreadable eyes.
"Thought this seat was empty."
"It was."
She pushed something across the table. A metal cube, etched with fine glyphs.
"Compression rune. Amplifies minor pulses. Might help your Telekinesis."
I turned it in my hand. Clean work.
"Why?"
"Because I'm bored. And I hate being surrounded by morons."
"Fair enough."
She pushed up her glasses.
"Also, I think you're going to do something reckless soon. I want front-row seats."
***
Later, I sat alone in my dorm room, cube spinning slowly between my fingers.
When I pushed mana into it, it responded with a faint shimmer.
Precise.
Sharp.
Useful.
I set it down.
Outside, wind whispered through the academy towers.
Inside, I replayed the Clawrat fight.
Its path. Its rhythm. My mistake.
Too close. Too messy.
Next time, there wouldn't be blood.
There wouldn't be doubt.
There'd only be execution.
And when that time came, they'd learn what Logic really was.
Not power. Not fire or ice.
But something colder.
Something exact.
Ten steps ahead.
And merciless.
***
The academy corridors emptied after dusk, but I didn't return to my room.
I walked instead.
No destination. Just the hum of mana underfoot, the faint pulse of enchantments buried in stone.
This place didn't rest. Even the walls were watching.
Behind one door, I heard the whipcrack of a training spell gone wrong. Behind another, someone wept quietly. Another failure, probably. Another student learning the price of falling behind.
I kept walking.
Eventually, I found myself at the edge of the practice arena — a wide open platform built into the eastern tower, open to the night air. Defensive wards shimmered faintly overhead.
I wasn't alone.
Lyra Tressa stood at the far end, barefoot, hair tied back, moving through combat forms with a precision that made every motion cut the air.
She saw me, but didn't stop.
I watched.
Not to compare — I already knew she was better. Faster. Stronger.
I watched to understand.
Her movements weren't just fast. They were efficient. No wasted gestures. No extra flair. Each step mapped perfectly into the next.
Like a dance choreographed by war itself.
She finished the last form, then reached down, slipped on her boots, and only then looked at me.
"You're not what I expected."
"I get that a lot."
She didn't smile. But she didn't frown either.
"Most students with weak affinities overcompensate. Brag. Or beg for allies."
"Which one am I?"
"Neither. That makes you interesting."
I shrugged. "Or dangerous."
"Maybe." She brushed hair from her face. "Or maybe you're bluffing."
"Would it matter?"
She paused. Then: "Only if you're stupid enough to bluff in front of real monsters."
She walked past me.
Her shoulder brushed mine — not by accident.
"You've got two weeks before evaluations," she said.
"I know."
"Then make them count."
***
Back in my room, I stared out the window.
The towers pulsed with quiet light, like a heartbeat too slow to be noticed.
Two weeks.
Two weeks to stop being the weakest student in the academy.
Or at least, stop appearing to be.
I picked up Arin's compression cube again. Set it spinning. Focused.
The metal hummed, and for the first time, so did my mana.
Small. Precise. Enough.
I didn't need explosions.
I needed control.
Because someday, someone would try to burn this place to the ground.
And when they did… I wanted to be the one who predicted it first.
****
Author's Note: If you spotted the false assumption in the lecture room's combat exercise, drop your theory in the comments. There's a reason the trapdoor rune triggered slower than expected...
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