Alex wasn't running—yet.
But he moved with the kind of urgency that suggested trouble was either behind him or ahead.
His steps were long and confident, swift enough to avoid drawing suspicion, but too fast to be casual.
His coat fluttered behind him, boots clicking against the sleek floors of Zenith Academy's upper corridor, echoing faintly beneath the tall, arched ceilings.
He wasn't trying to escape. Not exactly.
He just didn't want to deal with whatever madness Professor Rick had cooked up involving him.
Unfortunately, peace was a luxury short-lived for him.
A shout broke through the hallway.
"Found him! He's heading toward the ninth-floor canteen!"
Alex's head jerked up. "Ah, damn it."
A group of cadets rounded the corner. He recognized them immediately—some of the faces were familiar from his Rune Crafting class. Eight… no, wait… now fourteen?
Instead of bolting, Alex simply stopped.
