The sunlight slanting through the dorm window was almost offensive. Kyle blinked back into awareness, bandages tugging at his skin as he sat up slowly. A dull ache pulsed through his body—lingering reminders of the duel.
A knock came at his door. Orin's voice followed, muffled, but distinct.
Kyle cracked the door open to find him standing there, nose buried in a thick, creased tome.
"You're up," Orin said without looking up. "Finally."
Kyle groaned. "I was at a Thaumatology class during my free period."
"I know you're almost healed, but you should still rest. The nurses nearly fainted when they brought you in. You went manic. Mumbled something about killing them, too. Very dramatic."
Kyle winced. "...Sorry."
"Nah. Just gave Mirai a heart attack. She cried. Said she had to help a professor this morning."
A quiet pause lingered between them.
"…Did I really say I'd kill everyone?" Kyle asked.
Orin's jaw tightened. "Yeah. You did."
Kyle looked down at his hands. "It felt like I was underwater… watching myself. I wasn't thinking. Just—reacting."
"I know," Orin said. "And so do the people who matter."
Kyle raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
Orin didn't answer. Instead, he turned the book toward Kyle and jabbed a finger at a term printed in bold: Voidspawn.
Kyle frowned. "I keep hearing that word. Some students mentioned it. I even caught someone whispering it when I passed. What the hell does it mean?"
Orin hesitated. "Technically? A myth. A creature touched or created by the Void—born in places where magic fails and the laws of the world bend. But nowadays, it's more of an accusation. A curse. If someone calls you Voidspawn, they're saying they think you're not entirely… human."
Kyle scoffed. "That's ridiculous."
"You screamed through a Hellfire spell and got back up like it tickled." Orin paused. "Okay, maybe more than a tickle—but still."
Kyle went quiet.
"There's more," Orin continued, voice dropping. "Old records mention Voidspawn aren't always monsters. Sometimes they're people. Survivors. Exposed to raw Void from anomalies, magical disasters… spacial distortions."
Kyle's breath hitched. "My village…"
"Exactly," Orin said. "Deadzone. Chaotic mana. People leaving. You might've grown up in a place more dangerous than you realized."
Kyle rubbed his temple. "And now people think I'm a walking hazard."
"Not everyone. But rumors spread fast. The duel didn't help. Especially after what happened to Mordain."
Kyle's eyes narrowed. "What did happen to him?"
Orin's smile turned bitter. "A few lectures. A formal reprimand. Suspension from combat privileges—until next term."
Kyle stared. "That's it? He could've killed me."
"He's a Mordain. His family's on the Central Mage Council. They bankroll research, build academies, write the textbooks." Orin's tone soured. "Even Professor Owl looked like he wanted to break something after the verdict."
"Unreal."
"They said your reaction was more dangerous. That you're the one who needs investigating."
Kyle scoffed, throwing the blanket aside. "So I get firebombed, bleed out in front of half the Combat class, and I'm the threat?"
"You scared them, Kyle," Orin said softly. "When you stood up in that state… it wasn't just your wounds. The air warped. The mana bent. The arena felt wrong."
Kyle had no answer for that.
A sharp knock interrupted them. A runner stood in the hallway, dressed in black and grey academy garb.
"Kyle?" she asked. "You're to report to the Dean's chamber. Disciplinary inquiry. Immediately."
Kyle exhaled slowly and rose. "Guess it's time."
"You want me to come with you?" Orin asked.
Kyle shook his head. "No. If they want to judge me, I'll face it without distractions."
As he followed the runner through the echoing halls, whispers followed in his wake. Eyes flicked toward him—some fearful, others curious. A few… almost respectful. It wasn't contempt. Not quite awe either.
Something else.
By the time they reached the tall, stone-laced doors of the Dean's wing, Kyle understood:
They didn't see him as a nobody anymore.
They saw him as something else entirely.
The Dean's Chamber was colder than expected—not in temperature, but in tone. Bare stone walls surrounded him, broken only by house banners fluttering overhead: Noctis, Vermillion, Boreal, and Aurora.
Five figures sat behind a curved bench of polished onyx. The Disciplinary Council.
At the center was Kasper Veylan, Headmaster of Sanctum Magna. Tall. Silver-white hair. Eyes sharp as cut steel. Beside him sat Professor Owl, arms folded, expression taut. The others—one from the Mage Council, one from the academy's funding board, and a robed legal liaison—watched Kyle with cold detachment.
And then there was Alex Mordain.
Draped in ceremonial black and deep crimson, he looked more like nobility at a gala than someone under inquiry. His wounds, if there had been any, had long since vanished.
Their eyes met. No words passed. But something simmered.
"Begin," Veylan commanded.
The liaison stood. "We are convened under Article 7 of the Internal Conduct Charter. The matter: an uncontrolled combat engagement between Junior Kyle and Senior Alexander Mordain. Initial assessments have been revised due to new testimony, magical residue scans, and rising public concern."
Public concern? Kyle almost laughed.
"Let us hear from the combat instructor first," Veylan said.
Professor Owl stepped forward. "Permission was granted for a sparring session. Alex Mordain initiated conflict. Kyle refused initially, then accepted. The situation escalated when Mordain cast a tier-four spell—Hellfire: Flare Circle—in violation of all safety protocols."
A council member murmured, "Tier-four? Against a junior?"
Owl nodded once. "Kyle sustained critical injuries."
Veylan turned to Mordain. "Your account?"
Alex stood smoothly. "The spell was excessive. I let frustration guide me. I'd heard rumors of Kyle's… special status. Rank Zero, admitted without standardized tests. No noble lineage. No sponsor. It felt like it mocked the standards of our institution."
Kyle clenched his fists.
Alex continued. "He provoked me earlier in the week. I regret acting on impulse. But I believed I was defending the academy's merit."
We hadn't even met, Kyle thought bitterly.
Veylan's eyes narrowed. "And the secondary wand? The concealed sigil?"
Alex hesitated. "It was… precautionary. A gift from my family. In case I was ever in danger."
Kyle stepped forward. "A precaution you used while shouting 'die'?"
"Kyle," Veylan warned. "You will speak when prompted."
Kyle stepped back, jaw tight.
The liaison spoke again. "Magical residue confirms Hellfire usage. In addition, an unidentified energy spike followed the impact—unregistered, no known affinity. Witnesses described a sudden surge in pressure, warped mana flow, and heightened emotional resonance from bystanders."
Veylan raised a brow. "Are you implying Kyle unleashed an unclassified spell?"
"We're suggesting… a reaction. Possibly innate."
Kyle stepped forward again. "You're avoiding the word. Just say it—Voidspawn. That's what people are calling me, isn't it?"
Silence.
Then the Mage Council representative said quietly, "That term holds no official weight."
"But it's whispered across campus," Kyle snapped. "If this is about me, let's be honest."
Veylan regarded him carefully. "You are not being judged for your origins, Kyle. Only your actions."
"And Alex Mordain?" Kyle said, gaze sharp. "He used a tier-four spell on a junior without provocation. That wasn't a mistake—it was intent."
Silence again.
Then the liaison cleared his throat. "Due to precedent and family protection clauses, Mr. Mordain retains academic standing. He is barred from practical casting until next term and must attend ethics sessions."
Kyle's chest tightened. "That's it?"
Veylan remained impassive. "That is the full extent of our authority."
"And me?"
"You will be placed under observation. You are to attend control training, undergo monthly magical assessments, and are suspended from combat practice until further notice."
Kyle swallowed hard. "So I survive a lethal attack and I'm punished."
So much for that speech about will proving worth, he thought bitterly.
"You terrified your peers, Kyle," said the Councilman. "Until you learn what you are, no one else can trust you."
Kyle nodded slowly. "You're treating me like I'm some beast. Something to cage. I understand."
The gavel struck.
"This hearing is adjourned," Veylan said.
As Kyle turned to leave, Alex Mordain leaned in just enough for his whisper to carry:
"Careful, commoner. Monsters don't get to play hero for long."
Kyle didn't answer.
But his fingers twitched.
And for the briefest moment, the mana in the chamber… shimmered.