Rayden's breath caught in his throat. His legs felt like they were sinking into the floor, his hands trembling at his sides. His mind screamed to move, to speak, to fight back—but nothing came. Just fear. Just shame. Just stillness.
The boy standing in front of him—Kian, that was his name, tall and cocky with flame still crackling faintly on his fingertips—stared at Rayden with scorn. A twisted grin curled at the edge of his mouth before he clenched his fist, snuffing the flame out like it was nothing. Then, without warning, Kian's knuckles collided with Rayden's face. A brutal, direct punch.
There was a sickening crunch. Pain exploded through Rayden's nose. Blood gushed from his nostrils like someone had turned on a tap, splattering onto the floor and soaking into the front of his uniform.
Rayden staggered, vision blurring, but Kian grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright again, his voice full of disgust. "You're a loser. You can't even fight back. What are you doing here? Huh? You're nothing."
A crowd had begun to gather. Eyes widened. Whispers floated like a tide pulling in.
Then—suddenly—she was there.
Aria.
Her footsteps were light but fast, her expression sharp as a blade drawn in anger. She pushed through the crowd like she belonged on a battlefield, not in a school hallway. Without hesitation, she shoved Kian hard in the chest. He stumbled back, caught off guard more by her presence than her strength.
"You think this is impressive?" Aria's voice cut through the air like thunder. "You think hurting him makes you powerful? You pathetic waste. What kind of man finds pride in bullying someone who's already down?"
Kian looked around. The crowd had grown. Students whispered, and many were staring at him now—not in admiration, but with quiet judgment. For the first time, the swagger in his eyes faded, replaced by unease. His lips parted slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was weaker, unsure.
"I wasn't bullying him... I mean... he tripped me earlier. In front of everyone. They laughed at me. I... I just got angry, that's all. It's not what you think."
Aria didn't flinch. She knelt beside Rayden, who was now clutching his bloodied nose, trying not to wince or cry in front of all those eyes. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, then stood again and pointed directly at Kian.
"You hit him. His nose is bleeding. Say sorry."
Kian's jaw tightened. His pride screamed louder than his reason. The thought of apologizing in front of all these people—to Rayden of all people—was like a sword to his ego. His mouth twisted, and he spat the words out.
"No. No way I'm apologizing to this... this loser." He turned away like a coward and stormed off, face burning red.
Aria didn't yell after him. She didn't have to. Her eyes followed him with cold judgment, the way a queen might watch a jester exit her court in shame.
She turned back to Rayden and helped him to his feet, careful not to hurt his nose further. He looked at her with wide, tired eyes—confused by her kindness, unsure how to feel.
"Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you out of here."
---
A little while later, they were walking quietly down the hallway toward the dorms. Rayden's nose had stopped bleeding, but it still throbbed like a hammer banging inside his skull.
"What happened to you?" Mr. Delka asked as he crossed their path, adjusting the long coat slung over his shoulder. His eyes squinted in curiosity at the dried blood on Rayden's face.
Rayden opened his mouth, unsure of what to say—but Aria jumped in quickly, her voice calm and believable.
"Oh, Mr. Delka. It's nothing. He slipped and hit his face against a locker."
Delka raised a brow, not entirely convinced, but after a pause, he nodded. "I see. And please—drop the 'professor.' Just call me Mr. Delka, both of you."
They nodded, and he walked away, leaving the two of them standing in front of a door that bore Rayden's name in bold, freshly printed letters.
"This is your room," Aria said softly. "You're sharing with three others."
She looked at the door, biting her lip. "I... I want to help you clean the wound properly. But... I can't. Girls aren't allowed in the boys' dorms. It's against the rules."
Rayden gave her a faint smile, though it wavered with the pain. "It's fine. You've already done a lot for me. Thank you. I'll be okay."
Aria hesitated. She didn't want to leave him like this. Even though they barely knew each other, she cared. She didn't know why—but she did.
"Okay," she said at last. "But if it hurts worse, come find me. Promise?"
Rayden nodded. "I will."
She gave a little wave, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned away. Rayden watched her go before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
---
The room smelled like sweat, socks, and fresh laundry detergent. Three boys were inside, all shirtless and in their boxers. As soon as Rayden entered, they turned in shock.
"Oi! Knock next time!" one of them shouted, grabbing a towel and covering himself. "What if we were naked? You trying to give us a heart attack or something?"
Rayden froze, caught completely off guard. "I—I didn't mean to— I'm sorry..."
A taller boy with spiky black hair stepped forward and laughed. "Hey, relax. You're new. It's cool. Just messin' with you."
He stuck out a hand. "I'm Troy. That's Luis, and the one with the wild hair over there is Rubby."
Rayden shook his hand, feeling oddly welcomed. "I'm Rayden."
"Cool. So we're roommates now, huh?" Troy grinned.
Rubby walked over, laid a hand on Rayden's shoulder, then poked him lightly in the chest. "Next time, knock. Or I'm locking the door."
They all laughed, and even Rayden cracked a smile.
Luis sniffed the air dramatically and wrinkled his nose. "Hooo boy. Rayden, you smell like burnt toast and blood. Go take a shower, man."
Rayden laughed nervously, sniffed himself, and realized Luis was right. "Y-yeah... good idea."
He grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom, feeling the warmth of something new blooming in his chest. Maybe, just maybe... things weren't as hopeless as they seemed.
The firelight cast a faint flicker across the walls of the apartment , its warmth barely reaching Damon's weary bones. He sat on the edge of the old velvet armchair, a hand covering his face, his elbow dug deep into the hollow of his thigh. His work jacket lay wrinkled on the floor beside him, untouched since he arrived home. The air smelled faintly of ink, burnt coffee, and exhaustion.
Aelina stood by the window for a long time, looking out into the dim night, then turned softly, her voice cutting through the silence like a memory carried by wind.
"Damon," she said, her tone light but heavy with longing. "I miss our son. When is he coming back?"
Damon didn't answer right away. His shoulders rose with a deep breath, slow and tired, before his voice came muffled behind the hand still resting on his face.
"Oh… hmm... me too," he murmured. "He'll visit us by the end of June… and it's March now. Just a few more months."
Aelina walked over quietly and sat beside him, her hand finding his lap, her fingers curling in gentle affection, as if trying to squeeze away the tiredness in him.
"Damon…" she whispered, a playful smile blooming faintly on her lips. "You know something? We're tired. Let's… play in the bed."
Damon blinked. He looked at her slowly, lifting his brow, confused at first—unsure what she meant. But the moment she ran her hand along his side, tracing a slow line up his shirt, his eyes widened slightly. The message became clear.
She chuckled softly.
Damon didn't say a word. He just leaned in, wrapped his arms around her, and gently lifted her into his arms, carrying her toward the bedroom without another thought.
Elsewhere, under the weight of silence and distant stars, Rayden lay awake.
His bed felt cold, though the room was full. The walls were lined with beds and tired breaths of other boys. Moonlight poured in through a small window, casting pale shadows across the floor. Rayden turned to his side, staring at nothing.
Troy yawned from the bunk above. "Goodnight, Rayden."
"Sleep tight, man," Rubby added from across the room, already sinking into his pillow.
Luis didn't say a word. He glanced at Rayden, eyes half-lidded with sleep, then turned away, lying back without another sound. One by one, their breathing slowed. The room grew still.
Rayden, however, stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts louder than the quiet. He turned over again, then whispered to himself in the dark, barely audible, as if afraid even the shadows might hear.
"People keep calling me a loser… Was I born to be one? Is that all I am?"
His chest ached with the weight of it. Not just the words people threw at him like stones—but the silence that followed. That hurt more. The way they stopped seeing him. The way they looked past him like he was already gone.
"I may not be strong," he said, clenching his teeth, "but I think fast. My IQ's a hundred. Like a damn machine. I just need to work harder. Maybe it won't be easy, but I have to do it. Even if I'm only fifteen… I have to push through."
His fist tightened beneath the blanket. He sat up quietly, legs slipping from the bed to the floor. He pulled on his shoes and walked toward the door, careful not to wake the others.
But Luis stirred. He watched through half-closed lids as Rayden slipped into the hallway, then slowly sat up, frowning. Something didn't feel right. Without a word, he got up and followed.
Outside, the academy grounds were quiet. The grass shimmered under the moonlight, and the yard stretched wide like an empty stage waiting for a performance.
Rayden stood in the middle of it, breathing hard. He dropped into a squat. Then another. And another. His knees trembled. His chest burned. Sweat beaded along his forehead after just ten squats.
He tried to do push-ups. One. Two. Then he collapsed on the third. His arms shook like branches in a storm, his breath coming fast and uneven.
Still, he refused to stop.
He stood again, pushing his body further, forcing himself to squat lower, to try again. He slipped once, then twice, catching himself on trembling limbs.
Luis stood in the shadows, watching silently. He didn't move. He just stood there, his brow furrowed, unsure whether to step forward or let the boy have his moment alone.
Rayden, oblivious, moved to the tree at the edge of the yard. He grabbed one of the lower branches and, with a grunt, pulled himself up and hooked his legs over it, trying to do inverted sit-ups. His shirt slipped down, revealing his pale stomach as he struggled against gravity. But his hands slipped. He lost grip.
He hit the ground hard.
A short, sharp sound escaped Luis's lips, like he'd felt the impact in his own bones.
Rayden lay there for a moment, wind knocked out of him. He sat up slowly, dust in his hair, his breath ragged. Then his head turned. He scanned the shadows behind him.
No one.
Or so he thought.
He stood again. His shirt clung to him with sweat, damp like it had been soaked in water. His hair was matted. His arms trembled as he tried once more to call out to the one thing he hadn't been able to grasp since coming to this school.
Mana.
He closed his eyes, opened his hands, and breathed in.
He reached for it.
He reached deeper.
He felt… nothing.
"Come on," he muttered, brows furrowed in frustration.
Still nothing.
His voice rose, cracking. "Why don't you work…?! Work!"
He screamed the last word, and the force of it echoed through the trees.
Then, the earth answered.
A tremor spread beneath his feet. Small, faint cracks opened in the ground around him, like something deep below had stirred. The leaves rustled. The branch he'd fallen from earlier creaked. Magic pulsed—but faintly, like an echo of something greater.
Rayden stood there, chest heaving, his face streaked with tears and sweat. His fists clenched again, harder this time.
Luis remained hidden, watching, his heart beating a little faster now—not out of fear, but something else.