The quiet of his private room offered no real comfort. Iver closed the heavy oak door and stood in the dim twilight, the residual chill of the Headmaster’s presence still clinging to his skin. A faint shiver ran down his spine.
A Tier 5.
He pulled out a chair and sat, staring at his palms. Her words replayed in his mind: Stop treating it as an external tool. Treat it as yourself. It is you.
"Have I been going about this all wrong?" he murmured to the empty room.
Since coming to this world, he had treated his spirit animal as a weapon, a chance handed to him so he could climb. A mechanism for copying abilities. But if Myrra was right, if it wasn’t a partner or an artifact but an intrinsic piece of his own soul...
He crossed his legs on the floor, closed his eyes, and circulated his spirit energy inward, reaching for the cold, dormant presence in his core. He tried to merge his consciousness with it, to break down the wall between them and accept it completely as himself.
An hour passed in perfect stillness. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but the barrier stayed as solid as ever. The chasm to Tier 3 didn’t shrink by an inch.
He opened his eyes and wiped his brow. As expected. Spirit Manifestation isn’t something a single realization unlocks overnight.
Knock. Knock.
His body went rigid, his right hand twitching toward his waist before he caught himself.
’The Headmaster again? She said we’d meet again soon.’
He moved carefully to the door, drew the bolt, and pulled it open.
Ciel stood in the hallway, the dim light sharpening her features. A playful, subtle smile curved her lips as she leaned against the frame.
"Aren’t you going to invite your girlfriend in?" she asked lightly.
She walked in smoothly, taking in the sparse, orderly room, and tossed a small velvet pouch to him. He caught it. The heavy clink inside confirmed its contents: this week’s monster cores.
"Gideon hasn’t bothered me since," Ciel said, crossing her arms as he checked the pouch. "He’s gone completely soft, and unusually quiet around Class S. I’m glad I made this deal with you."
"Don’t worry about it." He set the pouch on the desk. "It’s just business."
Ciel pouted. "You know, you’re the first guy who’d react so coldly and practically, even for a fake relationship. Aren’t you even a little happy to have a cute girl pretending to be your girlfriend?"
He looked at her, completely unbothered. "If you’re done, you can leave. I have things to do."
Ciel blinked, then let out a quiet, dramatic sigh. "How cold. But understandable, I suppose." She turned to the door and paused on the threshold. "Eat lunch with me tomorrow, okay? Goodnight, Ares."
"Goodnight," he said flatly, and shut the door the moment she cleared it.
He latched it, walked back to the center of the room, and sat cross legged again. He pulled Ciel’s pouch close, feeling the potent energy radiating from the cores.
No matter what the Headmaster saw, no matter what fate awaits this world, I need Tier 3. Sooner.
...
High above the central courtyard, the night breeze stirred the sheer curtains of the Headmaster’s balcony. Myrra stood with her arms on the stone railing, idly stroking the sleek black fur of a cat purring in the crook of her arm. Her milky white eyes were fixed on the distant lights of the cadet dormitories.
Without a sound, a shadow detached itself from the wall behind her. A masked figure knelt on one knee and held out a sealed leather scroll.
"Leave it," Myrra said softly, without turning. The source of this chapter is g.com.
The operative set the scroll on the tea table and vanished into the night as silently as they had come.
Myrra broke the wax seal with a subtle flicker of her own energy and unrolled the parchment. Her white eyes scanned the report from her personal network.
It traced every known record of a boy named Ares, and the trail stopped abruptly two years ago. It recorded his sudden rise in Nilheim at age ten, his alias Pyre, his rapid climb to Tier 2, and his employment under House Zephra. Before age ten, the file was a blank.
A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. After decades of maneuvering through the highest ranks of noble society, it took only seconds to connect the missing pieces.
She knew the secret of House Vorne’s disgraced line well: the scandal surrounding the late Lady Mary. She remembered the official announcement the main family had made exactly two years ago, declaring the banished child with the worthless spirit dead in the wilderness.
A boy with black hair and sharp red eyes, appearing in Nilheim just a month after House Vorne announced the banished child’s death.
"Did they misjudge his spirit animal?" Myrra murmured to the night, scratching behind the cat’s ears. "Or did something far more impossible occur?"
To escape a predetermined fate. To overwrite one’s own thread and reappear as an anomaly.
"Fascinating," she whispered, her eyes drifting back toward the dorms. "I’ll need to keep a close eye on him. Perhaps he truly is the change this world..."
She stopped, and let out a soft, self-deprecating sigh.
"Ah. What am I even thinking?"
With a casual flick of her wrist, a pale, silent flame ignited on the parchment. The leather and ink turned to ash in seconds, scattering on the night wind. Myrra turned and stepped back into the quiet warmth of her office.