The morning after the Aptitude Test, Ravenwood Academy felt different.
Or maybe it was Kura who had changed.
The air around him buzzed with whispers he couldn't quite catch. Students moved in bright clusters, giddy with their newly awakened affinities. Some bragged that they would breeze through the Physical Examination; others whispered that they might die in the arena — a rumor that was, unfortunately, not entirely exaggerated.
Kura walked quietly, hands shoved into his pockets, letting the chatter flow past him. Students noticed him — they always did now — but nobody dared come close. Being the boy who manifested three elemental affinities overnight made him either a prodigy or a ticking bomb.
Neither label felt comforting.
He stopped beneath a stone archway at the edge of the grounds and exhaled, massaging his temples as he tried to make sense of the storm in his head.
The crystal.
The explosion of light.
The swirling elements.
The book.
The eighth symbol.
"What the hell was that…?" he muttered.
He had no answer. Worse, he had no one he trusted enough to ask.
Someone's shadow stretched beside him.
"You're breathing too hard," Laila Frost said, dropping down beside him with casual ease. "Universal sign of overthinking."
Kura straightened a little. Somehow, her presence always made him feel less like he was drowning.
"Morning," he said.
"You look like death."
"Wow. Your kindness is overwhelming."
She smirked. "You disappeared after the exam. Thought you might've passed out again."
He almost told her — about the visions, about the living crystal, about the symbol no one else saw — but the words tangled in his throat.
"I'm just… tired," he said.
"Tired doesn't make someone look like they saw a ghost," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You're hiding something."
Kura tensed.
Laila leaned closer, voice low and firm. "If you want my help for the Physical Exam, you need to be honest. That exam breaks people, Kura. You can't walk in blind."
He swallowed. "Can we train together today? Just… today."
"Of course," she said without hesitation. "I promised, didn't I?"
Relief flooded through him—
Until a shout sliced through the air like a badly aimed fireball.
"FROST!"
A tall boy marched toward them, flames popping casually across his knuckles. His advanced-rank uniform gleamed. His ego gleamed even brighter.
"Don't make me call twice," he barked. "Professor wants all dual- and triple-affinities up top."
Laila didn't move. "I'll go when I'm ready."
"You're trouble," he grumbled. "Always have been."
"And you're loud," she replied. "Always have been."
Kura bit back a laugh.
The fire boy turned his glare on him. "New kid. Don't get too cozy with Frost. She doesn't babysit weaklings."
Something about Laila sharpened. "Say that again."
He shut up immediately.
Kura blinked. "What was that about?"
"He's had a crush on me for three years," Laila said. "I don't return it."
"Seriously?!"
She shrugged. "People react strangely to rejection."
"That wasn't strange. That was deranged."
"Same difference."
For a moment, things felt normal.
Then she stood. "Briefing time. You good here?"
"Yeah. I'm not that fragile."
"You fainted for two weeks."
"That was ONE time."
She sighed and walked off, leaving the training grounds suddenly colder.
Kura leaned back against the pillar and closed his eyes—
And felt it.
A presence. Not physical. Not human. But familiar in a way that made his skin crawl.
He snapped upright. "Who's there?"
The wind brushed his neck like fingers.
Then a voice — distant, breath-soft, everywhere at once.
"You woke up too early…"
Kura's blood ran cold.
He spun, searching the empty yard.
Nothing.
A soft fwip drew his eyes downward. A single slip of paper drifted to the ground.
He picked it up.
Blank.
Then ink spread across it like veins filling with darkness:
"Seek the Library of Roots."
"Before they find you."
The page crumbled into dust between his fingers.
And footsteps approached behind him.
The professor stepped into view, hands neatly clasped behind his back.
"Enjoying your morning, Shinjō Kura?"
Kura swallowed. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit," the professor mused. "Especially for someone with such… unique results."
Kura's heart thudded. "You… noticed?"
"Of course. Crystals do not typically attempt to blind an entire hall."
The professor stepped closer. Kura stepped back.
"You will not train with the others today."
Kura's pulse spiked. "Why not?"
"I've been instructed to observe you personally."
"Observe… me?"
"You didn't expect a triple-element freshman to simply blend in, did you? Follow me."
He had no choice.
They descended into corridors Kura had never seen, lined with pale roots embedded in the stone — glowing faintly like they were alive.
"The academy," the professor said, "is often misunderstood."
"How?"
"Students believe it exists to teach."
He turned down a darker hallway.
"It does not."
Kura's stomach tightened.
They stopped at a heavy metal door carved with runes. The professor touched it; sigils flared awake.
The lock clicked.
"Inside."
The room beyond was circular and wrong. Mirrors. Runes. Floating crystals that hummed with an eerie, medical rhythm.
A containment chamber.
"Step inside," the professor ordered.
Kura didn't move.
"I won't repeat myself."
He forced his foot forward—
"KURA!"
Laila burst around the corner, frost exploding beneath her boots. Two other students — the dual-affinity girl and a tall Life-user — followed, pale and frantic.
"What are you doing here?" the professor snapped.
"Briefing ended early," Laila said sharply. "They said you took Kura for private training."
"And?"
"And I'm joining."
"This is a special case."
"Then I'm a special exception."
Ice crackled across the floor.
A long, quiet stare passed between them.
Then the professor smiled thinly. Too thinly.
"Very well. All of you."
The others blanched.
Laila grabbed Kura's wrist, pulling him away from the chamber's open maw.
"We're training outside," she said coldly. "Not in your dungeon."
"You're overstepping, Frost."
"And you're scaring first-years."
The professor's expression curdled — then smoothed back to neutrality.
"Do as you wish," he said. "The academy always watches."
He turned and walked away.
The moment he rounded the corner, the mask on his face cracked.
Three affinities?
No. That boy is lying.
Crystals do not misfire. They do not erupt with light strong enough to blind a room for a mere triple affinity.
His boots echoed through the dim hall.
The readings spiked too sharply… as if something enormous was being suppressed.
If he possesses more than three…
If he has four…
He stopped walking.
Four was the mortal limit.
Anything beyond that meant ascension into something else entirely.
A faint, hungry smile crept across his lips.
Then the academy has a problem.
Or a remarkable opportunity.
"If I had taken him into the examination chamber alone," he murmured,
"and if he truly possessed more than three…"
His smile sharpened.
"…I would've loved to open him up myself."
Not out of cruelty.
Out of academic curiosity.
Element-Opening Potions.
Forbidden alchemy.
Extracting an elemental affinity from a living multi-element caster — killing them — to distill their power into a single, priceless potion.
Even one stolen affinity would be worth the corpse it came from.
He exhaled, straightened his coat, and locked away his thoughts.
"But not yet," he whispered. "Not until I'm sure."
The mask slid back into place.
He walked on.
Back in the open air, the leaves rustled with a cold, deliberate wind.
A whisper threaded through it, brushing Kura's ear.
"The Library of Roots… before they find you."
He shivered.
The academy wasn't the only thing watching him.
Something older was, too.
And time — whatever time he had — was already running out.