Life didn't pause for world-healing.
That was the particular cruelty and gift of existing in a world with institutions — the academy continued. Classes continued. Rankings continued. The three thousand students who didn't know about the cure protocol attended lectures and practiced techniques and navigated the social hierarchy with the same intensity they'd brought before a tournament team had healed a weapon on continental broadcast and their resident villain had become an international figure.
The duality was disorienting. At 8 AM, I attended Aether Theory with Professor Arconis, taking notes on elemental conversion rates. At 10 PM, I descended to the antechamber of the oldest consciousness in the world and spent forty minutes purifying corrupted energy through a formation that the founding coalition hadn't possessed.
Student by day. Healer by night.
