Rainer's shadow fell over him. Do-Hun didn't know what to say. The obsidian shard was still warm in his pocket, humming faintly against his leg.
"Come on," Rainer said. "We have a lot to talk about."
Do-Hun followed him across the yard. The guards were still examining the cracked stones behind them. Cadets whispered as they passed, voices low but not low enough to hide the disgust. One of them spat on the ground after Do-Hun walked by.
They crossed into a quieter section of the campus, away from the main dormitories. The buildings here were older and smaller, with narrow windows and worn stone steps. Rainer stopped in front of a heavy door and pushed it open without knocking.
"Wait here," Rainer said.
Do-Hun stood in the hallway while Rainer disappeared inside. The corridor was dim, lit only by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. Dust swirled in the light. Do-Hun rubbed the crescent scar on his eyebrow and tried not to think about what was going to happen next.
Rainer returned a few minutes later and gestured for Do-Hun to follow him deeper into the building. They climbed a narrow staircase and emerged into a long hallway lined with closed doors. Each door had a number painted in faded white. Rainer stopped at number seven and unlocked it with a key from his belt.
"This is yours," Rainer said. He pushed the door open and stepped aside.
Do-Hun walked in slowly. The room was cramped. A narrow bed sat against one wall, barely wide enough for one person. A desk stood under a barred window, with a single lamp and nothing else. The floor was bare stone, cold even through his boots.
"Set your things down," Rainer said.
Do-Hun dropped his patched bag beside the desk. The room felt smaller with both of them inside. Rainer crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching him.
"You'll be staying here instead of the main dormitories," Rainer said. "Probationary students don't mix with the rest of the cadets."
Do-Hun nodded. He'd expected as much. The academy wasn't going to let him anywhere near the other students after what happened in the yard.
"There's a hearing tomorrow morning," Rainer continued. "The Headmaster wants to review the damage report and decide whether you're staying or going."
Do-Hun felt his stomach drop. "What do you think he'll decide?"
Rainer's expression didn't change. "Depends on what you say."
That wasn't reassuring. Do-Hun sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to think of something to ask, but Rainer was already stepping back into the hallway.
"Get some rest," Rainer said. "I'll come get you in the morning."
The door closed before Do-Hun could respond. He sat there for a moment, staring at the barred window. The courtyard was visible through the bars, still lit by torches. Guards were measuring the cracks in the flagstones with long ropes.
Do-Hun pulled the obsidian shard from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. The spiral sigil carved into the surface caught the lamplight and gleamed faintly. The hum had faded now, but the warmth was still there.
He set the shard on the desk and lay back on the bed. The mattress was thin and the blanket smelled like dust. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the voices from the courtyard kept echoing in his head.
"End him."
"Contain it."
"That was amazing!"
"Are you okay?"
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The voices had been so clear. Each one distinct, each one overlaying his vision in a different color. He didn't know what they were or why they'd appeared, but the memory of them made his chest feel tight.
Do-Hun rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket higher. The room was cold. He could hear footsteps in the hallway outside, slow and deliberate. Someone was walking past his door.
He didn't sleep.
Morning came too early. Do-Hun woke to the sound of boots on stone and Rainer's voice in the hallway.
"Get up. Hearing's in ten minutes."
Do-Hun dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his uniform. The patches on the sleeves looked worse in daylight. He splashed water on his face from a basin in the corner and tried to make himself look presentable.
Rainer was waiting in the hallway when Do-Hun stepped out. He looked Do-Hun over once, then turned and started walking.
"Follow me. Don't say anything unless you're asked a direct question."
They walked through the campus in silence. The main building loomed ahead, its marble arches catching the morning light. Rainer led him through a side entrance and up a wide staircase lined with portraits of past headmasters. Each one looked stern and unapproachable.
The hearing chamber was at the end of a long corridor. Rainer pushed open the double doors and stepped inside.
The room was ornate. High ceilings, carved wood paneling, and a long table set on a raised platform at the far end. Three faculty members sat flanking an empty chair in the center. Do-Hun recognized one of them as the proctor from yesterday's demonstration.
Headmaster Ludwig Arendt sat in the center chair. He was older than Do-Hun had expected, with white hair and a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. His robes were deep blue, trimmed with silver thread, and a sigil of the academy was embroidered on his chest.
Rainer guided Do-Hun to the center of the room, where a circle had been carved into the floor. Do-Hun stepped inside and stood still, hands at his sides.
The Headmaster picked up a sheet of paper and began reading aloud.
"Damage report from the central courtyard, dated yesterday evening. Seventeen flagstones cracked or destroyed. One resonance stone shattered beyond repair. One cadet injured, minor cuts from debris." He set the paper down and looked at Do-Hun. "Do you dispute any of these facts?"
Do-Hun shook his head. "No, sir."
The Headmaster leaned back in his chair. "Your abilities are listed as Black-grade, both unique, both marked as evolving. The registry notes that you have no formal training and no history of controlled manifestation."
Do-Hun didn't know what to say to that. It was all true.
One of the faculty members, a thin woman with sharp eyes, spoke up. "The manifestation in the courtyard was uncontrolled and dangerous. He could have killed someone."
Rainer stepped forward. "He saved someone. The younger applicant would have been hit by Kael's follow-through if Do-Hun hadn't intervened."
The thin woman frowned. "That's irrelevant. Uncontrolled power is a liability."
"So is incompetence," Rainer said. "Kael's swing was reckless. Do-Hun reacted to protect another student."
The Headmaster raised a hand, silencing them both. He turned back to Do-Hun.
"Can you control your abilities?"
Do-Hun hesitated. He wanted to say yes, but lying to the Headmaster seemed like a bad idea. "I don't know, sir. I've never used them before yesterday."
The Headmaster's expression didn't change. "Then you are a volatility risk."
Do-Hun felt his chest tighten. He knew where this was going.
"Under normal circumstances," the Headmaster continued, "you would be expelled immediately. However, Instructor Rainer has vouched for you and accepted liability for your supervision."
Do-Hun glanced at Rainer, who was standing with his arms crossed, face unreadable.
"You will be enrolled conditionally," the Headmaster said. "Probationary status. You will be housed separately from the main student body. You will undergo monthly evaluations to assess your control and progress. One more incident of this nature and you will be expelled without appeal. Do you understand?"
Do-Hun nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. I understand."
The Headmaster gestured toward the door. "Dismissed."
Rainer turned and walked out without waiting. Do-Hun followed, his legs feeling unsteady. The doors closed behind them with a heavy thud.
They walked back through the corridor in silence. Rainer didn't say anything until they were outside the main building.
"You got lucky," Rainer said.
Do-Hun nodded. "Thank you. For vouching for me."
Rainer stopped and turned to face him. "Don't thank me yet. You're my responsibility now. If you screw up again, it's my problem too."
Do-Hun looked down. "I'll do better."
"You'll have to."
Rainer started walking again, heading toward the probationary dormitory. Do-Hun followed, keeping a few steps behind.
When they reached the building, Rainer stopped outside the door and pulled Do-Hun into an empty training alcove nearby. The space was small, just a corner with stone walls and a low ceiling. Training equipment hung on racks along the walls-wooden swords, practice shields, leather straps.
Rainer stepped in front of Do-Hun and crossed his arms.
"Stand up straight."
Do-Hun straightened his back. Rainer reached out and adjusted his shoulders, pushing them back.
"You walk like you're apologizing for being here," Rainer said. "Stop it."
Do-Hun tried to hold the position, but it felt unnatural. Rainer moved around him, examining his posture from different angles.
"Drop your chin. Eyes forward, not down."
Do-Hun adjusted. Rainer grabbed his shoulders again and pushed them back further.
"This is what a defensive stance looks like," Rainer said. "Feet shoulder-width apart, weight centered, shoulders back. You hold this position, you broadcast strength. You slouch, you broadcast weakness."
Do-Hun tried to memorize the feeling. His muscles were already starting to ache.
"Hold it for two minutes," Rainer said. "Don't move."
Do-Hun stood still. Rainer circled him slowly, correcting every small shift in weight or flinch. The seconds dragged. Do-Hun's shoulders started to burn.
"Fear broadcasts weakness," Rainer said. "The academy is full of predators. They smell fear and they'll come after you. You want to survive here, you need to look like you're not worth the effort."
Do-Hun's legs were shaking now. Rainer didn't tell him to stop.
"Breathe," Rainer said. "Slow, steady. Don't let them see you sweat."
Do-Hun focused on his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The burning in his shoulders intensified.
"Good," Rainer said finally. "You can relax."
Do-Hun let his shoulders drop and nearly collapsed against the wall. Rainer handed him a canteen.
"Drink. You'll need it."
Do-Hun took a long gulp of water. It was cold and tasted faintly metallic.
"Training starts tomorrow morning," Rainer said. "You'll report to the practice yard at dawn. Don't be late."
Do-Hun nodded. Rainer turned and walked out of the alcove without another word.
Do-Hun stood there for a moment, catching his breath. His shoulders still ached. He could hear cadets walking past outside, their voices fading as they headed toward the main dormitories.
He stepped out of the alcove and made his way back to the probationary quarters. The hallway was empty now. Do-Hun unlocked his door and stepped inside.
Someone had slipped a note under the door while he was gone. Do-Hun picked it up and unfolded it carefully.
The handwriting was messy but familiar. Min-Soo.
Hey-heard you didn't get kicked out. Good. Academy food sucks, by the way. You're not missing much. Stay safe.
Do-Hun set the note on the desk beside the obsidian shard and sat down on the edge of the bed. He stared at both objects in silence, rubbing the crescent scar on his eyebrow.
The note was short, but it helped. Knowing Min-Soo was thinking about him made the room feel a little less empty.
Do-Hun pulled out a piece of rough paper from his bag and a pen that was running low on ink. He started drafting a letter home to his parents.
The dormitory is small but clean. I'm studying hard. The instructors are strict but fair.
He paused, staring at the words. None of it was a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. He didn't mention the hearing or the probation. He didn't mention the cracked courtyard or the voices that had appeared in his head.
Halfway through, he crumpled the page and started again.
I'm studying hard.
That was all he wrote. He set the pen down and stared at the sentence. It felt hollow, but he didn't know what else to say.
Do-Hun folded the paper and set it aside. He'd finish it later. Maybe.
Elsewhere on campus, in a sterile records office tucked into the basement of the main building, a junior registrar sat at a terminal entering student data. The room was small and windowless, lit only by the glow of the screen.
The registrar typed Do-Hun's name into the academy terminal under routine filing. The system processed the entry for a moment, then flagged his profile with a red border.
A new file auto-generated on the screen.
Unregistered Unique Signatures-Priority Monitor.
The registrar frowned and leaned closer. Unique signatures were rare. Evolving unique signatures were even rarer. The system had flagged Do-Hun's profile automatically, which meant someone higher up wanted to be notified.
The registrar hesitated, then forwarded the alert to an unmarked internal address. The screen blinked once, confirming receipt, then returned to the main registry interface.
The registrar closed the file and moved on to the next entry.
The next morning, Do-Hun reported to a walled practice yard on the far side of campus. The yard was smaller than the central courtyard, surrounded by high stone walls that blocked the wind. A group of five probationary cadets were already standing in a loose line, each wearing similar patched uniforms.
Professor Elise stood at the front of the yard, flanked by two assistants. She was younger than Do-Hun had expected, with sharp eyes and ink-stained fingers. She held a clipboard in one hand and a leather strap in the other.
"Line up," she said.
Do-Hun joined the line. The other cadets didn't look at him.
Professor Elise walked down the line slowly, examining each student. When she reached Do-Hun, she stopped and looked him over.
"You're the one from the courtyard," she said.
Do-Hun nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
She handed him the leather strap. It was etched with faint runes that glowed faintly when he touched it.
"Put this on. Forearms and chest."
Do-Hun strapped the leather bands around his forearms first, pulling them tight. The runes hummed faintly, vibrating against his skin. He fastened the chest strap next, adjusting it until it sat snug under his uniform.
Professor Elise nodded and moved on to the next cadet.
When everyone was fitted, she stepped back and addressed the group.
"These are dampening straps. They suppress uncontrolled ability manifestations. You'll wear them during all training sessions until you demonstrate sufficient control."
Do-Hun shifted his weight. The straps felt tight, almost constricting.
"Basic sword forms," Professor Elise continued. "Follow the instructor's lead. If you lose focus, the straps will respond."
One of the assistants stepped forward and demonstrated the first form. It was a simple overhead block, slow and deliberate. The cadets mimicked the movement, repeating it over and over.
Do-Hun tried to focus, but the dampening straps made it hard to concentrate. Every time his frustration spiked, the straps constricted painfully, squeezing his forearms and chest.
"Again," the instructor barked.
Do-Hun reset his stance and repeated the form. His arms were already starting to ache.
During partner drills, Do-Hun was paired with a cadet who refused to make eye contact. The cadet moved through the forms mechanically, never acknowledging Do-Hun's presence.
Do-Hun attempted a block and the dampener straps flared. Chord-like lines rippled beneath the leather, glowing faintly. A voice snapped in his head.
"Hit."
The word appeared in red text, overlaying his vision for just a second. Do-Hun stumbled mid-form, breaking rhythm.
The instructor stopped and pointed at him.
"Again. Alone this time."
Do-Hun stepped forward while the other cadets watched. He reset his stance, trying to ignore the stares. The dampener straps hummed against his skin.
As he moved through the form, another voice murmured in his head.
"Wait."
The word was blue this time, calm and detached. Do-Hun paused for a fraction of a second, then continued the form.
The instructor didn't comment. He just nodded and waved Do-Hun back into line.
After the session, Professor Elise dismissed the group but signaled Do-Hun to remain. The other cadets filed out of the yard, leaving Do-Hun alone with the professor and her assistants.
Professor Elise reached into her coat and produced a glass vial. Inside was the obsidian shard from the courtyard, now sealed and labeled.
"Where did you find this?" she asked.
Do-Hun hesitated. "In the rubble. After the resonance stone broke."
Professor Elise turned the vial over in her hands, studying the spiral sigil carved into the shard.
"Did you touch it?"
"Yes."
"Did it react?"
Do-Hun thought back to the warmth and the hum. "It felt warm."
Professor Elise made no comment. She pulled out a small notebook and sketched the spiral symbol onto a blank page, adding notes in shorthand that Do-Hun couldn't read.
"Report to the lab next week," she said. "We'll run a signature scan."
Do-Hun nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Professor Elise waved him away. Do-Hun turned and left the yard, the dampener straps still wrapped around his forearms.
Do-Hun returned to his dorm and found another note slipped under the door. He picked it up and unfolded it carefully.
It was from Min-Soo again, written on torn parchment.
Heard you're still alive. Good sign. Keep your head down. Food still sucks.
Do-Hun set the note on the desk beside the first one and the obsidian shard. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at all three objects in silence, rubbing the crescent scar on his eyebrow.
He pulled out the rough paper again and looked at the single sentence he'd written.
I'm studying hard.
He picked up the pen and set it down again without writing anything more.
Late that night, Do-Hun lay awake in the narrow bed, listening to footsteps echo in the hallway outside. Shadows from the barred window stretched across the wall, shifting as torches flickered in the courtyard below.
He pulled the blanket higher and closed his eyes, but the faint hum of the dampener straps still wrapped around his forearms kept him from sleep.
In Professor Elise's private lab, she placed the vial containing the obsidian shard beneath a resonance scanner. The device hummed to life, projecting a spiral sigil in blue light that rotated slowly above the shard.
Elise sketched the pattern onto a larger chart pinned to the wall. The chart was covered with notes and diagrams of ability evolution triggers, each one annotated in her precise handwriting.
She circled Do-Hun's name at the center and added a question mark beside it.
The academy registry terminal in the records office updated overnight. Do-Hun's file now appeared on a secure watchlist accessible only to senior faculty and external contacts.
The screen blinked once as an encrypted message confirmed receipt by an unknown recipient, and the terminal locked itself.