My stomach growled.
I'd been wandering for twenty minutes and was no closer to finding the dining hall. The Hub stretched ahead of me, wide corridors branching off in all directions. Light from floating wisps flickered along the walls, casting everything in a restless azure glow. The polished marble floor reflected my boots as I walked, and floating sigils drifted past overhead like lazy fish.
Every hallway looked important. Every hallway also looked identical.
"Goddamnit." I clutched my stomach
It was my first time inside, but I was sure I was circling, turning corners based on nothing but guesswork. A lecture hall sat open to my left, but when I peeked inside, there were just rows of empty seats descending toward a raised platform, with a blackboard at the back.
"Lectures probably don't start till tomorrow." I shook my head and turned back to walk down another corridor that led to doors marked with ward-lines that pulsed faintly red.
Two second-years brushed past me while shooting a curious glance. They moved with urgency, disappearing around the corner before I could even think to ask for directions.
I muttered under my breath and turned left, then right, then left again.
I was looking up at the banners overhead, trying to find any signs that possibly indicated where I was, when I walked straight into what felt like a stone wall.
The impact sent me stumbling backwards. For a second, I thought I'd hit a pillar, but then the wall turned around.
Ilgar Silex looked down at me, long black hair falling against his uniform. His dark eyes measured me with raised brows. Behind him stood a girl with a first-year uniform. She was built sturdy, with white hair pulled back in a top knot, and a decorative antler bow slung over her shoulders.
Ilgar frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes.
"You are?"
"Noah Reed."
"Reed." He nodded once, filing it away.
Before I could say anything, my stomach let out a long, ugly growl that echoed off the marble walls.
The girl winced, rubbing the back of her ears.
Ilgar glanced at me, then at her, and something shifted in his face, as if an idea had taken root. "Both of you follow me."
He turned and started walking without waiting for an answer.
-
The cafeteria hit me with warmth and the smell of real food.
Ilgar led us through tall arched doors, and I stopped short. The space was enormous, with vaulted ceilings that disappeared into shadow, long rows of tables stretching the length of the hall. Hundreds of students sat scattered across them, the noise of their voices bouncing off stone walls. Servers moved behind a counter laden with steaming trays, ladling food onto plates with practised efficiency.
It seemed exactly like one would expect from a military mess hall. The same industrial setup, the same rhythm of movement, the same smell of bulk cooking that somehow still managed to be appetising.
Even the servers had that same tired competence.
The three of us grabbed trays and moved through the serving line. I watched food appear on my plate—thick slices of roasted meat, dark and glossy with sauce, vegetables that actually looked like they'd been seasoned.
Real food.
My mouth started watering before I'd even found a seat.
We settled at a table near the edge of the crowd, away from the loudest groups of upperclassmen. I set my tray down and just stared at my plate for a moment. The steam rose from the meat, carrying the smell of herbs and spices. My stomach clenched with anticipation. It had been too long since I'd eaten anything but bread or soup.
My hands were steady as I picked up the fork, but I had to force myself not to attack the food. Instead, I flicked my eyes up at Ilgar in anticipation.
Ilgar was fiddling with his own fork, seemingly in no hurry. He caught my look and gestured toward my plate with a slight nod. "Go ahead."
I didn't hesitate. The first bite was perfect, with real flavour and actual seasoning; the meat was tender enough to cut with a fork. I tore into it with more speed than dignity, barely pausing to chew. The sauce had a richness I'd almost forgotten existed, and the vegetables were cooked just right.
Ilgar watched me eat with quiet interest, his own fork moving at half my speed. There was no judgment in his gaze, just observation. He didn't say anything, didn't rush, just let me eat while he took slower, more deliberate bites.
When I finally paused, he gave me a faint, knowing look and gestured to the girl beside him.
"This is Sara Keene, Northern intake. Got held up by some circumstances and missed the opening ceremony. She'll be joining your batch."
The name hit me like a punch. I choked, coughed once, and forced the food down.
Sara Keene.
'The Northern Sentry.'
"Nice to meet you," Sara bowed slightly.
I managed a nod and took another bite.
Ilgar leaned back, looking between us with the expression of someone working through a problem.
"Reed", he said slowly, "I assume you've had time to look around."
I paused mid-chew. Something in his tone made me careful. "Maybe. Why?"
"Keene needs someone to show her around. I was going to handle it, but..." He put down his fork and tapped the table with his finger. "I've got some personal tasks lined up. "
Sara looked between us, waiting.
"Look, I'm not really the best person for that. I don't know my way around that well myself, and—"
"Good." Ilgar stood up and put a hand on my shoulder with a tight squeeze.
It felt like something made of iron had gripped me, as if a cold metal hand had pressed down through the fabric of my jacket. The pressure lasted only a moment, but it left an impression that lingered even after he'd pulled away.
"Dormitories first, then whatever else she needs to see."
He walked away before I could say anything else, disappearing into the crowd.
I sat there with my half-eaten plate, rolling my shoulder where his hand had been.
Sara took a sip of water. "He's pretty playful."
"Huh?" I raised a brow, my eyes flicked down to the half-eaten plate of food, while I rubbed my shoulder.
"Didn't you hear him laugh?" Sara tilted her head, genuinely curious. There was something almost fond in her expression, like she'd witnessed an endearing moment of roughhousing between friends.
I stared at her. "That was... playful?"
'Was the culture in the North that different from what I knew? Then again, for a society at war, that kinda treatment could only be classified as playful.'
I scrutinised the conduct that was expected of first-years towards their seniors. It didn't seem any different from a nominal social setting. One had to respect his elders, in a sense. Or rather, in this context, their senior officers?
She shrugged, "He seemed amused by the whole thing. You didn't catch it?"
"All I caught was the task to show you around." I sighed.
"That...is also true." She scratched her head and sheepishly went back to eating.
I did the same, trying to savour my last few bites of meat.
-
We left the cafeteria behind and cut across the main walkway; the stone underfoot was mostly clear of snow, but by noon, a thin layer of it had already collected on the grounds.
The air was getting colder, and I could already feel the chill through the soles of my boots.
I walked Sara straight towards the dormitories, though I made sure to point out the different pathways and where they led to.
But she wasn't much for chatter. She didn't gasp at the towers or slow down to stare at the banners. Her eyes did a steady sweep every few steps, taking in corners, distances, entrances, and exits.
I pointed toward the dorm blocks ahead. "Our batch is split across both buildings. You'll find your room number shown on your band."
She lifted her wrist and glanced down.
"Building two, room ten."
"Alright." I walked her to the building's entrance. "Your room's door opens with your band. Just put your stuff down, and I'll walk you through the rest of the faculties."
She paused on the threshold and turned back to me.
"You don't need to bother," she said.
I blinked. "What?"
"You guided me here." Her tone stayed polite and even, but it wasn't timid. "That's enough."
"It's fine, it's not really that big a problem," I replied.
She gave a small nod that didn't invite further discussion.
I sighed. "Still. You should walk the route with me once. It is kinda easy to get lost around here."
Her gaze drifted past me toward the main campus silhouette, then to the far lines of the Academy grounds, then returned.
"I won't, thank you for guiding me here," she said.
I exhaled slowly and let it go.
A flicker of something passed through her eyes. It might have been amusement. It might have been an acknowledgement. She lifted her hand in a brief wave and stepped inside. The door shut behind her with another soft click.
I stood there for a moment, hands on my hips, watching first years weave between buildings. My stomach was warm and heavy from the meal, and the edge of urgency that had carried me through the day finally loosened.
I headed back to my own room.
The room smelled faintly of soap and new wood. My bed was still neatly made in the way it had been when I left. Nico's side looked untouched, the bedding pulled tight, his things arranged with the same careful precision as earlier.
'He didn't come back?'
I took off my jacket, grabbed a spare set of clothes and entered the bathroom.
For some reason or another, I was quite excited to try out the shower. I hadn't exactly had the luxury to take one. Even at Marin's place, the most I could do was use a bucket full of water.
It was times like those that reminded me how truly vexing it was to not have modern conveniences.
The shower was still warm from the wards in the pipes. Steam fogged the mirror almost instantly. I stood under the water longer than I meant to, letting heat run over my shoulders until the day stopped feeling like it had its claws in me. When I stepped out, my skin was red, and my head felt lighter, as if the warm water had rinsed away the last bit of exhaustion from the day.
I changed into my spare clothes, folded my uniform, and lay down with the intention of closing my eyes for a few minutes.
A nap couldn't hurt.
-
The next thing I knew, the room wasn't bright anymore.
I sat up, thoroughly confused and lightheaded. My eyes slowly drifted to the window, but it was dark enough that the glass reflected the room at me, faint and warped.
I blinked a few times, trying to make my brain line up with reality.
How long had I been out? An hour. Two. More?
I could only guess that I was more exhausted than I had first thought. The only possible explanation was that the mana practice had taken an invisible toll on me.
Sleep still clung to my thoughts like fog. It was night. That was all I could say with any confidence.
I looked to my left, and Nico's bed was still untouched.
'Did he stay out all day?'
I pulled on my outer uniform jacket and stepped out into the corridor.
It was quiet.
No voices. Just the soft hum in the walls, wards doing their job, and the occasional distant footfall from somewhere above.
Outside, the dorm courtyard was broken into pools of pale light and hard shadow. Faint magical lamps flittered overhead, projecting a pearly white glow, leaving the spaces between them darker than they should have been. Snow glittered where the light touched it, then vanished into black.
I walked out into one of the lit patches and inhaled cold air until I felt the gelid chill in my lungs.
That was when I heard it.
A thin whipping sound, like air being cut repeatedly. Not wind. Not cloth flapping. Something moving fast, steady enough to form a rhythm.
I turned toward the far side of the courtyard.
A figure moved near the wall, mostly swallowed by shadow. Every so often, the blade caught lamplight and flashed, then disappeared again.
Once. Twice. Three.
The cadence tightened, and the movement shifted into something familiar.
Seven thrusts.
Fast, light, each one stopping clean before the next took over. The seventh ended slightly off, the balance not quite settling, but the basic form was there.
I started carefully walking toward it. Snow crunched softly under my boots, quiet enough that it didn't carry far, but the figure still reacted when I got close. He finished the sequence and reset. Another seven. Faster this time. The blade wavered on recovery, correcting a fraction too late.
The lamplight finally caught his face.
Kai Ashcroft.
Damp hair stuck to his forehead. Sweat traced along his jawline. His breath came out in controlled bursts of mist.
"Kai?"
He flinched hard enough that the sword lifted on reflex. His head snapped around, eyes widening as he searched the shadows. When he saw it was only me, the blade lowered, but his posture stayed tight.
He stared for a second, then his lips pressed together as he tried to find the words to speak. There was a brief pause till he finally spoke,
"Sorry."
The apology was clipped, almost reluctant, like he'd offered it because he thought it was required.
I frowned. "For what?"
Kai's gaze dropped to the sword, then flicked up to my face and away again. "Copying your technique."
I stared at him with raised brows, then exhaled slowly. "I don't really mind."
"Have you been working on it since the test?" I asked. "The last few weeks?"
Kai shook his head.
"No."
He hesitated, then added, quieter, "Today."
My mouth opened before I could stop it. "Today?"
He nodded once.
The courtyard lights hummed softly.
'He watched me perform it once a few weeks ago and was able to replicate it to such a high degree? His talent definitely wasn't over exaggerated.'
Kai's eyes flicked to my face again, uncertain.
"You really don't mind?" he asked.
I blinked at him. "Why would I?"
His gaze dropped. He scuffed the snow once with his boot, a restless movement that didn't match the confidence he'd shown while practising his moves.
"People usually don't share their techniques," he said.
It came out flat, almost like a warning he'd memorised.
'Was that the cultural tendency in this world?' I scratched my head, but couldn't really recall such a setting in the lore.
I watched him for a second, then nodded toward the sword. "Well, that technique doesn't really suit you."
Kai's shoulders tightened.
"It's fine, I won't be doing it again," he said, voice low.
I could tell immediately that despite my agreement, he'd taken my words the wrong way.
"Not what I meant," I replied, keeping my tone even. "You're trying to use a spear technique on a sword. Of course its not well-suited."
Kai held still, eyes on the blade, then glanced up. "You're really not angry?"
"As I said, I'm not," I said.
He looked like he didn't know what to do with that.
'Whatever he's gone through probably shaped his actions this way. Then again, in a war-torn society, maybe people were more defensive about techniques than I thought.'
The lamplight caught his eyes, and I could see the hesitation that lingered beneath them.
Kai pursed his lips again, tried to think, then asked, carefully, "So… you really don't care if I learn it?"
"I only care that you try not to hurt yourself while copying it for the wrong purposes."
He stared at me, then gave the smallest nod.
I stepped a little closer, stopping just outside the range of his motion.
"Since you're already trying it, might as well see how good you've gotten", I said, nodding toward his stance. "Do it again."
Kai didn't answer. He set his feet, lifted the sword, and his shoulders tightened into readiness.