The academy slowed after dusk.
Kayden took the long route back.
He hadn't planned to. His feet simply moved where his mind didn't want to go—away from the dorms, away from the noise, away from Rayden's constant energy and the unspoken questions lingering behind Liora's calm gaze.
The eastern corridor was mostly abandoned at this hour.
Old sparring rings lined the path, their surfaces cracked and repaired too many times to count. Sealed training halls stood dark, rune-markings dormant, their doors bearing scars from generations of reckless cultivators.
Kayden slowed his pace.
Something felt… delayed.
Not wrong.
Just off.
Like a sound that should've echoed—but didn't.
"Walking off tension?"
The voice came from behind him.
Kayden stopped.
He didn't spin around. Didn't tense his shoulders. He simply let the presence register, letting instinct settle before reacting.
Primyte stepped out from between two stone pillars.
No dramatic entrance. No aura flaring to announce authority.
Hands tucked into his coat pockets, posture relaxed, eyes sharp in a way that never softened even when his tone did.
"I didn't hear you approach," Kayden said calmly.
Primyte's lips curved faintly. "That's not unusual."
Kayden turned to face him. "Is something wrong?"
The question sounded casual.
Primyte knew better.
He studied Kayden in silence, not rushing to speak. Not probing with pressure. Just watching—the way a hunter watched wind through tall grass, not for movement, but for absence.
"How do you feel after today's training?" Primyte asked.
The question was simple.
That was what made it dangerous.
Kayden took a breath. "Normal. Tired.
Nothing unusual."
Primyte nodded once. "No headaches?"
"No."
"No pressure behind the eyes?"
Kayden shook his head. "No."
"No moments where your body reacted before you decided to move?"
Kayden met his gaze steadily. "No."
Another pause.
Primyte wasn't listening to the answers.
He was listening to the spaces between them.
The corridor felt narrower somehow. Not physically—but atmospherically. Like the academy itself leaned closer, curious.
"The academy will change its rhythm soon," Primyte said at last.
Kayden frowned slightly. "Change how?"
"More eyes," Primyte replied. "More attention. Less tolerance for inconsistency."
"That sounds like a warning."
"It's information," Primyte corrected.
"Warnings come with threats."
"And this doesn't?"
Primyte's gaze softened—barely. "Only if ignored."
Kayden felt it then.
Not fear.
Expectation.
"You're telling me to be careful," Kayden said.
"I'm telling you," Primyte replied evenly, "that control will matter more than growth. And restraint more than results."
Kayden hesitated. "Is this about me?"
Primyte didn't answer immediately.
"When the current changes," he said instead, "the fish that swims calmly is less likely to be noticed than the one that fights it."
Kayden exhaled slowly. "You speak in riddles."
"I speak in survival."
Silence stretched again.
The System remained quiet.
Not absent.
Intentional.
Primyte turned first. "Where are your teammates?" Primyte asked casually.
"You're alone a lot."
Kayden hesitated. The question shouldn't have mattered—but it did. For a brief moment, he felt exposed, like he'd been caught doing something wrong without knowing why.
"It's normal," Kayden replied after a pause. "I just… prefer being alone sometimes."
Primyte studied him, unreadable.
Kayden added quietly, "But I don't avoid them. I stay with them when it matters."
A faint smile touched Primyte's lips. "Good."
He turned away, voice drifting back.
"Being alone isn't suspicious. Making it a habit is."
Kayden watched him go, the words lingering longer than they should have.
Kayden watched him walk away, unease curling low in his chest.
For the first time, Kayden wondered—
Not how much Primyte knew.
But how much he was choosing not to say.
The bells rang moments later.
Clear. Deep. Impossible to ignore.
Students poured into the central grounds, summoned by sound and instinct alike.
Rayden nearly collided with Kayden as he jogged up, lightning energy faintly crackling along his fingers.
"You hear that?" Rayden grinned. "That's not a punishment bell."
Kayden gave a small smile. "You sound excited."
"Obviously. Big bells mean big news."
Liora arrived beside them, steps calm, eyes already scanning the crowd. "It's an announcement. And not a small one."
Instructor Halden Voss stood at the center of the grounds.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Expression carved from stone.
The moment he raised his hand, the noise died.
"Every year," Halden began, his voice carrying without effort, "Starcrest Academy participates in the Inter-Academy Competition."
A ripple spread through the first-years.
Excitement surged—followed quickly by unease.
Rayden scratched his head and frowned.
"So… what exactly is this competition?"
A nearby student glanced at him, then raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't your leader tell you?" he said.
"Competitions like this happen every year."
Rayden let out a short, mocking laugh, "ohh our leader".
"Yeah? And when was that supposed to happen—between getting thrown around and not dying?"
He turned, ready to add more—
And froze.
Primyte was standing right in front of him.
Rayden's grin vanished instantly. His mouth snapped shut, posture straightening so fast it almost looked painful.
Primyte met his gaze, unimpressed.
Silence.
Rayden swallowed.
"…I was just asking," he muttered.
Primyte said nothing.
Which somehow felt worse.
Liora didn't respond.
"This competition exists," Halden continued, "to measure growth under pressure. Not raw strength. Not flashy techniques."
Several students shifted uncomfortably.
"It evaluates adaptability," Halden said.
"Team coordination. Judgment."
Rayden muttered, "I've got judgment."
Liora elbowed him.
"This event is public," Halden went on. "Observed by allied academies, sponsors, external examiners."
Kayden felt the word external settle like weight.
"Participation will be mandatory," Halden added. "Selection will be ongoing."
Marek's jaw tightened. Kira gripped her staff. Tomas straightened, eyes burning with resolve.
Kayden didn't move.
"This competition is held every year," Halden said, "to remind you that talent without discipline is noise."
A pause.
"And noise attracts consequences."
A few nervous laughs followed—thin, uncertain.
"The competition is not about glory," Halden concluded. "Those who treat it as such will fail."
Rayden frowned. "That felt personal."
"It was," Halden replied flatly.
The bell rang again.
Dismissal.
The crowd erupted into conversation as soon as Halden stepped back. Speculation. Plans. Rivalries already forming.
Rayden cracked his knuckles. "Inter-academy. I'm winning."
Liora glanced at Kayden. "You okay?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
It wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the whole truth either.
From a distant balcony, Primyte watched the crowd disperse.
The competition would test everyone.
But for one student—
It would test restraint.
And restraint, Primyte knew—
Was the most dangerous skill to master.