Chapter 38
The academy gates closed without ceremony.
No bells rang. No announcements echoed across the spires. One moment, the wards shimmered faintly as they always had—ancient, reliable, unquestioned—and the next, they hardened into something final. Layers of authority stacked upon one another, royal seals interlocking with ancestral sigils. Students attempting to leave were turned back. Those already gone were marked absent, their names quietly removed from active rosters.
The Academy of Aetherial Ascension was officially suspended.
Inside, confusion fermented into fear.
Kairo watched none of it directly, yet the pressure reached him all the same. Pressure always did.
He stood on a rooftop overlooking the lower districts, dawn bleeding slowly into the horizon. Smoke rose in thin columns from cookfires below. Somewhere, metal rang against metal. Somewhere else, someone screamed—briefly, then not at all.
CIEL fed him updates in clean, emotionless streams.
[Royal lineage representatives have arrived.] [Noble houses petitioning for exclusive inquiry rights.] [Probability of forced summoning request issued within 72 hours: 67%.]
"They're impatient," Kairo said.
[They fear loss of narrative control.]
"That means they still think I'm within reach."
[Correct.]
He exhaled, slow and steady.
The previous days blurred together—interrogations that never reached him, students being questioned, professors stonewalling with half-truths and sealed oaths. The dungeon incident had shattered the academy's illusion of control, and the powerful did not forgive that.
Especially not when the crack had a name.
Kairo.
Yet for all their pressure, none of them had moved openly against him.
That told him everything.
They wanted him intact.
Owned.
Or bound.
A faint flicker of mana brushed his senses.
He turned.
Lyra stood a few paces behind him, dressed not in academy uniform, but in travel attire—dark cloak, simple lines, quality hidden beneath restraint. Her presence was quieter than usual, as if something within her was holding its breath.
"You shouldn't be here," Kairo said calmly.
"I know," she replied. "That's why I came."
Behind her, Selena leaned against a chimney stack, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Her aura was sharp, defensive, coiled like a blade held too long in its sheath.
"They're evacuating select students," Selena said. "Not by merit. By blood."
Lyra's fingers tightened around the clasp of her cloak.
"My family received a summons," she said softly. "Not a request."
Kairo nodded once. He had expected this.
"They didn't summon you," he said. "They summoned your name."
Lyra looked at him sharply.
"You knew."
"I guessed."
Silence stretched between them, filled with the distant hum of the city waking.
Selena broke it first. "They're asking questions about you. Dangerous ones."
"I'm aware."
"No," Selena snapped. "You're aware academically. I mean politically."
She pushed off the chimney and stepped closer.
"They're framing the narrative. Rogue student. Unregistered blessing anomalies. Potential external influence."
Kairo's eyes darkened slightly.
"Convenient," he said.
"They want leverage," Lyra whispered. "And they think I'm part of it."
Her gaze lifted to meet his, conflicted, uncertain, and—beneath it all—frightened in a way she hadn't allowed herself to be before.
"I don't want to be used against you."
Kairo studied her carefully.
Lyra had always been… off. Too composed. Too adaptable. Her mana carried undertones he couldn't fully parse, layered and restrained. He had suspected seals, but not their depth.
Now, standing here, stripped of the academy's protections, those suspicions sharpened.
"You won't be," he said.
"That's not something you can promise," she replied.
Selena frowned. "Lyra—"
"No," Lyra interrupted gently. "Let me say this."
She took a step closer to Kairo.
"I don't know what you'll become," she said. "But I know what they'll try to turn you into."
Her voice steadied.
"And I won't help them do it."
Kairo inclined his head slightly. "Then you should leave."
The words were simple. Final.
Lyra flinched.
"Is that an order?" she asked quietly.
"No," he said. "It's advice."
Selena cursed under her breath. "You're really doing this."
"This path narrows," Kairo replied. "Anyone walking beside me becomes a handle."
Lyra swallowed.
"And if I choose to stay?"
Kairo met her gaze fully now.
"Then you'll be targeted first."
The truth hung heavy between them.
For a long moment, Lyra said nothing. Then she reached into her cloak and withdrew a small crystal pendant, dull and unassuming.
She pressed it into his hand.
"A locator," she said. "Not traceable through conventional means. It resonates only if I allow it."
He closed his fingers around it.
"Why give me this?"
"Because," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't think this is goodbye."
Selena turned away, jaw tight.
Lyra stepped back.
"I don't know when I'll remember everything," she added. "But if something changes—if I change—you'll know."
Kairo nodded once.
"Survive," he said.
Lyra smiled faintly. "You too, lone wolf."
Then she turned and walked away, Selena following a heartbeat later.
Neither looked back.
Kairo remained on the rooftop long after they disappeared into the city's winding streets.
[Emotional fluctuation detected.]
"I know," he replied.
[Would you like suppression protocols engaged?]
"No."
He opened his hand, staring at the pendant.
"Let it hurt," he said. "Pain clarifies."
Below, the city shifted.
And above, the academy burned quietly with politics.
---
The summons came that evening.
Not directly.
Indirect pressure always preceded force.
Three merchant guilds froze credit lines in districts adjacent to where Kairo had been sighted. An alchemy supplier abruptly raised prices on stabilization reagents by 400%. Two information brokers went missing within the same hour.
CIEL flagged each event as it occurred.
[Pattern recognition complete.] [Coordinated economic coercion detected.]
"They're testing," Kairo murmured.
[They want a response.]
"And they'll escalate."
[Confirmed.]
He descended from the rooftop and vanished into the slums proper.
The deeper levels were darker, more dangerous, and far more honest. Here, people did not pretend power was benevolent. They understood debt. Fear. Protection.
A group of men blocked his path in a narrow alley.
Not thugs.
Professionals.
The man at the front stepped forward, aura disciplined, eyes sharp.
"Kairo," he said. "We're here to talk."
Kairo tilted his head. "About?"
"Your future."
The man smiled thinly.
"Our employer believes someone like you shouldn't remain… independent."
CIEL highlighted multiple threat vectors.
[Six combatants.] [Hidden crossbow arrays.] [Escape probability without engagement: 23%.]
Kairo sighed softly.
"You should leave," he said.
The man laughed. "You misunderstand—"
Kairo moved.
No grand techniques. No spectacle.
Just precision.
The alley erupted into controlled chaos. Shadow bent instinctively around him, not yet commanded, but responsive. A strike landed where it would incapacitate, not kill. Another disarmed. Another pinned.
Within seconds, all six lay groaning on the stone.
Kairo crouched before the leader, who stared up at him in shock.
"Tell your employer," Kairo said calmly, "that I am not available for acquisition."
The man swallowed. "You think you can stand alone?"
Kairo's eyes were cold.
"I already am."
He rose and walked away.
Behind him, the man shuddered.
Above, unseen, forces recalculated.
Because Kairo had just made something clear.
He would not be owned.
And soon, the world would learn what filled the vacuum when power refused to kneel.