The second incident didn't finish unfolding.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
Arav felt the disturbance the moment he stepped onto the maintenance corridor—a tightening in the air, like pressure being applied from the wrong direction. The walls hummed faintly. Not loud enough to draw attention. Just enough to unsettle.
Tiku slowed beside him. "Okay. So. This hallway feels illegal."
Ira didn't answer. She had gone still.
Someone else was there.
Ahead of them, near the sealed janitor's room, a man stood with his back turned.
Not a guard.
Not faculty.
Not a student.
He wore plain clothes—dark jacket, unremarkable shoes—but his posture was precise, controlled. As if the corridor belonged to him by default.
The warped door shuddered.
Something pressed from the other side.
Arav stepped forward instinctively—
The man raised one hand.
Not urgently.
Not dramatically.
The air changed.
The pressure collapsed inward, like a breath being taken back. The warped metal stilled. The vibration cut off mid-pulse.
Silence followed.
Clean. Absolute.
Arav froze.
He hadn't felt power like that before.
Not because it was overwhelming.
Because it was finished.
Authority – Level Presence Detected
Intervention Source : External
Advisory : Defer Action
The man lowered his hand and turned.
His eyes were sharp, assessing—not hostile, not curious.
Evaluating.
"You're late," he said.
Arav blinked. "Excuse me?"
The man's gaze moved over him once. Quickly. Thoroughly.
"By about twelve seconds," he continued. "That matters."
Tiku whispered, "I don't like him. He talks like a report."
Ira stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The man looked at her for the first time.
Something in his expression shifted—just slightly.
Not interest.
Calculation.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. "But you already know that."
He turned back to Arav.
"You felt it before it happened," he said. "You hesitated."
Arav's jaw tightened. "Someone got hurt."
"Yes," the man agreed calmly. "Because you waited."
The words landed without accusation.
Which made them worse.
"You stopped it," Arav said. "Just now."
"I contained it," the man corrected. "Stopping implies resolution."
He stepped aside, revealing the janitor's room door.
It was intact.
No warping.
No scorch marks.
No evidence anything had happened.
Efficient erasure.
"Who are you?" Ira asked again, sharper now.
The man finally sighed.
"Names come later," he said. "Right now, you're being assessed."
He looked at Arav again.
"This campus is not an isolated event," he continued. "It's a convergence point. Fear density. Memory instability. Poor containment protocols."
Tiku blinked. "Wow. Even our fear has bad management."
The man ignored him.
"You," he said to Arav, "are an unregistered variable."
Arav felt something click into place.
"Then register me," he said.
For the first time, the man smiled.
Just barely.
"That's not how this works."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice—not to threaten, but to be precise.
"You don't get to choose when the system notices you," he said.
"You only get to choose whether you become a liability."
Arav met his gaze. "And what do you want?"
The man studied him for a long moment.
Then, finally:
"I want to see whether you can keep control," he said.
"Or whether someone else will have to do it for you."
The corridor lights flickered once.
Then steadied.
The man turned and walked past them, footsteps quiet, unhurried.
At the corner, he paused.
"Oh," he added without looking back. "If you keep acting alone… someone else will clean up after you."
He left.
Tiku exhaled shakily. "I think I just got evaluated by a human syllabus."
Ira stared after the man. "He knew things."
"Yes," Arav said quietly.
"And he wasn't surprised."
The system remained silent.
That was worse than any warning.
Because silence, this time, meant the next move wasn't theoretical.
It was scheduled.