Chapter 10 — The Price of Being Seen
The west archive had been sealed for over twenty years.
Officially, it was declared structurally unstable after a partial collapse. Unofficially, students avoided it because the air around the place felt wrong—too still, too quiet, as if sound itself didn't want to linger.
Kairo arrived before dawn.
Mist clung to the academy grounds, dulling the lantern light and swallowing footsteps. He moved carefully, senses extended—not magically, but instinctively.
Combat Presence whispered at the edges of his awareness.
There.
Not hostile.
Watching.
The archive doors stood half-open.
That alone was a warning.
Kairo stepped inside.
The temperature dropped instantly. Dust hung motionless in the air, undisturbed despite the open doors. Rows of shelves stretched into darkness, heavy with old records, failed research, and sealed incident reports.
"You're punctual," a voice said from between the shelves.
Kairo didn't turn immediately.
"People who ask for secret meetings usually prefer it that way," he replied calmly.
A figure stepped into the lantern glow.
An older student—or perhaps a graduate—wearing a plain academy cloak without insignia. Their presence was muted, deliberately so, like a blade wrapped in cloth.
"Smart," the figure said. "I'll save us time. You died."
Kairo turned now, eyes steady.
"Yes."
"And returned," the figure continued. "In front of witnesses."
"Yes."
"That makes you a liability."
The word echoed softly in the archive.
"Or an asset," Kairo countered.
The figure smiled faintly. "That depends on who finds you first."
They gestured deeper into the archive. "Walk with me."
Kairo followed—alert, but not tense. Whoever this was, they weren't here to kill him.
Yet.
They stopped before a sealed shelf marked with red sigils—containment, not protection.
"My name is Ilyas," the figure said. "Third-year. Unofficially."
Kairo waited.
"We handle things the academy doesn't want acknowledged," Ilyas continued. "Students who awaken wrong. Blessings that don't fit doctrine. Survivors who shouldn't exist."
Kairo's expression didn't change.
"So I'm not unique," he said.
Ilyas chuckled softly. "Everyone thinks they are. Most are just broken."
He turned serious.
"You are not broken."
That landed harder than suspicion ever could.
"Why tell me this?" Kairo asked.
"Because Examiner Halren flagged you," Ilyas replied. "She didn't suppress your case."
Kairo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Meaning?"
"Meaning higher eyes will come eventually. B-Rank. Maybe A."
A pause.
"And when they do, you won't get to sit in a room and lie calmly."
Kairo exhaled slowly.
"So this is a warning."
"It's an offer."
Ilyas reached into his cloak and produced a thin slate, etched with faint runes.
"This is a classification buffer. It distorts assessment results without falsifying them. Keeps you 'unclassified' longer."
Kairo didn't reach for it.
"What do you want in return?"
Ilyas smiled. "Nothing now."
That was the most dangerous answer possible.
"You'll owe us," Ilyas continued. "When the academy needs something erased quietly. When a student becomes a problem that can't be expelled."
Silence stretched between them.
"You want me to be a knife," Kairo said.
"A shadow," Ilyas corrected. "Knives get noticed."
Kairo considered.
This wasn't salvation.
It was direction.
And refusing didn't make the danger disappear—it only made it uncontrollable.
"I don't kill students," Kairo said.
Ilyas nodded. "Neither do we. Usually."
That honesty chilled him more than lies would have.
Finally, Kairo took the slate.
"I'll think about it," he said.
Ilyas inclined his head. "That's all we ask."
As Kairo turned to leave, Ilyas spoke again.
"One more thing."
Kairo paused.
"Don't die publicly again," Ilyas said quietly. "The academy forgives many things. Not embarrassment."
By the time Kairo returned to the dorms, the academy was waking.
Students laughed. Complained. Argued.
Normal life.
But it no longer included him fully.
He sat on his bed and examined the slate.
The ledger stirred.
[NOTICE]
Foreign artifact detected.
Function: Obfuscation
Risk: Low
Recommendation: Conditional acceptance.
"So even you approve," Kairo murmured.
He activated it.
The slate dissolved into light and vanished.
Training that day felt different.
Opponents hesitated—not from fear, but uncertainty. Instructors observed him longer than necessary, their expressions puzzled.
His stats hadn't changed.
But the perception of them had.
Good.
During lunch, Renn approached him cautiously.
"You've been busy," Renn said.
Kairo shrugged. "Training."
Renn studied him for a long moment.
"Be careful who you talk to," he said quietly. "You're being discussed."
Kairo met his gaze. "By whom?"
Renn shook his head. "People who don't sit in classrooms."
That confirmed it.
That night, alone again, Kairo accessed the ledger.
Not for growth.
For understanding.
"Show me," he whispered, "what happens if I keep dying."
The ledger responded slowly.
DEATH'S LEDGER — PROJECTION
Projected Outcome (Repeated High-Rank Deaths):
• Emotional detachment
• Identity fragmentation
• Reduced fear response
• Increased lethality
• Loss of civilian integration
Final Probability:
You will stop being human.
Kairo closed his eyes.
Not in fear.
In resolve.
"Then I'll decide," he said quietly, "what kind of monster I become."
The next morning, academy bells rang early.
A new announcement spread through the halls.
First-Year Hierarchy Matches begin in seven days.
Structured.
Public.
Ranked.
Impossible to avoid.
Kairo stared at the notice.
"So this is how they test me," he murmured.
The academy wasn't asking anymore.
It was demanding an answer.
Kairo clenched his fist slowly.
Seven days.
Seven days to grow—without dying.
Seven days to learn restraint.
Seven days before the world decided what he was worth.
He smiled faintly.
"Alright," he said softly.
"Let's see how much pressure I can survive."