Life at the Academy continued, but for Maria, the gears of routine ground harshly against each other. The effects of the Council's verdict fell one after another, like dominoes.
The first blow landed the very next day behind the closed doors of the Technical Workshop.
The clang of hammers and the pleasant hum of magic circuits drifted from inside—music to Maria's ears. She placed her hand hopefully on the input panel, but instead of the usual blue light, the light flashed red with a harsh, sustained beep.
The doorman, with an expressionless face and a ledger in hand, blocked her way: "Sorry. By order of the Council, your access is blocked until further notice."
She stared at the narrow pane of glass set into the door. The place that was her territory until yesterday had now become like an aquarium she could only watch from the outside.
But the humiliation didn't end there.
The next day, on the main hall's bulletin board, the next blow was struck.
A large yellow paper titled "List of Students Under Disciplinary Supervision" was posted. Maria walked up and saw her name not at the top of Strategy grades, but next to the school bullies and slackers: "Maria Alessandra - 20 hours mandatory labor."
She ran her finger over her name. This wasn't just a list; it was a warning stamped across her name: Dangerous.
And finally, this isolation extended to the school corridors.
As Maria tried to pass through the crowd, she noticed a strange pattern. A group of girls who were laughing fell silent when they saw her and parted to the sides like the sea splitting, opening a path. Not out of respect, but out of fear. As if she were carrying something contagious.
Whispers, sharp as snake bites, could be heard behind her:
"It's her... the accident girl."
"Don't get close. She's trouble."
Maria held her head high and looked straight ahead. No one called her "weak" anymore, but now she had a worse title: "Jinx."
***
Maria picked up her food tray. The dining hall was busy and noisy as always. The sound of clinking cutlery, loud laughter, and heated discussions about lessons filled the air.
But as soon as Maria stepped into the aisle between the tables, a bubble of silence formed around her.
The tables she passed fell silent. Glances turned furtively toward her.
Looks that were a mix of curiosity, fear, and judgment.
"That's her..."
A girl whispered to her neighbor:
"The one who caused that explosion."
"I heard she snitched on Varon. She ratted him out."
Maria pretended not to hear. She looked ahead, but every single word struck her thoughts like pebbles against glass.
She went to the end of the hall. Where it was always quieter.
She put her tray on a table with four empty chairs. She sat down and started tearing her bread.
The chairs opposite her remained empty. The chairs beside her remained empty. Even the nearby tables gradually emptied.
Maria put a piece of bread in her mouth, but it went down her dry throat with difficulty.
Her table had become an island in the middle of the hall.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over her table.
The sound of a tray hitting the table broke the silence around her.
Maria raised her head.
It was Sarah.
Without saying a word, she pulled out the chair next to Maria and sat down.
Not opposite her (like a guest), but beside her (like an ally).
Sarah downed her glass of juice and calmly started spreading butter on her bread.
A few people from nearby tables looked with surprise. A look that said: Is she crazy? Why is she sitting next to that girl?
But Sarah didn't care. She asked no questions. Showed no pity. Didn't even try to change the mood with a joke.
She was simply there.
Her presence was warm and firm. A silent message to the entire dining hall: "If she's trouble, then so am I."
A small lump tickled Maria's throat, but she swallowed it with a sip of water. Her tensed shoulders relaxed a little, just a little.
The first small sense of peace amid the storm.
***
The class was silent, and only the sound of the professor's chalk on the board could be heard.
The new professor (since Varon was suspended and Albert was busy with the investigation) was a young, inexperienced man trying to control the class with excessive seriousness.
"So... who can tell me the difference between 'Direct Mana Flow' and 'Rotary Mana Flow' in amplifier circuits?"
It was a simple question. At least for Maria, who practically repaired these circuits in Varon's lab.
The answer was on the tip of her tongue: "Direct flow is for instantaneous speed and power, rotary flow is for stability and storage."
Her hand trembled unconsciously to go up. She wanted to prove she was still smart.
But... she looked around.
Brook and his henchmen in the front row were sneering. The girl sitting next to her had pulled her chair a few centimeters away, as if afraid that if Maria raised her hand, another explosion would occur.
She heard a quiet whisper from behind:
"Better not get too close..."
"Yeah. Trouble always surrounds her. Wherever she goes, something breaks."
Maria's hand clenched into a fist and remained on the desk.
She knew the answer. Better than anyone else in that class. But she remained silent.
She lowered her head and stared at her notebook. She started drawing a meaningless doodle in the margin of the paper.
The professor looked around the class, and when no hand went up, he gave the answer himself with disappointment.
Maria just drew lines. Dark, messy lines, like her current state.
***
A cold winter wind blew, dancing with Master Minerva's gray robe.
Minerva, the professor of "Group Defense," was a tall young woman with long, curly brown hair and a wooden staff tipped with a glowing green crystal.
"Listen up! Group defense means coordination. It means trusting the mana flow of the person next to you."
She lowered the class list.
"Form groups of four. Today's exercise: 'Quadrilateral Shield'. Begin."
A murmur rippled through the field. Students were quickly attracted to their friends like magnets. Groups formed one after another.
Maria stood in her place. She didn't move because she knew it was useless.
A group of three had formed nearby, still missing one person. Maria turned her gaze toward them.
One of the girls in the group, seeing Maria's look, quickly turned away and whispered to her friend:
"Our team is full."
While the empty space for the fourth person was clearly visible.
Maria kept her eyes on the ground. The message was clear: "There is a vacancy, but not for you."
Sarah, who had been absorbed by another group (at her classmates' insistence), looked at Maria from afar with a gaze full of regret and worry, but she couldn't break the line.
Maria remained alone in the middle of a field full of four-person groups.
The Master looked at her with a frown. Not with hatred, but with a kind of administrative weariness.
"Maria."
The voice echoed across the field.
"Given your disciplinary status and... recent history in mana control, I cannot risk putting you in a group."
The Master pointed to the wooden bench by the edge of the field.
"You will just observe today. Learn how to work 'without explosions'."
The last sentence was stinging. A few people snickered.
Maria kept her silence. She gave a short bow and walked toward the bench.
Standing on the sidelines, watching others live and learn... this was her new punishment.
The practice began. The air quickly filled with the heavy hum of activated circuits.
Dozens of blue and green light shields flickered across the field. Students struggled to coordinate their mana flows.
Maria's gaze, cold and analytical, roamed over the groups. She wasn't on the field, but her mind was reverse-engineering their movements.
Her eyes locked onto a group in the center of the field. Brook's group.
They were attempting to execute a heavy defensive circuit.
"Increase the pressure! The shield must be stronger!"
Brook was shouting, forcefully injecting a massive surge of mana into the circuit.
Maria frowned. Her eyes narrowed.
He's doing it wrong... the input flow is unbalanced.
The light of their shield began to tremble. Not a normal shimmer, but a rapid, violent oscillation. The steady blue color of the shield was bleeding into a sickly, unstable purple.
A tiny, glowing crack spiderwebbed across the ground, right beneath one of the group members' feet.
Maria's mind analyzed the situation in a fraction of a second:
Mana pressure is backfiring to the center. If they don't cut it in five seconds, the central crystal will burst. A small explosion, but enough to shatter the arms and legs of those four.
She whispered under her breath:
"No... you idiots. Cut it. It's going to blow."
Her gaze snapped to the Master.
The Master was busy correcting another group's stance in the far corner of the field, her back turned to Brook's group. She couldn't hear the dangerous, high-pitched whining of the circuit.
Brook yelled.
"More pressure!"