The morning sun poured through the schoolhouse windows, dust dancing in golden beams. Children laughed and shouted, flipping through spellbooks and practicing minor magic tricks.
Ocean Counter quietly took his seat by the window, satchel neatly in place. Lyra Mistwind waved at him, silver hair glinting in the sunlight.
"Morning, Ocean! Did you sleep well?" she asked cheerfully.
"Morning," Ocean replied calmly. "Yes, as usual."
The teacher, Eira Lumina, clapped her hands. "Today, we'll have a friendly magic competition! Everyone pair up and demonstrate your control and creativity. Remember: strategy matters more than power."
The class erupted in excitement. Ocean's usual rival, Kael Thorn, dark-red hair slicked back, grinned confidently.
"You ready to lose again, Ocean?" Kael challenged, stepping into the center of the classroom.
Ocean tilted his head slightly, brown eyes calm. "If you insist."
The duel began. Kael's fire and lightning spells shot straight at Ocean. Ocean moved with casual gestures, almost bored, and the spells twisted midair, harmlessly deflecting around him. A flick of his hand sent sparks spiraling harmlessly toward the ceiling.
Kael's eyes widened. "How… how are you doing that?"
Ocean's smile was faint. He didn't attack. He didn't need to. Reality itself bent subtly in his favor. Every move Kael made was countered indirectly: books fell just right, the floor shifted imperceptibly, and a gentle breeze redirected stray sparks.
Lyra whispered to a friend, "It's like he's controlling everything… but nothing feels obvious."
After a few minutes, the duel ended. Kael, flushed with frustration, was certain he had "lost," though no one could explain exactly why. Ocean simply nodded politely.
"Very good," Eira Lumina said. "Ocean demonstrates exceptional control and awareness, even without direct confrontation."
Ocean shrugged faintly. A small ripple of water hovered near his hands, unnoticed by everyone else. It danced and twisted subtly, an invisible hint of his true abilities.
As the students left for lunch, Ocean walked past the playground, watching the children play. A fallen ball rolled toward him — he stopped it with the slightest motion, as if gravity itself obeyed his quiet will.
No one noticed. No one ever noticed.
And that was exactly how he liked it.
Somewhere, beyond the village, a faint disturbance flickered — Kiyo Jian or another abstract presence watching, curious about the boy who could not be touched, the boy who always "loses," yet never truly lost anything at all.