For a moment, the world stayed silent.
Not because the fighting in the background stopped—Elysia and Dakin still crashed through the remains of the festival, light and shadow flaring violently—but because everything else around Kael simply ceased to matter.
His body didn't respond. His breath stayed shallow. His head hung slightly forward. Blood dripped from his lip, falling in slow red beads onto the cracked stone.
But inside—
Inside something aligned.
Not power.
Not awakening.
Not mana.
Just… focus.
A quiet, stubborn, absurd, drunken clarity.
A feeling like:
No. I'm not done. Not yet.
Ethan, crouched before him, leaned in with a mocking smirk.
"Still awake? Huh. I'll give you that. You're tougher than you look."
The faint curling of his fingers hinted at another strike.
Kael still didn't move.
The third-year behind Ethan scoffed, "Forget it, man. He's barely conscious. Just put him down already."
Ethan didn't reply.
He watched Kael's eyes.
Something was wrong.
