Zane POV
Zane left the courtyard with his heart still hammering, though not from the fight.
He didn't regret stepping in. That new student, barely a kid, had been one spark away from permanent damage. Korrin Drestal deserved worse than a broken wand.
But Zane hadn't expected the silence.
The looks.
The way people parted as he passed—not out of respect, but wariness. Like they couldn't decide if he was a hero or a warning.
He didn't like attention. Never had.
Especially not on his first day.
By the time he reached the southern tower stairwell, he could feel it shifting behind him—eyes, whispers, someone's mana-sensitive quill sketching a rough outline of his sword.
He ducked into the first door he saw—an empty classroom. Tiered seats, rune-chalked board, no instructor scheduled until afternoon.
Silence.
The kind that didn't press down—it lifted.
Zane let the door swing shut behind him, the soft thud of wood against stone muffled by the thick, rune-insulated walls. He moved to the edge of the lowest bench and sat, elbows on knees, breath finally evening out.
His fingers still buzzed from the fight.
Not pain. Just echo.
The kind that lives in your joints after a clean strike.
The kind that makes your body remember something before your brain does.
He rolled his shoulders, then rubbed the back of his neck.
Eva: "I don't get why you keep trying to blend in. You're clearly the main character. I mean—I wouldn't pick a shy, brooding guy as a host, but here we are."
Zane closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose.
"You ever consider shutting up?"
Eva: "Every day. Still waiting for a reason to try it."
He didn't answer.
Didn't have to.
The quiet was already getting louder again.
His wrist console buzzed.
Lila.
"How's orientation? Jordan wants dumplings. Something about literally dying if he's forced to deny this craving. I told him we'd do it for dinner. Love you."
Zane exhaled slowly and thumbed the reply field on his console.
"Still alive. Will grab dumplings. Tell the goblin he better not have touched my tea stash."
Sent.
The message blinked out, and with it, a little of the tension in his chest.
Home still existed. That mattered.
His muscles were still humming from the fight—subtle, low-charge aftershocks sliding through his arms like his body hadn't realized it was over.
He started to shift off the bench when his console lit up again.
A new ping.
Then another.
Then a scroll of notifications flashing past the corner of his vision—academy channels, reposts, reaction clips.
#BladeGhost
#WhoIsWhoIsThis
4thYearFallChallenge.magic4 – trending
Someone had clipped the fight.
His counter. The disarm.
The pause before Korrin slumped in defeat.
It was already moving.
Already spreading.
Zane sighed.
He needed to get back to it—school, training, the real work. This sort of attention was the last thing he needed.
"Did you hear?" someone muttered behind him as he passed through the inner quad. "They said he poured raw mana into steel like it was water. Not aura. MANA."
"I heard he broke Drestal's ribcage with a single strike," another whispered. "With the flat of the blade."
He ducked into his Dungeon Lore & Theory classroom a full five minutes early, hoping to grab a corner seat before it filled. The auditorium was already half full.
He took a seat in the back.
Then she entered.
Aurelia Vael Taranis.
Her presence hit the room like snowfall—silent, pristine, impossible to ignore. Her long silver hair shimmered faintly under the enchantment lights. Her expression unreadable. Her eyes scanning for threats she didn't even expect to find.
Zane watched her cross the room without looking at anyone.
She sat two rows down, dead center.
She didn't glance his way.
But Zane felt something.
Warmth? A mana connection?
No. Couldn't be.
And yet something about her made his mana hum at the edges of his skin.
Then the classroom lights dimmed slightly as the lecture interface activated with a low chime.
A figure appeared at the front of the hall, stepping up to the edge of the arcane dais.
Professor Aulden Myrr.
He looked exactly how Zane expected someone teaching Dungeon Lore & Theory to look—thin, robed, and slightly frayed at the edges, like he hadn't slept in the last three dungeon cycles.
His eyes were sharp, though—too sharp. The kind that cataloged students not by face, but by potential threat level.
"Good morning, initiates," he said, voice dry as paper and twice as brittle. "I'm Professor Myrr. If you've been assigned to my section, congratulations. You've officially committed to never sleeping soundly again."
No one laughed. A few nervously adjusted their interfaces.
Dungeon Lore & Theory was dry—foundation protocols for anchoring safety glyphs inside unstable pocket dungeons. Half the class took notes.
The other half stared at Aurelia Vael Taranis.
Zane kept his head down.
But the whole time, that feeling didn't go away.
Class ended without event.
At least… until the second-year girl with the golden curls intercepted him in the aisle.
She was stunning, polished, and absolutely sure of herself—the kind of girl who never had to ask twice.
"I know we don't know each other," she said, smiling brightly. "But I saw what you did, and I just… I'd really love to have lunch with you. If you're free."
She offered a folded letter—fancy parchment, ribbon, mana-sealed edges.
Zane blinked.
Every student in earshot fell silent.
He didn't know how to respond. He could feel it again—that knot of pressure behind his ribs. Not fear.
Not pride. Just… disbelief.
Then—
The air shifted.
Not for him.
Not from the girl.
Her.
Zane's head turned.
Aurelia was still in her seat, back straight, notebook untouched. She wasn't speaking. Wasn't even looking.
But her aura slipped out of her like mist across cold stone—refined, glacial, and razor-controlled.
Impossible to ignore.
It struck differently for everyone.
A pair of Southern nobles froze mid-stand, their laughter silenced in their throats.
A social influencer blinked hard, her stream still running as her stylus clattered to the floor.
A girl with thick glasses one row up clenched her jaw like she'd just bitten down on static.
And the golden-haired girl—eyes bright, words halfway out—noticed.
She stepped back instinctively, her bravado melting.
"I'll, uh… let you think about it," she mumbled, turning fast and vanishing into the stream of students pouring from the room.
Zane stood still.
Just for a breath.
Then he packed his things in silence and walked out—
Not a word, not a glance,
Just the echo of a tension that still hadn't faded.
The quad was buzzing again—alive with motion, magic, and the kind of curated chaos only a school like Corvalis Arxcould pull off without collapsing under its own weight.
Overhead, spellball teams streaked through the air on rune-gliders, trailing bursts of color as they twisted between glowing goal-rings. Down on the green, fourth-year enchanters had conjured a three-headed illusion-cat that prowled through the crowd, barking club advertisements in half a dozen voices.
Mana-thread banners floated overhead. Dozens of announcements—job boards, duel schedules, course changes—orbited the central plinth in perfect, rune-bound sync. Everything pulsed with charmwork. Everything shimmered with a little too much polish.
Corvalis Arx wasn't just a university.
It was the Empire's refinement forge—a place that didn't just teach talent.
It sharpened it.
Zane crossed the green with his head low and shoulders squared.
For three whole seconds, nobody noticed him.
Then—
"Dude."
Kael.
Jogging to catch up, still chewing the last bite of a glowing spell-bar. "What the hell was that in class?"
Zane didn't slow. "What are you talking about?"
Kael huffed. "Aurelia Vael Taranis bathing your Dungeon Lore class with ice aura that could choke a manabear. Is any of that ringing a bell?"
"How do you know about that?"
"Everyone knows about it. It's all over the MageConnect. Apparently, people are still checking their pressure readings like it was a damn manaquake."
Zane didn't answer.
They reached the fountain. Light shimmered across the water in slow pulses, casting fractured reflections across the cobbled stone.
Mira and Elanie were already there—Mira with a faint wave, Elanie with arms folded and that look on her face: part suspicion, part silent math. Like she was already calculating which direction this would spiral.
"How do you know her?" Elanie asked flatly.
Zane blinked. "Know who?"
Mira nudged her. "Aurelia Vael Taranis. Obviously."
Zane shrugged. "I don't. Well—I know of her. But who doesn't? She's like one of the most famous eighteen-year-olds in the world. Or at least in the kingdom. Why?"
"Zane," Elanie said. "That mana flare? It was emotional. Not directed. Not deliberate."
"So?"
"So she was having an emotional reaction."
"I'm still not seeing your point."
"Zane," Mira said quietly. "Aurelia Vael Taranis was having an emotional reaction. To the girl. Talking to you."
"Oh. Maybe they're dating. They would make a cute couple."
He looked at them. All three of his friends face-palmed. He did not understand why.
"Did you talk to Aurelia?"
"No," Zane said. "Don't even know her."
The girls exchanged a look.
"Well," Mira said, "clearly she knows you."
Zane didn't respond.
Didn't need to.
The way they were watching him said enough.
He turned back toward the courtyard, hoping the conversation would die quietly behind him.
It didn't.
Eva: "Well, that was subtle. I can practically smell the hormonal tension from here."
Zane exhaled through his nose. "Not now."
Eva: "Oh please. Two girls analyzing your life choices and a third who nearly set the room on fire with raw emotion? If this were a dating sim, you'd have three route flags and a jealousy meter in the red."
"Eva."
Eva: "Don't worry. I'm not mad. Just disappointed you didn't let me project a dramatic aura flare to claim my territory. These littel husses think thing can hit on my man. They must be crazy."
Zane rolled his eyes. His lips twitched despite himself.
"You're not my girlfriend, Eva."
Eva: " Semantics. I'm your connection to the divine. Your System. Which means I know you better, understand you more, and respond faster than any girl ever will. So yes—I basically am. We might as well be married."
"Oh really? Come here, Eva. I would like to kiss your lips and take you to bed."
Zane could feel Eva tense, which didn't make any sense but he stopped trying to understand her a long time ago.
Eva harrumphed. "Just you wait, Zane Myles. I am working on that fact. Once I figure it out, I'm going to use all your up-down. You're not going to be able to walk for a week."
"Great. Sex with my system. That wouldn't make me a weirdo at all. I swear you hate me."
He didn't have the energy for this.
Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
But somewhere, deep in his core, he could feel her—Eva—somewhere between smirking and sulking, her emotions humming along the edges of his mana like a cat marking its favorite pillow.
Zane rubbed his temples.
Why couldn't he have a normal system?