The silence Damien left behind was heavier and more suffocating than his presence had been. My room, once a secret sanctuary, now felt like a cage where the bars were tightening. The order he had given me echoed in my mind, a venomous whisper that poisoned the very air I breathed. Find his weaknesses. Find me a vulnerability.
My nightly training, the painful, honest work of sword and soul, suddenly seemed futile. What good was a stronger body or a more refined Mana Core if I was just going to be a more efficient tool for a monster? For a long while, I just stood there, the cold dread a physical weight in my gut. But I couldn't afford to be paralyzed. Damien expected a report. Inaction was as dangerous as outright defiance.
With a heavy heart, I slipped out of my room. The mask of Lucian was useless now; the hallways of the noble dorms were mostly empty. This new mask was different. It was the guise of a hunter, a predator, and it felt infinitely more vile.
My first task was simple: find my mark. Leonidas val Aris.
He wouldn't be in the opulent lounges or the high-end recreation halls where the noble students socialized. His life was separate from theirs. The most logical place to start was the academy's numerous training grounds. While the main, well-lit courtyards were reserved for the elite, there were dozens of smaller, less-maintained yards scattered across the campus, often used by commoner students or those without the clout to reserve a prime spot.
I moved through the shadows, sticking to the covered cloisters and tree-lined paths, my own shadow affinity making me little more than a whisper in the dark. After nearly an hour of searching, I found him.
In a small, poorly-lit yard near the edge of the floating island, Leonidas was practicing. The glow from the distant main campus and the twin moons provided the only illumination. But he wasn't alone. With him were two other students, their simple, unadorned uniforms marking them as commoners. One was a tall, lanky boy with an anxious energy, practicing the gestures for a basic wind spell. The other was a sturdy girl with a determined set to her jaw, a round shield strapped to her arm.
I found a position behind a thick, ivy-covered pillar about fifty yards away, cloaking myself in the deep darkness. From here, I was invisible. I didn't need my eyes; I had a far better tool.
I closed them and extended my Soul Resonance, casting it over the small group. The emotional landscape that bloomed in my mind was so different from the cold, sharp world of Damien and his circle that it almost gave me whiplash.
The lanky boy, whose name I later learned was Thomas, was a jumble of frustration and anxiety, but it was underpinned by a stubborn, desperate desire to succeed. The girl, Mara, felt as solid as a rock—an aura of fierce loyalty, protectiveness, and down-to-earth cheerfulness.
And Leonidas… his aura was the center of their small universe. It was a bonfire of warmth, determination, and unwavering optimism. There was no arrogance in him, no condescension. He was practicing his own swordsmanship, his movements still raw but filled with explosive power, yet his attention was divided, constantly flicking over to his two friends.
"Keep your wrist straight, Thomas," Leonidas called out, pausing his own drill. "You're letting the mana diffuse before you complete the gesture. Here, like this." He walked over and gently adjusted the other boy's hand, his intent a pure, simple desire to help.
A few moments later, Thomas tried his spell again. A small, wobbly gust of wind shot from his palm and ruffled the leaves of a nearby bush. It was weak, but it was a success. The surge of triumphant joy from Thomas was dazzling. Mara let out a whoop of encouragement, and Leonidas clapped him on the shoulder, a wide, genuine grin on his face. The collective feeling from the group was one of pure, unadulterated camaraderie.
I watched this scene from the shadows, a cold, sick feeling churning in my stomach. This was what I was supposed to corrupt. This simple, honest friendship. This was the group Damien saw as an "inconvenience." He saw their bond not as a source of strength, but as a chain of weaknesses to be exploited.
A bitter wave of envy, so sharp it almost made me gasp, washed over me. In my old life, I never had this. I was a loner, drifting through a gray existence. In this new life, I was shackled to a group of backstabbing, power-hungry nobles who would sell each other out for an ounce of favor. What I was witnessing was something I had only ever read about in books, and my assigned role was to help destroy it.
My observation continued. I saw how Mara would instinctively move to cover Leonidas's flank when he practiced a risky maneuver, and how he would in turn offer her advice on angling her shield. They weren't just friends; they were a unit, covering each other's weaknesses, celebrating each other's strengths.
And then I saw it. The vulnerability Damien wanted.
It wasn't a secret vice or a hidden fear. It was this. It was them. It was Leonidas's fierce, unconditional loyalty to the two people beside him. Thomas was a nervous, untalented mage. Mara was a steady but unremarkable defender. They were, in the cold calculus of power that Damien operated on, liabilities.
Leonidas would undoubtedly risk anything for them. He would walk into any trap, accept any challenge, and sacrifice any advantage if it meant keeping them safe. His greatest strength as a person was his greatest weakness as a target.
The knowledge settled in my mind, feeling less like a discovery and more like a curse. I had my answer for Damien. A perfect, actionable piece of intelligence that would surely please him. The thought of reporting it, of putting names to these auras of loyalty and friendship and handing them over to be used as leverage, made me feel physically ill.
Eventually, their training session wound down. They packed up their gear, laughing and joking, their arms slung over each other's shoulders as they disappeared down the path leading to the commoner dorms. Their warmth and light faded, leaving the courtyard cold and empty.
I remained in the shadows, the silence pressing in on me. The hunter had found his mark. The spy had his intelligence. But the boy who was once Aiden Verne felt like he had just betrayed something sacred.
My mission had forced me to see Leonidas not as the protagonist of a story, but as a person, surrounded by other people he cared for deeply. And it had forced me to see myself not as a survivor, but as a monster's agent.
With a heavy heart, I turned away from the empty courtyard and headed towards my own training spot. The night's work was no longer just about survival. It was about penance. And about the desperate, frantic need to become strong enough to have a choice when the day came that Damien ordered me to pull the lever I had just found.