The room was bathed in a bluish twilight, broken only by the light of the twin moons filtering through half-drawn curtains. The night's silence at the academy should have been peaceful, but in Room 308, the air was dense, heavy with the scent of blood and ozone.
Kaelen sat perched on the windowsill. He remained motionless, back straight and chin slightly upturned, like a monarch. His golden eyes were not watching the moons; they were fixed coldly on the bed.
There, Veridia was writhing.
She made no screams—only muffled sounds escaped through clenched teeth, a desperate struggle against the pain. Her hands gripped the sheets until her knuckles turned white, and her skin glistened with a cold, feverish sweat.
To Kaelen, the cause was obvious. Ryumu had warned of it: "A blurred bond."
"Flow Vision." The gold in Kaelen's eyes intensified just as he brought his hand to his own abdomen.
"Tsk."
For such a simple technique to cause me this much trouble... Kaelen didn't finish the thought; he preferred to push it aside and focus on Veridia. And then, he saw it. A pain beyond description was leaking toward her. To him, it was tolerable; for a human, the mere intensity was lethal.
"How fragile they are... pathetic," Kaelen murmured. His voice was soft, flat, devoid of compassion.
He watched her arch against the mattress, a solitary tear escaping her closed eye. However, a memory flashed in his mind with annoying clarity: the image of that same creature running toward him in the tower, ignoring his claws and roar, reaching her hands into the void to pull him out. Kaelen narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze toward the darkness.
No... involving myself with humans never ends well. He clenched his fists until they bled; the memories of a painful past still burned like embers beneath his cold skin, reminding him that closeness to humans brought only ruin.
But... I am in debt to this human, and leaving a debt unpaid is inadmissible. Simply put, his pride would not allow a life-debt to go unhonored. Your death shall not stain Kaelen's honor, human.
He slid from the windowsill. His boots touched the wooden floor without making the slightest sound. He approached the bed not as a predator, but as a spectral presence, his robes billowing slightly. Veridia was shaking violently.
The archdemon extended a hand that seemed carved from living alabaster. His slender, perfectly proportioned fingers stopped millimeters from the girl's sweaty forehead. There was a deliberate pause, a gesture of distaste at the necessity of physical contact with something so fragile.
"Do not break yet, human."
He placed his cold fingers on her forehead. Kaelen closed his eyes and submerged himself into the bond that joined them. He expected to find a messy, muddy stream, fitting for the simple mind of a human. But the sensation was immediate and brutal: he was no longer in the room, but standing before the abyss devouring Veridia.
Before him stretched a black ocean, a tide of agony that vanished into the horizon. Waves of pain rose like mountains, crashing with a violence that would have pulverized weaker minds. The shock stole his breath for an instant, his face contorting as he grasped the magnitude of that darkness.
"How are you still alive?" he asked the void, unable to believe she could bear such a burden.
There was no answer, only the roar of the storm. The sky was a vortex of purple anguish—the same corruption he had emitted, amplified by the purity of Veridia's soul as it rejected the poison. Then, Kaelen looked deeper. Beneath the surface layer of black corruption, he perceived Veridia's true nature. An infinite sea of emerald-green mana, vast and deep. A reservoir of power that defied logic. But that ocean was... stagnant.
The ocean did not flow. It was contained by a colossal structure—an artificial dam of red chains and black seals that glowed with an oppressive, vulgar light. It was a magical architecture designed to stifle. The collision between Kaelen's reflected pain and those seals was what was shredding the girl's mind. Kaelen's initial shock gave way to technical disdain.
"A mediocre construction," he observed, regaining his coldness as his golden gaze swept over the seals. "Chaining an ocean with sewing thread. Human insolence knows no bounds."
A giant wave of black sludge rose over him, threatening to engulf him. Kaelen didn't move. He didn't raise a defense. He simply gave the order.
"Silence."
The word sliced through the air like a sword blade. His aura expanded from the rock where he stood, a silver and icy light that froze the storm instantly. The black waves stopped mid-air, crystallizing into dark ice. The wind ceased. The chaos became a mausoleum of ice under his command. Kaelen walked over the frozen water until he reached the dam of black seals and red chains. He brushed one of the chains with the tip of a claw.
I could shatter this right now, he thought, feeling the seal's fragility before his power. But at best, her mind would collapse. He withdrew his hand. It wasn't worth the effort if the vessel broke in the process.
"Break your own chains, human. I am not your savior."
With a fluid movement of his hand, he drew the black ocean, reclaiming it. The corruption flowed toward him, obedient, returning to its master. As the darkness vanished, the ocean beneath the ice began to glow with an emerald green, freed from the external infection.
Kaelen opened his eyes in the real world, the light of the moons hitting his abruptly contracted pupils after the darkness of the mental ocean. He withdrew his hand from Veridia's forehead gently, but without delay, like someone finishing an unpleasant task. The girl let out a deep sigh. Her features relaxed, and the cold sweat stopped. In her sleep, she turned to the side, subconsciously seeking warmth, and her hand closed weakly around Kaelen's hand.
He remained still. He looked down at that small, weak hand that dared to cling to him. His golden eyes showed no tenderness, but neither the habitual rage. He could have broken free with a simple flick of the wrist. He could have pushed her away. But he didn't.
"Hmph," he snorted through his nose, closing his eyes.
Then, something caught his attention. On the back of Veridia's right hand, right where her skin brushed against his, a faint blue glow began to flicker. Kaelen opened his eyes again, focusing on the area with unusual curiosity. It wasn't a glowing vein or a lunar effect. It was an engraving.
A complex symbol, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, was traced upon her skin. It seemed like a recent mark, but upon contact with the demon's residual mana, the lines came to life, pulsing with a cold, rhythmic blue light. Kaelen observed the pattern. It wasn't a standard containment seal like the ones he had seen in her mind. It was something more... personal. A safety circuit designed to activate upon direct contact with magic.
A passive spell, Kaelen analyzed, recognizing the arcane geometry. Someone went to great lengths to protect you—but from what?
The symbol glowed once more and then vanished, turning invisible again, as if it had completed its diagnosis and determined that Kaelen's now-calmed mana was no longer an immediate threat. Kaelen withdrew his hand slowly, observing Veridia's palm with a new layer of intrigue.
Chains in your mind. Regulators on your skin. You are a walking time bomb, human, he thought, and a shadow of respect crossed his gaze. And yet, you have the audacity to sleep peacefully.
He sat on the edge of the bed, motionless as a statue, allowing the contact not out of affection, but—he told himself—because moving her would be an unnecessary hassle. Kaelen remained there with eternal patience, keeping silent watch until he perceived the subtle change in her breathing that signaled her awakening.
◆◆◆
Morning arrived with three sharp, rhythmic knocks on the door. Veridia woke up with a start, feeling strangely refreshed, as if she had slept for a century. She sat up, blinking in the sunlight.
Kaelen was no longer on the bed. He was standing by the door, back to her, finishing the adjustment of his robe's collar. His appearance was immaculate; not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his clothes, as if the previous night had never happened.
"Kaelen?" she asked hoarsely. "What...?"
"Get ready," he ordered without turning, his voice flat and authoritative. "We have company."
Before Veridia could protest, the door burst open. Ryumu Ren was leaning against the frame with a lazy smile and a breakfast tray floating beside him.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty and... your Feline Majesty," the Director greeted, entering without waiting for an invitation. "I brought pastries. And news. Officially, you're on medical leave for 'Post-Traumatic Mana Instability.' Unofficially... you're the talk of the campus."
Ren set the tray on the desk. The aroma of warm dough, butter, and sweet jam filled the room instantly. To Veridia, it was heaven; to Kaelen, it was an olfactory offense. The archdemon wrinkled his nose with a gesture of barely disguised disgust, turning his face away.
"I hope the cat has patience," Ren said, noticing Kaelen's gesture with amusement as he bit into his own pastry. "Because Nalia Aegis is downstairs. She's been there for hours. And she seems to have questions."
Veridia groaned, covering her face with her hands.
"Nalia..."
"Yep. And she's not leaving. Go out there and lie, or tell her the truth. Your choice."
Kaelen said nothing. In a flash of silent light, his human form dissolved, leaving in its place the imposing silver lynx as always. However, space was tight, and Kaelen's intent was clear. With a lazy blink, his body glowed again, contracting. The great feline that normally reached her knees drastically reduced its size, adopting the compact dimensions of a house cat, though his presence remained just as heavy.
She didn't have time to process the warning before realizing that Kaelen, with a fluid motion, had jumped and climbed onto her shoulder, claiming his place as if it were a throne. Veridia stood frozen, neck muscles tense under the sudden weight. She could barely breathe. She rolled her eyes to the left, finding the silver fur brushing her cheek.
It was surreal. Just a few hours ago, this being looked at her with disgust for the mere act of holding his hand to save his life. Now, he was sitting on her as if it were the most natural thing in the world, using her as transport.
"K-Kaelen...?" she whispered, fearing that moving would break whatever was happening. "Are you... comfortable?"
The lynx didn't answer. He simply settled in better, digging his claws slightly—just enough to secure his grip—through the fabric of her pajamas, and stared straight ahead with indifference.
Do not mistake utility for affection, his voice projected into her mind, cold as arctic ice. I have a better angle of vision from here. And the floor of this building is dirty. Walk.
Ryumu Ren let out a low, appreciative whistle, bringing a hand to his chest in a theatrical gesture of mockery.
"Well, well..." the Director murmured, taking a step closer with that smile that foretold trouble. "From 'King of the Underworld' to a scarf in less than a week? That's quite a freefall on the social ladder, your Majesty."
Kaelen ignored the comment with a mastery that only millennia of practice could grant. Not an ear moved. Not a muscle tensed. He treated Ren as if he were just another piece of furniture: unworthy of recognition. But Ren, like a child with a stick and a hornet's nest, was not willing to let it go.
"Tell me, Aethel," Ren continued, leaning toward Veridia with eyes sparkling with irreverence, deliberately ignoring the lynx's cold stare, "does he purr if you scratch behind his ears? Or does he spout prophecies of the end times and destruction? My curiosity is purely academic."
Veridia felt her breath suddenly crystallize. It was Kaelen and Ren. Although the lynx remained as still as a marble statue, the aura he emanated was a silent promise of imminent violence.
Hmph, how ridiculous, Kaelen's voice resonated in Veridia's mind, maintaining his usual posture but with some tension in his muscles. I feel especially magnanimous today; I shall let it slide.
At the same time, Ren kept smiling, but Veridia noticed how the air around the Director vibrated slightly, distorting the light. He was waiting. Daring the cat to try something. Veridia suddenly felt very small, crushed between two tectonic plates about to collide.
I'm surprised how quickly I adapted to this, Veridia thought with a grimace of resignation.
"A-anyway!" Veridia shrieked, breaking the tension with a sudden movement that nearly destabilized Kaelen. "Nalia is waiting! I can't keep her waiting any longer! Goodbye, Director! Thanks for the pastries!"
She grabbed a pastry from the tray with desperate speed and bolted toward the door, nearly running.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth!" Ren shouted at her back, laughing. "And clip the cat's nails, or he'll ruin your pajamas!"
Veridia didn't stop until she was halfway down the hall, her heart pounding in her throat.
That human... Kaelen's voice was a low, dangerous mental growl. His existence is an offense to the aesthetics of silence.
"Please, Kaelen," Veridia whispered, taking the stairs two at a time. "Just... ignore him. If you two fight, you'll destroy the school, and I'd really like to graduate."
Hmph. It wouldn't be worth the trouble of having to clean the blood off my claws.
They reached the bottom of the stairs. Veridia stopped in front of the door to the residence's common room. She knew what awaited her on the other side. Nalia, her friend, was unlike Ryumu; she didn't joke, she didn't play. She observed, analyzed, and dissected the truth until nothing remained hidden. Veridia took a deep breath, smoothing her rumpled pajamas and feeling the comforting yet terrifying weight of Kaelen on her shoulder.
"Will I have to lie?" she asked in a low voice with growing distaste.
The lynx yawned, showing his white fangs, giving no answer. Veridia turned the knob. The door opened with a creak that seemed deafening in the hallway's silence.
The common room was empty, save for a solitary figure sitting in one of the moss-green velvet armchairs, right in front of the unlit fireplace. Nalia was rigid, her back so straight it seemed to hurt, and her hands clasped on her lap so tightly her knuckles were white as bone.
Hearing the door, Nalia jumped to her feet, turning abruptly.
"Veridia..."
Nalia's voice broke on the first syllable. Veridia stood still in the doorway, waiting for judgment. She expected the analytical gaze behind the glasses, the scowl of disapproval, the list of logical questions about how a cat could erase a professor from existence.
But the attack never came.
Nalia wasn't looking at the silver lynx glowing with its own light on her friend's shoulder. Nalia only had eyes for Veridia. Her dark eyes swept her friend from head to toe, not looking for faults, but for wounds. She scanned the paleness of her skin, the deep circles under her green eyes, the almost imperceptible tremor in her hands.
The facade of the "Ice Genius" crumbled. Nalia's shoulders slumped, and all the tension, rage, and cold logic evaporated, leaving only a raw and palpable fear. Nalia didn't let her finish. She crossed the distance between them in three long, desperate strides, and before Veridia could react, she enveloped her in a fierce embrace.
It wasn't an elegant hug. It was a collision, a desperate clinging, as if she wanted to physically ensure that Veridia wasn't going to vanish into smoke.
"Idiot..." Nalia whispered against Veridia's shoulder. Her voice was trembling. "You are a complete idiot."
Veridia stood rigid for a second, surprised by the intensity of the contact, before relaxing and returning the embrace, burying her face in her friend's hair.
"I'm sorry..." Veridia murmured, feeling a knot forming in her throat. "I'm so sorry, Nalia."
"Shut up," Nalia cut her off, pulling back just enough to look her in the face, though she didn't let go of her arms. "Don't apologize for surviving. Apologize for scaring me like that."
Nalia removed her glasses with a trembling hand and rubbed her eyes roughly, furious with herself for the tears threatening to fall.
"When Ren brought you back... you were so pale. You looked dead, Veri. And I..." Nalia swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a choked whisper. "I dragged you into this. I was selfish in the dining hall, suffocating you with my suspicions and theories... I just wanted to prove I was brilliant, without seeing that I was breaking you. I didn't want it to end like this."
Veridia shook her head frantically.
"No, no... Nalia, it wasn't your fault. You were just worried. And you were right, partly."
"I don't care if I was right," Nalia snapped, putting her glasses back on with a sharp gesture. "I care that you almost killed yourself in that tower. If something had happened to you because of me..."
She left the sentence hanging, too heavy to finish. From Veridia's shoulder, Kaelen observed the scene with boredom and passive guardianship.
Human emotions are so... inefficient, the archdemon thought. They waste energy on past recriminations that do not alter the present outcome.
He thought this while, much to his chagrin, remembering his own terrible distraction in the fight against Magar. However, he did not intervene. He simply stayed there, a silver statue. It was, in his twisted way, a show of respect toward Nalia's loyalty—something he, as a demonic lord, could understand.
Ren, from the doorway, broke the moment with a slow, sarcastic applause.
"How touching," the Director said. "Really, I almost dropped my pastry from the emotion. But, I'm sorry to interrupt the soap opera moment, we have a schedule to keep."
Nalia separated from Veridia and turned toward Ren, instantly regaining her rigid posture.
"Director Ren," she said, her voice cold. "I still demand an explanation as to what happened in the tower. And about the nature of Aethel's familiar."
Ren smiled, taking a bite of his breakfast.
"Oh, that's easy. You see, Aegis, it turns out your friend's cat has an attitude problem and a very specific mana diet. The tower thing was just... an adaptation exercise. Happens all the time with high-level familiars."
Nalia fixed her gaze on him; Ryumu's explanations were almost offensive.
"An adaptation exercise? You expect me to believe that a shockwave that cracked the masonry was a routine training session?"
"I believe that's what the report I ordered to be written said. Honestly, I stopped reading by the second line." Ren winked at Veridia. "But it exists, it's signed, and it has three official stamps. That's all that matters. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a school to run and naps to take. Aethel, you have the day off. Aegis, make sure she doesn't get into trouble. And you, cat..." Ren pointed his index finger at Kaelen. "Try not to eat anyone."
"Meow," Kaelen said.
It was the same fake and condescending meow as always. Ren turned and walked down the hallway, whistling. Silence fell between them again, but this time it was lighter. Nalia sighed and looked at the lynx on Veridia's shoulder.
"Fine," Nalia said, crossing her arms. "'Adaptation exercise.' I suppose that will be the official version."
"It's... a version," Veridia admitted with a nervous smile.
Nalia nodded, accepting the lie not because she believed it, but because she understood Veridia couldn't give her the truth. She reached out and adjusted Veridia's pajama collar with a maternal gesture.
"But promise me one thing, Veri. Next time your cat decides to have an existential crisis or an 'exercise'... don't face it alone." Nalia stared into Kaelen's golden eyes. "Call me. We're a team, remember? Even if the team includes a pet with a god complex."
Kaelen let out a low snort.
How insolent... his voice resonated in Veridia's mind, heavy with an icy disdain yet strangely lacking murderous intent. Her survival instinct is defective.
Veridia smiled, finally feeling like she could breathe.
"I promise, Nalia. We're a team."
"Good. Now go bathe. You stink of ozone and sweat. And we have to go to the library. If you're on medical leave, we can take the opportunity to get ahead on the History of Magic essay."
Veridia groaned.
"Seriously? I just survived death and you want me to study?"
"Surviving doesn't exempt you from your academic duties, Aethel. Move."
Veridia dragged herself upstairs. Kaelen, in his compact lynx form, remained silent, a silver gargoyle. But normalcy, at Zenith Academy, was a fragile concept.
◆◆◆
In a dark corner of the upper hallway, three figures observed Veridia's ascent with intensity. Their uniforms were modified with studied carelessness: popped collars, unnecessary chains, and rolled-up sleeves. The one in the center, a tall boy with a scar on his cheek, shifted a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, his eyes gleaming with an intense thirst for violence.
"There she goes," he whispered, his voice heavy with ominous expectation. "The only one who could give Ryumu trouble."
"They say she destroyed Galt just by walking," added the third, a thin boy with a weasel-like face. "And that Professor Horo had to beg her for mercy."
"It's her," the leader declared, clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked. "The Supreme Leader we've been waiting for. The throne of the backyard is no longer empty."
The three shadows nodded in unison, and in their gazes, there was no threat, but the fanatical devotion of a pack that has just found its alpha.
"Soon..." the leader promised, vanishing into the shadows. "Soon we will swear our loyalty to her."