✦ Echoes of the Arena
Even though the stadium had thundered with applause for Aether's astonishing display—his cold composure, his brilliant mechanisms, the way he had effortlessly turned the tide—the outcome of the tournament itself was ultimately unaltered. In the end, the mages still stood in greater numbers when the whistle blew. The non-mages, battered and low on morale, could not overturn the sheer volume of magical participants.
The mages had won.
But it was a hollow victory.
No cheers broke out, no triumphant whoops or raised banners. Instead, the mages packed up their robes and tools with hushed hands, exchanging uneasy glances. For in the pit of every mage's stomach was a tight, sour knot—an understanding that if Lucas hadn't interfered when he did, the match might have ended very differently.
No one needed to say it aloud. Every student who had watched that frigid standoff between Aether and Lucas could picture it clearly: the chosen ones humbled by a single non-mage, a mechanical genius who stood there smirking while their spells shattered harmlessly. Even the headmaster's awkward smile couldn't dispel the echo of that image.
The students left in waves. The stands slowly emptied, voices rising in a subdued babble of speculation. Claire lingered with her friends until she caught her brother's eye—she gave him a bright, proud thumbs up that made Aether's lip twitch, just faintly, before he went back to his work.
✦ Alone with His Creations
Long after the crowds had cleared, Aether remained behind in the now quiet arena. The afternoon sun was slanting low through the arches, striping the stone floor with warm gold. He crouched by his battered mechanisms, carefully inspecting each intricate part. His hands moved deftly—adjusting a tiny bolt here, tightening a thread of polished metal there.
These creations were more than just tools. They were his companions, his guards, his living testament that a boy without a single drop of magic could still shape the world to his will.
He ran a cloth gently over a scorched panel.
"It's not their fault," he muttered under his breath, almost fondly. "Took quite the hit from that overgrown torch Lucas threw. Still held up better than most mages could."
✦ The Dean's Approach
He was so focused that he didn't notice the gentle footsteps approaching until a shadow fell across his hands. Aether's head snapped up, eyes narrowing instantly into wary slits.
There stood the Dean.
Her long gray braid caught the dying light, turning it to silver. She watched Aether with those warm brown eyes that somehow seemed to peer right through him—past his composed expression, deep into thoughts he'd rather keep hidden. For all her grandmotherly softness, she was still the woman who ran this academy with the ease of twirling a spoon in her teacup.
"Aether Ryens," she said with a small smile that somehow managed to unsettle him more than an outright glare might have. "Could I ask you to accompany me to my office for a little talk?"
Aether stood slowly. He slipped his rag into his pocket, every sense sharpening. "Of course, Dean. Lead the way."
But inside, his mind was a tangle of cold calculations.
"What does she want with me? Surely she didn't uncover… anything. No. Calm down. But with her hunt magic, it's best I keep every word measured. This woman could peel my secrets open with a sigh if she truly wished."
He exhaled, schooling his features into an expression of polite curiosity as he fell into step behind her.
✦ Into the Dean's Den
The walk through Himwarry's ornate hallways felt impossibly long. Students parted for them like reeds before a drifting boat, bowing low or scuttling to the sides of the richly carpeted corridors. Aether kept his gaze fixed ahead, though he caught plenty of wide-eyed whispers in his wake.
When they reached the Dean's office—a vast chamber lined with towering bookshelves, smelling of old parchment and faint lavender—the Dean gestured gracefully to a plush chair. Aether sat carefully, his back straight. He might have looked relaxed to anyone watching, but under the table, his fingertips drummed lightly against his thigh in a silent tattoo of tension.
✦ Unwrapping the First Agenda
The Dean settled into her high-backed chair opposite him, folding her hands primly on the polished oak desk.
"First," she began, her voice gentle but edged with something harder, "allow me to apologize. What happened today was unacceptable. It was our responsibility to keep the tournament in check, and we failed. If things had escalated further… well."
Aether didn't even blink. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, expression cool and unsparing.
"That's right. It was your fault. One little oversight and someone could've been carted off in pieces."
The Dean's eyes flickered. Her brows lifted, almost amused despite the gravity. "My, you're not holding back at all, are you?"
"You didn't hold back from risking lives, so why should I mince words?" Aether shot back evenly.
She let out a sigh—one that sounded more entertained than exasperated—and laced her fingers together. "Very well then. Tell me: what would you like as compensation for today?"
Aether's eyes glinted. "As expected. This is exactly what I hoped for. But first…"
He leaned forward slightly. "If that was all you wanted to discuss, I doubt you'd have bothered dragging me all the way to your office. Why don't you go ahead and tell me what you really want, Dean?"
Her composure cracked just a hair—enough for a wry smile to tug at the corners of her mouth.
"Clever boy. You caught me." She tapped one elegant finger against her cheek. "Very well. Straight to business, then."
✦ The Price of Ingenuity
She swept a hand lightly through the air. Tiny blue glyphs danced around her fingers. A scroll unfurled on the desk by unseen magic, scribbled full of contract clauses in elegant script.
"I want your mechanisms, Aether. Or rather, I want the blueprints, the full design documents, rights to replicate. I've been head of this academy long enough to recognize the birth of something that could change the way our society views combat altogether. I'm prepared to offer you fifty thousand contribution points for the acquisition."
Aether's breath caught—just for a second. Fifty thousand contribution points was a sum that would make even third-year elites sit up straight. With that much, he could buy restricted materials, reserve entire lab wings, secure privileges that most non-mages never even dreamed of.
He rested his chin lightly on his knuckles, pretending to think longer than he needed to. In truth, the decision was already made.
"That's quite generous. I accept. But… since we're still addressing compensation for your oversight today…" He let the words trail off meaningfully.
The Dean arched a brow. "Oh? You're not done wringing my pockets dry, then?"
Aether's smile was almost sweet. "Not quite. I'd like an additional fifty thousand contribution points. Purely as a formal apology for nearly letting your chosen ones roast me alive out there."
✦ The Dean's Quiet Defeat
For a heartbeat, the Dean simply stared at him. Then she leaned back, eyes slipping closed as she sighed—a long, exhausted sound that somehow still carried affection.
"This damn brat… he got me again," she muttered so low Aether almost didn't catch it.
Then she straightened, smoothed her robes, and gave him a look that was half amused, half resigned. "Very well. You drive a hard bargain, Aether Ryens. You'll have your hundred thousand contribution points. The contract will reflect both the purchase and the compensation."
Aether inclined his head, satisfied. "Pleasure doing business with you, Dean."
But as he rose to leave, he paused at the door. He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes narrowed just slightly.
"One last thing."
✦ A Curious Request
When he finished explaining his final, peculiar request, the Dean actually laughed—a soft, disbelieving sound that echoed lightly around her shelves.
"I don't know why, but somehow it feels like everything's dancing to your tune. And that last request of yours… honestly."
She waved a hand, a rueful grin spreading across her face. "Fine. Have it your way. Just remember, boy, you'll owe me a story someday about why on earth you wanted that."
Aether smirked, dipped his head in a playful half-bow, and slipped from the room before she could press for more.
Behind him, the Dean leaned back with a long sigh, eyes tracing the ornate ceiling. "What an infuriating, intriguing child. This academy is about to get very interesting indeed."
✦ In the Halls of Whispers
When Aether stepped back into the hallways, it was like stepping into another world entirely. Word of his contract had apparently traveled at breakneck speed—likely on the wings of eager gossip. Students clustered in little knots along the corridor walls, whispering and pointing.
Some looked at him with open awe. Others with wary confusion. A few simply blushed and quickly looked away when he passed.
Aether grimaced. "Ugh. What's with all these eyes today. This is exhausting."
A small cluster of second-year girls started toward him, wide smiles already spreading on their faces.
Aether didn't wait to see how that conversation might unfold. He immediately quickened his pace, nearly breaking into a jog. He cut around two startled underclassmen and ducked down a narrower hallway that led toward the dormitories.
✦ Home—And an Unexpected Visitor
When he reached his dorm, he paused. His instincts prickled. He could feel it—the faint disruption in the air, the subtle warmth of someone else's presence inside.
"Great. Who decided to break in? If it's another overeager mage trying to sniff around for secrets…"
He slowly turned the handle, pushing the door open with measured caution.
Then—
"Tadaa! Congratulations on winning!"
Aether actually staggered back a step, eyes going wide. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, a bright grin plastered across her face, was none other than Claire.
For half a second, panic seized his chest. Then it crashed into relief so sharp it left him dizzy.
"Shit. I forgot she has a spare key to my dorm." He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought it might've been someone else—like the damn Dean coming to rummage through my underwear drawer or something."
✦ A Sibling's Tease
Claire cocked her head, smirk playful and eyes twinkling. "Hey! What's with that disappointed face, huh? Or were you maybe hoping it was someone else waiting in your bed? Hehe."
Aether shot her a flat look, cheeks heating just faintly. "Nothing like that, you idiot. Anyway, what are you even doing here? And besides…" His shoulders slumped a touch. "I didn't actually win."
Claire rolled her eyes and hopped off the bed, padding over to him.
"Not officially. But everyone knows who truly owned that arena today. Even the mages aren't pretending otherwise."
She poked him in the forehead, lightly. "So yeah. You won, whether you want to admit it or not."
✦ The Scream
As Aether stepped further inside, grumbling something under his breath, he noticed something on his desk.
And then he screamed.
"AAAHHHHHHHHH???"
Because sitting there in a neat little row were several fluffy pink stuffed animals—bears, cats, rabbits—each holding tiny banners that read "#1 MECH GENIUS" and "AETHER OUR HERO!" in obnoxious sparkly paint.
Claire burst into peals of laughter, nearly doubling over.
"You should've seen your face! Hahahaha! Relax—they're from Lena and the others. They said if you're going to be famous now, you'd better start getting used to embarrassing fan gifts!"
Aether groaned, dragging both hands down his face.
✦ To Be Continued…
Outside the dorm window, twilight deepened into velvet blue. Somewhere down in the courtyards, voices laughed and shared stories of the day's impossible spectacle.
And in a tiny room lit by a single lamp, Aether leaned back against his wall, eyes drifting closed, a rare, unguarded smile just tugging at his lips as Claire teased him relentlessly.
"Hah. Fine. Let them all watch. I'll give this academy something to really lose sleep over before I'm done."
[To Be Continued…]
(Cue Jojo'z Theme, swelling over a slow fade to black.)