After the woman vanished into the shattered upper levels, the room fell into a tense, unnatural silence.
Iris and I looked at each other.
No words.
She gave a short nod
Then she ran straight to Aric.
He was already pushing himself upright, brushing debris from his shoulders as if being crushed by a wall were a minor inconvenience. Blood stained his sleeve, but his posture remained steady.
Moments later, academy personnel stormed in from the breached perimeter — guards first, then medics, then instructors.
Orders echoed across the chamber.
“Stabilize the injured!”
“Clear the rubble!”
“Secure the area!”
Cadets trapped beneath the fallen wall were pulled free one by one. Most were shaken, some bleeding, but none appeared critically injured.
Efficient response time.
Good academy.
Bad day.
Instructor Thorn arrived at a near run, expression sharp enough to cut steel. Her gaze swept the destruction, cataloging damage, casualties, threats.
Satisfied that no immediate danger remained, she moved toward Aric and Iris.
That was my window.
No one was watching me.
Perfect.
I slipped through the chaos and exited the chamber, moving quickly but not suspiciously. Running attracts attention. Walking with purpose does not.
Outside, the corridor was empty.
I headed straight for the nearest restroom.
Bathroom
I locked myself inside a stall and finally unclenched my hand.
“Alright,” I muttered quietly. “Let’s see if that actually worked.”
Recall.
Space folded.
The small sphere appeared instantly in my palm — cold, smooth, deceptively simple. No glow. No markings. Just an ordinary-looking object that had nearly killed several academy cadets.
So the mark works.
Good to know my new ability includes theft.
Before I could examine it further, my phone vibrated violently.
Incoming notifications.
Lots of them.
Not subtle.
I ignored them, slipped the sphere into my pocket, washed my hands for appearance’s sake, and exited the bathroom.
Outside
Emergency crews were already dispersing. The rubble had been partially cleared, and the atmosphere had shifted from panic to controlled recovery.
No sirens. No chaos. Just professionals doing their jobs.
Aric sat on a reinforced bench, one arm wrapped in medical bandaging. Iris stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes scanning constantly.
Around them gathered the rest of the Top Ten present:
Varek — visibly irritated, probably because he hadn’t been allowed to fight anything.
Zane — tense, watching Aric more than the surroundings.
Selene — composed as always, though her gaze lingered on the damage with analytical focus.
Instructor Thorn — speaking quietly with a security officer, expression unreadable.
No one appeared critically injured.
Good.
Dead classmates complicate paperwork.
After a brief inspection and a series of questions directed mostly at Aric and Iris, the academy declared the situation contained.
Students were dismissed early.
We returned to the dorms in uneasy silence.
Korin’s Room
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment.
Exhaustion followed.
Then curiosity won.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
I pulled out my phone.
Notifications flooded the screen.
[Hollowed Revealed]
[Silent Eclipse — Stage Upgraded]
[Book of Aetherion Codex ]
[Karma Points Received: +17]
[Karma Points Received: +7]
[Total Karma Points: 24]
I blinked slowly.
That was… a lot.
“System. Show me my status.”
“OK.”
A translucent interface appeared.
Status
Strength: 4.2
Endurance: 3.9
Agility: 4.3
Intelligence: 9.9
Awareness: 4.1
Charisma: 4.1
Luck: 10
Functional. No longer embarrassing.
“Show ability.”
“Yes.”
Ability
Silent Eclipse — Stage II: Micro Predictive Instinct
Passive — Danger Instinct
Detect hostile intent directed toward you
Cooldown: 6 hours
Active Mode — Limit: 120 seconds
Predict opponent movement (1 second ahead)
Enhanced focus
Perceptual sharpening
Extended visual acuity
Cooldown: 1 hour
Warning:
Overuse may result in temporary blurred vision or blindness
I exhaled slowly.
“Okay… that’s actually decent.”
Not overpowered. Not useless. Just enough to stay alive in situations where dying would be inconvenient.
My eyes drifted back to the status screen.
Intelligence: 9.9
Still.
“Why isn’t that increasing?” I muttered. “I study constantly.”
No response.
Maybe traits near the cap require exponentially more effort.
I caught my reflection in the dark phone screen.
My face looked sharper than before — jawline more defined, posture straighter. Weeks of training had stripped away softness I hadn’t realized existed.
Improvement.
Noticeable, but not dramatic.
“Still,” I said quietl y, “compared to Aric, I look like the background character who forgot to load his textures.”
Unfair genetics.
“Let’s see… Book of Autherion.”
A weight formed in my hands.
Not summoned with light.
Not delivered with sound.
It simply existed — as if it had always been there and I had only just noticed.
The book was bound in dark material that wasn’t quite leather and wasn’t quite metal. Its surface felt cool, faintly textured, like stone worn smooth by centuries of handling. No title was written on the cover, yet I knew what it was.
Subtle.
When I opened it, the pages were blank — pale gray rather than white, almost like compressed mist given shape.
A line of text slowly emerged at the top of the first page:
Book of Autherion — Query Interface
Ask. Infuse Ether. Receive truth within permitted bounds.
So it answers questions.
Convenient.
“Okay… why am I in this world?”
I placed my hand on the page and pushed Ether into it.
The book absorbed the energy instantly. The page darkened slightly… then the text changed.
Insufficient Ether Proficiency
“…Of course.”
“Who put me here?”
More Ether.
More absorption.
Same result.
Insufficient Ether Proficiency
I closed my eyes briefly.
Why was I even surprised?
Asking existential questions to a cosmic encyclopedia was apparently above my pay grade.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s try something smaller.”
“What are Hollowed?”
Ether flowed again — slower this time, controlled.
The page darkened.
Then words began writing themselves, ink forming from nothing.
Hollowed
Hollowed are those who have accepted the Whisper.
Not all hear it. Not all survive it. Not all remain themselves after answering.
The Whisper seeks those ruled by hunger — for power, recognition, wealth, or flesh. It offers fulfillment without price… though the cost is merely deferred.
The Hollowed appear unchanged. They retain memory, personality, and social standing. Many live ordinary lives. Some rise to positions of influence. A few become heroes.
Their corruption lies not in appearance, but in essence.
Mana bends around them imperfectly.
Emotion dulls. Desire sharpens.
Humanity thins.
The text continued.
Hollowed do not gather openly. They form networks hidden within existing structures — guilds, governments, commerce, and crime.
The nation of Steamhex is believed to be largely under Hollowed influence, though proof is absent.
At the center of their existence stands an unknown entity referred to only as:
The One Who Whispers
Origin: Unknown
Form: Unknown
Purpose: Unknown
Even the Hollowed do not comprehend it.
They serve without understanding.
They receive without knowing the source.
They obey without command.
I stared at the page for several seconds.
Not comforting.
“Is there a way to identify them?”
More Ether.
Identification is difficult.
Hollowed conceal their nature until power is invoked.
Revelation occurs under the following conditions:
? Active use of Whisper-derived abilities
? Observation through Ether-based perception
So that’s why.
Silent Eclipse uses Ether.
I wasn’t seeing mana distortions.
I was seeing corruption.
“Are Tyrion and Kade Hollowed?”
A brief pause.
Then one word appeared.
Yes
I leaned back slowly.
“Great.”
Two members of the Top Ten.
Fantastic odds.
“And I can’t even report it,” I muttered aloud. “Who’s going to believe Rank 431 over Rank 7 and Rank 10?”
“Are there others who can use Ether?”
Yes.
Number: Extremely limited.
Countable on the fingers of hand.
Rare.
Anything rare becomes valuable.
Anything valuable attracts attention.
Attention kills.
My hand drifted to my pocket.
“Let’s check the sphere.”
I placed the small metal orb on the open page and fed Ether into the book again.
This time the reaction was immediate.
Celestial Incubation Core — “Epoch Egg”
Classification: Ultra-Rare Growth Artifact
Description:
A dormant genesis construct capable of evolving into a unique entity or artifact.
Incubation Period: 365 days
Outcome determined by:
? Environmental conditions
? Emotional imprint of caretaker
Improper care results in diminished evolution.
Proper care may produce a singular existence not recorded in history.
Extinction of this class is presumed.
I blinked.
“…So it’s an egg.”
A cosmic, potentially world-altering egg.
No pressure.
Warning:
Bonding has been established with current holder.
Transfer will reduce development quality.
Great.
Now I have a responsibility.
I stood and walked to the mirror.
My eyes stared back at me — graphite gray, almost colorless.
But now the cracks were visible.
Fine fractures radiated from the pupil, extending one to two millimeters outward like stress lines in glass.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
If they spread further, concealment would become difficult.
“…That’s not ideal.”
Not glowing. Not monstrous.
Just wrong.
Like something human-adjacent.
Proof of progress.
Or damage.
Possibly both.
“I need to do something about this,” I murmured.
Because walking into class looking like a cracked porcelain doll was not conducive to blending in.
I scrolled back to the notifications, focusing on the lines that actually mattered.
[Karma Points Received: +17]
[Karma Points Received: +7]
[Total Karma Points: 24]
Twenty-four.
Not zero.
I leaned back against the headboard, thinking.
Seventeen and seven.
Two sources.
Two people.
Aric and Iris were the only ones directly affected by that attack — at least among those who would feel genuine gratitude rather than bureaucratic obligation.
“Probably Aric,” I murmured. “Iris doesn’t look like the type to send thank-you energy to strangers.”
Then again, she had nodded to me before running to him.
“Either way,” I said quietly, “I’ll take it.”
Good deeds were apparently a currency now.
Not the worst economic system I’d encountered.
“So, System,” I continued, “how much does it cost to add abilities?”
No point hoarding points if they couldn’t be used.
The reply came instantly.
“10,000 Karma Points.”
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Ten thousand.
I checked the number on the screen again.
Twenty-four.
Ten thousand.
Twenty-four.
Ten thousand.
“…Right.”
So at my current rate, I only needed approximately four hundred life-threatening incidents where powerful people felt sincerely grateful.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, doing the math I absolutely did not want to do.
Then I exhaled slowly and turned off the screen.
“I’m exhausted,” I muttered, sliding down into the pillow. “I’m going to sleep.”
