Chapter 14: Thoughts
Kael stood shirtless in front of the mirror, steam covering the room and creating a haze. The communal bathhouse was quiet now, only the occasional drip of water echoing from one of the empty stalls. The low hum of Crownlight shimmered across the metal fixtures. His.
His eyes tracked over himself again. Broad shoulders. Hardened arms. thinking back to when his training was still a solo ritual. Scar tissue ran faintly along his forearms—reminders from sparring.
But his gaze snagged on the same place as always.
The scar on his left shoulder.
Circular. Twisting. Like something had drilled into him and spun. It didn't throb, not anymore, but he could still feel it when he stared too long. Like it was trying to remember what had hurt him.
He winced slightly. His fingers hovered over it.
Then exhaled. Gathering his thoughts for the day
Soahc talks like he's trying to teach me something without ever finishing the thought. Veyna's Voltarm is brutal. Iris… she watches everything, but she flinches when she's seen. Very eventful for the 2 days he had been here, he thought.
He pulled a black shirt over his torso, still damp from the shower, fabric sticking to him. He was about to slip into his jacket and leave when the bathroom door creaked open behind him.
He didn't turn.
"Not bad," August's voice cut through the stillness. "For a flickerhead."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You spend a lot of time rating shirtless guys, or am I just special?"
August stepped up beside the mirror, towel slung over one shoulder. He was leaner than Kael, wirier, his skin marked by old blade bruises and a faint line down the centre of his chest like someone had once tried to carve something into him and failed.
"You're funny," August said, tone dry. "I don't tend to like people like you, but I really don't like the way you look at me."
Kael stared at him through the mirror. "Then don't stand where the mirror is."
August's eyes narrowed, but the door opened again before he could reply.
Two more figures walked in.
Immediately, the space felt different.
The first was golden-haired and shorter than Kael. A perfect, almost ridiculous shade of blond that caught the flickering crown light in a way that made his blue eyes seem colder. He wore a half-buttoned school coat, the inner collar lined with blue-and-silver thread—the mark of Ironvell.
Like most sword clans an ornate sword crest, but the difference is the fierce wolf behind it, making for a fearsome crest.
His aura was faint, but precise. As if his Crownlight had been trained to burn at just the right level to avoid waste. No more, no less common, are sword clans, but his was a bit different.
The second was taller. Auburn hair, slightly curled, jaw clean-shaven. Bronzed skin, sharp cheekbones with lush, short auburn hair, and those unreadable dark eyes that locked on Kael the moment he entered.
He didn't speak ork; he just watched for now.
Kael straightened slightly.
The blonde one smiled. "Gods. What's going on here?" He said it to the room, but his eyes scanned August and Kael with clear amusement. Then settled on Kael. "You're new."
Kael didn't answer.
"Name's Lysian," the boy offered. "Ironvell. And that quiet statue behind me is Alren. He doesn't say much unless he wants to make a point."
Kael gave a slight nod.
Lysian stepped closer, not aggressive—just curious. "Why haven't I ever seen you before? I remember everyone. Late admit?"
"Something like that," Kael said, flat.
Lysian smirked. "Well, try not to get flattened before the Deathzone opens. Wouldn't want a first-timer getting minced before he gets a rank."
Alren hadn't moved. Still staring. Still silent.
And for a moment—Kael wasn't sure if it was the humidity or the way the mirror caught the light weirdly—but it looked like Alren started smiling deviously at that.
He couldn't tell if it was childish or malicious, but it was strange. Almost mocking.
Kael blinked. Alren's face was still again. Like it never happened.
"Anyway", Lysian said, tapping the side of the mirror like he was knocking on a door. "We'll see you around."
Kael didn't say anything.
August finally peeled away, muttering something under his breath as he brushed past the two of Ironvell and disappeared into the showers.
Kael gave the two guys one last look. Lysian had already turned his back. Alren hadn't moved.
Lysian. His crown light is ridiculous felt like I was going to suffocate. How are they making all these monsters? He thought to himself.
He pulled on his jacket slowly, eyes narrowing.
Then left.
The hallway outside was quiet. He passed a window, caught a glimpse of the outside—Centralis bathed in Crownlight haze, the sky still the same eternal void where the sun should be. It was night. Or maybe dawn. No one could tell anymore.
Time wasn't measured by the sun here. It was measured by how much your Crownlight could light your way.
Kael padded down the long corridor, hands in pockets, steam still drying off his neck.
The dorms weren't far. His room was tucked into one of the less-trafficked wards, shared with a few other low-profile students. Sol was probably off somewhere flickering through his own thoughts. Soahc was chaos in motion. Veyna might be training again—she had the kind of soul that didn't sit still.
They'd all agreed: spar again tomorrow. Train, repeat, sharpen themselves until the Deathzone pulled them under.
All normal classes for 3rd years ended now. Just evaluations. Proving grounds. Posturing and power levels. Even the lectures were more about theory than education.
He entered his room and shut the door quietly.
Just him and his pulse echoing in the bones of this place.
Kael sat on the edge of the bed and let himself breathe.
There was a lot ahead of him still.