Fin sat alone in the bustling cafeteria, a chipped wooden tray before him, steamed grains, a slab of roasted meat, a bruised apple. Afternoon light streamed through high windows, glinting off stone walls worn smooth by years of Haven's chaos. His neck stung where Gavric's blade had kissed it, a thin scab forming, but Equilibrium kept his pulse steady, his core humming as it refilled, halfway full after the spar, now nearly topped off.
The wound was inconsequential, really. Nothing more than a reminder of where he stood in the hierarchy of power. But such reminders were valuable, and Fin had learned long ago to treasure lessons written in blood. His fingers traced the scab absently, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. A trophy of sorts, earned in combat against a Tier Four. Not many could claim such a mark and still draw breath.
The cafeteria hummed with life, a great stone chamber with vaulted ceilings that captured and amplified every sound. Massive wooden tables, scarred from years of use, stretched in parallel rows across the flagstone floor. Fin had chosen a spot at the far end of one such table, his back to the wall, eyes on the entrance.
The room buzzed, students clumped at tables, voices overlapping in a dull roar that ebbed and flowed like the tide. Conversations blended together, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or the clatter of utensils against wooden trays. Fin speared a chunk of meat, chewing methodically, tuning out the noise. The beef was tough and gamey, overcooked to the point of leather, but protein was protein. His body needed fuel after the morning's exertion.
His fight with Gavric lingered in his mind, fragments replaying in sharp detail. Gavric's healing chest, flesh knitting before his eyes, what skill could heal that fast? His feral laugh, unhinged and exhilarated. A wall to climb, certainly, but perhaps not insurmountable. He'd failed to blend in, drawn out by the thrill of facing a worthy opponent, and now the whispers from the training grounds trailed him like smoke.
Steam rose from his food, carrying the scent of bland spices and animal fat. Haven's cuisine was functional rather than delicious, calories for young bodies training to the breaking point. Fin had eaten far worse in his time back on Earth. He focused on each bite, breaking down the meat with precise movements of his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the sidelong glances thrown his way from neighboring tables.
Footsteps approached, light, deliberate, with the measured pace of someone who never wasted movement. Annie Shard slid onto the bench beside him, tray clattering as she set it down, grains, greens, no meat. Her black hair hung loose, still damp from washing up, and her short sword rested against her hip in its worn leather scabbard. She said nothing, just sat, eyes forward, scooping food with mechanical precision.
Fin glanced at her, quick, assessing, taking note of the calluses on her knuckles, the light bruising on her forearm where she'd blocked a strike during morning drills. Then he shrugged, returning to his meal. Her silence didn't press; it just was. A comfortable lack of obligation that suited him fine. Electromagnetic Perception brushed her presence, her mana steady, dense for Tier One, same as during the spar. She'd seen his some of his actual abilities, Thunderfang, his speed, and hadn't flinched. Worth noting.
Annie ate with the efficiency of someone who viewed food as fuel rather than pleasure. Each bite precisely the same size, chewed exactly the same number of times. There was something almost mechanical about her movements, yet underlying it all was a fluid grace that spoke of years of disciplined training.
A shadow fell across the table. Fin's roommate, the staff boy, loomed for a moment, then sat opposite, his tray piled high: bread, stew, two apples. His cloak was folded neat beside him, satchel slung over the bench. Dark eyes locked on Fin, unblinking, for a long stretch, five seconds, ten. The intensity of that stare would have unnerved most people, but Fin had stared into far more threatening eyes.
Fin met his gaze, chewing slow, waiting. The boy took a bite of bread, tore it with his teeth, then swallowed with deliberate care. Each movement seemed considered, as if every action were the result of conscious decision rather than habit. Interesting.
"Ren," he said, voice low, rough, like he hadn't used it in days, or perhaps like he saved words the way others saved coin. "Name's Ren." He bit into an apple, crunch echoing in the small bubble of silence that surrounded their table, then ate again, saying nothing more. The statement hung in the air, an offering of sorts, though whether it was meant as greeting or challenge remained unclear.
Fin nodded once, Ren. Four mornings of empty beds, silent exits, now a name. Progress of a sort. He speared another chunk of meat, chewing as Equilibrium steadied the oddity of the situation.
Ren stared again, less intense now, more curious,then dug into his stew, spoon scraping wood with each scoop. He ate like someone who had known hunger, Fin noticed, efficient, thorough, leaving nothing behind. Another thing worth noting.
The table's quiet stretched, Annie's measured bites, Ren's steady munching, Fin's calm rhythm creating a small island of peace in the cafeteria's chaos. The three of them, strangers bound by nothing more than proximity, yet somehow comfortable in their silence. It couldn't last, of course. Nothing did.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Then chaos crashed in, Blythe, with her bouncing brown curls, dropped onto the bench beside Ren, tray slamming down with enough force to make the contents jump, stew sloshing over the edges, bread bouncing precariously. Her staff clacked against the table's edge, mana flickering faint, Tier One, unpolished but eager, like a puppy still growing into its paws.
"You!" she blurted, pointing at Fin with enough enthusiasm that several nearby diners turned to look. Her eyes were wide, bright with the excitement of gossip and discovery. "You're him, right? The one from the rumors? They're saying you fought Instructor Gavric, Tier Four Gavric, and lived! Is it true? Did you really punch him with lightning? Someone said his chest healed, like, right there! Did he bleed? Did you bleed? Tell me everything!"
Her words tumbled out in a breathless rush, like a dam breaking after heavy rain. Fin paused, fork halfway to his mouth, Equilibrium smoothing the ripple of irritation that threatened his calm. Annie kept eating, eyes down, though Fin caught the faint twitch at her lip that might, in another person, have been the beginning of a smile. Ren chewed slower, gaze flicking between Blythe and Fin with renewed interest, saying nothing but clearly absorbing every word.
Fin had hoped he'd seen the last of this girl when Coren had dragged him away to Headmaster Elijah's office. Clearly luck was not on his side today. Or perhaps it was, better to know what rumors flew than to be blindsided by them later.
"Rumors spread fast," Fin said, voice flat, taking a bite. He chewed, swallowed, reached for his apple next, crunching loud as if to drown her out. The fruit was past its prime, mealy and lacking sweetness, but he ate it anyway. Waste not, want not.
"Fast? They're flying!" Blythe leaned in, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm, her elbows narrowly missing her stew. Energy radiated from her like heat from a forge. "They're saying you're secretly Tier Three, maybe Four! That you've got some hidden clan technique. Jorin swears he saw sparks, actual sparks shooting from your fist! Mili says Gavric laughed like a madman, and Rylan's claiming you're some kind of prodigy." Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, though it was hardly quieter than her normal speech. "Oh, did he really stop his sword at your neck? Someone said there was blood!"
Fin's jaw tightened, the scab on his neck itched at the mention, as if remembering the cold kiss of steel. He shrugged, biting into the apple again, focusing on the crunch between his teeth rather than the mounting irritation at being the center of gossip. "It was a spar," he said simply, once he'd swallowed.
"A spar?" Blythe's voice hitched higher in disbelief. Her hands fluttered in the air between them like startled birds. "Against Gavric? That's not a spar, that's a legend! They're saying he went Tier Three, maybe Four, and you still stood there facing him! How'd you do it? What's your trick? C'mon, spill!"
Annie snorted, soft, barely audible, still eating with mechanical precision. A hint of amusement colored her silence now, though whether at Blythe's enthusiasm or Fin's discomfort was impossible to tell. Ren's spoon paused halfway to his mouth, eyes narrowing at Blythe, then back to Fin. He took another bite, silent but watchful. There was something assessing in his gaze now, a recalculation happening behind those dark eyes.
"No trick," Fin said, setting the apple core down on his tray. The lie came easily, necessary, practiced. "Just a fight." He speared his last chunk of meat, chewing slow, gaze steady on Blythe. Let her make what she would of that. The truth, that he'd been operating well above his supposed Tier One capabilities, was dangerous. Better to let the rumors fly than confirm them.
She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest in theatrical disappointment. "You're impossible. Fine, keep your secrets. But everyone's talking, cafeteria, dorms, even the spire guards! They're saying Gavric's never sparred a student like that before. Ever." She leaned forward again, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Kellan's asking questions too, heard him muttering about 'Tier One my foot' or something like that when he was walking to the instructor's hall."
Fin's brows ticked upward slightly, Kellan's "Are you sure?" from his Weapons Training fresh in his memory. The fourth year had suspected something from the beginning. Sharp, that one. He shrugged again, finishing his grains with methodical precision. Annie scraped her tray clean, still wordless but clearly listening. Ren polished off his stew, reached for his second apple, crunching into it with steady purpose.
Blythe rambled on, rumors piling atop one another, half-truths twisting into fantasies. Her hands moved constantly as she spoke, painting pictures in the air, occasionally coming dangerously close to upsetting her untouched stew. "Someone said you're noble, House Aodh, right? Heard your Father earned his noble status on the battlefield? Maybe that's it, secret training! Or a special skill, lightning's a rare affinity, you know. Did you see Gavric's face afterward? Was he mad? Impressed? Some people are betting he'll take you as a special student now."
"Done eating," Fin said, standing abruptly, tray in hand. He stepped over the bench with fluid grace, Annie glanced up, meeting his eyes for the first time since she'd sat down. A quick nod passed between them, some unspoken understanding that Fin couldn't quite name. Ren's eyes followed him, unreadable but intent, as if memorizing his movements for future reference.
Blythe kept talking, voice fading as he walked away, "Wait, you didn't answer! Was it really lightning? Can you show me sometime?" but he let the words drift past him, unnoted and unanswered. The cafeteria's ambient noise swallowed her questions, replacing them with the general hum of conversation.
The afternoon light cast long shadows across the cafeteria floor, painting stripes of gold and gray on the worn stone. Fin walked between them, neither seeking light nor avoiding it. The whispers followed him to the door, curious eyes tracking his movement. Let them look. Let them wonder. The truth was his alone to know, his burden to carry.
For now, lunch was over. He'd need a shower and plenty of rest for his three courses tomorrow. The thought of what lay ahead stirred something like anticipation in his chest. He was really excited to start Elemental Imprinting. Ready to set the stage for his evolution to Tier Two. Whatever the whispers said about him today, tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to test his limits. That, at least, was something to look forward to.
As the cafeteria door swung closed behind him, Fin allowed himself a small, private smile.
Tomorrow would be interesting.