Rheaa continued with the same calm clarity, a teacher who did not lecture, but guided. Almost imperceptibly, but with a consistency that could only be felt on second listening.
"Domains," she said, as a new diagram appeared on the board, a kind of circle with blossoming vines - "...are not just a refuge for your path. They serve as an anchor point. Without them..." she made a gentle movement, as if something was reaching into the void , "...Blessings fall apart. They slip away."
"That's why Rank 1 bearers can't use their Blessings outside their domain. They lack resonance stability. Only at rank two does your path begin to follow you, not just the other way around."
A student raised his hand.
"Does that mean rank two is the true first level of self-reliance?"
Rheaa nodded.
"Correct. Rank 1 allows you to use a tool. Rank 2 begins to make you bearers of your own path. From that moment on, you are no longer guests, you are inhabitants of your power."
The details about the basic Blessings repeated much of what Corin already knew. Projection. Flow. Control. Familiar, almost mechanical. Rheaa answered questions with the patience of clockwork, but for him... it remained theory this time. No insight. No click like he sometimes had with other topics. It was almost frustrating. But maybe that was a good thing, he was more concerned with reality than concepts these days anyway.
The lesson ended without any particular incidents. No strange feeling on the back of my neck. No vision. No voice. Just the familiar whisper as soon as he left the building. But this time it was different.
He stepped onto the cobbled paths of the upper campus, past the towering statues of ancient founders, and felt it immediately. The view had changed.
Where before there had only been fleeting glances, curious, perhaps admiring ones, now there was something heavier in the air. Presence. Attention. Expectation.
The whispers no longer sounded like rumors, but like quiet analysis.
"That's him."
"The new guy on the committee."
"The one who won against Aldric."
" ...Valtror took him in..."
Corin continued, his gaze straight ahead. He didn't let on, even though his heart was beating faster. The glasses were more than just camouflage, they became a façade. A filter between him and the world.
He was no longer just a newcomer. He was a factor. And everyone on this campus knew what that meant:
People were no longer watching him out of curiosity. But to see if he would become a problem or an asset.
The inner courtyard was bathed in golden light and the academy looked as if it had been painted. Corin stood at the edge of the fountain with his arms folded as voices approached, muffled, but focused.
"There he is," whispered a voice.
Three students of the high nobility approached, elegantly dressed, confident, with that typical smile that seemed both polite and calculated.
"Corin, isn't it?" the one in front began in a silky tone. Her ash-blonde hair was pinned into an elaborate knot. "We saw your fight against Aldric. Impressive."
"You really put him on the defensive elegantly," another added with a soft smile. "It's rare to see something like that. Especially not with students as new as you."
Corin nodded curtly. "I had good conditions."
"Oh, modesty suits you," said the third, a little cheekier than the others. "But if you want people to take you seriously, you can be proud. The nobility notices strength."
"Speaking of strength..." the first one began again, "have you heard about the match today? Cearen is competing."
"Against five opponents at the same time," added the one with the smile. "A spectacle. And you know him, you're on the committee, aren't you?"
Corin frowned slightly. "Five against one? Sounds... Exaggerated."
He knew Cearen was a little weird sometimes, but taking five on at the same time.
A giggle went through the group. "Then maybe it's a fair fight," the cheeky one interjected, almost playfully.
"Cearen is... hard to figure out," Corin murmured, thoughtfully.
"Maybe," the blonde said with a mischievous look, "but the way you handled Aldric... you could soon be at the top of the game. Some of us are watching with interest."
'Cearen's match... there is no way i am going to miss that.'
The arena was full. A babble of voices, tense faces, expectant looks. Corin sat in the stands, his shoulders leaning slightly forward. He had let himself be pulled along by a group of schoolgirls who were talking excitedly about a challenge against Cearen.
Now he saw it for himself: five students had formed up against him, as if out of nowhere. Five against one. That couldn't be right.
"Five? Against him alone?" he muttered more to himself.
"Then maybe it's a fair fight."
The voice came from his side. He had heard that sentence twice now. Warm, calm, but curious. He turned his head.
'Her?'
The white-haired girl from the cafeteria. This time she was sitting just a few steps away. Blue eyes, clear as glass, rested on the battlefield. Her hands were folded in her lap, her gaze open, interested, almost fascinated.
"You said that, didn't you?" she asked with a slight smirk, as if she had known exactly what was going on in his head.
"...I didn't think I was being loud."
"You weren't either," she replied, "I was just thinking."
A muffled gong cut through the air.
The fight began.
Down on the field, the formation of the five challengers shifted immediately, almost rehearsed, like a dance of steel, speed and discipline. Two went at Cearen head-on, while the other three tried to encircle him. A magical veil slid over their bodies. They wanted to end it, quickly.
Cearen didn't move. Not immediately.
Then... a jolt. A step, or something that looked like a step. A shimmering of air. The first attacker, a tall boy with an armored arm, raised his shield and was hurled through the air. Without Cearen seeming to have even touched him.
BOOM.
The impact echoed through the arena. Dust rose up.
"What... was that?" Corin muttered.
"A kick," the voice next to him replied, almost matter-of-factly. "It hits with air pressure. The body doesn't have to follow if the target has already fallen."
Again he turned his head towards her. She was still calm. Almost as if she'd seen this many times before. Down below, Cearen had already "met" the next opponent, or rather: he had disappeared.
One moment he was there, the next he was skidding across the battlefield like a doll carried by the storm. Cearen himself was still standing with this strangely casual posture, as if he were not fighting but dancing. His movements were precise, not a single one was superfluous, at least it seemed that way. Corin couldn't follow the attacks despite his blessing.
The third attacker tried to surprise him from behind, too late. Cearen's leg shot up like a shadow. A crack echoed through the arena. The boy slumped silently before touching the ground.
Corin was spellbound. He could hardly believe it. No visible contact. Just these incredible, pinpoint kicks that worked with air pressure, as if Cearen was crushing his opponents from the inside before they even got to him.
"He analyzes everything in real time," the girl next to him said calmly, as if reading his mind. "Posture. Breathing. Center of gravity. Attack patterns. The moment you move, he's already beaten you."
"How are you supposed to beat someone like that?" Corin asked quietly.
A small, barely visible smile played around her lips.
"Maybe not at all. But you can understand. If you look."
He looked at her. Her words sounded... meaningful. She wasn't like the other spectators. Not like the ones who were just there for the spectacle. She was watching. Took in. Maybe even... studied?
Down below, the last opponent fell. No blood, no unnecessary violence. Just powerlessness, perfect dominance.
The crowd went wild. The victor stood calmly in the center, as if he owned the place.
Next to Corin, the girl remained silent. Then she said:
"A king on a chessboard. Only, this king .... is the strongest piece."
Before he could react, she stood up. She stood still for a moment, her gaze half turned over her shoulder. Her blue eyes rested on his or rather on his glasses. A slight frown appeared on her face.
"You're hiding them now?" she asked quietly, more to herself than to him. Then she smiled slightly. Not dismissively. Just... curious.
"It makes the thing more relaxed and.... easier."
She was about to leave, but then paused.
"Tell me..." Her voice was a little warmer now. "Haven't you ever wondered why someone like Cearen has such... relaxed school days?"
Corin looked at her questioningly.
"Because he's on the committee?"
She shook her head slightly. "That's often not enough."
A quick glance at the arena.
"Cearen can get away with so much... seem so carefree and calm... because-"
She hesitated, almost as if she didn't want to say the words, as if something would not want to accept it.
"Because he's the strongest."
A moment passed. Then she turned a little towards him, her gaze wandering briefly over his sunglasses. One last look, then she was gone, as quietly as she had come. Corin looked after her, her silhouette shrinking between the rows.