The aftermath hit like a ripple.
Class Zero’s name was everywhere.
Screens around the campus replayed the match over and over. Clips spread like wildfire—Evelyn’s cyclone burst, Vyn’s pressure-point takedown, Silas streaking through the sky like a golden comet. No commentary could keep up. People didn’t even try to explain it anymore. They just stared, eyes wide, breath shallow.
Some tried to play it off.
"They probably used some temporary buffs," one girl said, arms crossed.
"Nah, that wasn’t normal," her friend whispered. "I was at the dome. That wasn’t temporary. That was pure skill."
In the lounges and dorms, upperclassmen huddled around projections and paused frame-by-frame. Tactical breakdowns were being formed. Counter-strategies drafted. Everyone was doing the math.
If Class Zero could do that as first years, what would they be like in a month?
"They can’t all be that strong," said a boy from Sector Eight. "That Lucian guy didn’t even fight."
"Exactly," someone muttered. "He didn’t need to."
By evening, speculation turned into obsession.
Other classes started reviewing every scrap of footage from the past week, trying to find holes—patterns—anything that could give them an edge. Athena’s name came up too.
"They’re from her unit, right?" someone said. "What the hell did she teach them?"
Nobody had an answer.
Nobody could agree on what they even saw.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard behind the west wing—just past the combat simulation blocks—Class Zero was stretched out across the benches, half-sprawled, half-watching the sky like nothing big had happened.
Silas laid on his back, arms under his head, one leg crossed over the other. His coat was off, white undershirt sticking to his chest. The glow under his skin had faded for now, but there was still something strange about the way he breathed.
Reia stood nearby, leaning against a pillar.
She wasn’t watching the sky.
She was watching him.
He looked relaxed. Maybe too relaxed.
But her eyes weren’t on his face. They were on his chest. Not in a weird way—she was tracking the rhythm, the pulse.
It was slow. Controlled. But not idle.
She narrowed her eyes.
The light was faint—but real. A golden shimmer that pulsed under his skin with each inhale. The sun had already dipped low, bleeding orange across the courtyard, and yet... Silas was still charging.
Not draining. Charging.
Each breath he took was feeding something. Not mana. Not aura. Something deeper. Like his cells were drinking sunlight straight from the sky, even when the rays were fading.
She didn’t say anything.
But something shifted in her mind.
It wasn’t just raw strength.
He was becoming something else.
And whatever that was—he hadn’t noticed yet.
Silas turned slightly. "You good, Rei?"
She blinked once. "Yeah."
"You sure? You’ve been staring at me like I stole your snacks."
"No, but now I’m thinking about it."
She rolled her eyes, but kept quiet.
Evelyn walked up next, rubbing her shoulder. "Anyone else feeling weird?"
Vyn glanced over. "No."
Evelyn ignored her and sat down next to Silas. "Not bad weird. Just... charged."
Silas grinned. "Like your body’s a battery now?"
Lucian arrived last, silent as always. He didn’t sit. Just leaned against the wall near Reia.
She didn’t look at him, but she felt his eyes flick her way once.
Then Evelyn broke it.
Lucian shrugged. "Rest. Next round’s in two days."
Silas yawned. "They’re definitely gonna throw heavy hitters at us next."
"They should," Reia said quietly. "The weak ones won’t tell us anything."
Vyn stood up. "I’m going to recalibrate."
"Again?" Evelyn asked. "We just fought."
Vyn walked off, disappearing into the shadows near the lower courtyard with a soft flicker of displacement. She never walked the normal paths. It was like she didn’t like being seen longer than necessary.
Reia pushed off the wall and walked toward the training yard. Lucian followed without a word.
Silas raised an eyebrow. "Are they...?"
Evelyn gave him a sideways glance. "Don’t start."
"I didn’t say anything!"
Back near the sim yard, Reia activated the dummy arena—not to fight, but to think. The world around her digitized into a pale grid, casting long shadows under the last breath of sunlight.
Lucian stayed at the edge.
"You saw it, didn’t you?" he asked.
She nodded once. "He’s absorbing sunlight. Actively."
"Not fully. But it’s been growing."
She watched the holograms flicker in and out—enemy formations, training protocols, drone behavior. None of it mattered now. Not really.
Lucian looked away. "Let him find it."
The sim grid faded out as Reia deactivated it, stepping back beside Lucian.
"You’re not worried about them catching up?" she asked quietly.
He turned his head slightly. "They’re not supposed to catch up."
But she didn’t disagree either.
Back at the dorm halls, screens were already updating the next brackets. Names appeared. Class Zero’s new opponent hadn’t been set, but there were two likely options—either the veteran team from Sector Twelve, or the hybrid team with imported duelists from a private hunter guild.
Evelyn and Silas eventually wandered back inside, passing a group of students whispering near the lounge. They went quiet the moment Class Zero passed by. That part was getting normal.
Evelyn leaned toward Silas. "You think people are scared of us now?"
Silas scratched his chin. "Nah. I think they’re calculating. That’s worse."
He shrugged. "Kind of. I mean, not my problem if their plans suck."
Reia and Lucian entered last. She moved ahead while Lucian paused at the hallway junction, glancing toward the old observatory tower—sealed off to most, but not to him.
He stayed like that for a few seconds.
Class Zero split into their rooms after that. Lights dimmed across the hallway. The quiet returned, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that came before a storm. A heavy pause, like everyone was waiting to see what would happen next.
In her room, Reia sat on the edge of her bed, turning over a data chip in her fingers. She wasn’t reading it. Her mind was still with the solar pulses inside her brother’s skin.
What would happen when he figured it out?
What would he become?
And would she be able to stand next to him—with him—or would she fall behind?
She closed her eyes, letting the question hang.
But the silence felt heavier now.