"Aunt Maya." Connor stood, the movement too fluid, too controlled for someone who had been convulsing seconds earlier. Viscous fluid slid off his skin, but he showed no awareness of his nakedness, no shame—only an unnerving, detached calm.
The room stood silent, watching the walking miracle. Core implosions were a death sentence; there was no cure, only a slow, painful death. Drake, in his berserk state, had imploded Connor's core, and Winston had covered the story by tagging it as due to Connor overexerting himself.
"It seems you all are enjoying the view," he said with an alien chuckle that caused the nurses to redden at their cheeks. His voice was steady, his posture unwavering—as if the violent transformation had cost him nothing.
Despite his eerie composure, a faint tremor still ran through his fingers as he moved with deliberate slowness, as if testing new limbs, and as he took a step forward, his left knee buckled almost imperceptibly before he caught himself.
The head nurse took a sharp, steadying breath before snapping into action. "Get him something to wear," she ordered, her voice cutting through the stunned silence. The medical team moved with hesitant, uncertain motions, their eyes frequently darting toward each other in silent communication of shared disbelief. Connor took the gown with that same slow, deliberate smile that didn't quite reach his eyes—eyes that were now a shade too clear, too depthless.
He slipped the gown on, the thin fabric doing little to diminish his unsettling presence. He flexed his fingers, studying them as if they were new, fascinating tools.
"The pain..." Maya whispered, her voice trembling as Garlack helped her to her feet, his grip firm on her arm as he maintained close proximity. Her neck already bore the marks of his earlier restraint, and she leaned heavily against the wall for support, her hands shaking visibly. "It's gone?"
"Completely, Auntie," Connor said, his voice a smooth, warm baritone that was both familiar and utterly foreign. He walked over to her, his steps just a fraction too balanced, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. His touch was perfectly calibrated—firm, reassuring, but it sent a shiver down her spine. "Thanks to you. You saved me." The words were right, but the delivery was a flawless performance.
Maya's breath caught. This wasn't the Connor she knew. The boy who used to flinch at touch, who spoke in hurried, earnest bursts—now stood with a prince's poise and a stranger's cadence. She forced a nod, her throat too tight for words.
He looked past her to Garlack, who stood rigid, his expression unreadable. "Captain. My apologies for the trouble. I feel... reborn."
Garlack's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. His hand twitched toward the comms device on his belt. He gave a curt nod. "The Principal will want a full debrief. Maya, you'll remain under guard until we have answers about that serum."
"Of course," Connor agreed amiably. "I look forward to it. But first, I believe I need a full medical work-up. For the records." He turned his disarming smile on the head nurse. "If you would be so kind?"
The medical team, snapping out of their stupor, descended upon him with scanners and sensors, their movements still marked by hesitation and exchanged worried glances. The readings were baffling. His core, once a shattered, dormant ruin, now registered not as broken, but as... different. It didn't emit the familiar resonant frequency of Awakened Aether. Instead, it created a perfect void that consumed all energy around it rather than emitting anything detectable. Physically, he was perfect. His muscle density, cellular regeneration, neural activity—all were optimized to a degree that was medically impossible for someone who had been on death's door minutes ago. The head nurse had to repeatedly snap orders to keep her team focused, their professional training battling with sheer disbelief at the impossible transformation happening before them.
One of the younger nurses hesitated, her brow furrowed. "The readings... they don't make sense. It's like his body's been... rewritten." The head nurse shot her a warning look, but the doubt lingered in the air. She turned to Maya, her expression demanding answers. "What was in that serum? Where did you—"
Garlack cut her off with a sharp gesture. "That's enough. Focus on your duties. The Principal will handle the questioning."
Throughout the poking and prodding, Connor remained perfectly still and endlessly patient, his serene smile never slipping. He caught Maya's eye, holding her gaze a moment too long - just a slight, almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes that conveyed everything. The message was clear: The plan is in motion.
That look—cold and knowing—jolted through Maya. Nefertiti's blood. The Eighth Hand. This wasn't a cure. This was an exchange. Her stomach turned to ice.
An hour later, cleaned, dressed in casual academy wear, and accompanied by a deeply suspicious Garlack, Connor was ushered into Winston's office while Maya was taken to a separate interrogation room under guard. He recounted a rehearsed story: fragments of memory, overwhelming pain, then a blissful nothingness followed by Maya's voice pulling him back into a body that felt newer and stronger than ever. He expressed confusion, gratitude, and a believable amount of trauma. Winston listened, his hazel eyes missing nothing, his expression granite.
"Your core is stable?" Winston asked, his voice a low rumble.
"It feels... quiet, sir. But strong. I can't feel my Aether, not like before. But I feel something else - like it's absorbing energy rather than emitting it. Aunt Maya really went the extra mile." Connor replied, layering a hint of bewildered wonder into his tone.
Winston's gaze didn't waver. He knew a performance when he saw one. "Njdeka will run deeper scans. Daily. You are to report to her immediately after this. Your class and club duties are suspended until we understand what happened. You will be escorted to your new quarters in the medical wing for continued observation. Is that clear?"
Connor's smile didn't falter, but something cold flickered behind his eyes for a fraction of a second. "Perfectly, sir. Thank you, sir." He bowed his head respectfully, the motion a little too smooth, too practiced.
As he left the office with Garlack, Winston's gaze lingered on the door long after it had closed. He activated his comms, his voice tight with urgency. "Leo. The Frey boy is awake. Something is deeply wrong. I want him and Maya watched every moment. Njdeka will plant a biometric tracker during his next examination - make it look routine. And Leo—don't underestimate him. This isn't just a student anymore."