The first light of dawn was a weak, grey thing through the grimy window of Ren's cell. He had not slept. The entire night had been a grueling war fought on two fronts: his will against the roaring hunger of his Spirit Soul, and a newer, stranger battle to feel and control the very surface of his skin, to deny the passive influx of Aether. He was exhausted, but the exhaustion was a whetstone, sharpening his focus to a razor's edge.
His schedule, delivered with his morning meal of dry bread and water, listed his first class: Foundational Aetheric Circulation. The irony was so thick it was almost suffocating.
Walking into Lecture Hall C, he felt the immediate shift in atmosphere. The whispers that had followed him yesterday were now open, pointed stares. He saw Lin Fei holding court with his cronies, the boy's face lighting up with malicious glee upon seeing Ren. Across the room, Anya Volkov sat perfectly poised, though her analytical gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary, her expression a mixture of doubt and curiosity. He was the academy's newest and most confusing spectacle.
The instructor, a stern woman with sharp features named Valeriana, wasted no time on pleasantries. Her lecture was a crisp, no-nonsense explanation of the body's spiritual channels and the importance of drawing in Prime Aether to nurture one's spiritual sea.
"Theory is meaningless without practice," she declared, her voice echoing in the silent hall. "We will now begin the most fundamental exercise of your entire careers. Close your eyes. Feel the Prime Aether in the air around you. It is a gentle stream. Your task is to open your senses, create a conduit, and allow a single wisp of that stream to enter you. Do not force it. Simply invite it."
A low hum filled the room as dozens of initiates began their first tentative steps into the world of cultivation. Soft glows of varying intensity appeared around the more successful students. A brilliant, pure light enveloped Anya Volkov, earning a rare, approving nod from Instructor Valeriana. Even Lin Fei managed a respectable, if somewhat strained, shimmer of Aether.
Ren closed his eyes and began his own exercise. He did not invite. He repelled.
He threw the full force of his will into his two impossible tasks. He maintained the dam against the raging river of his Spirit Soul while simultaneously trying to harden his body against the passive, seeping tide of ambient Aether. To an outside observer, he was a statue. Inside, he was a man trying to hold back the ocean with his bare hands.
Instructor Valeriana began to walk the aisles, her sharp eyes assessing each student's progress. She offered a quiet correction here, a word of praise there. Then, she stopped beside Ren's desk. The space around him was utterly dead. There was no glow, no hum, no fluctuation. It was a pocket of absolute stillness in a room full of nascent energy.
"Initiate Ren," she said, her tone clipped. "Are you participating?"
Ren opened his eyes. "Yes, Instructor."
She scoffed, a flicker of contempt in her eyes. "I see no evidence of it. I sense no Aetheric resonance whatsoever. You have an Innate Power of 95, a score that rivals the greatest geniuses in this Empire's history, and you cannot perform the simplest, most basic of tasks?" Her voice rose, attracting the attention of the entire class. "You are either the most arrogant and lazy student I have ever had the misfortune of teaching, or you are Aether-deaf. A complete waste of potential. A disgrace to Elder Tian's patronage."
A snort of derisive laughter cut through the silence. It was Lin Fei.
"Did you hear that?" he called out, his voice ringing with vindicated triumph. "The great genius is a dud! A broken tool!"
Other students, emboldened by his lead, joined in the mockery. The lecture hall, once a place of quiet focus, was now filled with the jeering whispers of his peers. The rumors that had been planted yesterday had taken root and bloomed into a garden of public ridicule.
Ren sat perfectly still amidst the storm, his face an unreadable mask of stone. He had expected this. He had prepared for it. But expectation was a shield, not an immunity. Deep within him, beneath the layers of pragmatic resolve and forced calm, a cold and dangerous anger began to stir. The starved dragon of his Spirit Soul was silent, but for the first time, a different beast was beginning to awaken.