The med-bay's sterile chill seeped into Kael's bones as a drone applied a cool, numbing salve to his burned arm. The physical pain was minor (**VIT 17** mitigated most damage), but the psychic wound was deeper. The near-breach haunted him. The Crucible replayed the moment relentlessly: the spatial fold *almost* forming, the monitoring system's sharp warning ping, Klea's piercing blue eyes snapping towards him, Varrus's flinty gaze dissecting the anomaly. **CONCEALMENT INTEGRITY: 87%. SUSPICION CONFIRMED IN KEY OBSERVERS.**
Proctor Varrus's office was a reflection of the man: austere, functional, dominated by a large, unadorned desk displaying tactical holograms. Varrus didn't sit. He stood by the window, staring out at the simulated starfield.
"James," he stated, turning. His voice was flat, devoid of the earlier classroom bark. "Explain the energy spike during Spark's... *overzealous* attack. Monitor registered a spatial distortion signature. Minuscule, fleeting, but undeniable. Your declared affinity is Lightning."
Kael had rehearsed the lie with the Crucible's cold precision. He met Varrus's gaze, projecting controlled nervousness. "Sir, it... it felt like feedback. Spark hit me with fire and electricity at the same time. My Lightning core reacted instinctively, tried to pull it in, counter it. It... overloaded the dampeners on my wristband for a split second. Felt like the world twisted. Hurt like hell too, sir." He gestured to his bandaged arm.
Varrus stared at him, unblinking. The silence stretched. Kael held his breath, his **Willpower 18** the only thing keeping his expression steady. The Crucible monitored Varrus's bio-signatures: elevated heart rate, micro-tension in jaw muscles – skepticism warring with plausible explanation.
"Feedback," Varrus repeated slowly. "From a hybrid attack on a Grade 1 Lightning core. Unusual. But not entirely impossible." He walked around the desk, stopping directly in front of Kael. "Your file is sparse, James. Warrens rat. No registered training. Yet, your evasion in the Dome was... efficient. Almost preternatural for pure physicality. And today, you aborted that feedback reaction *manually*. That takes impressive control for someone who just manifested."
Kael kept his voice level. "Survival teaches control, sir. Warrens teaches evasion. Didn't have the luxury of frying myself or bringing a building down."
A flicker of something – grudging respect? – crossed Varrus's stern features. "Hmph. True enough. Control kept you alive then. It'll keep you here now." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. "But listen closely, Rank 302. That *kind* of 'feedback,' that *level* of anomalous signature, attracts attention you *don't* want. The kind that doesn't ask questions before dissecting anomalies. Keep your Lightning tight. Suppress the... *static*. Understood?"
"Crystal clear, sir," Kael replied, the warning chilling him more than Klea's ice.
"Good. Dismissed. Report to the Archives for your afternoon assignment. Historical Foundations of Modern Combat. Try not to cause another energy surge reading dusty scrolls."
The Archives were a vast, cathedral-like space filled with towering shelves of crystalline data-slates and ancient, leather-bound texts. The air hummed with the low thrum of preservation fields and whispered study. Kael's assignment was research on "Pre-Collapse Paradigm Shifts in Tactical Doctrine." It was busywork, but a welcome reprieve.
He found a secluded carrel deep in the "Ancient Conflicts" section. Pulling a heavy tome titled "Mythos and Martyrdom: Deific Conflicts in the Forgotten Eras," he opened it, the Crucible immediately interfacing, scanning the text far faster than his eyes could read.
**ANALYZING... KEYWORD CROSS-REFERENCE: "WAR GOD."**
**...**
**ENTRY FOUND. DESIGNATION: KAELOS.**
**TITLES: THE STRATEGIST, THE UNBREAKABLE, LORD OF THE CRUCIBLE.**
**LAST RECORDED ENGAGEMENT: THE COSMIC SCHISM.**
**OPPOSITION: ENTITIES DESIGNATED "THE ORDER BRINGERS" (ARCHIVAL DESIGNATION: AETHELGARD).**
**OUTCOME: KAELOS VANISHED. REALM COLLAPSE. ASCENDANCY OF THE ORDER BRINGERS NOTED IN SUBSEQUENT HISTORIES.**
**FINAL RECORDED UTTERANCE (FRAGMENTED): "...FORGE THE SUCCESSOR... SYSTEM ONLINE..."**
Kael's blood ran cold. *Kaelos.* The name resonated with the fragmented visions from his synchronization. The golden sky bleeding, the titan falling. The Crucible *was* the War God's final act. The "Order Bringers" were the Aethelgard – the emotionless executioners who had erased him. And they had won. They ruled the "Order" the histories spoke of – the rigid, controlling structure the Academy itself seemed to embody.
"You seem deeply invested in fallen gods, Rank 302."
Kael nearly jumped out of his skin. Klea Storm stood beside his carrel, silent as snowfall. He hadn't sensed her approach, his **Energy Sense** overwhelmed by the Archives' ambient fields. She glanced at the open page depicting a stylized, armored titan wreathed in lightning, standing defiant against faceless, star-filled adversaries.
"Just an assignment, Rank 3," Kael managed, closing the book with deliberate slowness. "Ancient tactics."
Klea's icy gaze held his. "Kaelos. A fascinating subject. Little is known, much is speculated. Some scholars believe he wasn't just a god of conflict, but of *potential*. That his final act was not destruction, but... transference." She tilted her head, a silver strand falling across her perfect cheekbone. "They say he forged a crucible to shape his successor. A vessel for his divine spark."
Kael's heart hammered against his ribs. Was she guessing? Did she know? "Interesting theory," he said, forcing calm. "Sounds like desperate myth-making."
"Perhaps," Klea conceded, her voice a whisper that somehow carried. "But myths often hold kernels of truth. Like anomalies in scanner readings. Or instinctive reactions that defy declared affinities." She took a step closer, the temperature around the carrel dropping noticeably. "You move like you *know* where the strike will land, James. Before it happens. And that... *twist* during Spark's attack. Lightning doesn't twist space. It *shatters* it."
Kael stood his ground, meeting her glacial stare. "Like Proctor Varrus said, Rank 3. Feedback. Static. Nothing more."
A ghost of that unnerving, beautiful smile touched Klea's lips. "Static can be... revealing. It hints at the signal beneath the noise." She tapped the closed book. "Be careful what you research, Rank 302. Some histories are dangerous. Some truths attract the *wrong* kind of attention." Her gaze flickered meaningfully towards the Archives entrance, where Ember stood watching them, his expression dark. "And some attention," she added softly, "you already have. I see you, Kael James. More clearly than you think."
She turned and walked away, leaving Kael alone in the suddenly frigid carrel, the War God's tome heavy before him, the eyes of his enemies – both known and enigmatic – burning into his back. The past and present were colliding, and Rank 302 stood at the epicenter.
**<<< STATUS SNAPSHOT >>>**
**HOST:** Kael James
**LEVEL:** 10
**EXP:** 70/1100
**ENG:** 120/120
**GRADE 2 PROGRESS:** 73%
**RANK:** 302
**KNOWLEDGE ACQUIRED:**
* **War God:** Kaelos
* **Enemy:** Aethelgard ("Order Bringers") - Victorious
* **Crucible Origin:** Confirmed - Successor Forging System
**THREAT MATRIX:**
* **Ember's Crew (Active):** Retaliation Imminent (Ember Observed)
* **Klea Storm (Active):** **SUSPICION ELEVATED TO NEAR-CERTAINTY (Confrontational)**
* **Proctor Varrus (Passive):** Vigilant Monitoring
* **Academy Oversight (Ambient):** Anomaly Flagged (Low Priority)
* **Aethelgard Legacy (Theoretical):** Potential Existential Threat (Linked to Academy's "Order")
**OBJECTIVES:**
* **Immediate Survival:** Navigate Ember's Retaliation / Klea's Scrutiny
* **Achieve Grade 2:** **73%** (Urgent - Power Needed)
* **Unlock System Origin Data:** **33%** (Requires Grade 3)
* **Investigate Aethelgard:** Connection to Academy?
The Crucible hummed, colder and more purposeful than ever. The War God's shadow stretched long, and Kael James was no longer just hiding – he was hunting answers in the belly of the beast.