Chapter 7: Mind Games
The psychology lecture hall was a cavern of ambition, its tiered seats polished to a dull sheen, the air thick with the bitter tang of stale coffee and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Landon slouched in the back row, his heart a staccato drumbeat against his ribs, each pulse laced with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. His fingers, fidgeting with the frayed edge of his notebook, betrayed the nervous tic he couldn't shake—a subtle lip-bite, a habit from his old life, resurfacing like a ghost.
The room buzzed with the low murmur of students, their voices a competitive undercurrent, each one vying for Professor Brink's approval. But Landon's focus was singular, locked on Riley, a sophomore telepath whose smug grin gleamed like a blade in the dim light. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, her posture radiating confidence, but her eyes held a predatory glint, scanning the room for weakness. Landon needed her power—or at least immunity to it—to shield himself from Cate's telepathic probes, a threat that loomed larger with every passing day.
The chalkboard at the front was scrawled with half-erased diagrams of neural pathways, a faded outline of a brain smudged by hurried hands, a relic of some forgotten lecture. The air carried a faint mustiness, like old books left too long in a damp basement. Landon's meta-knowledge, a jagged shard of insight from a world beyond this one, whispered Riley's vulnerability: her pride, her need to dominate. He leaned forward, his voice cutting through the room's hum like a thrown dart, sharp and deliberate.
"So, what's the point of this, anyway?" he said, his tone laced with a calculated innocence that didn't reach his eyes. "Is it a debate on morality, or just a contest to see who's the biggest hypocrite?"
Riley's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing, the glint in them sharpening to a point. A subtle pressure brushed against Landon's mind, a mental prod as light as a feather but cold as steel. It was her first move, a tentative scan, and he felt it like a chill creeping up his spine. She's testing me, he thought, his lip-biting tic flaring as he fought to keep his thoughts guarded. "Good. Let her try. I need her to lose it."
"What are you talking about, Landon?" Riley asked, her voice smooth but edged with irritation, her fingers tightening around her pen.
"Oh, come on, Riley," Landon pressed, leaning forward, his elbows on the desk, the wood cool and slick under his skin. "You talk about free will and choice, but you're a telepath. You're a cheat. What's the difference between a puppet master and a professor when you can just dig into someone's head?"
The room stilled, the other students' whispers fading into a tense silence. Riley's face flushed, a flicker of anger breaking through her composure. The mental prod became a spike, a sharp, invasive force that burrowed into Landon's skull, grinding against his thoughts like sandpaper. He gritted his teeth, his vision swimming, the pain a physical weight pressing down on him. "Push harder, damn it," he thought, his defiance a burning coal in his chest. "I need to die for this."
"You don't get to talk to me like that," Riley whispered, her eyes glowing with a quiet, menacing power, the air around her crackling with an unseen energy. "You don't know what I am."
"I know what you are," Landon spat, his voice a raw, painful gasp, each word a struggle against the psychic vise squeezing his mind. "A coward hiding behind a power she can't control."
The mind-crushing command hit like a tidal wave, a psychic jackhammer that shattered his defenses and reduced his thoughts to static. His vision blurred, the lecture hall dissolving into a kaleidoscope of light and pain. A high-pitched hum filled his ears, drowning out the distant bell signaling the end of class. His last thought was a fleeting, bitter triumph: "Got you." Then, silence swallowed him whole.
Revival was a violent jolt, a wrenching pull back to existence in a cramped janitor's closet, the air thick with the chemical sting of bleach and the musty scent of damp mops. Landon's head throbbed, a persistent buzz ringing in his ears like a malfunctioning radio, a ghost of Riley's attack. His hands shook as he pushed himself up, the concrete floor gritty under his palms, his vision swimming with afterimages of light. The revival debuff was merciless, a reminder of the cost of his new power: Mind Control Immunity (C+). His fear was real now, a cold knot in his stomach, tightening with every breath. "Cate's out there, waiting," he thought, his lip-biting tic flaring as he steadied himself against a shelf. "I can't let her in my head. Not now, not ever."
[Ding! Mind Control Immunity (C+). Brain's safe—for now, coward.]
The System's sarcastic jab cut through the haze, its voice a familiar, mocking presence in his mind. Landon snorted, the sound weak and shaky. "Yeah, laugh it up," he thought, his sarcasm a shield against the vulnerability clawing at him. "I'm still standing, aren't I?"
From Riley's perspective, the lecture hall was a puzzle she couldn't solve. She sat frozen, her pen still clenched in her hand, her mind replaying the moment she'd unleashed her power. He should've broken, she thought, her confidence shaken. He should've been a wreck, drooling on the floor. But Landon had stood there, pain etched into his face but defiance in his eyes, unyielding until the end. And then, he was just… gone. No body, no trace. Her telepathic senses caught nothing, only a faint echo of fear and something deeper—strength, hidden and dangerous. What is he? she wondered, her curiosity tinged with wariness, a seed of doubt planted in her smug facade.
The campus fountain was a gentle oasis, its water cascading in a soft, rhythmic hum that cut through the afternoon's warmth. The air carried the faint scent of wet stone and blooming jasmine, a contrast to the sterile lecture hall. Landon sat on the fountain's edge, his head in his hands, the buzzing in his ears a relentless drone. His fingers traced the rough stone, a grounding sensation that tethered him to the present. Marie approached, her sneakers scuffing softly on the cobblestone path, her dark eyes heavy with worry. From her perspective, Landon was a reckless enigma, a boy who courted danger like a lover but carried a weight she couldn't name. She sat beside him, her presence a quiet anchor, her hands folded in her lap, trembling slightly.
"Landon? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft, tinged with a Midwest twang that carried her concern like a melody.
Landon looked up, his grin weary but genuine, his eyes meeting hers. "Just got my mind crushed a little bit. It's a whole new world."
Marie shook her head, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "What is it with you? Why do you keep… getting hurt?"
"It's a long story," Landon said, his voice softer now, the sarcasm fading. "But hey, at least I'm getting good at mind games, right?"
The quip was a fragile bridge, a test to lighten the moment. Marie's smile widened, a playful light breaking through her worry. She reached out, tapping his arm lightly, her fingers cool against his skin. "You're a pain, you know that?"
"So I've been told," he replied, a laugh escaping him, raw and real. The sound was a release, a moment of connection that grounded him. "She's here," he thought, his heart lighter despite the buzz in his ears. "She's not running away." Their friendship, fragile but growing, was a lifeline in Godolkin's chaos, a reminder that he wasn't alone.
[Support accepted: Marie's your rock. Don't mess it up.]
The System's warning was almost paternal, a sharp nudge to protect what mattered. Landon glanced at Marie, her eyes warm and honest, and made a silent vow to keep her safe, no matter the cost. The fountain's hum filled the silence, a Quiet Moment that wrapped them in a fragile peace, the world's dangers held at bay for just a breath.
The campus cafe was a warm cocoon, its air thick with the rich, earthy aroma of coffee and the faint hum of conversation. The wooden tables were scratched, etched with initials and doodles—a heart with "J + T" carved inside, a testament to some fleeting romance. Landon sat at a corner table, his coffee cooling, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue. The buzz in his ears had dulled, but his nerves were still raw, his lip-biting tic flaring as Cate approached. Her perfume, sharp and clinical, hit him like a warning shot, cutting through the cafe's warmth. From her perspective, Landon was a puzzle, his resilience a challenge to her telepathic control. She sat across from him, her blonde hair catching the light, her eyes sharp and probing.
"You're a hard person to read, Landon," she said, her voice smooth, a low purr that carried a hidden edge.
"I get that a lot," Landon replied, taking a sip of his coffee, the liquid grounding him. "Guess I'm just an open book."
"I don't think so," Cate said, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "I think you're a book with a locked cover."
Landon shrugged, his sarcasm a shield, his fingers tightening around his mug. "She's fishing," he thought, his heart racing. "Can't let her in. Not now." He kept his expression neutral, his voice light. "Maybe I just don't have much to say. You ever think of that?"
Cate's smile was thin, calculating, but a spark of respect flickered in her gaze. He's good, she thought, her telepathic senses brushing against his mind, catching only fragments of guarded thoughts. Too good. The conversation was a dance, a clash of wits that left the air charged with tension, a promise of future conflict.
[Cate's intrigued: Watch your back, liar.]
The System's warning was a cold truth. Landon finished his coffee, the bitter dregs a mirror of the unease settling in his gut. Cate was a threat, a ticking bomb, and he had to stay one step ahead. As he left the cafe, the scratched table caught his eye, a fleeting reminder of a simpler world, where love was carved in wood, not power stolen through death.
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