The academy was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet that followed celebration or rest—but the hollow quiet that came after something had passed through and left marks behind.
Training had ended hours ago.
The grounds were mostly empty now, lanterns glowing faintly along stone paths, the air carrying the faint smell of scorched earth and lingering energy.
Students had retreated to dorms, infirmaries, or anywhere they could lie down and forget the Ruins Zone ever existed.
Because weekdays belonged to the academy. Home was reserved for weekends.
Kayden didn't go with them.
He sat alone at the edge of the training field, legs drawn up, arms resting loosely on his knees.
The grass beneath him was flattened where dozens of cultivators had fallen earlier.
Cracked tiles still bore the faint scars of techniques gone wrong.
Kayden stared at none of it.
He wasn't meditating.
He wasn't training.
He wasn't even tired in the normal sense.
He was thinking.
And for the first time since he could remember—
The System was silent.
No passive prompts.
No efficiency calculations.
No subtle corrections humming at the back of his mind.
Nothing.
Kayden frowned slightly.
That wasn't normal.
The System had never truly gone quiet before. Even when it wasn't actively guiding him, there had always been something—an awareness, a presence, like a second heartbeat layered beneath his own.
Now there was only emptiness.
And that emptiness pressed on him harder than any command ever had.
Something changed, Kayden thought.
He didn't know how he knew. Nothing had exploded. No one had confronted him. The academy still stood. The sky hadn't cracked open.
But the feeling remained.
Like standing in the eye of a storm that hadn't arrived yet.
He exhaled slowly and leaned back on his hands, staring up at the faint glow of the academy's barrier overhead.
Runes shimmered faintly across the sky, ancient and layered—defenses built upon defenses.
For the first time, Kayden wondered—
Were those runes reacting to me?
The thought unsettled him.
He shook his head once, trying to dismiss it.
That was when it happened.
No sound.
No chime.
No familiar blue interface snapping into place.
Instead—
The air in front of him distorted.
Lines appeared slowly, unevenly, as if being dragged across reality rather than projected onto it.
The interface flickered—not glitching in the way malfunctioning tools did, but stuttering like it was struggling to translate something unfamiliar.
Symbols Kayden had never seen before bled into view.
They weren't part of any known language.
They weren't even symmetrical.
They looked… unfinished.
Kayden's breath caught.
"This isn't—" he murmured.
The System didn't respond.
Instead, one line stabilized.
Clear.
Cold.
Unmistakable.
[Access Level: Restricted]
Kayden stared.
His heart began to beat faster—not from fear, not yet, but from recognition.
This wasn't an upgrade.
This wasn't a new feature.
It wasn't even a warning in the usual sense.
It was a lock.
Kayden clenched his jaw. "Restricted… from what?"
No answer.
The interface flickered again, then collapsed inward, vanishing like it had never existed.
Silence returned.
Deeper than before.
Kayden stood slowly.
Whatever had just happened, it hadn't been random.
And the System hadn't explained itself.
That scared him more than anything else.
Primyte found him later that night.
Kayden was walking back toward the dorm paths when a familiar presence stepped out from the shadows near the old watchtower.
No sudden movement.
No dramatic entrance.
Primyte simply appeared—hands in his coat pockets, posture relaxed, eyes sharp.
"Couldn't sleep?" Primyte asked.
Kayden stopped. "I could ask you the same."
Primyte smiled faintly. "Fair."
They stood in silence for a moment, the lantern light casting long shadows between them.
Then Primyte spoke again.
"The air's heavier tonight."
Kayden's gaze sharpened.
"Heavier how?"
Primyte tilted his head slightly. "The academy barrier adjusted earlier. Subtle, but noticeable."
Kayden's fingers curled at his sides.
"That happens," he said carefully. "After large-scale disturbances."
"Yes," Primyte agreed. "Except this wasn't tied to the Ruins Zone."
Kayden didn't respond.
Primyte continued, voice even. "Something inside the academy triggered a reaction. Not an attack. Not an awakening."
He looked directly at Kayden.
"A presence."
The word settled between them.
Kayden met his gaze. "You think it was me."
Primyte didn't deny it.
"I think," he said slowly, "that something changed."
Kayden exhaled through his nose. "You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not," Primyte replied. "I was waiting."
That made Kayden laugh softly—once, without humor.
"Waiting for what?"
"For the point where hiding stops working."
They began walking again, side by side now, their footsteps echoing softly against stone.
After a moment, Kayden asked quietly, "How much do you know?"
Primyte didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said, "Systems aren't rare."
Kayden blinked.
"People think they are," Primyte continued, "but they're not. Tools, guides, external frameworks—plenty exist. Even strong Systems aren't unusual."
Kayden listened.
"What is rare," Primyte said, "are Systems that don't obey limits."
They stopped beneath a broken archway, moonlight spilling through cracked stone.
Primyte turned fully toward him.
"Adaptive Systems. Self-evolving Systems. Systems that learn independently of their user."
Kayden swallowed.
"Those are forbidden."
"Because they're powerful?" Kayden asked.
Primyte shook his head. "No."
He met Kayden's eyes.
"Because they don't stop growing."
The words landed like weight.
"Every recorded user with a System like that," Primyte continued calmly, "either disappeared… or was erased."
Kayden felt cold.
"So what happens to me?" he asked.
Primyte studied him for a long moment.
Then he said, "The academy will test you."
Kayden frowned. "Test me how?"
"They won't say it's a test," Primyte replied.
"They'll call it evaluation. Observation.
Compatibility assessment."
He looked away briefly, toward the towering academy structures.
"Observers are already watching."
Kayden's chest tightened.
"So I'm being hunted."
"Not yet," Primyte corrected. "Measured."
Kayden laughed again, quieter this time.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No," Primyte said. "It's supposed to make you careful."
They stood there for a while, neither speaking.
Finally, Primyte said, "Hiding isn't an option anymore."
Kayden nodded slowly.
He already knew that.
Rayden noticed first.
The next day, Kayden moved the same.
Spoke the same. Trained the same.
But something was off.
"You're spacing out again," Rayden said, snapping his fingers in front of Kayden's face. "That's like the third time today."
Kayden blinked. "Sorry."
Liora watched them quietly.
"You're not tired," she said. "And you're not injured."
Rayden frowned. "Then what's your problem?"
Kayden hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
"Nothing," he said. "Just thinking."
Rayden scoffed. "You always say that."
Liora didn't push—but her gaze lingered, searching.
She felt it.
Not weakness.
Fear.
Something Kayden wasn't letting reach the surface.
The group continued training, laughing, arguing, moving forward—
But a thin crack had formed.
And Kayden felt it widen with every step.
That night, alone in his room, Kayden sat on the edge of his bed.
The lights were dim.
The academy was quiet again.
He waited.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Words appeared.
No interface.
No color.
Just text, forming slowly in the air, as if reality itself were conceding.
[Warning: Your growth path diverges from accepted reality.]
Kayden's breath hitched.
The words lingered.
Then another line appeared beneath it.
[Continuing anyway.]
Kayden stared.
The System wasn't asking.
It wasn't offering a choice.
It had already decided.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding.
No fight.
No explosion.
Just the heavy realization settling into his bones:
His power was illegal.
The world was starting to notice.
And the System would evolve—
Whether he wanted it to or not.