The vibration in Caelum's marrow was rhythmic and violent—a signature of pure, golden feedback. Somewhere in the sprawling stone corridors of the Academy, Kaelith was experiencing the "mind-boggling" price of her theft.
"Mina, return to the shadows of the infirmary," Caelum commanded, his voice cold and sharp as a razor. "Ensure the 'Landmines' (Isolde and Elena) remain undisturbed. I will handle the thief."
The Slime Empress bowed, her **translucent, amber breasts** shimmering as she dissolved into a puddle of liquid light. Caelum turned, his boots clicking rhythmically against the obsidian floor as he exited the Library of Shadows.
He didn't need a map. He followed the "heat."
Caelum moved through the "Whistling Gallery"—a long, arched hallway lined with statues of former Headmasters. He expected to find Kaelith collapsed on the floor, but instead, he felt a secondary, sharper presence.
Perched atop the shoulders of a massive gargoyle statue was **Knight-Scout Elara**, her **long, lithe frame** coiled like a spring.
She was the Academy's premier tracker, a specialist in Wood-element Aether. Her **emerald-green hair** was tied in a high, practical ponytail that showcased her **elegant, slender neck**. Her scout's armor—a blend of enchanted bark and fine leather—clung to the **taut curves of her athletic body**, leaving her **supple midriff** exposed to better sense the vibrations in the air. Her **golden-rimmed eyes** were wide with a mix of shock and primal fascination.
"You," Elara whispered, her voice trembling. "What did you do to her?"
She gestured toward a darkened alcove. There, slumped against the stone wall, was **Kaelith**. The "Assistant" was a wreck. Her **raven-black hair** was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her **violet eyes** were rolled back, showing only the whites. Her body was wracked by tremors so intense that her **voluminous hips** jerked rhythmically against the floor, a soft, broken whimpering escaping her **puffy, reddened lips**.
The **Trojan Infusion** had turned her stolen Aether into a recursive loop of sensory overload. To Elara's Wood-vision, Kaelith looked like a tree being struck by golden lightning over and over again.
Caelum kept his face a mask of calculated concern. He stepped toward the alcove, his **Gold Aether** flaring just enough to be visible.
"She's having a mana-rejection seizure," Caelum lied smoothly, his voice projecting the authority of a master healer. "She must have tried to stabilize the girls' cores earlier and accidentally absorbed their residual discharge. Elara, get back. The feedback could jump to you."
Elara didn't move. Her **Wood Aether** was sensitive to intent, and while she couldn't prove Caelum was lying, she felt a "sweetness" in the air that shouldn't accompany a medical emergency.
"I've seen mana-rejection, Caelum," Elara said, dropping down from the gargoyle with a silent, predatory grace. She landed in a crouch, her **toned thighs** flexing beneath her leather gear. "It doesn't make a woman... look like *that*."
"Then watch closely," Caelum replied, his eyes glowing with a faint, predatory gold.
He knelt over Kaelith. As his hands approached her skin, the girl let out a high-pitched, desperate cry, her fingers clawing at his sleeves. Caelum began to "fix" her—but as he worked, he made sure to do it in a way that Elara could see.
He let his Gold Aether flow into Kaelith, visible as liquid strands of light. To Elara's eyes, it looked like a divine fertilization. She watched as Kaelith's tremors changed from violent pain to a deep, resonant shudder of **absolute dependency**.
Caelum looked up at Elara, his hand resting firmly on Kaelith's **heaving, sweat-slicked stomach**.
"She tried to take something that didn't belong to her," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate frequency that made the Wood-scout's **breath hitch**. "The body always reacts when it encounters a 'Perfect Frequency' it can't handle. Wouldn't you agree, Elara?"
Elara felt a sudden, hot flush creep up her **high cheekbones**. The ambient Aether Caelum was radiating felt like a warm summer sun on her skin—inviting, nourishing, and terrifyingly powerful. Her **slender fingers** curled into her palms. She was supposed to report this to Varkas. She was supposed to tell the Commander that the "Commoner" was manipulating the very souls of the students.
But as she looked at Kaelith's blissful, broken expression, a dark, hidden part of Elara wondered what that "Perfect Frequency" would feel like if it were tuned specifically for her.
"I... I will record this as a medical anomaly," Elara whispered, her **golden eyes** unable to look away from Caelum's hands. "But you're playing with fire, Caelum."
"No, Elara," Caelum smiled, his **Gold Aether** pulsing one last time, sending a ripple through the air that made the scout's **knees feel weak**. "I am the sun. Fire is just something that happens in my shadow."
When Caelum uttered the name **"Elara"** while looking at the gargoyle, the Knight-Scout's golden-rimmed eyes didn't just widen with shock—they sharpened into a lethal, suspicious slit.
"How do you know my name, Commoner?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave as her **Wood Aether** bristled, causing the wooden trim of the nearby shelves to groan and flex. "I am a Ghost-Rank scout. I am not on the student registries, and I haven't been in the infirmary."
Caelum didn't blink. He kept his hand on the trembling Kaelith, his thumb tracing a steadying circle on her skin.
"I don't need a registry to read a **Signature**," Caelum replied smoothly, pivoting his lie to showcase his dominance. "You've been tailing me since the Wailing Woods. Your Aether smells of crushed pine and damp earth. I saw your name etched into the hilt of the dagger you nearly drew when I synthesized the Firebrand's core yesterday. I don't forget the names of those who watch me from the dark."
By claiming he saw her name on her gear (a plausible lie for someone with his enhanced perception), Caelum turns his "mistake" into a display of **superior awareness**.
By naming her before she introduces herself, Caelum strips away Elara's advantage of anonymity. He makes her feel "exposed" before he has even touched her.