Morning came without sunlight.
The tower windows remained dimmed, filters adjusting to internal mana fluctuations that hadn't existed yesterday. The wards were stable again—but nervous, like they remembered being touched.
I felt it too.
The knock on the door wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"Open," the silver-haired instructor said from the other side.
The door unsealed itself.
Five figures entered.
Not guards.
Not elders.
Instructors who existed to deal with problems the academy didn't want students to know about.
The air thickened as they spread out, subtle formation locking the room down.
"So," the blue-eyed instructor said, arms crossed. "Let's not pretend."
I stayed seated. "About which part?"
Her jaw tightened.
"The Watcher," another instructor said bluntly. His voice carried old scars. "It made contact."
I didn't deny it.
"Yes."
That single word hit harder than shouting would have.
One of them swore under his breath.
"That's not supposed to happen," a woman near the back said. "Observation is passive."
"Apparently," I replied, "it disagreed."
The silver-haired instructor studied me carefully—not my mana, not my posture.
My eyes.
"What did it say?" he asked.
"That I survived correctly," I answered.
Several of them stiffened.
"And?" he pressed.
"That others will come," I continued calmly. "And that I'll have to choose what I become."
Silence followed.
Not disbelief.
Recognition.
The blue-eyed instructor ran a hand through her hair. "Damn it…"
"You understand what this means," the scarred instructor said. "You're no longer just a student."
"I figured that out when the assassins showed up," I said.
"That wasn't what I meant," he replied.
The silver-haired man stepped closer.
"You are now an event horizon," he said quietly. "Things will curve toward you. Power. Disaster. Attention."
"And the academy?" I asked.
He met my gaze without flinching.
"The academy will either shelter you… or orbit you."
That was as close to honesty as institutions ever got.
"So what's the plan?" I asked.
A thin smile crossed his face. "We tighten control."
Of course.
"Restricted access," the blue-eyed instructor added. "No unsupervised combat. No external missions. And no more reaching upward."
I raised an eyebrow. "You think that's optional?"
Her eyes softened—just a little.
"We think slowing things down might keep people alive."
That included me.
And everyone near me.
I stood slowly.
The room reacted instantly—mana tensing, formations adjusting.
I stopped halfway.
"I'm not your enemy," I said evenly. "But I won't pretend this didn't happen."
The scarred instructor exhaled. "That's what scares us."
I looked at each of them in turn.
"You brought me here to confront me," I said. "So say it."
The silver-haired instructor nodded.
"If the Watchers escalate," he said,
"you may be required to leave the academy."
There it was.
Exile dressed as necessity.
Lena's voice cut through the tension from the doorway.
"Or you could stop treating him like a bomb," she said coldly, "and start treating him like an ally."
Every instructor turned.
"How long were you listening?" the blue-eyed one asked.
"Long enough," Lena replied. Her eyes were sharp, unafraid. "You can't control what's coming. But you can choose who stands with you."
Silence again.
Finally, the silver-haired man sighed.
"Very well," he said. "For now."
He looked at me.
"You remain under protection," he said. "But not isolation."
A compromise.
Temporary.
As they turned to leave, he paused at the door.
"Kai," he said. "If the Watcher speaks again…"
"I'll tell you," I replied.
Not a promise.
Just a fact.
The door closed.
Lena let out a breath she'd been holding.
"Well," she said, "that went better than expected."
I smiled faintly.
"For now."
The blade whispered softly.
"They fear losing control more than destruction."
I looked toward the ceiling—toward the sky beyond it.
"Then they should get used to it," I murmured.
Because whatever I was becoming—
It wasn't going to ask permission.