The classroom was dimly lit, warm sunlight filtering in through high-arched windows, casting long rays across rows of elevated desks and flickering glyph-screens. Professor Varn stood at the front, an elderly Hunter with a face carved from years of battlefield survival and a voice like sand scraping stone.
"The Aethermane is a Class-3 high-speed variant, most commonly found in glacial ruins. Contrary to its feline appearance, it uses wind-type psions, not ice…"
Ethan sat in the third row.
His pen hovered over his tablet, screen open to a half-filled page titled Beast Catalog: Glacial Types.
And yet—he wasn't writing.
Wasn't listening.
His gaze was fixed on the glyph diagram at the front of the room, but his eyes were unfocused. Distant.
Because no matter how much he tried to immerse himself in the day's lesson… his mind kept drifting.
Back to that moment.
Back to the duel.
Victor's sword resting against his neck.
The weightless, inevitable end.
