Chapter 10: The Weight of Routine
"In places built on secrets, survival begins with knowing which ones to pretend not to see."
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Lucian woke before his alarm, the glow of early morning spilling through the tall glass window. The events of the previous night lingered like shadows under his eyes—but he'd learned to wear masks. He always had.
He dressed slowly, savoring the silence before the day's chaos. By now, the rhythm of the academy was beginning to take shape. Morning drills. A wave of classes that blurred brilliance and brutality. Eyes watching. Always watching.
In the common room, Silas was already sprawled on the couch, toast in hand, half-listening to a podcast about probabilistic logic.
"You hear they're reshuffling the Tier List?" he asked as Lucian entered.
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"Apparently some upper-tier kid flunked the Strategy Simulation. Rumors say they're slipping."
He didn't respond, but inside, he filed the information away. The Tier List determined everything here—respect, opportunity, power.
In the hallway, students of different houses and rankings passed, some in sleek uniforms, others in customized versions flaunting their status. A few cast him glances—curious, wary, sometimes impressed.
Lucian spotted Nyra and Nyx across the court, deep in conversation. When Nyra saw him, she waved him over.
"Good," she said. "You don't walk like a lost soul anymore."
"I memorized the map," Lucian replied.
"Typical," Nyx muttered under her breath, but there was a faint smile.
They walked together toward the Arc Hall. The morning light caught the glint of the massive seal of Academia Noctis beneath their feet. Each step echoed purpose.
During classes, Lucian noticed a shift. The instructors were paying more attention to him. His answers were challenged more. Some students seemed to defer to him; others clearly viewed him as a threat. He was no longer invisible.
At lunch, the three of them took a seat under one of the arched balconies overlooking the central garden. Silas joined them, a tray stacked with food, and began ranting about someone from House D hacking into a restricted archive for fun.
Lucian listened, occasionally responding, but his mind wandered.
He was starting to belong here. Not fully, not yet. But the machine was turning, and he was finding his place in its gears.
And beneath the surface, something stirred.
The message on his terminal hadn't returned. No follow-up. No glitch. Nothing.
But it had happened.
Which meant the game had already begun. He just didn't know the rules yet.
The days bled into one another.
Lucian woke early, studied late, and kept his secrets buried deep behind a calm, calculating gaze. He developed a rhythm—precision wrapped in silence.
In Cognitive Warfare, he honed his instincts, learning to dissect manipulation and redirect chaos. He once beat an entire group during a psychological siege simulation—without raising his voice.
In Analytical Strategy, he played games within games. Opponents stopped underestimating him when he dismantled their plans in six moves or less. He rarely celebrated his victories.
In Public Discourse, he spoke sparingly but always with impact. When a debate turned volatile, he silenced the room with a single phrase: "Power is not volume, it's timing."
Outside the classroom, he was less certain.
Nyx remained a mystery wrapped in sarcasm, though sometimes, her words carried warmth he pretended not to notice.
Silas, ever loud and loyal, became the kind of friend who distracted him from darker thoughts, dragging him into late-night trivia wars and student lounge debates.
Nyra, with her razor wit and quiet brilliance, was the one who always saw through him—but never called him out.
There were lunches where they laughed like they'd known each other forever.
There were nights when he sat alone under the moonlit sky of the courtyard, thinking of the encrypted message.
And sometimes, during downtime, he wandered the Academy's hidden halls—searching for pieces of the puzzle only he seemed to see.
He didn't care for fame.
But he knew that in this academy, attention was currency.
And he was done being broke.
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The halls buzzed with a strange kind of anticipation that Friday afternoon. Whispers traveled faster than the shadows that clung to the Academy's spires. Something was coming.
Lucian felt it before he heard it.
A soft chime echoed through the school's marble corridors, followed by a voice—crisp, commanding, and utterly unignorable.
"Attention, students of Academia Noctis."
The voice belonged to Professor Isadora Veyne, the Vice-Dean of Arcane Studies and acting head of the Tier Evaluation Council.
"As per Academy tradition, a preliminary tier re-shuffle will commence at the start of next week. Your first evaluation will determine your place within the pyramid. Perform well, and rise. Fail, and fall. A detailed brief will be sent to your holo-screens shortly."
A pause. Then her voice sharpened like a knife.
"Consider this your first true test. The Academy doesn't care about potential—only proof."
The chime ended. Silence swallowed the common hall before a thousand conversations burst to life.
Lucian stared down at the brief already flashing on his device.
Tier Reshuffle Evaluation: The Cipher Gauntlet.
Format: Solo.
Time Limit: 3 Hours.
Parameters: Intelligence. Adaptability. Instinct. Control.
Status: Compulsory.
Location: To Be Revealed.
Top 10 performers gain immediate access to Obsidian Court benefits. Bottom 10 face conditional expulsion warnings.
Silas let out a low whistle beside him. "Damn. They're not playing around."
Lucian's eyes narrowed.
Cipher Gauntlet. He didn't know what it meant.
But he was sure of one thing:
It was going to be brutal.
And he had no intention of falling.
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