Liam woke to bright rays of sunlight filtering through the windows of his room, the warmth of late morning spilling across the floor and reaching the edge of his bed in pale golden strips. For several seconds after opening his eyes, he did not move. He simply lay there staring at the ceiling, letting his mind rise slowly from sleep instead of forcing himself awake all at once.

The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that only existed when the academy had not yet returned to its usual rhythm of lectures, training bells, marching students, and distant instruction. For once, there was no immediate pressure waiting at the edge of his consciousness. No assessment. No roar. No underground hall. No instructor’s voice telling him what he had done wrong.

After a while, Liam pushed himself up and sat at the side of the bed, both hands resting on the sheets while his body leaned forward slightly. His hair fell messily around his face, and for a moment, he remained that way, breathing quietly as the last pieces of sleep left him.

His body still carried the faint soreness of Nalim and the punishment he had given himself over the past two days, but it was not as heavy as before. The ache was duller. His breathing felt easier. His head did not feel crowded in the same way it had yesterday.

’Odd,’ he thought, rubbing the side of his neck as his gaze shifted toward the clock mounted on the wall.

The moment he saw the time, he paused.

He stared at it for a second longer, as if the numbers might rearrange themselves into something more reasonable. Then his eyes moved toward the windows, where the sunlight was far too bright to belong to early morning. The angle of the light, the warmth filling the room, and the calm noise outside confirmed what the clock already told him. It was nearly an hour until noon.

He had slept for more than ten hours.

That explained the strange sensation.

He actually felt rested.

Liam remained seated for a while, his hand still loosely near his neck, and slowly realized he had missed his morning training.

Normally, that would have irritated him, if only slightly. Missing a scheduled session meant breaking routine, and breaking routine meant losing a piece of structure he preferred to maintain.

Yet as he sat there, waiting for annoyance to surface, it did not. The realization landed in his mind, stayed there for a moment, and then passed without becoming anything heavy.

For some reason, it almost felt like it did not matter.

That thought made him go still.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, Mabel’s words from the previous night began replaying in his mind. Not all at once, but piece by piece. Her voice, calm and firm. The way she had removed her mask before speaking. The way she had told him that he had every right to feel frustrated. The way she had acknowledged the mistakes without reducing everything to failure. The way she had said training would not teach him why he had wanted that fight.

Liam replayed every sentence with the same quiet focus he gave tactical information, but this time, the effect was different. Instead of sharpening into another problem to solve, her words settled into him and created a strange sense of calm.

His mind felt clearer than it had in the past two days.

Not empty.

Not fixed.

But clearer.

The word that stayed with him most was human.

It echoed in his head more than anything else Mabel had said. Human. Not weapon. Not dark mage. Not threat. Not asset. Human.

Liam sat there trying to examine why that word had caught him so strongly, why something so simple had felt almost foreign when applied to him, but before he could sink too deeply into that thought, his stomach growled loudly enough to pull him back to the room.

Liam looked down at himself for a moment.

Then he stood.

"I need food," he muttered.

The decision came easily. He went to the bathroom first, washed his face properly, brushed his teeth, and took a moment to look at his reflection without searching it for damage. There were still faint signs of exhaustion beneath his eyes, and the traces of healing across his body had not fully disappeared, but he looked far less drained than he had the day before.

After drying his face, he returned to the room, grabbed a simple dark shirt, pulled it on, and left without taking anything else with him.

When Liam stepped out of his room and into the hallway, the building felt more relaxed than usual. The break had softened the morning pace of the dorm block. Doors were closed in some places, half-open in others, and voices occasionally drifted from rooms where students were either still resting or awake enough to pretend they were being productive. Liam walked down the hall, descended the stairs, and headed outside, where the academy grounds spread beneath the bright sun.

The light was sharp but pleasant, spilling across paved paths, training fields, garden spaces, and the wide walkways between academy buildings. Students moved around in loose groups, enjoying the rare freedom the break had given them. Some sat beneath trees with books they probably were not reading seriously. Others sparred lightly despite being warned to recover. Several first years clustered around fountains or shaded benches, talking animatedly about their own assessment in Vlardia.

The second years carried themselves differently now, still recovering, still marked by Nalim, but no longer as close to collapse as they had been two days ago. A few third years passed by as well, recently returned from their own assessment, their presence confirming that the academy had finally gathered all its students back under one roof.

As Liam crossed the academy grounds toward the cafeteria, students began noticing him.

The first years mostly walked past without much reaction. Many knew his name, of course. They had heard about the second-year dark mage, the one who had fought demons, defeated Percy Granger, and done something absurd during the Nalim assessment. But knowing a name and recognizing a face were not the same thing, and most of them only glanced briefly before continuing on their way.

The second and third years were different. Those who knew him by sight immediately shifted in subtle ways. Some whispered. Some stared. Some looked away the moment his gaze moved in their direction. Others altered their walking path slightly, not dramatically enough to look afraid, but clearly enough to avoid getting too close.

A few tried the opposite.

There were always students like that.

Some walked closer than necessary, pretending boldness in front of friends or girls, acting as though passing near Liam without flinching proved something meaningful. They kept their faces composed, their shoulders squared, their steps deliberate, but the tension around their eyes gave them away.

Liam noticed it all. The whispers, the glances, the avoidance, the forced courage, the hatred carried quietly in faces that tried to look indifferent.

But none of it reached him.

Normally, he would not have cared much, though some things still moved somewhere within him whether he acknowledged them or not. This time, it felt different. Their reactions seemed distant, almost irrelevant, as if they existed on the other side of a pane of glass. His mind was focused on one thing only.

Food.

By the time he reached the cafeteria, the atmosphere inside was quieter than it would have been during normal academic days. Only a few students were scattered around the room, some eating late breakfasts, others sitting together with drinks while talking.

The moment Liam entered, however, the air shifted. Heads turned. Conversations thinned. A group of second years near the far side fell quiet mid-sentence, while two third years sitting with plates of fruit and bread looked him over with undisguised interest. The emotions directed at him were familiar enough that he did not need to study them closely. Hatred from some. Disgust from others. Unease. Curiosity. Resentment. Fear hidden beneath pride.

Liam ignored all of it and went straight to the counter.

The cooks behind it recognized him quickly, and one of them seemed to hesitate for half a second before serving him. Liam ordered more food than he usually would have taken at once, then added extra without much thought. Meat, bread, eggs, potatoes, fruit, and a thick bowl of stew that smelled warm enough to wake up whatever part of his body still believed it was recovering from Nalim.

Once the plate and bowl were set before him, he carried them across the cafeteria without hurry and sat at an empty table near the side.

Then he began eating. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

He did not eat with his usual measured pace.

He consumed the food like someone who had not properly satisfied his body in days, which was true. Since returning from Nalim, he had eaten enough to function but not enough to recover properly. He had trained, replayed mistakes, exhausted himself, and treated hunger as something secondary.

Now, for a reason he was not willing to name directly, he wanted to eat until his body had what it needed. So he did. He ate steadily, quickly, and with enough focus that the few students watching him seemed unsure whether to be amused or unsettled.

He was halfway through the food when a familiar voice approached from the side.

"Slow down, tiger. The food isn’t going anywhere."