(A/N Big thanks to everyone for the Power stones and Golden tickets, they an a lot. As usual, please don’t hesitate to comnt or drop a review. ENJOY)
(Don’t forget to join my discord. sdiscord.gg/gwRQnjbQDK)
Power stones people, Gim it.
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The afternoon sun filtered through the tall, crystalline windows of the library, casting long, faintly shimring beams across the polished floors. It was quieter than usual—unsurprising, considering most students were still returning from their second lecture.
Orion was not.
With Physical and Ard Combat ending an hour earlier for the Combat Division—and Rune and Sigil Analysis being a course he didn’t register—he had finished his lunch early and slipped away.
Back to the history section.
Back to the sa aisle.
Back to the sa shelf.
Back to the sa spot Elysia had found himthe other day.
He stood with a to open in one hand, fingers brushing across the aged pages as he read. His expression was steady, unchanging, save for the faint focus narrowing his gaze.
He sensed her long before she reached the aisle.
Soft footsteps. Controlled presence. A familiar blend of confidence and quiet authority.
He didn’t turn.
He finished the paragraph.
Turned the page.
Finished the next one.
Only when he reached the end of the Chapter did he close the book and raise his eyes.
Elysia stood where she had last ti—beside the window, sunlight painting silver across her hair. Except this ti, she looked less curious and more... expectant.
"Are you back to recruit ?" Orion asked.
"Yes," she replied imdiately, with no hesitation or pretense.
He slipped the bookmark into place, closing the to with a soft thud. "Persistent."
"Though maybe," she added, "let’s not start with that. We can discuss sothing else first—your little altercation yesterday."
Orion raised a brow. "You really do have eyes and ears everywhere."
"You shouldn’t be surprised."
Orion wasn’t. Not really.
They walked to a quieter corner near a reading alcove—one away from the main path, where the gentle rustle of pages from distant scholars provided a steady backdrop.
Elysia began without pause.
"Magnus," she said, "is the one responsible for the girl and her little group."
Orion leaned slightly against the table. "The girl ntioned his na."
"She did. Because she belongs to his enclave—one he inherited from the previous generation. It’s common among B-rank students."
"B1 student," Orion repeated. "But beneath you."
"A year beneath ," she corrected. "Hierarchy in the academy is fluid, but enclaves operate with strict seniority. He leads the B1 enclave because he managed to hold it after the previous leader left."
"Hold it how?"
"Points," she answered simply. "Magnus collects points from his mbers. All voluntary, of course—though anyone who refuses becos mysteriously... excluded from the benefits."
Orion frowned faintly. "A tax."
"A business," Elysia clarified. "One he uses to secure investnts in the outer magnums. He owns three gambling dens, two beast-dueling pits, and a joint alchemy workshop with two C-rank enclaves."
Orion blinked once. "He’s a businessman."
"An ambitious one. There are many like him. The outer magnums run on points. Students who aren’t strong enough to compete academically look for other ans." She folded her arms. "Magnus’s type always rise. They just never rise far."
He considered that.
"And you say he dislikes A1?"
"Dislike is too soft," Elysia replied. "They resent us. They call it nepotism. Favoritism. Privilege." A small scoff. "Because many A1s co from high branches of the Chronos line."
Orion didn’t comnt.
"Since they can’t direct their resentnt toward the managent," she continued, "they go after us. Directly. Subtly. Pettily."
"And they target the younger A1s because they can’t handle the older ones," Orion said.
"Exactly." Her eyes sharpened. "They want to vent their frustrations sowhere safe. On soone safe."
"But," Orion added calmly, "we aren’t exactly safe."
Her lips curved.
"No. We aren’t. And we aren’t foolish enough to let our juniors fend for themselves either. That’s why enclaves exist. That’s why we protect our own."
Orion nodded slowly.
"So it’s a standoff."
"Precisely," she said. "A constant balance of tension between us and them."
"And you’re winning."
Her grin turned sharp. "Dominating."
Orion tapped the cover of his to lightly. "So the academy turns a blind eye?"
"A calculated one. They believe it tempers A1 students—pushes us to sharpen ourselves."
"That tracks," Orion said simply.
Elysia walked to the window, glancing toward the distant silhouette of the Main Spire. "They hold influence in the outer magnums. But points... true points... true power..."
She tapped the glass lightly.
"Reside here. In the academy. And A1 holds both."
Orion let the silence settle.
It didn’t feel tense.
It felt like the natural build-up to a decision.
Finally, he said, "So. You want to join your enclave?"
She turned to him fully.
"Yes. I want you to join."
Her tone shifted—lower, more serious. "Because despite how skilled A1s are, we don’t just need strength. We need a leader."
His expression didn’t change.
But his eyes did.
Just slightly.
"Your sister," Elysia continued, "led the enclave before she graduated. And she chose to succeed her." A breath. "I want you to be next."
Orion blinked slowly. "You believe I can lead your enclave."
"I do."
"Even though I don’t understand the full weight of what you’re asking."
"You will," she said softly. "With ti."
She stepped closer—not invasively, but with certainty.
"So for now," she finished, "join us. Let us guide you. Let show you what this position ans."
Orion studied her.
Her posture.
Her tone.
The conviction in her gaze.
She wasn’t flattering him.
She wasn’t lying.
She wasn’t guessing.
She was certain.
And that certainty—
that directness—
that clarity—
was sothing Orion understood well.
He closed the book gently.
"Alright," he said.
Elysia’s eyes brightened—not with surprise, but with satisfaction.
"Good," she breathed. "From today onward, consider yourself part of the enclave."
She paused, then added with a faint, knowing smile—
"And Orion... welco."
He nodded once.
The decision was simple.
Not emotional.
Not rushed.
Just... right.
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