A week later, Elijah finally managed to shatter the massive rock. He wasn't the first—one of his peers had completed the task in five days—but Elijah was proud to finish in six, making him the second to succeed.
"Congratulations, everyone, for completing your assignment," Oreon said, his deep voice echoing across the training yard. "As your reward, you may keep the magic stone you retrieved from the rocks."
The ground murmured in excitement.
Elijah glanced down at the magic stone. It was larger than he had expected, slightly bigger than his fist, and glowed with a vibrant orange hue Magic stones were rare and valuable, prized for their ability to store and channel mana. Some used them to craft weapons or armor, while others absorbed their mana to expand their reserves.
"Tomorrow is Sunday," Oreon added. "You'll have no classes, so rest up."
Relieved, Elijah returned to the dormitory, noting that Kieran and Visconti were nowhere to be found. Without giving it much thought, Elijah locked himself in his room, placed the magic stone at the center of the floor, and prepared to absorb its mana.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he placed the glowing orange stone in front of him. Elijah closed his eyes, channeling his focus on the stone. The energy it contained was immense, pulsating like a living heart. Time blurred as the mana flowed into him, amplifying his reserves. The stone's once vibrant glow dimmed until it turned lifeless and gray.
Elijah opened his eyes and checked the time.
It was almost midnight.
His body was drenched in sweat, and the air in his room felt heavy. Disliking the sticky sensation, he headed to the shower.
Elijah took a quick shower, the warm water soothing his sore muscles. As he dried his hair with a towel, his eyes landed on a picture frame by his bed.
It was a photograph of him and Oliver, taken on their first day of high school. Oliver's bright, wide smile contrasted sharply with Elijah's reserved, polite grin.
Elijah's lips curled upward ever so slightly. "I should visit him tomorrow. I haven't seen him in nine days," Elijah murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.
His voice softened to a whisper as he placed the frame back on the table. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ver."
The next morning, Elijah woke at 8 AM, feeling more refreshed than he had in days. He dressed simply: a black oversized shirt tucked into dark jeans. The minimalist outfit suited him, highlighting his effortless style.
When he stepped into the common area, he found Visconti engrossed in a book and Kieran furiously tapping away on his phone.
"This dumb little—!" Kieran cursed, his thumb mashing the screen furiously.
Visconti, unbothered by Kieran's outbursts, turned a page in his book with quiet focus.
"I'll be out for today," Elijah said, slipping on his boots. "I'll be back before dinner."
Kieran glanced up. "Yo, where are you going? On a date?"
Visconti's attention perked at the mention, but Elijah quickly dismissed the idea. "No," he replied flatly.
"Bring barbecue on your way back!" Kieran shouted as Elijah stepped out the door.
Elijah waved without turning back. "Okay."
Elijah headed to the administration office to request permission to leave the camp. Thankfully, the staff had no objections.
His city was a three-hour car ride away, but with the bullet train, it would only take thirty minutes.
The train station bustled with people, and Elijah boarded without issue. The sleek train was powered by a massive magic stone, its hum barely audible.
As he boarded the train, he noticed a few girls stealing glances at him, their whispers barely audible over the hum of the engine.
"You ask him for his number!" one whispered, her cheeks flushed.
"No way, I'm too shy," her friend replied, sneaking glances at Elijah.
Elijah ignored them, his striking looks giving him an unapproachable air.
Half an hour later, Elijah arrived in the city. From the station, it was a 25-minute walk to the community where Oliver lived. But Elijah had no patience for a leisurely stroll.
"Reduce gravity," he muttered.
The spell lightened his body, allowing him to sprint like the wind. What would've been a 25-minute walk took him only four.
The journey took him only four minutes. When he reached Oliver's apartment, he knocked on the familiar door labeled 45, expecting his best friend to greet him.
Instead, the door opened to reveal Oliver's father, his face shadowed with weariness.
"What brings you here, Elijah?" the man asked.
"Is Oliver here?" Elijah asked, frowning.
"What do you mean? Isn't he at the camp?" Oliver's father replied, his confusion mirroring Elijah's.
Elijah's stomach dropped. "What?"
"A man in a red uniform came by not long after your last visit," the father explained. "He told me Oliver tested positive as an Esper and had to report to the Corps. He had dark purple hair."
The explanation struck Elijah like a thunderbolt. "Oliver's not at camp," he whispered, his voice hollow.
Oliver's father paled. "What are you saying? That can't be—he's with you at camp, right?" His voice trembled, disbelief etched across his face.
The older man's words faded into the background as Elijah's thoughts spiraled. His irises glowed purple, his voice becoming eerily calm.
Elijah's gaze darkened as his irises turned a glowing purple. "Forget everything that happened here today," he said, his voice unnaturally calm yet echoing with power.
The man's expression slackened, his mind succumbing to the spell. "Okay," he muttered robotically.
The spell Elijah casted was a imitation of mind control, that made one forget a part of his memory. It was a technique he read in their library a year ago. It was fairly easy to use as long as the target is a normal human.
Elijah stepped back, his heart pounding as he left the apartment.
Rain began to fall as Elijah walked down the street, his hair sticking to his forehead. He made no effort to seek shelter. The cold droplets mirrored the storm inside him.
"Oliver isn't at camp," he thought.
The pieces didn't fit.
The first day, when everyone was gathered… The second day, when positions were assigned… Oliver wasn't there. He would've told me if he'd been sent to another camp. He's not a coward like me.
His thoughts grew darker. So why is the Corps lying about this?
He tried to rationalize.
"Maybe he's at another camp," Elijah reasoned.
But no. Oliver would've contacted him.
"Maybe he's sick or injured."
But why fabricate his presence at the Corps?
"Maybe he's sick and didn't have time to tell me."
But why would Officer Allan lie?
"Maybe he was sent somewhere else?"
But why would Officer Allan lie?
The question echoed in his mind, each repetition fueling his anger.
Elijah clenched his fists, his mind spiraling. The lie didn't make sense.
And then the thought struck him like a dagger: "What if he's dead?"
Elijah's face twisted, his teeth grinding as rage and sorrow collided within him.
"If Oliver's dead…" His voice trembled. "And if Officer Allan was involved…"
A voice, Oliver's voice, seemed to whisper in his ear. "Let's say I'm really gone, Elijah. What will you do? Fight the Corps? Officer Alan is a level 8. His actions are sanctioned. To go against him is to go against the entire Corps. Are you ready for that?"
Elijah's chest heaved. "Oliver…"
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "If Oliver was killed, then he was a necessary sacrifice for the Corps' so-called greater good. Is that something I can accept?"
His mind flashed with memories of Oliver's smile, the warmth of his laugh. Elijah's lips moved unconsciously. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ver. I'm so sorry."
"No," he spat, his eyes glowing ominously. "I'm going to rip them apart."
His glowing purple eyes reflected his rage, his thoughts twisting into something darker. He didn't notice—or refused to acknowledge—that he was becoming the very thing he despised.