The next few days felt like a constant tug-of-war between keeping my head down and confronting the undeniable truth: something was wrong with this world. It wasn't just the strange shifting in the air or the unnatural occurrences—Ilya's words from that night haunted me. "You're not part of the story."
I wasn't supposed to be here, and yet, here I was, caught between the lines of a plot I hadn't written, trying to maintain control.
The academy's schedule didn't give me any time to think. Every moment was filled with lessons, training sessions, and assignments. Yet, even in the midst of it all, the feeling of being watched never left. Whispers followed me in the halls, and I could feel the eyes of my classmates on me, studying me, wondering if I was a threat.
But it was in the training fields, one afternoon, that things truly began to unravel.
We were split into groups for practice exercises, and once again, I found myself placed alongside some of the academy's most promising students. Reynard, Ilya, Dain, and a few others were scattered around the field, their eyes narrowed in concentration as they readied themselves for the exercise.
Today's task was simple: a mock battle to test our coordination, our combat prowess, and—above all—our ability to work as a team.
I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted to make it through without drawing too much attention to myself. I couldn't afford to get caught up in the drama of this story.
Reynard looked over at me, his eyes hard. "You're with us, Kael. Try to keep up."
I didn't acknowledge him. It wasn't that I was uninterested in the task—it was more that I didn't want to be a part of this little group. If I kept my distance, kept my role as an outsider, I'd be safer.
But the exercise began, and my instincts kicked in.
We were tasked with clearing an area of magical beasts—something I knew well from my time writing the book. The beasts would appear in waves, each stronger than the last. If they overwhelmed us, the exercise would be deemed a failure.
The first wave hit fast and furious. A pack of shadow wolves, their glowing eyes burning with malice, emerged from the tree line.
Reynard immediately took charge, drawing his sword with precision. Ilya, ever the strategist, notched an arrow and released it with practiced ease. Dain rushed forward, using his brute strength to clear the beasts in his path.
I remained still, waiting, watching.
Then, just as the wolves closed in, I made my move.
I focused, my eyes narrowing. Time slowed—just a fraction—but it was enough. I could see every movement with perfect clarity. Every shift of muscle, every twitch of the wolves' eyes.
I lifted the gun, aimed, and fired. The shot rang out across the field, precise and deadly. One of the shadow wolves crumpled to the ground, its body dissipating into mist.
The second shot was just as accurate.
And the third.
By the time the last of the wolves had been dispatched, the rest of the group was standing in stunned silence. Ilya and Reynard both turned to me, their eyes wide with something I couldn't quite place. Admiration? Fear?
But it wasn't their reactions that concerned me—it was the way time had slowed. The way everything had moved in slow motion, as though I was playing with the very fabric of this world.
I glanced around quickly, making sure no one had noticed anything unusual. But it was too late. Dain, who had been standing closest to me, gave me a strange look.
"You've got some strange talent, Kael," he said, his voice low.
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. They'd seen enough to know something was off.
The next wave arrived almost immediately: a pair of large, magical golems, their stone bodies glowing with arcane energy.
"Fall back!" Reynard barked, pulling everyone into formation. But it was already too late for them to form anything resembling a coordinated defense.
I could see their movements before they even happened, their attacks telegraphed by the unnatural stillness in the air.
I aimed again—this time with more focus, more control. The first golem's massive arm swung down toward Dain, but I was already pulling the trigger, the shot catching the golem square in the chest.
The golem crumpled, its stone form cracking apart as the bullet tore through it, shattering its core.
Before the second one could make a move, I fired once more.
The golem fell to the ground, its arcane energy flickering out of existence.
Again, the group fell silent.
This time, Reynard stepped forward, his gaze intense. "That wasn't luck," he said quietly, his voice sharper than I'd ever heard it. "How do you do that?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because I wasn't sure how to explain it. How could I explain that my ability to slow time was something I had no control over? How could I tell them that my power to strike anything within a thousand meters was more than just accuracy—it was fate itself bending to my will?
"I'm just good with a gun," I finally said, keeping my voice neutral.
But the looks they exchanged told me everything I needed to know. They were no longer questioning my skill—they were questioning me.