Chapter 32: Segregation

The morning had passed quietly for Abel, as it often did on his days in the library. There was a certain comfort in his routine—greeting Marcella, organizing the shelves, and disappearing into the maze of knowledge. His task today was simple, as usual, and the underground section hadn't held any surprises since that eerie incident with the shadows. After completing his shift, Abel thanked Marcella, and she gave him her usual nod of approval. It was time for him to explore something new.

Abel had been looking forward to the trade ever since he overheard two recruits talking about it in the library. He had been saving up his contribution points and wanted to find something that would help him with his inscriptions—maybe a feather from a magical creature or more information on creatures that could aid his breakthrough. The anticipation buzzed inside him as he made his way toward the first floor, where the trade was taking place.

As Abel entered the main hall, the atmosphere felt charged. Groups of recruits gathered in clusters, talking in low voices, their eyes darting to the various items being traded. Stalls were set up in the corners of the room, and tables were covered in a range of rare and valuable objects: magical trinkets, enchanted weapons, and alchemical ingredients.

But something was off.

Abel immediately noticed how the room was divided. Near the center of the hall, gifted recruits clustered together, their robes shimmering with intricate embroidery, their laughter louder and more carefree. Around the edges of the room, where the light didn’t reach as well, non-gifted recruits like Abel lingered, glancing warily at the central stalls, but few dared approach.

There was a silent exclusion at play. It wasn’t official, but it was obvious—the gifted dominated the main trade area, and the non-gifted were kept to the outskirts, ignored or dismissed before they even tried to participate. Abel hesitated, feeling the invisible wall between the groups, but he shook off the unease and decided to push through.

He wandered closer to one of the central stalls, eyes locked on a gleaming feather that caught his attention. As he neared, the conversations around him quieted, and he felt the weight of eyes turning toward him. The stall was manned by a tall recruit with a regal air, his silver-embroidered robes glinting in the dim light. Abel could sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere—this was a gifted recruit, and the disdain was palpable before a word was even spoken.

“This isn’t for you,” the recruit said coldly, his voice cutting through the brief silence like a blade. His eyes raked over Abel, from his plain robes to the hesitant way he approached.

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Abel blinked, caught off guard by the hostility. “I have the contribution points—” he began, trying to keep his voice steady.

“It’s not about points,” the recruit interrupted, leaning in with a smirk that made Abel’s stomach twist. “It’s about who you are. Don’t waste your time.” The words were sharp, laced with the kind of condescension that made it clear Abel was beneath even considering as a customer.

A few of the surrounding gifted recruits laughed softly, exchanging amused glances as if Abel’s presence was a joke. The silence that followed only heightened Abel’s discomfort. The recruit at the stall didn’t move, his posture still casual, but his eyes were like cold steel—he wasn’t going to entertain the idea of trading with someone like Abel.

Abel’s hand froze halfway to the feather. The air around him felt heavy with judgment, and he realized all too quickly that the trade wasn’t just about contribution points. It was about status—about whether you were worth their time. The gifted recruits had made it clear that he wasn’t.

His heart sank, but he quickly withdrew his hand, trying to hide the frustration building inside him. Without a word, Abel turned and moved to another stall. As he passed, he could feel their eyes still on him, their low voices and stifled laughter echoing behind him.

At another table, Abel spotted a vial of glowing liquid that looked promising. He stepped closer, but before he could ask about it, the recruit behind this stall—her deep green robes similarly embroidered—gave him the same look of disdain. Her eyes scanned him briefly, and she shook her head with a haughty smile.

“Sorry,” she said, her tone clipped and dismissive. “We’re only trading with those who actually belong here.”

Abel clenched his jaw. The rejection wasn’t just personal—it was systemic. The gifted recruits, with their shimmering robes and superior attitudes, had carved out an exclusive space, one where non-gifted recruits were simply not welcome. His presence wasn’t just ignored; it was actively rejected, and the weight of that realization settled like a stone in his chest.

As Abel moved away from the second stall, his gaze landed on a familiar face—Ronald, standing near the edge of the room, observing the scene with an unreadable expression. For a moment, Abel felt a flicker of hope. Ronald had been in Room Eighty with him before the division between gifted and non-gifted had widened. Maybe he’d offer a nod, a small gesture of solidarity in this moment of rejection.

But as their eyes met, Ronald quickly glanced away, turning his attention back to the group of gifted recruits he stood with. The silent dismissal hit harder than Abel expected, and his stomach twisted. Whatever connection they’d once had was gone, replaced by the cold reality of the divide between gifted and non-gifted.

Abel swallowed his frustration and made his way toward the exit. The sting of rejection clung to him, but as he stepped out of the hall, the cool air of the Tower’s corridors brought a sense of clarity. He wasn’t going to waste time fighting for the approval of recruits who saw him as nothing more than an inconvenience. If they wouldn’t trade with him, he’d find another way.

In his room, Abel sat on the edge of his bed, reflecting on everything that had happened. The gap between the gifted and non-gifted recruits felt more tangible than ever, but Abel knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to stay at the bottom forever. He still had the library, still had his growing knowledge. He would use every resource available to him, and one day, he’d prove them all wrong.