Chapter 35: The Void

Levi Blackwell couldn’t really feel anything.

He wasn’t sure when that realization had settled in—maybe it was sometime after he had woken up in the Academy’s cold, sterile halls, or maybe it was after he saw Jake again. Either way, it didn’t really matter. The truth was, everything felt distant now. Detached. Like he was watching the world through a thick pane of glass, and none of it could reach him anymore.

He glanced around the mess hall, letting his eyes flick over the rows of students, their nervous whispers a low hum in the background. They were all staring, trying to make sense of him and Jake—like they were animals on display at some twisted zoo. But Levi couldn’t bring himself to care.

A few months ago, something like this would have bothered him. He would have been calculating, figuring out how best to lay low, how to navigate the attention without drawing too much suspicion. But now? Now it all felt… pointless.

Levi’s eyes drifted back to Jake, who was sitting across from him, his posture stiff and controlled. Jake was trying so hard to keep it together, to stay serious and unaffected. Levi could see it in the tightness of his shoulders, in the way his hands rested just a little too carefully on the table.

For a moment, Levi almost found it funny—how everything had flipped. Jake had always been the reckless one, the one who pushed the limits without thinking. Now, it was Jake who looked like he was holding the world together with both hands, while Levi felt like he was watching it all fall apart in slow motion.

The old Levi would’ve been trying to figure this out, trying to find a way to fix the situation, to help Jake. But the old Levi was gone, and the person left behind wasn’t interested in fixing anything.

Levi leaned back in his chair, letting his smirk widen just enough to unsettle anyone watching. He liked watching the students squirm, liked feeling the ripple of unease that spread through the room every time his glowing red eyes locked onto someone. It was a small thrill, but it was better than nothing.

That was the thing about being an empath—it wasn’t just about feeling other people’s emotions. It was about molding them, shaping them. He could sense the fear, the curiosity, the tension all around him, but it was like a distant echo. Faint, muted.

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And yet, deep down, Levi knew something was wrong. The emptiness inside him had started after the explosion, after he’d absorbed the raw terror of hundreds of thousands of people in their final moments. That emotional onslaught had been more than his mind could handle, more than anyone should be able to survive.

But Levi had survived.

He just wasn’t sure who—or what—he even was anymore.

Jake shifted in his seat, and Levi’s attention snapped back to him. For a second, their eyes met, and Levi could see the confusion, the concern, in Jake’s expression. It was quick, a flicker of something Jake would’ve normally been better at hiding.

Levi almost laughed. Jake was still trying to figure him out, still trying to understand what had happened since Galewood.

Good luck, Jake.

Levi leaned forward, watching as Jake’s jaw tightened. The old Jake would’ve snapped by now, would’ve demanded answers, would’ve pushed Levi to explain himself. But now? Now Jake just sat there, staring at him like he was waiting for something.

Fine. If that’s how Jake wanted to play it, Levi didn’t mind.

“I told you so.”

The words slipped out before Levi even realized he was saying them, and for a split second, he wasn’t sure how Jake would react. But then, Jake’s serious expression cracked, and he started laughing. Really laughing, like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

Levi watched, his smirk widening. He didn’t know why he’d said it—maybe because it was true, maybe because it was the only thing that felt real in that moment. He had warned Jake. He had told him not to push his powers, not to mess with something he didn’t understand. And now? Now they were certainly paying the price.

But the real joke was that Levi didn’t care anymore.

Their laughter filled the mess hall, cutting through the tension like a knife. The students looked on, confused and unsettled, but Levi barely noticed them. He was too focused on Jake, watching as the laughter slowly died down, leaving behind something raw in Jake’s eyes.

For the first time since Galewood, Levi saw Jake’s expression, the weight he was carrying. Jake had always been impulsive, always the one to push things too far, but this? This was different.

And Levi knew why.

The old Levi would’ve felt something—anger, maybe, or frustration. He would’ve wanted to comfort Jake, to tell him that it wasn’t completely his fault. But the person sitting here now wasn’t interested in that. Instead, Levi just tilted his head, watching Jake with a detached curiosity.

It was strange, being numb to it all. There was a time when Levi had been driven by his own emotions, by the need to control the constant stream of feelings flooding into him. Now, the flood was still there, but he was on the outside, looking in.

Jake finally stopped laughing, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He muttered something under his breath, but Levi didn’t catch it. He didn’t need to. The moment had already passed.

As the room settled back into its uneasy silence, Levi leaned back again, his eyes scanning the mess hall. He could feel the tension lingering, the whispers starting up again as the students tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed.

But Levi wasn’t interested in them. Not really. He was more interested in the void inside him—the place where his emotions used to be. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t even frustrated. He was just… curious. Curious about why he didn’t feel anything anymore.

And somehow, that made him feel more alive than anything had in weeks.