The professors reconvened in the grand meeting hall three days later. The atmosphere was a strange mix of tension and relief. The walls were lined with digital monitors displaying various news outlets and social media feeds, all singing the praises of the recent Gala.
On one of the screens, a news anchor enthusiastically recapped the highlights:
“Citizens across the city are buzzing with admiration for the spectacular display at the Gala! Especially the unforgettable clash between the mighty Thor and the rising star, Valerie Nordin. Her grace and skill have sparked debates about her potential future as a true icon of our age!”
Clips of Valerie effortlessly dodging Thor’s attacks played in a loop, her golden aura from that night making her look ethereal. Hashtags like #ValerieVsThor, #GoldenGrace, and #NewHeroine trended across multiple platforms.
Professor Halstein folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. “The citizens are eating it up,” he said, gesturing to the screens. “They think it was all part of the show.”
“And that’s how it should remain,” Dean Thorne said firmly, glancing around the room. “The truth about the attack stays within these walls. Chaos is the last thing we need right now.”
Professor Kohn adjusted her glasses and leaned forward, her tone measured. “But is it wise to keep them entirely in the dark?—we’re leaving the public vulnerable.”
“On the contrary,” Halstein countered, “telling them would only invite panic and paranoia. Let them believe in the spectacle. It gives them hope, not fear.”
“Hope built on lies is a fragile thing,” Kohn said softly, though her words carried a sharper edge.
Dean Thorne cut in before the debate could escalate. “Our priority is to maintain order. The citizens feel inspired by the event and by Valerie’s performance. That’s a narrative we can control. Until we know more, that narrative stays.”
Professor Thomson, still nursing his grudge, huffed loudly. “Control or not, what are we going to do about her?” He pointed to a paused frame of Valerie on the screen, her golden hair glowing as she exchanged blows with Thor. “She’s dangerous. That kind of power—paired with her arrogance—will only cause more problems. We can’t keep coddling her.”
Thorne’s eyes snapped to Thomson, his voice low and cold. “Do you remember Loki’s exact words, Thomson?”
Thomson hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “He said—”
“He said,” the dean interrupted, “that Valerie Nordin is to be treated like a queen. Not a student, not a liability, and certainly not as a problem. A queen. Do you understand the implications of disobeying that order?”
Thomson’s jaw clenched. “I do, sir. But—”
“There is no ‘but,’” Thorne snapped, his voice rising. “Loki chose her. Whether we like it or not, she’s under divine protection. You will ensure she is respected, or you’ll be explaining your actions to a god. And trust me, Thomson, Loki doesn’t take kindly to excuses.”
The room fell silent.
Halstein smirked slightly, clearly enjoying Thomson’s discomfort, but said nothing. Kohn kept her face neutral, though her mind was racing with the implications.
The dean leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “This is not just about Valerie. The stability of our institution—and by extension, this city—depends on us handling this situation with care. I trust you all to act accordingly.” His gaze shifted back to Thomson, sharp as a blade. “And Thomson, for the love of all that is holy, do not screw this up.”
Thomson swallowed hard, his face turning red again, but he gave a curt nod. “Understood, Dean.”
The room grew quiet.
“Dean,” Professor Halstein began, his tone cautious, “isn’t it… peculiar that a god—Loki, no less—would take such an interest in a mortal like Valerie Nordin?” His expression wavered between concern and confusion. “This isn’t typical divine intervention.”
“Of course it’s strange,” the dean replied, his voice heavy. “But what choice do we have? A god’s order is absolute, and we are mere mortals in their eyes.”
“Nothing, sir,” Halstein conceded with a resigned shrug. “A god’s order is indeed a god’s order.”
The room grew quiet again, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. Dean Thorne straightened, adjusting his tie. “Now, our most pressing concern is Kian Drexler,” he said, his tone resolute. “We need to determine who took him and why.”
A voice from the far end of the table chimed in—Professor Kohn. Her usually calm demeanor was now tinged with urgency. “Dean, it’s obvious who’s responsible, Futuroganti. As the association informed us before, they’ve infiltrated our systems by sending one of their operatives as a student. This is probably just another one of their schemes to destabilize us.”
“Futuroganti?” Professor Halstein repeated, frowning. “Do we have evidence of their involvement?”
“Do we need more evidence?” Kohn retorted, her voice sharp. “Do I need to repeat myself? Who else would dare something like this? We can’t afford to ignore the threat.”
“Convenient,” Halstein muttered under his breath, earning a sharp glance from Kohn.
The dean raised a hand to silence the brewing argument. “Kohn’s point has merit,” he said. “But we cannot act without certainty. This could be a diversion or a false flag. We need to tread carefully.”
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“Dean,” Kohn pressed, her voice softening just enough to seem earnest. “If we hesitate, Kian’s life could be at risk. We must act swiftly.”
Thorne’s brow furrowed. He could feel the room dividing—those who sided with Kohn’s assertive stance and those wary of her fervor. The tension was palpable, and it was clear that every word spoken carried weight.
“I agree,” the dean said at last, earning nods from some of the professors and uneasy glances from others. “We’ll investigate Futuroganti as our primary suspect. However, we will also consider alternative possibilities. I’ll personally ensure the investigation is thorough.”
“Then what is our next step, sir?” Halstein asked, his tone cautiously neutral.
Dean Thorne paused, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling back on Halstein. “I will convene with the leader of the Ten Suns,” he declared. “Their resources and expertise are unparalleled. If anyone can provide clarity—or assistance—it’s them.”
The room fell silent at the mention of the Ten Suns, a group of elite heroes whose reputation was both revered and feared. The professors exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement while others remained visibly tense.
“Understood, Dean,” Kohn said, her voice calm but with a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap as though she’d won a silent victory.
“Good,” the dean said, gathering his papers. “This meeting is adjourned. Prepare your departments for any necessary measures, and keep an eye on your students. We can’t afford any more surprises.”
As the professors filed out, Kohn lingered at the back of the room, her expression unreadable. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing slightly before she exited into the corridor.
In the shadows of the hallway, she pulled out a small device and pressed a button. A faint, distorted voice answered.
“Report.”
“The faculty is buying it,” Kohn whispered, her voice cold and calculating.
“Good,” the voice replied. “Proceed as planned. And remember, Professor—no loose ends.”
Kohn smirked, slipping the device back into her pocket. “Of course,” she murmured to herself, disappearing into the maze of corridors.
---
The moonlight filtered through the curtains of Fiona’s quiet dorm room, casting long, silvery beams across the floor. The air felt thick with stillness, broken only by the faint hum of her laptop. For the last three days, Fiona had watched video after video of the Gala. Each clip glorified the spectacle, hailing Valerie as a daring mortal who had challenged Thor himself.
“She fought a god…” Fiona murmured to herself. “And now she’s paying the price for it.” Her voice broke slightly, and she quickly shook her head as if to ward off her emotions.
Comment sections buzzed with admiration, memes of Valerie’s golden transformation flooded her feed, and even critics couldn’t deny the grandeur of her performance.
But as Fiona’s eyes wandered to the other side of the room, where Valerie’s bed lay untouched, the hollow silence in her chest grew heavier. Her friend was still in the hospital, locked in a coma. Valerie’s body had betrayed her, unable to withstand the strain of the transformation, leaving her broken and unresponsive.
Fiona sighed, closing the laptop with a snap. “Why did I even get attached?” she muttered, running her hands through her hair. “I wasn’t supposed to feel like this… Wasn’t supposed to care.”
Unable to bear the weight of her thoughts, Fiona stood abruptly and flopped onto her bed. She rolled onto her side, “And then there’s him…” she whispered, flipping back onto her back. Her eyes stared at the ceiling as a conflicted smile tugged at her lips. “Kian Drexler… Why does thinking about you make me feel like this?” Her hand clenched her blanket. “Is this what love feels like? Or is it regret? No!” Her chest tightened. “He’s the target, nothing more!” she whispered bitterly. “But… I lost him. I— I actually lost him…”
Tears stung her eyes, but Fiona refused to let them fall. She buried her face deeper into the pillow, letting exhaustion take her. Sleep came, but it was restless and full of fragmented dreams.
---
The morning light streamed through the windows, warm and intrusive. Fiona groaned as her alarm buzzed, dragging herself out of bed. She dressed quickly, her headphones already blaring melancholic tunes that only seemed to deepen her sadness.
“How unprofessional,” she muttered under her breath as she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the dorm. “Getting emotional over a teammate and a target? Pull it together, Fiona.”
As she walked across campus, the oracle system popped up in her vision, the translucent blue interface hovering in the air.
---
Fiona Allen
Lvl: 1
Strength: 40/50
Speed: 90/100
Agility: 95/100
Intelligence: 80/100
Durability: 60/60
Power output: 30/40
Quests - Path of the Legends: (Status: On Hold - Instructor has not yet assigned)
---
She scowled at the stats. “This isn’t even close to my real stats.” she grumbled.
The day dragged on as classes rolled by, one boring lecture after another. Fiona sat through the same tired rhetoric about hero ethics and proper conduct, her mind drifting elsewhere.
Her day took a turn for the worse when Anderson swaggered into her line of sight. The self-proclaimed "star of the academy" spent most of his time bullying others and making lewd comments at anyone who caught his eye—Fiona included.
As Fiona stood by her locker, Anderson leaned casually against the one beside hers, his smirk oozing arrogance. “Hey, Fiona. Been keeping an eye on you. You looked lonely yesterday. Want me to keep you company next time?”
Fiona didn’t even look up. “Not interested, Anderson. Go away.”
“Aw, don’t be like that,” he drawled, inching closer. “A girl like you shouldn’t be sitting by herself. You need someone to, you know… keep you warm.” His grin widened. “And I’ve got plenty of heat to spare.”
Fiona slammed her locker shut, her icy glare pinning him in place. “Try another line, Anderson. That one’s stale.”
He chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Come on, Fiona. Don’t act like you’re not curious. A night with me? You’d never forget it.”
“Right,” Fiona said dryly, brushing past him. “I’ll let you know when hell freezes over.”
Anderson raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Fiery. I like that.”
She rolled her eyes and turned away, refusing to engage further. But she could feel his gaze burning into her back, and it took everything in her not to punch him then and there.
---
By the time the day ended, Fiona needed to escape. She found herself by the lake not far from campus, the water’s surface shimmering under the setting sun. The stillness of the area gave her a moment to think, but her thoughts were anything but calm.
As she stared at the rippling water, a crunch of leaves behind her broke the peace. She turned, her eyes narrowing as Anderson’s goons approached, their hulking frames blocking her view of the path.
“Can’t a girl get some peace?” Fiona muttered, standing.
Before she could confront them, two shadows moved silently from the trees. In an instant, the goons were yanked into the woods, their muffled grunts echoing briefly before silence returned.
A third figure emerged, cloaked and hooded, stopping a few feet from Fiona. “We’ve found him,” the figure said, their voice low but clear.
Fiona’s heart skipped a beat. “Kian?”
The figure nodded.
Fiona’s lips curled into a smirk, her earlier sadness replaced by determination. “Prepare for war,” she said, her voice cold and resolute.
The figure bowed slightly before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. Fiona turned back to the lake, her reflection staring back at her.