Two days later
"Have you heard? Tyler's a changed man."
"No way. People like him don't just flip overnight."
Tyler walked through the academy entrance with his hands in his pockets, listening to the whispers that followed him. Students glanced over, then quickly looked away. Some stared longer, as if trying to decide whether the rumors were true or just another joke.
Changed man, huh?
The words sat strangely in his head. He had only been in this body a few days, and already the campus was talking. Part of him wanted to ignore it. Another part, the part that still carried the old Tyler's instincts, felt the weight of every stare like a challenge.
He turned a corner too sharply and his shoulder clipped a girl coming the other way. Her bag slipped. Notebooks and a pencil case spilled across the floor.
She looked up, saw his face, and the color drained from hers.
"I'm sorry—I'm really sorry!" she said quickly, scrambling to gather her things.
Tyler stopped. The old reflexes pushed at him: glare, scare her off, remind everyone who he was. For a second he almost let it happen. Then he exhaled through his nose and stepped back, giving her space.
"Just watch where you're going," he said, voice flat.
The girl nodded hard, scooped up the last notebook, and hurried away without another word. A few students who had stopped to watch quickly dispersed when his eyes passed over them.
Still works. One look and they scatter.
He wasn't proud of it. The fear in the girl's face lingered longer than he wanted it to. The old Tyler would have enjoyed it. The new one only felt tired.
The bell rang as he reached his classroom. Conversation died the moment he stepped inside. Chairs shifted. Eyes dropped to desks. No one risked holding his gaze for more than a second.
Hard to talk to anyone when they look at you like that.
He took his usual seat by the window. Outside, the PE class was already on the field. Students in athletic uniforms stretched and formed lines. One girl stood out for a moment—balanced, focused, dark hair tied back—but he looked away before the thought could go anywhere.
Not the time.
The teacher arrived a few minutes late, slightly out of breath. She set her bag down and offered a quick apology.
"Something came up this morning. Let's get started. Can anyone recall what we covered last time?"
Tyler's hand twitched. He almost raised it. Before he could decide, a girl two rows ahead of him spoke up.
Short brown hair, fair skin and straight posture. Her voice was clear and steady as she summarized the previous lesson on Ether conduction and saturation limits. She didn't rush. She didn't look around for approval. When she finished, she simply sat back down.
Tyler found himself watching her a second too long.
She turned her head and met his eyes. The look she gave him was sharp, assessing, not afraid.
He looked toward the window as if he had only been staring at the glass.
Interesting.
The teacher began the day's lecture, returning to Ether properties. This time she spoke with more energy than usual. Every so often her gaze drifted toward Tyler's desk. When she saw him open a notebook and actually write something down, a small, almost relieved expression crossed her face. She stood a little straighter after that and continued with clearer confidence.
Students noticed the change in her mood even if they didn't understand the reason. The atmosphere in the room lightened by a degree.
Tyler kept taking notes. The System's earlier information on Ether Control sat in the back of his mind while the teacher explained affinity, resistance, and the difference between forced output and refined manipulation. Pieces clicked together more easily than they had two days ago.
When the bell finally rang, chairs scraped and bags zipped. Students filed out in small groups. Tyler stayed seated, waiting until the room emptied. He had something he wanted to try without an audience.
He pulled two crumpled scraps of paper from his bag and smoothed them flat on the desk.
If Ether can change material properties, even a little, I should be able to affect these.
He focused the way the lectures described—pulling the faint current he could feel under his skin and directing it into his fingertips. The first attempt did nothing. The second made the edge of one paper darken, a thin line of soot forming along the crease. The third attempt left a faint scorched smell in the air.
He shifted his attention to the second scrap. This time he tried a different approach, less force, more control. The paper shivered, then slowly flattened itself, the deep creases relaxing as if warm pressure had been applied from above.
"Impressive."
Tyler jerked back hard enough that his chair tipped. He hit the floor with a dull thud, palm stinging where it caught his weight.
A girl stood a few steps away, the same one who had answered the teacher earlier. She looked more amused than apologetic.
"Lisa Emris," she said. "We're in the same class. You already knew that, though."
She offered a hand.
Tyler hesitated, then took it. Her grip was firm. He pulled himself up and brushed dust from his sleeve.
"You're not afraid of me?" he asked.
"Should I be?" Lisa glanced at the papers on the desk. "People get the wrong idea about each other all the time. Doesn't mean the idea is correct."
She nodded toward the scraps. "Keep going. I interrupted you."
Tyler studied her for a moment. No tension in her shoulders. No nervous shift in her stance. Either she was very good at hiding fear, or she genuinely didn't feel any.
He turned back to the desk and tried again. The second paper responded more cleanly this time, edges crisping slightly under the controlled heat he fed into it.
Lisa watched without interrupting. When he stopped, she spoke again.
"You've got more control than you let people see. Most people with your reputation don't sit around after class practicing fine manipulation."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation." She straightened. "If you want to keep working on it, we could use one of the open practice rooms during free period. I have time later this week."
Tyler didn't answer immediately. Part of him still expected a trick, a setup, or a hidden angle. The rest of him recognized a rare opportunity: someone who wasn't already treating him like a walking threat.
"I'll think about it," he said.
Lisa nodded as if that was a reasonable answer. "Do that. See you around, Tyler."
She left without waiting for a reply. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the classroom quieter than before.
Tyler stood still for a few seconds, then gathered the two altered papers and slipped them into his bag. The scorched smell still lingered faintly on his fingers.
She didn't flinch. Not once.
He wasn't sure yet whether that made her useful, dangerous, or simply different. Either way, the encounter stayed with him as he slung his bag over one shoulder and headed for the door.
The hallway outside was mostly empty. Afternoon light slanted through the high windows. His footsteps sounded too loud on the polished floor.
He didn't notice the figure that detached from a recessed doorway farther down the corridor and began following at a careful distance.
The watcher kept to the edge of the light, matching Tyler's pace without closing the gap. Whatever their purpose, they showed no sign of approaching—only of continuing to observe, patient and silent.
Chapter discussion