Aethelos: The Bastard of Light

The silence in the arena lasted only a few seconds. · Jacob got up slowly, one hand on his chest where the Light Punch had landed. He looked at Eli with a mix of surprise and caution, but said nothing. Professor Ágata raised her voice firmly: · “Match over. Jacob (variant 2), go to the infirmary. Eli… stay.” · The students began murmuring as they dispersed. The same ones who minutes earlier had called Eli the “weakest link” were now speaking quietly, exchanging glances. The explosion of aura had not gone unnoticed. · Eli was still standing in the center of the combat area, breathing heavily. The unstable aura had faded, but remnants of it still trembled around his hands. He stared at them as if he didn’t recognize them. · Yana approached first. Her expression was serious, but without the coldness from before. · “Did you… control that?” · Eli shook his head slowly. · “No. It just… happened.” · Lygar stayed a few steps behind, arms crossed. His gaze was hard to read. · “At least this time you didn’t need me to carry you,” he muttered in a low voice. It wasn’t exactly praise, but it also wasn’t the usual contempt. · Eli looked at both of them. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel completely alone between them. · Later, Brock Rocket called him into a side corridor. · The tutor dropped his usual tired posture. His eyes were sharp. · “What came out of you in the arena wasn’t just Light,” he said directly. “It was rage. Pure and without direction. You got power, yes. But power without identity is still just noise… only more dangerous.” · Eli lowered his head. · “I heard what they said. About being the weakest. About Lygar carrying me.” · “And you let that define you for a moment,” Brock replied. “The difference is that this time you answered. Now you have to decide if that answer is going to be only an explosion… or if you’re going to turn it into something that’s yours.” · Brock placed a hand on his shoulder for a second and then stepped away. · “Think about it.” · By the end of the day, the academy was no longer talking only about the match. · In the corridors, the dormitories, and even the common areas, a new rumor was spreading quickly. Someone had talked. Someone had let slip what happened in the training forest. · The phrase ran from mouth to mouth, growing more distorted each time: · “Terrorist group invaded Solaris — will this be the end of the academy’s prestige?!” · Some students laughed nervously. Others looked genuinely worried. Teachers exchanged tense glances. And somewhere in the main building, Joseph Ville Light received confirmation that the news they had tried to contain… was no longer contained. · The crack had begun to open.