Training. The idea, initially just a desperate excuse, began to take root in my mind. If anyone noticed a change – a little more muscle, a faster reaction – I could play it off as finally taking physical training seriously. It was a flimsy shield, but better than nothing.
"Guardian," I murmured, pushing myself further into the dimly lit tunnel, the metallic scent of disuse filling my nostrils. "Can we… can we make it look like I'm actually training? So if anyone asks…"
"Generating plausible training regimen based on your previous physical activity levels and available resources within your living quarters," Guardian replied, the familiar calm now tinged with a subtle shift in tone, a deliberate simplification. "Think of it like this: we make a plan that looks like normal exercise. Some stretching, maybe some light lifting if you have anything like that. Enough to explain looking a little stronger over time, but not so much that it's unbelievable."
Okay, that makes sense. It was a relief to hear Guardian speaking more plainly, less like a walking encyclopedia. The big words had been intimidating, another reminder of the vast gulf between its knowledge and my own understanding.
"And… the mental part?" I asked, the memory of the searing pain during the "limit break" still vivid. "You said I wasn't… strong enough in my head for that. How do I fix that?"
"Think of your mind like a muscle too," Guardian explained, the analogy surprisingly grounding. "You need to exercise it to make it stronger. We can do mental exercises, like focusing your thoughts, controlling your reactions to stressful things in your head, and building up your… willpower. It's like practicing being calm and strong inside, even when things are chaotic outside."
So… like meditating? Nanny used to talk about that.
"Similar concept, but more focused. We'll work on techniques to block out distractions, manage pain signals, and build your ability to push through difficult mental states. It's about making your mind a strong shield and a powerful tool."
A strong shield. A powerful tool. The descriptions resonated with a deep longing within me. For so long, I had felt weak and vulnerable, tossed about by the whims of others. The idea of having control, both physically and mentally, was incredibly appealing.
"So, what do we do first?" I asked, a flicker of anticipation replacing some of the fear.
"First, we sell the story," Guardian said, its tone now almost conspiratorial. "When you get back to your room, make it look like you've been trying to exercise. A few makeshift weights – maybe using heavy books or whatever you have. Do some stretches when you think you might be seen. We need to build a believable history of you trying to get stronger."
Right. Laying the groundwork. It felt a little silly, pretending to be someone I wasn't, but the stakes were too high to dismiss any advantage.
"And then, the real training starts," Guardian continued. "We'll begin with simple mental exercises. Focus on your breathing. Try to keep your mind clear of other thoughts for short periods. We'll gradually increase the difficulty. For the physical side, we'll start with small, controlled movements, focusing on building muscle density and control without being obvious."
No more… limit breaks for now? The memory of the agonizing surge of power was still unsettling.
"Not in that uncontrolled way," Guardian confirmed. "That was an emergency measure. Our training will be about gradual, sustainable improvement. Think of it as building a strong foundation, brick by brick, instead of trying to build a tower in a single leap."
Brick by brick. It sounded slow, but also… safer. More manageable. The fear of the unknown power was still there, but now it was tempered with a sliver of hope, a sense of purpose. I wasn't just trying to hide anymore. I was trying to become someone else, someone stronger, both inside and out. And maybe, just maybe, that someone could finally uncover the truth about my parents and the secrets that had shaped my life.
Emerging from the access panel back into the deserted corridor felt like stepping onto a stage. I consciously slumped my shoulders, trying to recapture the familiar posture of someone used to being overlooked. The faint ache in my muscles was a constant reminder of the power I now concealed. The performance had begun.
...
Standing before the imposing gates of Aethel Academy, the cool morning air carrying the distant sounds of students arriving, Nanny's words echoed in my mind with a clarity that belied the years. "This place, Iskandar… it's the safest place for you to grow. Your mother… she made sure of it."
She had spoken of the five top academies in the world – one in Malaysia, Japan, China, America, and Russia. Malaysia, she'd explained, wasn't just geographically strategic, the very heart of Asia; it was tied to our family's history, a place where roots ran deep. Even Headmaster Valerius, a childhood friend of my father's, was part of that intricate web of protection. "But remember, little one," Nanny had cautioned, her gaze grave, "even here, dangers lurk in the shadows."
One more year. Just one more year at Aethel, and then the universities. A concept that had once felt as distant and unattainable as the stars. Before, the privilege of being a Harun descendant hadn't been enough to bridge the gap of my own perceived inadequacy. But now… with Guardian, the impossible felt within reach. Thanks, Mom, I thought, a bittersweet ache in my chest.
I walked through the gates, falling into the familiar rhythm of the student flow, trying to project an air of unremarkable normalcy. But the whispers had already begun. Faint at first, like the rustling of leaves, they grew in volume as I moved through the courtyard.
"Did you see him?"
"He actually fought back…"
"They said he glowed…"
My heart pounded against my ribs. The carefully constructed facade of normalcy was already cracking. I kept my gaze fixed ahead, trying to ignore the curious stares and hushed conversations that followed in my wake.
Reaching the classroom felt like a small victory, a temporary sanctuary. I slid into my usual seat at the back, trying to disappear into the anonymity of the crowd. But even here, the air felt different, charged with an unspoken curiosity.
The lesson had barely begun when a message flashed across my personal comm-slate. A summons.
Headmaster Valerius requests your immediate presence in his office.
My blood ran cold. The whispers had reached the highest level. The fragile safety Nanny had promised felt like it was about to shatter. What did he know? What had they told him?
The classroom door seemed miles away. Every eye in the room felt like it was boring into me, dissecting the lie I was desperately trying to maintain. With a forced casualness, I stood up, my legs feeling like lead.
As I reached the door, the weight of the unknown pressing down on me, a single thought echoed in my mind: This is it.