It had been a week since the festival, and the students had all silently agreed never to mention it again. It was fun, sure—but also a little embarrassing. The memory still lingered in the air, like smoke after fireworks.Neil sat alone on the wet grass that morning, the frost biting through his gloves. A scarf wrapped tightly around his neck as he exhaled faint clouds into the winter chill. It had only been a month since he came here, but it already felt like a lifetime. He missed home more than he’d ever admit.“Yo, Neil!” Sandy’s voice echoed from across the field.Neil raised his head to see him skating like a maniac across a frozen lake Delia had created earlier—after Jade begged her to freeze the yard. Students were gliding and laughing, slipping, spinning, falling. It was chaos—but the good kind.Neil waved back lazily.“Come down here and skate with us!” Sandy shouted.“Sorry,” Neil called back, shaking his head. “Not good at it.”“Seriously?” Sandy laughed.“Whatever.” Neil r

A few minutes after gym, when the teacher finally dismissed them, Neil caught sight of Sandy splashing water on his face at the sink. His cheeks were swollen, his eyes red — the dampener had worn him out completely. Neil sighed and walked over, tapping him on the shoulder. Sandy turned slowly, forcing a grin. “Hey there, blonde.” Neil blinked. “Blonde? Since when? Do I look blonde to you?” “Would you blame me?” Sandy muttered. “I’m trying to hold back, even with this damn dampener.” “I get it,” Neil said. “Just hang in there — because of that new face I see with the principal.” Sandy frowned, following Neil’s gaze toward the far end of the gym. Standing beside Principal Hiro was a short, dignified man in dark shades — Elder Potter. “Who’s that?” Sandy whispered. “That,” Neil said quietly, “is the Sensitive Blind Mole. He’s blind… but sees everything.” “How?” Sandy turned, genuinely puzzled. “No one knows,” Neil said, already walking away. “My dad used to say, ‘Never let your

Elder Potter walked toward his car, bodyguards flanking him, Hiro following a step behind. Just as he reached the door, he paused and turned sharply. “I thought you said the kids in Class D can’t control their powers?” His tone was light, but his eyes weren’t. “Yes…” Hiro replied carefully. “Then why is Randolf’s kid in there? You know who his father is.” “Neil?” Hiro raised a brow. “Yes.” Elder Potter smiled thinly. “Well, his gift manifested late. He barely has control,” Hiro explained. “But when his adrenaline spikes, his power hits its peak.” “I see.” Potter rubbed his chin. “That explains how he moved that fast to save the boy.” “Indeed,” Hiro replied. A silence settled — quiet but heavy. “Guess my work here is done,” Potter said at last. “We hope to see you again, sir,” Hiro smiled. Potter chuckled. “That, my friend, is a lie.” “Not at all, sir.” Potter exhaled, gazing up at the grey sky. “These kids... they’ll define the next generation of the Gifted. It’s about t

A week after Elder Potter’s visit—and the shocking revelation—life at the academy seemed to slip back into rhythm. Classes resumed, laughter filled the halls again, and students returned to their training under the ever-watchful eye of Miss Wade. But beneath that fragile calm, everyone knew something had changed. It was a bright afternoon, Sunlight poured through the tall glass windows, painting the hall in warm gold. Delia walked down the corridor, expression blank as ever. Her presence made people instinctively move aside. There was something about her—an aura that whispered don’t test me. She turned toward the cafeteria. Inside, the air smelled of lunch trays and chatter. Delia walked straight to the canteen and stopped before the attendant. “Lemme guess…” the woman smiled, already reaching for the ladle. “The usual?” Delia gave a small nod. “Coming right up,” the attendant said before turning away. A shadow fell beside her. A boy—tall, confident, maybe too confident—sto

“What…?” Zoe screamed from the door. “Chiyo’s missing! How’s that possible?” The class erupted. Voices clashed, questions collided, and panic spread like wildfire. Lyn quickly raised her hand, signaling for calm. To everyone’s surprise, the noise faded. “Where’s Freda?” Zoe asked, her voice tight with worry. “She’s fine,” Lyn replied, lowering her head. “She called to tell me. Said she couldn’t track Chiyo’s scent, even after using her hunting beast skill.” “I see.” Zoe’s tone darkened, her usual bright face gone cold with rage. Neil watched her closely. He knew that look — the edge before she lost control. “Zoe…” he whispered. “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.” The classroom fell silent, heavy like a funeral. Sandy looked at Neil, noticing how deep he was in thought. “Lyn,” Sandy spoke up. “Where’s Freda now?” “She never said,” Lyn replied slowly. “She’s still trying to track down Chiyo.” “I see…” Sandy rubbed his chin, then stood. “And how long has it been since she called you