Awakening The Shadow; The Apex Era

The Powerless Warrior

The assembly had barely concluded when Dean Aldrich summoned Kieran to his office.

The mahogany door slammed shut behind them, trapping Kieran in a room that smelled of old parchment and disappointment. The secretary stood by the window, arms crossed, while the Dean circled his desk like a predator sizing up wounded prey.

"Mr. Cross." Dean Aldrich's voice was ice. "Explain yourself."

Kieran straightened his shoulders, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Sir, I don't understand what happened. I've been studying hard, maintaining top marks in theoretical magic and combat strategy. My written examinations—"

"Your written examinations mean nothing!" The Dean's fist crashed against the desk. "We're facing an apocalypse, boy! Demonic beasts don't care about your essay scores. They care about power—raw, magical power—which you evidently lack entirely. You have no power to fight for yourself, not even to tackle the lowest beast!"

"But intelligence matters too," Kieran insisted, his hands clenching into fists. "Strategy, planning, understanding the enemy's weaknesses. I can contribute—"

The secretary laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Contribute? You can't even generate enough energy to warm a cup of tea. What are you going to do against a Level Five demon? Bore it to death with your textbook knowledge? Or fighting it with your calculation result?"

"I've read every volume in the restricted section about demonic physiology. I know their vulnerable points, their behavioral patterns—"

"And you'll be torn apart before you get close enough to exploit any of that knowledge." Dean Aldrich leaned forward, his eyes hard and red. "This academy was established to train warriors, not scholars who play at being warriors. You've wasted our resources, our time, and a scholarship spot that could've gone to someone with actual potential."

"Please, sir, give me a chance—"

"A chance?" The Dean's laugh was bitter. "We gave you a chance. The orb gave you a chance. Your own magic—or lack thereof—has spoken. You have the magical capacity of a field mouse. Actually, I'd wager the mouse would register higher."

Heat flooded Kieran's face. "That's not fair—"

"Fair?" The secretary stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "You want to talk about fairness? Every day you've spent here, you've consumed resources meant for real mages. Food, lodging, instruction—all wasted on someone who can barely qualify as human in magical terms."

"I am human—"

"Barely," she snapped. "Magically speaking, you're about as useful as livestock. Actually, livestock serves a purpose. You're more like a parasite, feeding on us with no usefulness"

Kieran's jaw tightened. "I earned my scholarship through merit. I scored highest in the entrance exams, I was given the scholarship based on my —"

"Written exams!" Dean Aldrich roared. "Any fool can memorize books! We assumed—wrongly, it seems—that such intelligence would correlate with magical aptitude. Instead, we got an anomaly. A defect."

"I'm not a defect!"

"The orb says otherwise." The Dean pulled an official-looking document from his drawer, his quill already moving across the parchment. "Kieran Cross, by the authority vested in me as Dean of Celestial Academy, you are hereby expelled, effective immediately."

The words hit like a physical blow. "No, please, you can't—"

"I can and I have. You're dismissed. Pack your belongings and vacate the premises by sundown."

"But where will I go? The city walls—the beasts—"

"Not my concern." The Dean's eyes held no sympathy. "Perhaps you'll find work as a clerk. Or a stable hand. Something suited to your... limited capabilities.

"

Kieran stumbled out of the office, the expulsion notice burning in his hand. Students had gathered in the corridor, their expressions ranging from pity to barely concealed glee. Whispers erupted as he passed.

"Did you hear? Expelled!"

"About time. He was dragging down the whole class average."

"Imagine being dumber than a mule in magical terms. At least mules can carry things."

Kieran ignored them, heading toward the dormitory. He needed to think, to figure out his next move. But as he turned the corner, a familiar figure blocked his path.

Selene.

His girlfriend stood with her arms crossed, her beautiful features twisted into an expression he'd never seen before. Disgust.

"Selene, I—"

"Don't." She held up a manicured hand. "I can't believe I wasted three months on you."

Kieran's chest constricted. "What are you talking about? This doesn't change anything between us—"

"Doesn't change anything?" Her laugh was sharp enough to cut. "Kieran, I thought you were going to be someone important and beneficial. A powerful mage. Someone who could protect me when the demons breach the outer walls."

"I can still protect you. I'll find another way—"

"With what? Your precious book knowledge?" She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a vicious whisper. "I've been parading around with someone who has less magical presence than a common rat. Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me?"

"Selene, please—"

"I've already spoken to Marcus Thorne. He's a Level Seven, in case you forgot. Actually powerful. Actually useful." She looked him up and down, her lip curling. "I don't date charity cases or magical cripples."

"I've given you everything—gifts, time, attention—"

"And I've wasted months pretending your mediocrity was endearing!" Her voice rose, attracting more onlookers. "You're pathetic, Kieran. A scholarship fraud with delusions of adequacy. You're not a mage. You're barely even a person in this new world. You're more like... like a cockroach. Surviving on scraps, hiding in corners, utterly worthless."

Students had gathered now, forming a circle around them. Some held hands over their mouths, others openly grinned.

"Selene—"

"We're done. Don't contact me. Don't look at me. If you see me in the city, cross the street." She turned on her heel, her hair whipping behind her. "I have standards, and you don't meet them."

She walked away without looking back.

The corridor erupted in murmurs and snickers. Someone mimicked a whip-crack sound. Another started a slow clap that quickly died into uncomfortable laughter.

Kieran stood frozen, the expulsion notice crumpling in his fist. His girlfriend—former girlfriend—had compared him to vermin in front of half the student body. The Dean had called him a defect. The secretary had labeled him a parasite.

And the worst part? The orb hadn't lied.

He was powerless. Expelled. Alone.

Kieran turned and walked toward the dormitory, each step heavier than the last. Behind him, the mocking whispers followed like shadows.

Shamed and heartbroken, he had nothing left.