The Gravecaller Who Levels While Sleeping

Chapter 3: The Girl in the Alley

The next Ascension froze the obelisk.

Hairline cracks ran across its golden surface. Frost spread across the plaza stones in a bright white web. The students in line backed away with startled cries as a pillar of ice formed inside the field of light.

At its center stood Mara Ashford.

Adrian recognized her at once. She had been the third Apex student in their year, as famous for her white blond hair and distant manner as for the potential stamped on her aptitude record. In Adrian's first life, he had never spoken more than two sentences to her. She had risen fast, joined a private guild, and vanished from Northbridge's public news before he reached level five.

The ice shell shattered with a sound like glass breaking in a church.

Rare Combat Class Acquired: Winterweaver.

The courtyard exploded into noise. Even Principal Reed forgot his disappointment over Adrian long enough to look thrilled. A Winterweaver could turn a street into a fortress, freeze a monster pack in place, and control a battlefield without needing to stand on its front line.

"She is going to be incredible," someone said.

"Better than Cross, for sure."

"Northbridge has two future elites this year."

Mara stepped from the Loom without acknowledging anyone. Her expression was calm, almost bored. As she passed Adrian, her pale eyes paused on him for less than a second. Then she continued toward a tall man in a gray suit waiting near the faculty steps.

Lucas watched her walk away and turned his attention back to Adrian. "Do not stare too hard, Vale. People might think you have a chance."

"You should try silence," Adrian said. "It might improve your personality."

Lucas stepped closer, anger returning to his face. "You keep talking like that, and you will find out how little your unique class matters."

Adrian wanted to tell him that he already knew. He knew exactly how Lucas's future fire spells looked. He knew the habit Lucas had of standing just outside an enemy's attack range. He knew that Lucas would not become dangerous because of his talent, but because his family could buy access to training Rifts and gear most students could not afford.

Instead, Adrian said, "You should worry about your own future."

By the time the final names were called, Northbridge had awakened thirty-one combat classes and fourteen support classes. Principal Reed announced that all combat and support students would meet at six the next morning for supervised entry into the Briarwood Training Rift. It was an academy tradition. A single guided run, basic combat instruction, and a chance for new hunters to earn their first experience.

The moment the announcement ended, the courtyard broke apart into excited groups.

Someone slapped Adrian's shoulder hard enough to make him turn.

"Do not look so miserable," Ben Carter said.

Ben was broad shouldered, freckled, and incapable of entering a room quietly. His new class was Vanguard, a solid close range combat type. In Adrian's first life, Ben had died inside the Briarwood Training Rift the next morning. Adrian had missed the academy trip, so he never learned why.

That memory made Adrian's smile fade.

"Congratulations," Adrian said. "Vanguard suits you."

"Obviously. I was born for a shield." Ben grinned, then lowered his voice. "And you are still you. Gravecaller or not. Maybe once you get a skill at level ten, it will turn out to be absurdly good. We can party up. I will protect you, you do whatever creepy bone magic comes naturally."

The offer was careless, but sincere. Adrian felt an old ache behind his ribs.

"Ben," he said, "do not go into Briarwood tomorrow."

Ben blinked. "What?"

"Skip the academy run. Say you are sick. Go home. Do anything else."

The grin fell from Ben's face. "Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"Why?"

Adrian could not say that he had watched Ben's mother cry at a memorial service three years ago. He could not explain how he knew, because he did not know. In his first life, he had been late to the bus because he was dealing with a useless class and a father who barely spoke. By the time he learned Ben was dead, all he had was a vague official statement about an unexpected incident.

"Bad feeling," Adrian said. "Please. Think about it."

Ben studied him for a moment. "You are not joking."

"No."

"Fine. I will talk to my mom tonight. I am not promising anything, but I will think about it."

That was all Adrian could ask for.

They walked together through the academy gates and down Northbridge Avenue. At the old bookstore, they split in opposite directions. Ben lifted one hand in farewell.

"Try not to punch anyone else before morning," he called.

Adrian waited until Ben disappeared around the corner before continuing home.

The sun had set early. By six o'clock, Riverton's side streets were dark and wet from a brief rain. Adrian reached the mouth of a narrow alley behind a row of apartment buildings and stopped.

Someone was waiting inside.

Tessa Moore stood beneath a broken security light. She wore a red coat and held one hand around her phone. In his first life, Adrian had spent months hoping she would become more than a friend. She had laughed at his jokes, accepted his coffee, and let him believe there might be a future.

Then he had awakened as a Gravecaller.

"Adrian," Tessa said. Her voice was gentle enough to be suspicious.

He walked closer. "Tessa."

She opened her mouth to speak.

Adrian slapped her.

The sound cracked through the alley.

Tessa staggered sideways with one hand pressed to her cheek. Her eyes widened in total shock.

"What is wrong with you?" she shouted.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Adrian said. Then he turned and ran.

Men rushed from behind the dumpsters and out of the shadowed service doors. There were five of them, all older than Adrian, all carrying cheap clubs. The man in front swore when he saw Adrian sprinting toward the alley exit.

"Get him!" Tessa yelled. "Lucas said not to let him walk away!"

Adrian's new Agility answered before they could close the gap. He slipped past the first attacker, vaulted a stack of milk crates, and cut through a loading lot. A club swung at his shoulder and missed by inches. He heard Tessa screaming his name behind him, heard one of the men curse at how fast he moved.

In his first life, they had beaten him so badly that he spent a month in bed. Tessa had watched. Later, Lucas had made it clear that she had chosen his side before the ambush began.

This time, Adrian did not wait to be hurt.

He ran until the sounds behind him faded, then slowed beneath the orange glow of a streetlamp. His heart hammered, but a savage satisfaction warmed his chest.

Lucas had not changed. Tessa had not changed. The difference was that Adrian had.

Above his vision, the Continuum quietly counted upward.

He still had hours until midnight.