The Versatile Thief

Chapter 3: The Professor's Lecture

The note lay on the bed like a jagged piece of shrapnel. Santiago didn’t sleep. He spent the remaining hours of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic, soul-crushing hum of the academy’s wards. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blue shimmer of the energy he’d pulled from Marcus. It felt like a hungry mouth in the center of his chest, waiting to be fed.

When the morning bell finally shrieked, slicing through the dawn, Santiago dragged himself out of bed. He felt hollow, his skin crawling with the anticipation of the midnight meeting. But first, he had Professor Harth’s class.

He didn't bother with breakfast. He kept his head down as he navigated the corridors, slipping into the lecture hall just as the heavy oak doors began to creak shut.

"You’re late, Pratama," Professor Harth barked from the podium. He was a man built like a boulder, his robes dusted with pulverized chalkboard chalk and static. "Find a seat. We’re beginning the Gravitational Anchoring segment."

"Sorry, Professor. Won’t happen again," Santiago muttered, sliding into an empty seat in the back row.

"Don't care about your excuses," Harth said, turning his back to write a complex runic formula on the floating slate. "I care about results. Today, I’ll be demonstrating a localized gravity inversion. Watch closely. If you blink, you’ll miss the sequence."

Santiago leaned forward, his hands tightening on the edge of his desk. He wasn't interested in the theory. He was interested in the source. Harth was an Archmage-tier caster; his spells were rich, heavy with refined, pressurized mana. If Santiago could hold even a fraction of what Harth was about to manifest, the "drain" he felt wouldn't be a nuisance—it would be a weapon.

"Keep your eyes on the core," Harth commanded, gesturing with a thick, calloused finger.

A sphere of violet light coalesced above the desk. The air in the room suddenly grew heavy, like being submerged in water. Santiago felt the pressure against his temples, a physical manifestation of the spell's weight.

"See how it bends the ambient light?" Harth pointed, pacing toward the aisle. "That is the mark of a stable anchor. Now, who can tell me why the sequence requires a reverse-polarity shunt?"

Jax, sitting near the front, raised his hand immediately. "To prevent the gravity well from collapsing inward on the caster, sir."

"Correct, Jax. At least someone was paying attention," Harth said, moving closer to the student benches. "Gravity is a jealous mistress. She wants to pull everything into the center. To hold it, you must push back with equal force."

Santiago watched Harth like a predator watching a stray animal. The Professor was getting careless. He was holding the manifestation near his own person, the raw, buzzing energy drifting within reach.

Just need a distraction, Santiago thought, his pulse quickening.

"Professor!" a girl near the front shouted. "The sequence is—it's oscillating too hard! It’s going to—"

"Quiet!" Harth snapped, turning toward the student.

This was it. As Harth pivoted, his shoulder brushed the edge of a desk, causing him to stumble slightly. He instinctively reached out to steady himself, his hand passing within inches of Santiago’s aisle.

Santiago didn't hesitate. He stood up, as if in a panic to see what was happening. "Watch out, Professor!"

As he stepped out, he ‘accidentally’ collided with the man’s heavy, mana-saturated robes. He didn't push; he just brushed his palm against the fabric, right over where Harth’s inner reservoir pulsed.

Grab it.

It wasn't a spark this time. It was a deluge.

The moment Santiago’s skin touched the mana-leaking embroidery of Harth’s robe, the world tilted. He felt the cold, hard vacuum in his chest snap open like a bear trap. It didn't just pull the stray magic; it ripped a massive, golden-threaded stream of pure gravitational force straight out of the Professor’s active spell.

"What—" Harth gasped, his face draining of color.

The violet sphere above the desk vanished instantly, popping like a soap bubble. The sudden loss of tension sent a wave of vertigo through the entire room. Students stumbled, books slid off desks, and for a terrifying second, the laws of gravity inside the room felt like they were fighting a tug-of-war.

Santiago pulled back, his hand trembling so violently he had to shove it into his pocket. His veins burned as if someone had poured liquid lead through them. The sheer volume of the power was staggering. It wasn't just energy; it was mass, it was weight, it was a mountain folded into his soul.

"My apologies, Professor," Santiago said, his voice coming out as a strained, breathless rasp. "I—I lost my balance."

Harth stood frozen, staring at his own empty hand. He looked bewildered, his mouth slightly agape. He looked at Santiago, then at the floor, then back at his own palm. "I... the anchor... it just dissipated. That’s impossible."

"Are you alright, sir?" Jax asked, looking around the room, sensing that something had gone fundamentally wrong with the lesson. "Did you lose control of the output?"

Harth blinked, shaking his head as if trying to clear a ringing in his ears. He looked at Santiago again, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I... yes. A stabilization error. That will be all for today. Pack up. Get out."

Santiago didn't wait for a second invitation. He shoved his books into his satchel with one hand, the other still buried in his pocket, clutching his own thigh to steady his shaking fingers. He felt like he was holding a supernova in a glass jar. Every heartbeat sent a spike of nausea through him.

He pushed past Jax, who gave him a suspicious, side-long glare.

"That was a weird little stumble, Pratama," Jax hissed as they brushed past each other.

"Get lost, Jax," Santiago muttered, not looking back.

He didn't stop until he reached the heavy stone stairway leading to the lower gardens. He ducked into a narrow, shadowed stairwell, his back hitting the wall with a thud. He slid down, gasping for air.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket. It was shimmering. Not with the soft, manageable light of a Light spell, but with a terrifying, dense, violet-black gravity that warped the air around his fingers. He had stolen a masterpiece.

"You did it," a voice whispered from the darkness above.

Santiago looked up. Nadia was sitting on the railing of the landing, her boots dangling over the edge. She looked down at him, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and something that looked suspiciously like hunger.

"You actually did it," she repeated, dropping to the floor with a soft, cat-like landing. She walked toward him, her gaze fixed on his glowing hand. "That’s not a 'lucky parry,' Santiago. That’s a theft of high-level gravitational anchoring. Do you have any idea how much pressure that’s putting on your neural pathways?"

Santiago tried to speak, but the weight of the spell almost buckled his lungs. He focused, pushing his will against the stolen energy, forcing the chaotic mass to settle into his library. It felt like stuffing a wool blanket into a jewelry box.

"I... I think I’m going to throw up," he managed to choke out.

Nadia smirked, her peppermint scent cutting through the ozone. "Keep it inside. If you lose that, you’ll take half the floor with you. Welcome to the big leagues, Pratama. Now, tell me... who taught you how to rip a knot open like that?"