Thunderclad Savior

Chapter 9: Council Inquiry

The stone corridors of the Administrative Spire felt unnaturally cold, a sharp contrast to the humid, static-charged atmosphere of the training grounds. Raka walked between the two council enforcers, his boots echoing against the polished marble floor. He kept his hands loose at his sides, his fingers twitching occasionally—a subconscious habit born of his new affinity.

"Keep your head down, Raka," the guard on his left, a stern-faced senior named Harlen, muttered without looking back. "The President doesn't appreciate insolence. Especially from someone who spent the last three years decorating the bottom of the rankings."

Raka glanced at the back of Harlen’s neck, feeling the faint, rhythmic pulse of the man’s mana. "I’m not here to be insolent. I’m here to tell the truth."

Harlen laughed, a harsh sound that ricocheted off the high vaulted ceiling. "The truth? Three of our students are currently in the infirmary with nervous system shock, claiming you lashed out at them with some kind of illegal conduit spell. That isn't a story; that’s an expulsion hearing."

"They attacked me in the hall," Raka said, his voice steady. "I defended myself. That’s all."

"That’s not how the story goes when the boys in question have the ear of the Council," the second guard added.

They reached a massive set of double doors inlaid with silver filigree. Harlen rapped his knuckles against the wood three times in a precise, rhythmic cadence.

"Enter," a voice commanded from within.

The doors creaked open, revealing a sun-drenched office lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Seated behind an imposing desk of dark mahogany was Valerius, the Student Council President. Beside him stood a familiar, slender figure: Camila.

Raka’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing her there, dressed in her practical traveler’s leathers, felt like a lifeline. Valerius, however, looked less than impressed. His eyes, sharp and calculating, raked over Raka’s soot-stained clothes.

"Sit, Raka," Valerius said, gesturing toward a solitary wooden chair. "You’ve had a busy morning, it seems."

Raka sat, his movements deliberate. "It wasn't a choice, President."

Valerius leaned back, interlacing his fingers. "The boys you hospitalized are claiming you used restricted energy-manipulation techniques to cause bodily harm. They say you were the aggressor, stalking them in the corridors."

"They’re lying," Raka said, meeting the President’s gaze. "They cornered me. They had batons and kinetic spells ready. I used the minimum amount of force necessary to disarm them."

"Minimum force?" Valerius raised an eyebrow. "One of them still can’t feel his right hand. That doesn't sound like 'minimum' to me. That sounds like someone who has finally found a way to bridge the gap between his incompetence and a desire for control."

Raka felt a spike of anger, but he forced it into his core, feeling the Static Dissipation work to cool his temper. "I’m not incompetent. I’m just tired of being a target."

"And you think becoming a danger to the student body is the solution?" Valerius sighed, opening a folder on his desk. "If this were a typical disciplinary case, I’d have you packing your bags. But the Academy requires evidence, not just testimonies."

"Which is why I’m here," Camila spoke up, her voice calm and firm. She stepped away from the bookshelf, holding a small, glowing crystal device. "The hallway has resonance-tracking wards, Valerius. You know that. They might be old, but they keep a record of mana discharges."

Valerius frowned, shifting his gaze toward her. "The records for that wing are often garbled, Camila. You know the history of the lower barracks."

"I took the liberty of stabilizing the playback," Camila said, placing the crystal on the desk. She tapped it, and a shimmering, translucent projection flickered into life above the mahogany surface.

The image showed the dark corridor. It was grainy, but the events were clear. The three bullies lunged at Raka first; the kinetic blasts were clearly visible as streaks of amber light. Raka’s movements were blurred, appearing almost like jagged static, but it was clear he was moving backward, parrying rather than attacking.

"Look at the timing," Camila pointed out, tracing the mana flares in the projection. "They attack. He dodges. They attack again. He only discharges energy when they are within touching distance. It’s defensive, purely reflexive."

Valerius watched the projection intently. His expression remained unreadable, though his jaw tightened as the image of the leader being shocked by his own baton played out.

"He used the environment," Valerius muttered. "He grounded their own energy back into them. That’s clever, but it’s still highly dangerous."

"It’s not illegal," Camila countered. "It’s a master-level application of basic conduction. Since when has the Academy punished a student for being better at their craft than their attackers?"

"Since it became a liability to our reputation," Valerius replied, turning his eyes back to Raka. "But the evidence is undeniable. It was self-defense."

Raka breathed a sigh of relief, though he kept his expression neutral. "Does that mean I’m cleared?"

"For now," Valerius said, closing the folder. "However, your mana signature is… unusual, Raka. You’re radiating a high level of background ionization. You’re a walking lightning hazard. If I’m going to let you stay, I need to know: what exactly are you doing to your own body?"

Raka hesitated. He could feel the god’s voice shifting in the back of his mind, a warning not to reveal the system.

"I’m training," Raka said simply. "I’m learning how to work with the natural flow of the world instead of fighting against it. Is that a crime?"

"It is if you destroy the school to prove it," Valerius shot back. "Camila, you vouch for him?"

Camila looked at Raka, a small, knowing smile touching her lips. "I’ve seen his work. He’s disciplined, in his own way. He’s not going to cause any more trouble unless someone forces his hand."

Valerius studied them both for a long, heavy silence. The air in the office seemed to grow thin. Finally, he gave a sharp, curt nod.

"Fine. You’re dismissed. But keep your sparks to yourself, Raka. If I hear one more report of 'unauthorized conduction' in the halls, I won't care if you were defending yourself or not. You’ll be off the grounds by sundown."

Raka stood up, his legs feeling a little steadier now. "Understood, President."

"Go," Valerius waved his hand, his attention already shifting back to his paperwork. "And try to stay out of the infirmary for a while."

Raka turned and walked toward the door, Camila following closely behind him. As they stepped out into the hallway, the heavy doors clicked shut, cutting off the silence of the office.

Raka leaned against the wall, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. "I thought that was the end."

Camila chuckled, checking her satchel. "Valerius is a stickler for rules, but he’s not blind. He knows those three have been a headache for the Council for months. He didn't want to expel you; he wanted to see if you had the spine to stand your ground."

"He was testing me?" Raka asked.

"Everyone is testing you," Camila said, her tone growing serious. "You’ve made a splash, Raka. People are talking. They’re wondering how a bottom-tier mage suddenly started moving like a lightning strike. You need to be careful. Not everyone is going to be as 'forgiving' as the Council."

Raka looked down the corridor, his eyes reflecting the soft, flickering light of the lanterns. "Let them talk. I didn't survive the plateau to hide in the shadows."

Camila patted his shoulder. "Just make sure you don't burn down the whole house while you’re settling scores. I don't have enough tonic to fix that."

"I’ll keep that in mind," Raka said, a faint, dangerous spark of violet light dancing in the depths of his pupils. "But I think we both know it’s too late for that. The storm is already here."

Camila watched him for a moment, her expression a mix of concern and admiration. "Then you’d better make sure you’re the one holding the rod, not the one getting struck."

Raka turned and started walking toward the exit, his confidence returning with every step. The council’s suspicion was a weight, but it was nothing compared to the power humming in his veins. He had survived the god, the bullies, and the administration. The path forward was clear, and for the first time, he didn't care who was watching.

As he reached the outer courtyard, he looked up at the sky. It was clear and blue, but he could feel the pressure building, a silent, gathering static that only he could hear.

"Next one," he whispered to the wind. "I’m ready for the next one."

Behind him, in the high spire office, Valerius watched from his window as Raka stepped out into the sunlight. He drummed his fingers on the windowsill, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

"That boy," Valerius murmured to the empty room, his voice filled with a mixture of dread and curiosity. "He’s not a mage. He’s a conduit."

Raka didn't look back. He kept walking, the hum in his blood growing stronger with every passing second. He was no longer the student at th

e bottom of the rankings. He was the thunder, and the Academy was just the beginning of the noise.