Chapter 31: The Shrouded Core
The holographic raven's announcement hung in the air like a cold mist. The other students in the arena, including the Rank 1 and 2 twins, watched Roman with varying degrees of intensity. To be called by the Dean on day one was unheard of.
"Go," Professor Gantz grunted, the heavy pressure he had been exerting finally dissipating. "And Dawson? Don't keep the Dean waiting. He's not known for his patience."
Roman nodded, his face a mask of calm. He glanced at Ellen and the others, giving them a subtle nod to stay put, before turning toward the exit. As he walked past the Rank 1 twin—the girl with the porcelain skin and the aura of absolute darkness—he felt a sharp, icy shiver. She didn't look at him, but her shadow seemed to stretch toward his feet as if trying to taste his energy.
She knows, Roman thought. Or at least, she suspects.
Before heading to the spire, Roman paused at a digital terminal in the hallway. With a few swift swipes of his student ID, he finalized his curriculum.
Primary Department: Combat.
Secondary Department: Beast Creating (Synthesis).
He needed to be more than a fighter. If he was to lead the Seven, he needed to understand how to mend, modify, and enhance the very creatures they commanded. The "Beast Creating" department was notoriously difficult, requiring a photographic memory and a surgical precision with flux—traits Roman now possessed in spades thanks to his refined Spirit Sea.
The ascent to the Dean's spire took Roman through the clouds of Planet Astra. The elevator was a transparent crystal pod that shot upward, offering a dizzying view of the "Solar Grotto" villas and the distant, shimmering mercury oceans.
When the doors opened at the apex, the atmosphere changed instantly. The air here was thin but saturated with a type of energy Roman had never felt—it was ancient, heavy, and smelled faintly of ozone.
Dean Malakor sat behind a desk of carved obsidian, his silhouette framed by the artificial sun. He didn't look like a typical academic; he looked like a soldier who had survived the end of a world.
"Sit," Malakor said. It wasn't a request.
Roman took the seat across from him. He felt the Lightning Stone pulse against his chest, its frequency rising as if it were greeting a peer.
"I see you've added Beast Creating to your file," Malakor said, his golden eyes flicking to a holographic display. "A wise choice. It provides a convenient excuse for why your flux signatures are so... unconventional. People expect researchers to smell of volatile energy."
The Dean stood up, his presence expanding until it filled the massive room. "Last year, the Federation Academy secured their Eye. This year, I went to the edges of the galaxy to bring the twins here. And then you fall into my lap. Do you have any idea how bright you are right now, Roman Dawson?"
"I'm aware that I can see," Roman replied evenly.
"You're not just 'seeing.' You're a beacon," Malakor snapped. He walked around the desk, his hands beginning to glow with a complex, spiraling indigo script. "The twins are already under my Shroud. Their darkness and light are folded away, hidden behind the facade of 'standard' high-tier talent. But you? You're leaking primordial lightning like a cracked battery."
Malakor stopped inches from Roman. The power radiating from the man was suffocating.
"The Saviours Organisation has sensors tuned to the frequency of the Seven. If I don't suppress your aura now, you won't make it to your first Beast Synthesis lab. You'll be a specimen on an operating table before the week is out."
"How do you know about the Seven?" Roman asked, his green eyes locking onto the Dean's golden ones.
"Because I've spent my life standing between humanity and the things that want to eat it," Malakor whispered. "And the Seven are the only weapons that ever made the 'Void' hesitate."
He raised his hand. "This will feel like your Spirit Sea is being frozen. Don't fight the Shroud. It doesn't weaken you; it simply paints you in gray so the monsters can't find the gold."
As Malakor's hand touched Roman's forehead, the world turned cold.
Roman felt a rush of indigo energy pour into his meridians. It was like a thick, heavy blanket being thrown over a fire. The roaring lightning of the Azure Dragon Stone was pushed back, forced into the deepest recesses of his soul-space. The brilliant green of his eyes dimmed slightly, becoming a more muted, forest-green, and the pearlescent glow in his sclera vanished.
His white hair remained, but the "pressure" he gave off—that predatory, kingly aura—receded until he felt like a talented, but normal, Rank 3 student.
Roman gasped, clutching the armrests. He felt "smaller," but when he checked his internal Spirit Sea, the power was still there—it was just trapped behind a sophisticated, one-way barrier. He could draw on it, but it wouldn't "leak" anymore.
"There," Malakor breathed, looking slightly drained. "The Shroud is set. To the rest of the school, you are just a lucky boy from Terra who had a physical mutation. To the Twins, you are a mystery. Keep it that way."
Malakor turned back to the window. "Go to your classes. Learn how to build beasts. Learn how to kill with them. And Roman? Don't let your guard down. Just because I've hidden you from the Saviours doesn't mean the students here won't try to break you for your Rank 7 chair."
"Understood," Roman said, standing up. He felt a new kind of weight on his shoulders—the weight of a secret shared with a man who was as dangerous as he was helpful.
As Roman walked back to the elevator, Malakor's voice echoed one last time.
"I'll be watching your progress in the Beast Creating labs. If you're going to lead the others, you'd better be able to do more than just strike them with lightning."