Chapter 11: Return to Normalcy

Asterion jogged toward the school building, carefully scanning the footing ahead of him. Still, he couldn’t help but let his senses wash over his surroundings. His spatial awareness picked up details he would have otherwise missed—like the small ring stuck in the dirt, its shape contrasting strangely against the natural contours of the ground, drawing his attention.

He bent down and picked up the silver band, turning it over in his fingers. There were no visible engravings, no markings to hint at its owner. With no immediate way to identify it, he slipped it into his pocket, deciding to hand it over to one of the guards if he came across one.

Excitement welled within him as he moved through the crowd, many stopping to glance his way or waving in greeting. He returned their gestures with a confident smile, preferring to act as if nothing had changed. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice how their gazes lingered—longer than was considered polite.

He knew why.

They were inspecting him, measuring him, appraising him. But he chose to ignore their curious and intrigued stares, refusing to let their scrutiny affect him. Still, he used his spatial awareness to observe them in turn, watching as they whispered among themselves, their hushed conversations trailing behind him.

His sharp ears caught snippets of conversation as he passed, most of it murmurs of concern for his well-being after his long absence. The fire inside him calmed a little at the thought, their worry more reassuring than intrusive.

But then, too distracted—both listening and using his spatial perception to watch the people behind him—he walked straight into someone.

"Oh, sorry," Asterion blurted, stepping back and looking up, only to find himself face to face with his distant uncle, Arko.

The large, muscular man looked down at him with mild surprise. He was the embodiment of his bear aspect, from the thick brown beard and long hair to the hairy arms and massive hands that now gripped Asterion’s shoulders, steadying him.

"Hey, watch where you’re go— Oh! Asterion!" Arko's expression shifted into a grin. "They finally let you out of the house?"

"Bearly," Asterion replied with a grin, earning an eye roll from his uncle.

"I see you didn’t dull while being cooped up," Arko muttered, shaking his head.

He glanced up at the sky, noting the position of the rising sun before looking back down at Asterion. "It’s almost time for class to start. Go on, hurry—I don’t want to be the one responsible for you being late!"

With that, he gave Asterion a firm slap on the back, a little harder than necessary. Asterion staggered but managed to keep his balance.

"And give your parents my regards!" Arko called after him.

Asterion merely waved in acknowledgment as he hurried toward the school grounds, unwilling to be late—or to get distracted again.

The first thing he noticed when the school came into view was Theos, surrounded by a small group of classmates. His friend had begun to truly stand out—his body growing larger, more muscular, especially for their age. Most of their class had already lived through their thirteenth winter, but Theos was developing faster than most, his frame already broader and stronger.

Asterion once again lamented being cooped up for so long. It had widened the gap between them, with Theos and the others not only gaining more combat experience but also advancing in their physical training while he had been left behind.

When they noticed his approach, all attention turned to him, but before he could get surrounded, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. He quickly fell in step beside Theos as they walked toward the building.

"It’s good to have you back. It wasn’t the same without you," Theos said, throwing an arm around Asterion’s shoulders with a wide grin. "If you’d stayed away any longer, you might’ve shrunk into a shrimp."

Asterion elbowed his friend, eliciting a chuckle from him. "I’m still taking it easy, but on break, we spar again," he announced.

Theos hesitated, scrutinizing him far more than Asterion would have liked, which only made his annoyance grow.

"I’m not an egg," Asterion grumbled. "My sense of distance has changed, worst case, Lucia can fix me, right?" He turned to look at the girl walking alongside them.

Lucia raised an eyebrow but gave him a small smile. "Sure, I do need the practice. A cracked head is just what I need."

"I can’t promise you that," Asterion replied in a deadpan voice.

"But I can," Theos added helpfully, winking at them.

Asterion gave Theos a sidelong glance. "Thinking about it, I might be able to help with a broken kneecap."

"That works for me too," Lucia said with a toothy smile before striding ahead to take her place in class.

Asterion chuckled, shaking his head as he followed, weaving through his classmates as they took their seats. The familiar hum of chatter filled the room, and he found that his usual spot next to Theos had been left for him.

Settling into his chair, he couldn’t help but grin, looking at his teacher expectantly. Mr. Seitz met his gaze with a nod of acknowledgment before shifting his attention to the rest of the class, patiently waiting for everyone to settle.

His Teacher didn’t need to clap this time as the murmurs died down, and everyone looked expectantly at their teacher, who nodded approvingly.

"As most of you have noticed, for the first time in a long while, the entire class is present again," Mr. Seitz said, letting the words hang in the air.

Asterion observed through his spatial senses, noting how many eyes shifted toward him—but not just him. Zena, Katina, Alexius, and a few others also drew attention.

"Many of you have now awakened one or more powers over the last month, which allows me to finally start training your abilities in earnest."

Excited chatter broke out across the room, and Asterion exchanged a grin with Theos.

They had been waiting for this. Having a Crown-tier instructor from the university like Mr. Seitz meant the sky was the limit.

The noise quickly died down, however, as Mr. Seitz threatened to wind clap his hands again.

"I will still intersperse the training with lessons on household and common magic as well as magic theory," Mr. Seitz continued, his gaze sweeping over the class. "But for now, I want all of you to take twenty minutes to decide whether you wish to be a combatant or not. Regardless of your choice, know that the family will support you.

"However," he added drawing the attention of his students back to him, "choosing a support role does not mean I won’t teach you how to fight, and choosing to be a combatant does not mean you won’t learn support skills. This decision will determine your focus, not your limitations."

Excited whispers spread through the class, but Mr. Seitz wasn’t finished.

"Do not make this decision lightly, and more importantly, do not make it for anyone but yourselves," he said, his voice firm but measured. "I am well aware of the expectations placed on many of you, but I ask you to set them aside. If you cannot choose your own path in life, you will never grow to be even half the person you are meant to be."

Before the class could break out into murmurs and discussions, Mr. Seitz clapped his hands, the violent displacement of air creating a thunderous crack that silenced everyone instantly.

"For this part, there will be no discussion," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Once you’ve made your decision and find yourself idle, use the time to reflect. Consider how you can advance your aspects—what feels right and what you need to accomplish your goals and dreams."

He paused for a moment before adding, "If you cannot make a decision yet, that is fine too. But give it thought outside of class in the coming days."

Asterion watched as Seitz turned over a sand timer on his desk, the grains slipping downward in a steady stream, their movement almost audible in the silence of the classroom.

He watched as his teacher began writing and drawing on the board, but soon drew his attention away.

Asterion knew he wanted to be a combatant.

Still, a lingering hesitation remained. His family could make great use of either of his aspects—both were highly sought after in their respective crafts. But he shook his head, pushing the doubt aside. Mr. Seitz had made it clear that even combatants would still be taught support skills, and besides, reaching Master-tier was rarely achieved entirely from the safety of one’s home.

And with his particular powers, he wouldn’t be truly valuable until at least the Essence-tier.

That meant challenging himself. That meant gaining experience out in the wider world.

And most importantly, that meant fighting.

But despite his determination and confidence in his choice, his powers didn’t yet reflect it. His gravity and spatial abilities were useful, but not in a fight. He could sense danger coming, but he couldn’t properly face it—or even escape—not with the way his powers were now.

He could think of multiple ways to progress his powers in a way that would be useful in combat. However, he still hadn’t completely adjusted to his spatial powers, despite his mind—or rather, his physical manifestation—continuing to lessen the strain on his focus, making the ability more powerful and feel more familiar with each passing day.

This meant it wasn’t time to mess with it yet. He would continue to adjust, so for now, he would work on his gravity aspect.

The idea of hurling boulders at his enemies appealed to him, but he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. He would first need to negate its gravity, overcome its magical resistance, and then apply enough directional pull to send it flying. Timing would be crucial—if he simply slammed an object into a target, it would do damage, but allowing its full mass to crush the target on impact would be far more devastating.

Still, it was a start. His new spatial senses already greatly helped him exert finer control over the gravity he was manipulating.

Perhaps he could even disorient enemies by shifting the gravity around them, making them lose their footing or sense of balance. Maybe he could even launch them outright by reversing gravity beneath them, sending them soaring, or increasing gravity around them to slow them down.

Either way, he would need to work on overcoming magical resistance and increasing the power behind his directional pull, as it was far too weak for combat purposes.

Asterion continued to plan how to advance his power, occasionally stealing a glance at his other classmates through his Spatial Senses, many looking determined with only a handful looking reluctant or unsure, looking up he noticed that his teacher had drawn two trees beside each other,r their branches touching and intertwining while the other side of the board held a listing of everyday spells and their verbal component half of which he already knew by heart.

Looking at the sand timer, Asterion watched as the last grains fell, signaling the end of their reflection period. Most of the class had already shifted their attention to Mr. Seitz, anticipation filling the room as they waited for the lesson to begin in earnest.

Their teacher stepped in front of the board, partially covering the section containing spells, and tapped his teaching stick against the other half, drawing their focus.

"Today, we revisit the tree of power—more specifically, branches," Seitz began. "I told you last time that powers can develop in unique ways, sometimes branching in directions that don’t follow a straightforward progression of your abilities."

He gestured to the drawing.

"But what do you think this represents?"

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