Chapter 32: [32]: Helen Croft’s Review, The Steel DESK

Alvian arrived at the admin wing at 0655. Five minutes early. The hallway was empty, with morning light shining through narrow windows and casting faint lines across the stone floor.

Helen Croft’s office was at the end of the hall. The steel door was scratched from old fights that no one had fixed. He knocked twice.

"Enter."

The office was small and simple. Reinforced walls were lined with dampening crystals, the same material used in the training arena below. A steel desk sat in the middle of the room. Its surface was marked by years of instructors using it to demonstrate fight moves and write paperwork. A single window looked out over the empty training arena.

Helen sat behind the desk. She turned her missing ear toward the door on purpose, forcing visitors to talk to her good side. Her scarred jaw was tight. She did not ask him to sit down.

"Close the door."

Alvian closed it. The dampening crystals in the walls hummed softly as they turned on, blocking the room from outside spying. Whatever she wanted to say, she did not want it recorded.

Helen picked up a thick stack of papers from her desk. They had formal Academy stamps and red marks for top-secret clearance.

"Three strange things," she said plainly. She held up one finger. "You cleared the six-second Combat Assessment. E-Rank students need at least thirty seconds against Rank 1 constructs. You did it in six seconds, without a weapon, using a Skill you should not have unlocked yet."

She held up a second finger. "You showed a D-Rank acid signature during Round One against Brody Slade. Clearwater does not make acid. Standard files say E-Rank Clearwater makes clean water. Your Talent makes strong acid at pH 2.1. That is not controlling water. That is dissolving things."

She held up a third finger. "You had a C-Rank energy spike during your fight with Darius Magnus. Your acid output jumped two full ranks in the middle of combat. The MAG-tech sensors recorded it. The sponsors saw it. The Chancellor will see it by Friday."

She dropped the papers on the desk. The stack landed with a heavy thump.

"I have made a formal review file. The Chancellor reviews it at the end of the week. After that, an investigation starts. Talent re-evaluation. Forced reveal of your training methods." She looked into his eyes. "If they find an unregistered Skill upgrade method, they will name you a regulated asset."

"What does that mean?" Alvian asked, though he had already figured out the answer.

"Guild control. A permanent handler attached to you. Forced missions chosen by the Guild, not by you. No free movement. No free research. No free fights." Her voice was flat and cold. "You become a tool. The institution points you at a target and pulls the trigger. Your life is no longer yours."

Silence filled the room. Outside the window, students began walking into the training arena below. Normal life went on while two people talked about ending someone’s freedom.

Alvian thought about his choices.

He could run. Leave the Academy, disappear into the Undercity, and live as a ghost. But that meant losing his stipend. Losing Serah’s circuitry work. Losing access to Academy tools he needed to save Martha.

He could explain. Tell Helen about the System. But he did not fully understand the System himself, and telling a teacher meant giving up control of his only secret advantage.

He could show her.

Alvian drew his short-sword.

Helen’s hand moved to her gun. Pure reflex. Guild Elite training never left, even after retirement. Her fingers gripped the handle, ready to pull.

But Alvian did not point the sword at her.

He pointed it at the steel desk.

He flicked his wrist in one clean movement. Severing Sword Aura activated.

WHOOSH.

A silver wave of cut air shot from the blade. It crossed the three-meter gap in a second and hit the steel surface. The air blade cut through the metal like paper.

The desk split cleanly in half.

Both sides slid apart with a loud grinding sound of metal on stone. Papers flew everywhere. Helen’s coffee mug tipped over and broke on the floor. The cut edges of the desk smoked with leftover Clearwater acid as it ate into the metal.

[DING!]

[Severing Sword Aura used.]

[Essence -5. Current Essence: 23 → 18.]

[Target: Academy property (steel desk, vintage 2347).]

[Estimated replacement cost: 400 credits.]

[The System notes that property damage is an excellent conversation starter.]

Helen stared at the split desk.

Then she looked at Alvian.

Her hand was still on her gun, but she did not draw it. Her good ear twitched forward. Her scarred jaw relaxed a little.

"That is an A-Rank Skill," she said. Her voice was calm, but something shifted underneath. Not fear. Recognition.

"I have an S-Rank," Alvian replied. "But I would rather not show it in your office."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Helen Croft had thirty years of combat experience. She had fought Rank 4 dimensional bosses. She had lost an ear to a monster that could warp space. She had retired to teaching because the Guild decided she was too injured to fight in the field.

She had seen thousands of students pass through the Academy. Talented ones, lazy ones, smart ones, hopeless ones. She had never seen an E-Rank student easily use an A-Rank Skill and mention an S-Rank in the same sentence.

Her mind raced through explanations. Illegal power upgrades. A hidden bloodline family. A divine blessing. A stolen Talent. None of them made sense. She had checked his Awakening records. E-Rank Clearwater. No family history of Talents. Born in the Undercity. No body modifications. No foreign Essence signatures.

Whatever Alvian Vance was, he was not a fake. He was something she had never seen before.

She looked at the ruined desk. The cut edges were still smoking. The acid kept eating deeper into the steel. In an hour, the desk would be a pile of melted metal.

She picked up the formal review file.

And tore it in half.

"Get out of my office," Helen said softly. "Don’t come back unless you are bleeding."

Alvian did not move. "The review?"

"There is no review." She turned her chair to face the window, her back straight. "I checked a student with unusual Talent numbers. Nothing that needs a formal investigation. The strange data was marked as broken equipment and basic errors."

She paused. Her hand squeezed the armrest.

"I don’t know what you are, Vance. But I know the Academy would eat you alive. I have seen too many good kids destroyed by the Guild. Made into regulated assets. Sent on suicide missions. Broken and thrown away when they were no longer useful."

Her voice grew quiet.

"Three years ago, a B-Rank student named Mira Calloway showed strange Talent growth. The Academy made her a regulated asset. They sent her to clear a Rift six months later. Rank 4. She did not come back." Helen’s ear twitched. "She was sixteen."

The arena below was filling with students. Morning training started. The sound of practice fights drifted up through the window.

"Your MAG-tech sensor data is still in the Academy computers," Helen continued. "I hid the paperwork, but I cannot delete digital files. If someone with access searches for strange energy signatures, they will find the three data points I marked. Your secret is safe only until someone looks closely."

Alvian nodded. He understood. Helen had bought him time, not safety. A short delay that could end at any second.

"The Magnus family," Helen said, still looking out the window. "I know about the Bloodhound contract. Serah told me last night."

Alvian narrowed his eyes. Serah had told her.

"Duke Gaius Magnus pays forty percent of this Academy’s costs," Helen said. "The Chancellor will not fight him. The Guild will not fight him. The law cannot touch him." She turned her head slightly, letting Alvian see her scarred jaw. "But you already know that. You have the contract. You know what it means."

"The system is corrupt," Alvian said.

"The system is what it is." Helen’s voice was flat. "The main question is what you will do about it."

"I am going to handle it."

Helen was quiet for a long moment. Then she reached into her remaining desk drawer. She pulled out an old, dented metal flask that had been through many battles.

She unscrewed the cap and took a big drink.

Her hand shook once, then went steady again.

"Get out," she said. "And Vance."

He stopped at the door.

"If you go after Magnus, do not lose. The Academy cannot protect you. The Guild will not protect you. If you fail, you die. If you win, they will call you a killer and a traitor. Either way, you are alone."

"I know," Alvian said.

He left the office. Behind him, Helen Croft sat in her chair, looking at the broken desk, the scattered papers, and the crushed mug. The students in the arena below had no idea what had just happened in that room.

She took another drink from the flask. The alcohol burned her throat, but it did not help.

She had just destroyed a formal review file. She had covered up evidence of an S-Rank secret. She had chosen a side in a war that had not officially started yet.

Her career was over if anyone found out.

She drank again.