**Chapter 17: Whispers Before the Storm**

  The announcement of the Midterm Exam shook the entire academy.

  The grand hall buzzed with excitement and nervousness as students gathered to hear the challenges that awaited them. High upon the dais, the Headmaster and the council of teachers stood with solemn faces, the heavy atmosphere weighing on everyone's hearts.

  A tall professor in deep violet robes stepped forward, his voice clear and cold.

  "The Midterm Examination will be divided into three phases," he declared, and the whispers around the hall fell silent. "Survival. Combat. Creation."

  Each word echoed heavily across the hall.

  "First phase: Survival."

  The students would be dropped into one of the forbidden wilderness zones around the Academy — places untouched by human civilization, crawling with wild beasts and unpredictable magic. They would have to survive for five days using their wits, skills, and teamwork.

  "Second phase: Combat."

  Duel battles would be arranged. Not random, but based on assessment. Students would be matched with opponents around their skill level — sometimes slightly above, to push them to the limit. Victory wasn’t everything — strategy, bravery, and growth would be judged too.

  "Third phase: Creation."

  Each student had to present an original artifact, spell, weapon, or theory based on their studies — magic, alchemy, swordsmanship, or martial arts. Arcanum students were allowed to inscribe their first real rune sequences.

  The announcement sparked a fire inside many hearts, but not all were ready.

  ---

  Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the Academy gardens, a girl with silver hair tied into a loose braid sat alone under a tree, her books neatly arranged beside her. Her uniform was disheveled, the bruises on her arm just barely hidden under her sleeves.

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  Lena Kronov.

  A prodigy whose talents were whispered about, but whose existence was largely ignored. She rarely spoke, never complained. Even when cruel students from the Elite Class bumped into her "accidentally" or whispered mockery behind her back, she just smiled faintly and walked away.

  Today was no different.

  Three noble girls from the Elite Class passed by, their laughter like poisoned honey.

  "Look, it's the mute again," one sneered.

  "Maybe she thinks she's too good to talk to us," another giggled.

  "Or maybe she knows she's just trash pretending to be something better."

  Lena said nothing, quietly gathering her books. As they shoved past her, knocking a book to the dirt, she knelt silently and picked it up. Her hands trembled slightly — not from fear, but from restraint.

  She couldn't fight back. Not yet.

  ---

  Hidden behind a stone wall nearby, Lucien Elcarin — Ghost in disguise — had seen everything.

  He stepped out casually, his black uniform crisp, his cold golden eyes observing her like a hawk spotting a wounded dove.

  "You plan to keep staying silent?" Lucien asked, his voice soft, but sharp like a blade wrapped in silk.

  Lena stiffened, startled. She turned to him slowly, brushing dust from her book.

  "...It's none of your business," she murmured.

  "Maybe not," Lucien admitted, stepping closer until the shade of the tree enveloped them both. "But weakness... invites predators."

  Lena clenched her fists. "I'm not weak."

  Lucien smiled faintly — not mockingly, but almost approvingly.

  "I know," he said. "But what use is strength if it stays hidden forever?"

  Their eyes met — her grey-blue gaze like a stormy sky, his like a frozen lake. Something unspoken passed between them.

  He left her with a single sentence:

  "When the time comes, don't hesitate to tear the world apart if you have to."

  And then he walked away, his black cloak fluttering behind him.

  Lena sat there for a long time after he was gone, her hand pressed against her chest, feeling a strange new fire flickering inside her.

  ---

  Later that evening, Lucien found himself walking along the quiet corridor leading to the Royal Garden. The soft glow of enchanted lamps lit the marble floors.

  There, sitting alone among the rose bushes, was Princess Elira — the Third Princess of the Empire.

  She noticed him and beckoned with a graceful wave.

  Lucien approached silently, bowing slightly out of politeness.

  "You’re getting quite famous, Lucien Elcarin," Elira said, smiling with a mixture of amusement and genuine interest. "The rumors say you’re the 'Black Ghost' of the Peasants."

  Lucien gave a light chuckle. "Rumors often exaggerate reality, Your Highness."

  Elira pouted slightly. "How boring. I hoped there was some truth to it."

  There was a brief, comfortable silence between them.

  "Lucien," Elira said, her voice softer now. "You... you're different from others. You're calm even when everything falls apart."

  Lucien glanced at her. "And that makes you curious?"

  "It makes me..." She paused, looking away. "It makes me wonder if you're someone I can trust."

  Lucien tilted his head. "Trust is a heavy word, Princess."

  She smiled sadly. "Then perhaps, one day, we can share that burden."

  Before he could answer, she rose gracefully and disappeared into the night, leaving the faint scent of roses behind her.

  Lucien watched her go, his eyes thoughtful.

  The Midterm was approaching.

  Friendships would be tested. Loyalties questioned. True strength would rise — and the weak would be left behind.

  But Ghost... Ghost had already decided.

  He would not lose.

  Not here.

  Not ever.