The attacker thrust out a hand.
A violent blast of compressed air erupted forward.
Olwen's eyes widened.
The impact hit like a speeding vehicle.
His body left the ground.
He crashed backward onto the staircase.
The steps cracked beneath him.
Pain exploded through his back as he landed several steps above.
The masked figure didn't give him ti to recover.
And advanced.
Olwen sucked in a breath and forced himself up imdiately.
Ice gathered at his fingertips.
Not a full spread yet, just preparation.
The attacker moved again.
Another air burst.
Olwen twisted aside.
The blast smashed into the staircase railing behind him, snapping it apart.
tal and reinforced glass exploded outward.
Olwen's eyes sharpened.
Too clean for a Rank two.
Too controlled for a Rank three.
The attacker stepped in again.
Olwen responded this ti.
The moisture in the air condensed instantly.
Ice ford across the steps under his feet—thin, but wide enough to destabilize movent.
The attacker's step slipped half a fraction.
That was all Olwen needed.
He closed in.
A sharp ice blade ford along his arm.
He struck.
The hit connected.
The attacker was thrown back into the wall near the corridor leading deeper into the library.
Glass trembled.
Books shook from shelves.
For the first ti, the attacker paused.
But not because he was defeated.
Because he was choosing.
His head turned slightly toward the restricted section of the library.
Olwen didn't allow space for thought.
He snapped his fingers.
Ice surged along the glass walls this ti, not to freeze them completely—but to redirect moisture flow, pulling the air in the corridor into denser currents.
The temperature dropped slightly.
The attacker paused for the first ti.
Just a fraction.
Olwen used it.
He closed the distance again, ice forming under each step like a temporary path.
The masked figure raised a hand.
Air pressure built.
But Olwen was already inside the range.
He drove his shoulder forward and brought the ice blade up in a clean arc.
This ti, the attacker was forced fully back, sliding across the floor until they struck the wall. Glass trembled behind them. Olwen didn't stop. He had landed the first real hit.
The attacker raised a hand again.
Wind compressed.
Olwen reacted instantly, raising an ice barrier.
But the blast wasn't ant to break it.
It pierced through it.
The barrier shattered.
The attacker shot towards the ceiling.
Glass exploded outward as he burst through the opening.
Cold night air rushed into the library.
The masked figure vanished into the darkness outside.
Silence followed.
Olwen stood at the broken edge of the library, breathing steady.
His expression was cold.
"Flight," he said quietly. "Definitely not Rank four."
***
The eting room was too bright.
White light reflected off polished tal edges of the long table, making the space feel sharper than it needed to be.
Olwen stood at the center.
Opposite him sat Professor Wakefield.
To his side, Vice Principal Wallace leaned back in his chair like he was watching a performance rather than a report.
The Head Librarian sat with his arms folded tightly.
The Chief Security Officer stood near the wall, posture rigid.
And several other staff mbers filled the remaining seats.
There was a large painting above their heads.
A robed woman stood against a plain dark background. She wore a white cloth blindfold. In her left hand was a set of gold balance scales. In her right hand, a straight sword pointed upward.
The Lady Justice.
Olwen's gaze was mostly on the painting.
"Report," Professor Wakefield said calmly.
Olwen didn't hesitate.
"The attacker was an Air User. Highly compressed bursts. Very controlled. Nothing about his movents felt random."
A few heads shifted slightly.
Olwen continued.
"Movent speed and control suggest Rank four minimum. Possibly higher depending on output efficiency."
Mr Wallace gave a faint, almost amused look.
"A Rank five?"
Professor Wakefield shook his head.
"The Academy's database had been scanned thoroughly. Currently, we have no Air user above Rank three. From student to staff."
Mr Wallace let out a low whistle.
"Interesting."
Professor Wakefield didn't react. "Any confirmation on identity?"
"No," Olwen replied. "He had a mask. No identifying markers. Showed no hesitation in engaging."
A pause.
"And he seed interested in the restricted section."
The Head Librarian clicked his tongue imdiately.
"Restricted section." He leaned forward. "My glass archives were damaged."
Mr Wallace glanced at him.
"Priorities, old man."
"I am prioritizing my archives."
The Chief Security Officer spoke next.
"No one was seen entering or leaving the library periter. All ground-level access points were secured during the incident."
He paused.
"The only blind zone is aerial."
A silence followed.
Then Olwen spoke.
"The attacker did not enter through the grounds."
Several eyes turned to him.
Professor Wakefield's gaze sharpened slightly.
Olwen continued.
"He used aerial entry and exit. His movent pattern supports sustained air propulsion."
The room went quiet again.
The Chief Security Officer nodded slowly.
"That would align with what we saw."
Professor Wakefield leaned back slightly.
"So," he said. "Echelon Academy has an intruder."
The Head Librarian imdiately scoffed.
"Or the boy is mistaken."
All eyes shifted to him.
He continued without hesitation.
"We conducted a full sweep of the area. Physical and residual scanning. There is no trace of any second presence in the library."
He looked toward the Chief Security Officer.
"Confirm it."
A pause.
"…Confird," the officer admitted. "No residual signature. No elental imprint outside of Olwen Viremont's."
The Head Librarian nodded once, as if satisfied.
"Then the conclusion is simple."
He looked directly at Olwen.
"The only active ability user in that scene was you."
A beat.
"And this entire incident is either a misinterpretation…" His eyes narrowed slightly. "… Or a fabrication."
The room grew still.
Olwen didn't respond imdiately.
He simply looked at them. His jaw barely tightened.
"I understand."
Everyone looked a bit puzzled.
They had expected many things. A defense, excuse, lengthy explanations. But they had obviously not expected the boy to suck it up.
The room remained silent for a few seconds.
Then Professor Wakefield leaned forward.
"And I believe you know what this implies?" He asked.
Olwen's gaze drifted to the painting of Lady Justice.
Sothing about her, the whole setting rather, reminded him of his mother.
He looked Professor Wakefield in the eye.
"Please, elaborate."
It was the Head librarian who answered.
"Did you or did you not vandalize my library?"
"I did not."
Deep down, Olwen knew it didn't matter. It never did.
The Head librarian turned to Professor Wakefield.
"He is the only identifiable party involved. He should be held accountable for the damage to academy property."
Professor Wakefield brooded for a while.
"I think…"
The door opened.
And Apollo Viremont stepped inside.
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