After witnessing Vorden's performance, Ken couldn't stop the questions swirling in his head. What even is his ability? he thought, eyes narrowing as he watched Vorden bask in his small moment of glory. Is it copying? Mimicry?
He didn't say anything aloud. Not yet. Better to observe—quietly.
But the more Ken thought about it, the more another detail came to the surface. Something small, almost forgettable, if not for how oddly consistent it had been.
Vorden had been oddly *insistent* about shaking hands with everyone they'd met. Friendly, sure—but also a bit too deliberate. Everyone had shrugged it off as charm, maybe nerves. Everyone… except Erin.
She'd refused the handshake.
But even then, Vorden hadn't backed down—he'd settled for patting her shoulder instead. At the time, it just seemed like harmless persistence.
Now?
Ken's eyes narrowed.
No... it wasn't harmless. It was intentional.
The realization settled like a cold weight in his gut. He needs physical contact to copy another person's ability. Suddenly, everything started to make sense to Ken. Touching—it had to be a condition for Vorden's ability.
Ken was almost sure of it now. And the last person Vorden had touched? Erin.
Ken replayed the moment in his head: Erin brushing him off when he offered his hand, only for Vorden to casually rest his palm on her shoulder as he laughed something off. Smooth. Too smooth.
That's when it happened, Ken thought. That's when he got her ability. But even with the pieces lining up, he knew better than to act on a hunch. Not yet. I need more.
He glanced over at Vorden, who was still chatting away with Quinn like nothing had happened, full of grins and jokes. If he really could copy abilities by touch… then he wasn't just unpredictable—he was dangerous.
Ken kept his thoughts to himself, filing the theory away for later. I'll watch. I'll wait. And when the time comes… I'll know for sure.
If Vorden 'could' copy abilities, then Ken had already made his decision.
He couldn't risk it. Not when he didn't know the limits of Vorden's power—how many abilities he could hold, how long he could keep them, or if he could use them all at once.
And more importantly, Ken couldn't let his own ability fall into someone else's hands. Not his. Not anyone's.
He took a small step back from the group, his expression neutral, eyes calm—but his mind was moving fast.
Until I know more, I'll keep my distance. No handshakes. No contact. Not even a brush on the arm.
It wasn't fear. It was control. Ken had worked too hard, trained too long, to let someone else wield his power. He glanced at Vorden, who was still laughing with Quinn, completely unaware of Ken's cold calculation.
Vorden noticed it almost immediately—Ken had started keeping his distance.
At first, he thought maybe it was just coincidence. People tend to move around, swapped spots, got distracted. No big deal.
But after the third time Ken subtly shifted to stand just out of arm's reach, Vorden raised an eyebrow. Vorden leaned toward Quinn, keeping his voice casual. "Hey, is it just me, or is Ken avoiding me?"
Quinn glanced over at Ken, then back at Vorden. "I noticed. Thought you annoyed him or something."
Vorden chuckled. "Wouldn't be the first time. But nah… this feels different."
He stared at Ken for a moment longer, watching the way his eyes flicked toward him and then quickly away.
He knows, Vorden thought. Or he suspects.
The grin faded from his face, just for a second.
Smart guy.
Then, as quickly as the serious look appeared, it vanished. Vorden smiled again, bright and disarming.
But deep down, a seed of caution had taken root. Looks like I'll have to be careful around him too. He thought.
****
Quinn wasn't the type to speak much unless he had something worth saying. But that didn't mean he missed things.
He noticed how Ken had slowly started to keep his distance from Vorden. At first, he thought it was just Ken being standoffish—he didn't exactly give off friendly energy.
But then Quinn remembered something else.
Earlier that day, when Vorden had tried to shake Erin's hand, she'd refused. Vorden had laughed it off, but still had made the effort to touch Erin on the shoulder. After that, he performed exactly like her on the test.
And now? Ken hadn't let Vorden touch him even once.
Quinn's eyes narrowed.
No way that's a coincidence.
He replayed everything in his head—Vorden's confidence, his "friendly" gestures, how he'd copied Erin's ice technique perfectly without even watching that closely.
He's not just skilled. He's borrowing.
Quinn crossed his arms, glancing between the two.
So Ken's figured it out too… and he's keeping his distance. Smart.
He didn't say anything, not yet. Just filed the suspicion away.
I need to confirm it for myself. If Vorden's ability really works by touch… then he's more dangerous than he looks. And if Ken's hiding something that might be powerful—then I need to know what it is too.
For now, he'd play it cool. Just like Ken, Quinn had made up his mind too.
******
Once the final test was completed, the hooded man raised a hand—and in an instant, the students were teleported.
When Ken's vision cleared, he found himself standing at the base of the academy.
It was massive—easily the tallest structure in the entire city. The building loomed like a monument, towering as if someone had stacked three luxury hotels on top of one another. Its glass and steel exterior reflected the dying light of the day, casting long shadows over the students now gathered before it.
In front of the academy stood ten different teachers, each spaced apart and waiting patiently as groups of students appeared before them.
Every few moments, another group of five would blink into view beside one of the instructors and be asked to wait until everyone had finished arriving.
But Ken noticed something strange.
His group had six people, not five—including himself, Quinn, Vorden, Erin, and two others he hadn't really spoken to yet. He raised an eyebrow, but no one else seemed to question it.
Eventually, all the students had been sorted. Ken's group now stood among a larger cluster of twenty students in front of one of the teachers.
The instructor took a step forward, his voice firm but not unkind.
"Okay, all of you—follow me. I'll be giving you a quick tour around the school."
He looked to be in his mid-forties, with curly blond hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb all day. A pair of thick-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose, giving him the air of someone who might lose track of his own shoes—but still somehow know everything about you.
"Name's Del," he added, adjusting his glasses. "Professor Del, technically. You'll figure out pretty quickly that I don't care much for titles."
Ken glanced sideways at Quinn, who gave a small nod, then at Vorden—who was already craning his neck to admire the towering structure.
So this is the place, Ken thought. Let's see what it has in store.