The rain had eased to a drizzle, no longer a hammering storm but still enough to slick the ground in mud and weigh his cloak down.
Noah pushed himself upright, his body aching, and began the long walk back towards the academy.
Each step squelched in the sodden earth. His muscles burned from the fight with the Void Tortoise, but he forced them on, one after another.
Before long, the glow of the academy towers was a faint smear through the trees.
He wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep for days. But the world wasn’t that kind.
A familiar smear of orange flickered in the distance. Fire.
Noah’s jaw clenched as he ducked behind a tree.
He saw them through the thinning curtain of rain. Two groups of guards, torches held high, and their cloaks plastered to their armor by the rain.
Their boots churned the mud as they advanced from opposite directions, clearly converging on the very ground he’d left scorched and ruined by the Pillar of Judgement.
Of course. The magic had been too noticable. The tortoise was just that powerful. Someone would have felt the disturbance.
He started to turn away, slipping deeper into the forest. But then one of the guards’ lights swept across the underbrush, catching on his hood.
"Halt!" A voice barked, loud and trained. "You there! Identify yourself!"
Noah froze. His mind raced.
If he gave his name, if they linked him to the devastation, questions would spiral. Investigations. Suspicions. He couldn’t afford that. Not now.
But killing them was worse. Dead guards in the woods? That would draw scrutiny into the one place he wasn’t ready to have crawling with authority. Yet.
So, he did the only thing he could.
He bolted. And with his temporarily enhanced physicality, it was easy. Mud splashed high as he sprinted, cloak snapping behind him.
The guards shouted, their voices echoing through the trees. Bolts of light arced past him, sizzling against bark and stone.
"Stop!" One roared, mana lacing his voice.
Noah ducked low, weaving between trunks as fire seared overhead. Another spell crackled past his ear, scorching the rain into steam.
He cut hard to the left, only to skid as a guard leapt from the brush, blade raised.
Noah twisted, shadows snapping around his arm. He slammed his elbow into the man’s helm, then swept his legs out from under him. The guard hit the mud with a crash, groaning.
Noah melted back into the darkness before the man could see his face.
Another spell hissed past, a shard of ice this time. Noah rolled, cloak dragging mud, then surged forward. His fist connected with a second guard’s gut, folding him. A blow to the back of the helm dropped him into unconsciousness.
They kept coming. Torches bobbing as they fired their spells at him.
Noah darted through them like a shadow, refusing to give them more than a silhouette.
His fists, his knees, and even his cloak became weapons. He avoided lethal strikes, hitting only their joints, ribs, and helms until one by one they collapsed into the muck.
A blast of fire seared close, heat brushing his cheek. Noah spun, cloak whipping as he threw mud into the caster’s eyes.
The man stumbled, and Noah slammed the edge of his palm against the side of his head. The guard crumpled, his fire guttering out.
Breath heaving, Noah paused, listening. All he could hear was the rain, and before him were unconscious guards half-buried in the mud.
He slipped away, keeping to the shadows until the glow of their torches faded into the trees. He moved quickly but cautiously, weaving a path back towards the academy.
When at last his dorm was ahead of him, standing pale against the rain, he stopped. His eyes swept the grounds. There were no patrols nearby, and no eyes on the upper windows.
Perfect.
He scaled the wall with ease, his boots finding cracks, and fingers gripping stone slick with rain.
His cloak dragged behind him, heavy and sodden, but he pulled himself upwards until the familiar window of his dorm came into reach.
With one last heave, he slipped inside.
Mud smeared across the floor where his boots landed. Water dripped from his cloak, forming a dark puddle that spread quickly across the polished boards.
His breath fogged the windowpane as he pushed it shut, shutting out the storm.
For a moment, he stood there in the quiet of his room, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. Then he forced himself towards the bathroom.
The mirror showed him a drenched wraith, shadows clinging to his body like tar. He peeled off his cloak and shirt, heavy with water, dropping them in a heap that splattered the tiles.
The shower hissed to life. He stepped under it, closing his eyes as the hot spray scoured him clean.
Mud swirled down the drain, mingling with faint streaks of blood. The sting of heat against bruises made him hiss through his teeth, but he didn’t move.
When the water ran clear, he shut it off. He toweled himself dry, the cloth rough against his battered skin, and pulled on clean clothes from the wardrobe.
He stepped back into the room.
The mess was worse than he’d thought. Muddy bootprints tracked from the window to the bathroom. Water puddled beneath the heap of his ruined cloak.
Noah sighed. He ran a hand down his face in exhaustion.
"I fought a myth," he muttered under his breath. "And now... I need to find a mop."
He crossed to the corner where the cleaning supplies waited. His hand closed around the wooden handle of his mop.
He dipped it into the bucket, wrung it out, and set to work.
The stain definitely wasn’t going to clean itself.
And so, he worked, cleaning all evidence of him ever going out tonight, his shadows laughing in the background.
"Still worth it." He muttered under his breath, a smile appearing on his face as he remembered his haul of the night.
It truly was worth it.