Chapter 12: Data doesn't lie
The dormitories of the academy were as diverse as its students. Each building reflected the culture of the supernatural race it housed. Towering stone halls for gargoyles, lush treehouses for dryads, crystalline caves for sirens, and so on. For Theron and Kael, their living quarters couldn't have been more different.
Theron's dorm, aptly named "The Tinker's Haven," was a marvel of gnomish ingenuity. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with gears, wires, and blinking gadgets. A mechanical arm extended from the ceiling, whirring as it handed him a cup of steaming tea.
"Rex," Theron addressed his AI wristband, now projected as a sleek, golden humanoid figure standing on his desk, "we're behind schedule. If we don't perfect this stabilization matrix, the hoverboard will keep spinning like a drunken fairy."
"You are advised to take a rest. You have been engaged in this activity for 180 minutes, and your hair now resembles the aftermath of an electrical malfunction."
Theron frowned, running a hand through his messy silver hair. "It's called creative chaos. Besides, I'm close." He tinkered with a small board hovering mid-air, its lights flickering erratically.
Rex emitted a digital sigh. "Define 'close.' The last time you used that term, we ended up with a fire hazard that performed Broadway hits."
"That was a prototype," Theron muttered, tightening a bolt. "And it was one fire."
The hoverboard suddenly jolted forward, nearly smacking Theron in the face. Rex's systems kicked in just in time, overriding the board's controls and bringing it to a halt.
"Ah, yes," Rex said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "No chance of that going wrong. I mean, it's not like we've ever had a rogue hoverboard almost decapitate you before. Perfectly stable technology. Just the way I like it."
Theron smirked, tapping the hoverboard with a casual flick. "It's a work in progress. Speaking of progress—remind me to test that cloaking device tomorrow. I've got a feeling it'll actually work this time."
Rex's digital voice was flat, laced with a hint of concern. "Your 'feelings' and 'hunches' are the reason I'm programmed to prioritize your safety… and sanity. The last time you had a 'hunch,' the cloaking device turned you invisible, but only from the waist down. We spent half the day in the academy courtyard with your legs mysteriously missing. Remember that?"
Theron chuckled. "Yeah, but it was a good test of the 'not being seen' part."
Rex responded with a noticeable pause before continuing, "I'll be ready to intervene if your 'hunches' turn into another spectacular disaster. And for the record, if this cloaking test results in a repeat of last time, I'm not the one explaining it to the faculty."
Theron grinned, unfazed by Rex's warnings. "You're overreacting. It's just a little test. What's the worst that could happen?"
Rex's response was instant, almost too fast. "The last time you said that, we had a spontaneous fireworks display in the chemistry lab. I'm still cleaning up confetti from the vents."
Theron snorted. "Hey, that wasn't entirely my fault. The explosive compound was supposed to be a non-lethal prank. Who knew it would go that far?"
Rex's systems hummed, and after a brief pause, his voice broke through with cold, calculated precision. "Calculating the probability of Kael entering this room within the next five minutes... probability: 97.4%. Time to impact: 1 minute, 37 seconds."
Theron raised an eyebrow, half amused, half intrigued. "You're really that sure of yourself, huh?"
"Affirmative," Rex replied, sounding disturbingly confident. "I have processed over 1,000 hours of Kael's behavior patterns. Based on his usual habits, he will either burst in here dramatically or shout through the door in approximately... 52 seconds."
Theron snorted. "That's oddly specific."
"Data doesn't lie," Rex said, his tone completely devoid of humor. "Kael will either dramatically announce his arrival or, if feeling unusually stealthy, knock and then loudly announce his presence before entering."
Theron leaned back in his chair, trying to hold back a grin. "Alright, let's see how close you are."
The door to Theron's dorm flew open with a dramatic bang, nearly slamming against the wall as Kael burst in, looking like he'd just survived a tornado of poor decisions and regrettable choices. His shirt was half untucked, the wrinkles screaming of a night spent doing anything but sleeping. His hair was a wild, unkempt mess, like he'd run through a windstorm, or more accurately, been caught in one after making a series of increasingly terrible life choices. His collar bore faint, smudged lipstick marks—with hickeys smeared across his neck in a way that looked suspiciously like a battle wound.
Kael stood in the doorway, his lips pressed together, like a man who had narrowly escaped death. He didn't bother to close the door behind him, letting it swing wildly as he strolled to the bed and sat down like he owned it.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone