Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 62: Shock and Awe

Ronan walked the halls like he owned them again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close. Students flinched when he passed, whispering when they thought he wasn’t listening. His lackeys had returned too, orbiting him like they always had, but they were more careful now. They laughed at his jokes and nodded when he spoke, but I could see the hesitation in their movements. They weren’t sure if the Ronan they knew was really back.

I watched from a distance and noticed the subtle differences, but not in a way most people could put a finger on. His arrogance was still there, but it wasn’t quite so flamboyant or aggressive anymore. His cruelty wasn’t random–though it never truly was–, now he picked his targets much more carefully, measured his words, only striking when necessary as opposed to when opportunity arose.

A younger student walked too close, nearly stepping in his way. The old Ronan would’ve blasted him across the hall. This one? He reached out, grabbed the back of the kid’s collar, and yanked him aside just hard enough to make a point. "Watch where you’re walking," he muttered, voice low, controlled.

The kid stammered an apology and scurried off. No retaliation, no smug laughter from Ronan’s crew, just an uncomfortable silence. Even now, with his increased emotion, they could still tell something was off.

I kept following and observing. The parasite was adapting like the others had, but this one was a fool, though possibly not at any fault of its own. I wondered what I had done wrong to create such a blank slate. Sure, if I could teach it, and direct it, it would be a valuable tool... but if it couldn’t this would be a waste of time.

Ronan kept up appearances, flicking a minor spell at a student carrying too many books, making them stumble but not fall. He pushed past another, forcing them to press against the wall to make way for him. Just small things. Just enough to remind people of their place. The intimidation was there, but the gloating? The sadistic joy? I didn’t think the parasite had any idea how to do these things. They were completely foreign to him.

I didn’t have to wait long for things to go south.

Ronan’s little performance had the halls buzzing, but it wasn’t enough to cement him back into his throne. The real test came in the form of a minor dispute—something that should’ve been nothing, but with Ronan, nothing always turned into something.

A fourth-year named Marrek had taken issue with him. Big guy, with broad shoulders, the type that usually didn’t get involved in petty schoolyard politics. I hadn’t pegged him as someone looking to pick a fight, but it looked like even he had noticed that Ronan wasn’t the same.

"Vairmont." His voice carried through the hallway, enough to make heads turn. "Heard you were all fucked up."

Ronan stopped. So did his lackeys. His head turned slowly, eyes locking onto Marrek with that same vacant stare–I’d have to work with him on facial expressions–. I stepped closer, keeping to the edges of the hall, curious to see how this would play out.

Marrek smirked. "What, no smug response? No cheap little spell to try and sucker punch me?" He stepped closer, tilting his head. "Or did you finally realize you’re just a spoiled brat playing pretend?"

The air shifted. Ronan’s crew tensed, waiting for the usual explosion, the quick-tempered retaliation. But instead, he exhaled slowly, tilting his head, studying Garrek like he was dissecting a problem.

"You’re not worth my time," he said finally, voice cool.

His lackeys hesitated, as if unsure if this was the right response. Even Marrek looked surprised. That wasn’t what he expected.

I frowned. That wasn’t what I expected, either.

Marrek recovered quickly, rolling his shoulders. "Coward."

You’re probably going to ignore that too, aren’t you Mr. Robot?

Ronan moved so fast that I barely saw it. One moment he was standing still, the next his arm was raised, a swirling mass of crackling energy surging around his palm.

Marrek’s smirk disappeared. The students around them scattered, pushing back toward the walls, out of the way of whatever was about to happen.

This wasn’t normal spellcasting. This was raw magic, unshaped, unfocused, an eruption of power that had no business coming from someone who relied on structured technique. It was a blow to the gut–To both Marrek and myself, though I supposed Garrek got the worst of it–, the parasite likely had no memories of how to cast spells or to function as a mage, but as a uniquely sentient life form, the parasite appeared to be born as a natural sorcerer.

I could maybe make this work, but the academy was a place for refined magic, not the wild kind that was being displayed before my eyes. With an internal sign, I realized I was going to have to bring him with me to my lessons, and my fee to the old man would likely go up twice if not three times as much.

Marrek saw the attack coming and barely had time to throw up a shield spell before Ronan let loose. The energy blasted forward, smashing into the barrier with enough force to send Marrek sliding back a few feet, his boots skidding against the stone floor, shield shattered into shards of energy that rained down around them like sparks from a downed powerline.

Ronan didn’t follow up. He didn’t gloat. Didn’t smile. He just stood there, watching. Waiting.

Marrek gritted his teeth, eyes flicking between Ronan’s unmoving form and the students watching. He had expected a fight, but this wasn’t a standard duel, it was more like fighting a wild animal.

He scoffed, brushing himself off and trying not to wince in pain. "Whatever." He turned and walked off, making it look like it was his choice to end it.

Ronan lowered his hand, the residual magic fizzling out. He looked around, meeting the eyes of the onlookers, and for the first time since he was truly Ronan, they had fear in their eyes.

It wasn’t the same kind of fear though, it wasn’t something they understood and could prepare for. This was the same fear you had when you went out into a thunderstorm with your favorite kite, or the fear you might feel when you cut yourself on an ocean reef, in waters that were known for being less than friendly.

They weren’t afraid of what he’d do to them. They were afraid because, for the first time, they had no idea what he was. He blew away all their preconceived notions.

Honestly, neither did I, and this was getting out of hand fast. I had to get Ronan to my tutor and only hoped that his amenable nature would continue when interacting with me. If I could mold him into a tool, he could be my most powerful asset. But if I couldn’t control him, he would be my most devastating mistake.

The parasite had given him a raw, almost primal connection to magic, and that combined with his body having been developed over a decade to learn and use magic was something along the lines of the perfect storm. He was human, he was animal, he was focused, and he was chaos. I began working myself up, my mind raced and it needed to slow down. I needed to remind myself of what this could mean to me, not just the bad, but the good as well. Could you imagine, a cannon? No, a nuke, something to point at, let’s say those bastard paladins? I could release him on them and just watch their organization burn to the ground. If I lost Ronan in the process, no big deal.

Or I could hone this, I could turn the sorcerer into an incredible wizard, he could be worth of his father’s name, and then my fortune would be like peanuts in comparison. Not to mention my fortune had no political ties, no influence, it was just raw wealth. His fortune was the lifeblood of the magical realm. He could make things happen, he could make them happen for me. Sure, I’d have to take out his dad, but that wouldn’t be too much of a problem.

I followed him as he left the hall, his lackeys trailing behind him, whispering. They were unnerved. He had won that fight without saying much of anything. He just flexed his raw power and that shook them to their cores. Then, because fate had a sick sense of humor, things escalated.

The distant sound of shattering glass cut through the chatter. A moment later, the wall near the courtyard trembled with an explosion. A wave of energy rippled through the academy, followed by screams. I snapped my head toward the source. That wasn’t some rogue spell getting out of hand. That was an attack.

Students poured into the hallways, some running away, others frozen in place, unsure whether they should flee or stay put. A second blast hit somewhere deeper in the academy. This time, the ground beneath us shook.

More chaos, just like the Chimera, but why was it happening so soon? I didn’t have time for questions, I had to help, I had to do what I could to protect Mara, and I supposed the others as well. Just like before, I was already moving.

I pushed through the mass of bodies, making my way toward the courtyard. Smoke billowed through the air, and spells flared as professors tried to regain control. I spotted the source quickly—something had breached the academy, or perhaps it was summoned again? It was something large, something not human.

A creature made of jagged bone and twisting shadow prowled through the shattered remains of the academy’s outer wall. It moved in jerking, unnatural motions, its body shifting in and out of view like a mirage.

Wraithborn... I’d seen it in my books. A creature of corrupted magic—an abomination formed when a summoning or binding spell goes horribly wrong. It’s a manifestation of raw, unstable energy fused with the remnants of whatever the caster was trying to summon. Think of it as a failed experiment that refused to die, a creature caught between realms, neither fully alive nor fully dead.

Damn it. I knew the signs, and I did the research. How was it, that not only one summoning ritual had failed, but two, and why were they getting stronger? My gaze darted around the chaos, trying to pick out something unnatural, and it didn’t take long to find it. A figure in a dark robe, not a student, not a standard uniform, they were wearing something out of place, and they were escaping. I readied Shadow Dance to take them out... Until someone grabbed my arm. Mara...

"Lucian!"

My heart skipped, almost stuck in my throat as I choked at the name.

"Shit, sorry, I mean Caidan, fuck! Everything is going to hell. Please, I know you took out the last one. Do what you need to, I can help, just direct me, but please, this is really bad." Her words were getting jumbled, she was frantic, she needed help and I couldn’t resist her. I looked back to where the strange man once was, but he was already gone. FUCK. Okay... Deal with the horrifying monster first, and investigate later.

It lunged, and a group of students screamed, scrambling back as the thing’s talon-like appendages tore into the stone floor where they had been standing.

I had to act, but was thrown off... Ronan was already there. I saw him step forward, his movements more fluid than before, his body reacted before his mind did. There was no hesitation, no time for fear.

His hand snapped up, and without a single incantation, a blast of raw energy erupted from his palm.

The impact sent the Wraithborn skidding back, its shadowy form trembling as the magic collided with it. Unlike Garrek’s shield, this wasn’t something that could resist raw power. It screamed—an unearthly, shrieking noise—and twisted on itself, lashing out blindly.

The attack hit Ronan square in the chest.

I felt the impact from where I stood. He staggered, skidding back a step, but he didn’t go down. He didn’t even flinch. For the first time since I fought the Paladins outside that village, the commander who came back from the brink of death and threatened our lives, I felt fear. The creature was terrifying enough, but it was Ronan that I truly feared.

Then, he countered, throwing both arms out, summoning two wild arcs of magic that tore through the creature’s limbs like a blade through parchment. No spell words, no fancy formations, just power. This was what he had become.

The Wraithborn let out one last, strangled cry before its form began to collapse. The magic holding it together unraveled, its body dissipating into wisps of shadow. Then it was gone. The silence that followed was deafening.

Students stared, wide-eyed. Ronan stood over the spot where the creature had died, his hands still humming with residual energy. He looked down at them, at his own hands, then flexed his fingers experimentally. As if he was just now realizing what he had done.

The crowd parted as I approached. He turned to me, eyes meeting mine.

"That was reckless," I said flatly.

He blinked. "I won."

I exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Yeah, but do you know how?"

Ronan hesitated. For the first time since our training, I saw a flicker of something in his expression—uncertainty. He didn’t. He had acted on pure instinct. The parasite had acted.

The professors were moving in now, ready to contain the situation, to assess the damage, to figure out what the hell had just happened. I didn’t have much time.

I stepped in close, lowering my voice. "Listen to me. We need to talk. In private. Now."

His gaze lingered on mine for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded. I turned, already moving, knowing he would follow. This was spiraling into something bigger than I had planned, and I needed to figure out exactly what the hell was going on before Ronan got himself killed.

Follow current novels on freewe(b)novel.c(o)m