For a fleeting moment, Riley didn't know how to react. The sight of Alana standing there, conducting training as if she hadn't ripped his life apart, filled him with an emotion he couldn't place. Her killing him had been both a blessing and a curse. The knife edge between life and death had been his awakening, a harrowing transformation that reshaped his very being.
On one hand, the awakening had given him a second chance—a new power, one he hadn't asked for but was now bound to. On the other, the price he had paid for this awakening was a curse in itself. If she hadn't killed him, he wouldn't have awakened. And if he hadn't awakened, he wouldn't be standing here as a stranger to his own sister, a phantom walking among the living with no connection to his former life. It gnawed at him, that loss of identity, the cold detachment from what he once held dear.
But Riley kept his composure. His facial expression remained cold and indifferent, a mask he had perfected over time, shielding the turmoil that seethed beneath the surface. He continued his previous activity—studying her, scrutinizing every inch of Alana's posture, her movements, her expressions. Every step she took across the field was measured, as if she had calculated everything down to the finest detail. There was no hesitation in her.
"I will kill you first," Riley vowed inwardly, the words simmering in the depths of his heart. But it wouldn't be now. It wouldn't be reckless. No, when the time came, it would be precise and exact, just as she had been with him. But for now, he had to blend in—just another face among the students.
Alana suddenly turned in his direction, her gaze locking onto his with sharp intensity. A jolt shot through him, but he stood his ground. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fall away. The wind rustled the grass beneath their feet, but neither moved. In that brief exchange, it was as if she felt Riley's hatred, a palpable wave of animosity rippling between them like a storm ready to break.
Both maintained cold expressions, their faces betraying nothing of the thoughts that churned in their minds. But Riley could see it, just beneath the surface of her carefully crafted mask. She suspected something—perhaps not the full extent of what he felt, but enough to make her wary.
Other students noticed the tension, glancing over with confusion, but none dared interfere. The air around them thickened, a silent confrontation brewing.
Eventually, Alana broke eye contact, turning away as if the moment had never happened. She redirected her attention to the other students, resuming the lesson as if nothing was amiss. Soon, the training session started.
Riley was careful to pretend he knew nothing about sword fighting. He observed her movements, her instructions, but intentionally allowed himself to appear clumsy, stumbling over the basic maneuvers. He made sure his grip was off, his footwork sloppy. Let her think he was nothing more than a weak, inexperienced student, unworthy of attention.
Alana watched him for a while, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She studied his awkward attempts, his unsteady footing, but when she saw no sign of improvement, her interest waned. She dismissed him, casting him aside as just another novice, not worth her time or energy. Her focus shifted back to the legacy students, the elites who carried the weight of their prestigious backgrounds. She guided them with fervor, her enthusiasm evident as she led them through complex techniques, pushing them harder than the rest.
Riley breathed a silent sigh of relief. It was exactly what he wanted. No attention, no questions. He needed to remain in the shadows, watching and waiting, biding his time until he was strong enough to exact his revenge on Alana and those who had sent her. He was certain now that it wasn't the government who had ordered his death. He hadn't had any significant dealings with them. No, it was something deeper, more personal. His killer—whom he suspected to be Alana—had mentioned that the clan saw him as a potential threat and decided to eliminate him preemptively.
The combat training continued. "Pick a partner," Alana announced, her voice echoing across the field. "You will spar with each other for the rest of the day."
Excitement buzzed through the students as they rushed to find opponents. For many of them, this was the moment they had been waiting for—an opportunity to test their skills against a real person, not just swing at the air. The thrill of competition sparked in their eyes.
"May I?" A voice drew Riley's attention.
He turned, finding himself face-to-face with Marion. Standing beside him was Sarah, her mere presence triggering a cold fury deep within Riley's core. Sarah—the woman who had ruined his life, who had fueled his determination to kill his parents. The one who had made his existence a living hell.
A twisted chuckle escaped Riley's throat. It started low, bitter, but quickly escalated into manic laughter. It was a release—a dark, perverse release of the pain that clawed at him from within. He couldn't stop it, even as the other students paused in their sparring, turning to stare at him with confused expressions.
Alana glanced in his direction, her eyes narrowing with curiosity, but Riley ignored her. His laughter eventually died down, leaving a tense silence in its wake.
"I'm sorry," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'm not laughing at you. I was just… happy. I didn't expect to be approached by someone so… special." He let the words drip with false sweetness, each syllable laced with venom.
Marion smiled brightly at the compliment, clearly pleased to be recognized as special.
"You must be his fiancée," Riley continued, turning his attention to Sarah. His voice held the same saccharine tone, though his heart seethed with hate. "Truly, a woman worthy of someone as special as my lord."
Sarah blushed slightly, her smile widening in response to Riley's flattery.
"My friend, why don't we spar?" Marion suggested, his tone friendly yet expectant.
"My lord," Riley responded, feigning deference, "how can I, a mere outskirt kid, spar with you? I know nothing of swordsmanship. I'm not fit to be your sparring partner."
Marion nodded several times, clearly pleased with Riley's recognition of his superiority. He was convinced Riley had seen his earlier display of skill and was intimidated by it. Completely unaware that Riley had only just noticed him moments ago.
With a bow, Riley scurried away, choosing a random student as his sparring partner. He didn't care who it was. His only goal was to stay under the radar, to remain insignificant in the eyes of those who held the real power.
Once everyone had selected their partners, Alana gave the signal, and the sparring began. She moved among the students, offering tips and advice sporadically. When she reached Riley and his opponent, her irritation was evident. "He's worse," she muttered under her breath, frustration lacing her tone as she corrected his stance. Her patience with him was wearing thin, but that was exactly what Riley wanted.
As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow that was barely visible through the thick, white clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see, the students were utterly exhausted. They collapsed onto the grass, breathing heavily. Despite being awakeners—stronger, more durable, and with greater stamina than any mundane human—they couldn't fight indefinitely. Even they needed to rest and replenish their soul essence.
Only three legacy students remained standing: Marion, Sarah, and River, a girl with silver-blue hair and a cold, calculating gaze. She was the adopted daughter of the Broken Sword Clan, notoriously antisocial. The other students had learned to avoid her. She rarely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary.
"All right, that's enough for today," Alana announced. "Go to the cafeteria for dinner. Curfew starts at 11 PM." With that, she walked off, leaving the students to their own devices.
They scattered almost immediately, eager to shower and head to the cafeteria for food. Riley, however, had a different agenda. He hadn't joined the academy for the training or the prestige. No, his primary goal was simple: free food. He wasn't about to miss the opportunity.
After a quick shower, Riley headed to the cafeteria, where some students had already gathered. He grabbed a plate of food and found a corner where he could enjoy his meal in peace.
His peace was soon shattered by a sudden scream. A boy had yelled at Marion, and the problem quickly escalated. Drunk and unable to think clearly, Marion dragged the boy out of the cafeteria for a proper beating.
Riley, meanwhile, finished his dinner without any issue, slipping out unnoticed. But even as he returned to his room, uncertainty gnawed at him. He no longer had access to the system that once governed his life. Would his doom attribute still haunt him now that it was gone? What would happen when the full moon came?
Opening the door to his room, he stepped inside, exhaustion weighing on him. But something deep within urged him outside. Quietly, Riley changed into a white T-shirt and blue pants, then made his way into the academy garden, the one that resembled the Raven household's.
As he wandered, he stumbled upon Marion and Sarah, standing close, holding hands. Behind them stood three other students. In front of them lay a boy, beaten to
Riley moved through the darkness of the academy's garden, his heart racing with cold excitement. As the faint moonlight shimmered through the leaves, his lips curled into a twisted grin. Everything had gone according to plan. The moment Marion, Sarah, and their followers fell for his manipulation, he knew he had them right where he wanted them. But his revenge wasn't complete just yet—there were still loose ends to tie up.
The scene replayed in his mind as he slipped into the shadows, watching them murder the boy in cold blood, just as he had suggested. Marion had taken Riley's bait perfectly. Riley's words had set a fire in Marion's drunken pride, and Sarah's sadistic glee had done the rest, ensuring that there was no turning back. The boy, who had once been Riley's friend—the one who had framed him—was now nothing more than a bloodstain in the annals of their crime.
Now, Riley had the final piece he needed: leverage. He had made sure to take photos of the brutal execution from a discreet distance, capturing the moment Marion struck the final blow and Sarah helped dispose of the body in the forest. Riley had even frozen time for five seconds, just enough to slip unnoticed among them, taking extra shots of their incriminating acts.
Riley chuckled softly to himself as he left the scene. But his work wasn't over. No, now it was time for the coup de grâce. He still needed to ensure that Marion, Sarah, and the others didn't remember him being present.
Riley had heard whispers about the academy's secret labs—places where forbidden technologies and dangerous experiments were kept away from the students. His time at the academy had been long enough for him to discover these things, although he had never dared to use them before. Tonight, however, was an exception.
His feet carried him swiftly through the corridors of the academy, and he knew exactly where to go. The hallways were dimly lit, with only the occasional flicker of fluorescent light breaking the silence. Every student was fast asleep by now, their minds far from the gruesome events unfolding in the depths of the garden.
He reached the door of the lab, pausing for a moment as a guard passed by on patrol. Slipping into the shadows, Riley waited patiently for the guard to disappear around the corner. Once the coast was clear, he deftly unlocked the door with a key he had procured weeks earlier.
Inside, the lab was a dark, sterile environment. Cold metal tables gleamed under low lights, and various vials and machines cluttered the shelves. He wasted no time. He knew exactly what he was looking for.
In the far corner, he found a small, dusty cabinet marked with a faded warning label: **Experimental Gas – Memory Manipulation**. A wicked smile tugged at Riley's lips as he opened the cabinet and carefully extracted a small vial filled with a pale blue gas. It wasn't strong enough to erase memories entirely—no, that would require more time and precision than he had. But the gas would blur the events of tonight just enough. The memory of Riley being there would become a vague, distant haze in their minds.
Perfect.
Riley quickly gathered the equipment he needed and left the lab, moving back toward the garden with the same cold efficiency that had guided him all night. His mind was racing with the final steps of his plan. By the time he arrived at the scene, Marion, Sarah, and the others were still there, their adrenaline starting to wear off as the weight of what they had done began to sink in.
He watched them from a distance, their drunken laughter fading into uneasy murmurs as they realized the gravity of their actions. The body was gone, but the bloodstains still painted the grass, and the scent of iron hung heavy in the air.
"Now," Riley whispered to himself.
With a swift motion, he uncorked the vial and released the memory manipulation gas into the air. It spread quickly, enveloping Marion and the others in a pale blue mist. They barely had time to register what was happening before their eyes glazed over, their expressions turning blank and distant.
Riley's heart pounded as he waited for the gas to take effect. Marion staggered, blinking in confusion. Sarah swayed slightly, as if trying to remember something that was just out of reach.
"What… what were we doing again?" Marion mumbled, his voice thick with disorientation.
Sarah looked around, her brow furrowing. "I don't… I don't know. We were just… here. I think."
One of the other students shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "I can't remember why we're out here…"
Riley watched with satisfaction as the gas worked its magic, erasing just enough of their memory to leave them confused but not alarmed. They wouldn't remember the specifics of his presence. They wouldn't remember how he had played them. All they would recall was a hazy, drunken night in the garden, nothing more.
"Perfect," Riley whispered to himself once more.
As Marion and the others stumbled away, disoriented and dazed, Riley remained hidden in the shadows, a silent predator watching his prey. His revenge was far from over—this was just the beginning. He now had the evidence he needed to destroy Marion, Sarah, and anyone else who dared cross him. With the photos in his possession, he held their fate in his hands, and he would use it when the time was right.
But for now, he was content to let them live in ignorance. They would never know how close they had come to being exposed, to being ruined by the very person they thought was beneath them.
Riley slipped away, disappearing into the night with a smile that promised more destruction to come. His phone, now containing damning evidence, felt heavy in his pocket, a constant reminder of the power he wielded. He wouldn't rush things. No, patience was key. He would watch and wait, just as he always did.
Back in his room, Riley lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The academy, with all its rules and its pompous nobles, was nothing more than a playground for him now. He had entered this place with one goal: to bring it crashing down from the inside. And tonight, he had taken the first step.
As sleep finally claimed him, Riley's last thoughts were of the future. Marion, Sarah, and all the others—they had no idea what was coming. But soon, very soon, they would learn that revenge wasn't just an act. It was an art. And Riley was its master.