Time was ever-flowing.
Cassius joined the group of stellar geniuses, but nothing drastic occurred, nor did anything change.
I mean, what was supposed to change?
Anon and Seth were always above and beyond the others, and one Cassius, who had just entered the ranks of stellar fighters, did not alter anything, nor could he even if he wanted to.
Upon realizing this, he wasn't perturbed much.
It was to be expected that Anon, who had hidden so deeply, would be much stronger than him—someone who had just become a stellar fighter. All he needed to do was wait.
Wait until they entered the military academy.
'Within the military academy, Anon and Seth, the two top geniuses from this camp, would most likely be observed and suppressed by those of greater families…' Cassius deduced inwardly.
Someone like him, Cassius, would be ignored, given time to grow.
This was just how things were.
Only those that threatened their domination were worth their attention.
After all, only true geniuses could grasp glory in the academy, and those geniuses of great families desired such glory for themselves, for merit, for face…
'In that time, when they are restrained by those children of greater families, I'll do whatever it takes to negate the disparity separating me and them.' Cassius thought, 'Before they know it, I'd have surpassed them, and before they realize how, I'd have killed them.'
Because in the military academy, death was not something that was restricted.
Anyone could see their end...
During this time, Anon and Seth were more focused than ever, with Anon absorbing Seth's teachings like a sponge soaking up water.
His mastery over the staff skyrocketed as he learned multiple high-level techniques.
Interestingly…
Bam!
Anon's staff arced through the air and lunged towards Seth.
The body of his staff appeared flimsy, twisting on its way towards Seth, and yet, when it struck, a resounding boom reverberated throughout the surroundings.
But Seth skillfully spun his staff, easily parrying Anon's rod, and causing it to recoil violently.
"Defensive technique?!" Anon groaned, retreating several steps before tapping the tip of his rod on the ground twice and glancing at it, frowning, 'All of his techniques seem simple enough, and yet, only after facing them head on, do I realize that they aren't as they seem from the eye, that they're much more devastating.'
"You've never used this one."
Raising his gaze towards Seth, he asked, "How many high-level techniques do you even have?"
To such a question, Seth chuckled lightly, "As many as you can think of, and slightly more."
Hearing a reply like this, Anon's frown deepened, into a scowl as he commented, "Always trying to sound so mysterious," Saying this, he lunged towards Seth and stabbed out.
His pole seemingly curved around Seth's staff, but the latter simply stepped to his right, and though Anon's staff followed his movements, Seth's staff stood tall, blocking the incoming rod.
"I don't try to sound mysterious, nor do I ever lie."
Seth seemed hurt, as he mouthed words, his voice not leaking out, "I've as many high-level techniques as you can think of, and slightly more, because I just make them up on the fly, it's pretty easy."
He did not hear it, but he could easily read it.
Like this, Anon entered a period of learning, one of countless enlightenments.
While all this occurred, Nickyle had returned to his previous self, if only in appearance, in strength.
Naturally, due to losing his strength, it took a while for him to get it back, for him to slowly unearth more and more.
The day after being healed from the 'disease', he sparred against Andrew to a draw.
Two days later, he utterly dominated the battle against him.
A week thereafter, Catharina, who had gotten stronger, relied on her trump card to just barely win against him.
A fortnight since his first encounter with what he titled as 'night devils', Nickyle defeated Catharina for the first time in a while.
He was in a state of constant growing, bringing great joy to the instructors.
When August came around, he had once more achieved the rank he had before the little dilemma.
And yet, his arrogance had not returned.
The instructors saw this and were pleased, especially Rolan who proclaimed, "A little disease and his arrogance has dispersed?"
"Where is it, why don't all these children get that sickness?!"
Just, if they were slightly more perceptive, they'd see it.
He had become more introverted, proclaimed less, spoke less, interacted less.
It wasn't because of some sudden impulse to be humble.
His eyes showed a distinct world...
One of desperation, one of desolation, one of devastation.
They said that the eyes were the window to the soul…
His eyes were dead.
The usual dull-blue, greyish eyes now leaked greyish deathly aura.
…
'…'
Night drowned the light of day, and Nickyle sat on his bed with an upright back.
'…'
He had returned to a respectable position amongst the group of stellar geniuses, achieving a desirable level of status once more.
'…'
Really, he should be pleased.
'…'
Dorm room three was dark, the lights were off.
Nickyle sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the empty void that stretched before him.
The ring on his finger released short bursts of light at times, but this was just the worries of an old man wo hadn't heard from his young master in more than a month.
Time was like this.
Just the other day, August had begun, and now, it was already close to September.
More importantly, he had maintained his position as the bridge between Catharina and Andrew, and the freakish duo, with Cassius and Melissa trailing behind all of them.
Physically, he was fine, strong and especially quick.
And yet, he felt weak, so pathetically weak...
It was as if, during the day, he could hold up the skies, and at night, said strength became air, dispersing from his body.
His eyes were dead.
Clearly, there weren't any 'night devils' tonight, in fact, they had stopped for a while now.
Specifically, they haunted him for eighteen nights alone.
Like this, he was back.
Physically, his strength had returned.
Mentally, the hallucinations came to an end.
Just, his spirit was gone, it was gone!
Hours went by, and he just sat there, his eyes open, staring into the dark.
The dark was silent and calm, and his eyes were no different.
In a way, he had no eyes as they seamlessly melded with the dark.
By the time the hundred stars returned with light that encompassed the human world, he hadn't gotten an atom's worth of sleep.
Robotically, he took to his feet before entering the bath.
He sat in the tub, hugging his legs.
A single teardrop trickled down his cheek, or maybe, this was just the water falling from above.
'I…'
He mouthed this, but nothing came out.
He tried speaking, but besides some croaky sounds, nothing exited his lips.
Said lips trembled.
They were pink and supple; overall, his features were attractive and enticing, but his eyes were not.
The death of the mind was the truest form of death.
His trembling lips mouthed, 'I… die…'
Summoning power from an unknown source, he voiced, "I die, everyone dies. Dying is release…"
Heh!
It was as if he had been enlightened.
It was sudden, but that was just how enlightenment worked.
In abrupt fashion, he saw it.
Hope…
In death, hope resided.
To rid himself of this torture, to escape the bounds of the devil's clutches, he knew what he needed to do.
And yet, when it came to acting on this, as he caressed his neck, tracing it with his fingers and gripping it with his palms, runic characters painted in blood seemed to take control of his body, preventing him from achieving what he desired.
"Ugh!" He groaned, "No, no, no!"
Why?!
So, he couldn't even die?
Seth!
Please!
'Just let me die, please Seth, please!'
That pair of orbs, those glowing red orbs, stained with blood.
This blood, it was that of others, how many exactly, it could not be deduced, but Nickyle finally realized.
Seth was no demon.
The Devil…
In all intents and purposes, he was!
Bam!
"Heh… heh… heh…"
Thinking this, he rose from the tub and stepped out, slipping on the cold ground and falling with a thud, but he only chuckled.
He feared Seth.
He hated Anon.
Standing next to Anon, embracing Anon, guiding Anon, the Devil had Anon in the palm of his hand.
Whatever fate awaited Anon, Nickyle did not know. But what he did know, however, was that to garner such attention from the Devil, Anon's fate was destined to end, inevitably worse than his own…