The scene was chaos, but not the kind you'd expect when someone stumbles across a dead body.
As we approached the group of students gathered near the central hall, I could hear the faint murmur of conversation. No screaming. No panic. Just a crowd murmuring like they were watching something mildly interesting, not horrifying. I pushed past a few students to get a better look.
And there it was—the corpse.
The body lay sprawled out, its limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Blood pooled underneath, staining the pristine marble floor. What struck me wasn't just the death itself but the state of the corpse. The killer had clearly left their mark—a grotesque pattern carved into the boy's chest, a symbol I didn't recognize. The cuts were precise, almost artistic, but unmistakably brutal. And the boy, he was empty his organs weren't in his body, the killer took his time and precisely removed his respiratory and digestive organs. Whoever did this wanted it to be seen.
Beside me, Aoron gagged. I could feel him sway before he stumbled back, retching loudly into a trash can.
"Is he okay?" someone muttered, but it wasn't out of concern. It was more like mild annoyance, as if Aoron's reaction was an inconvenience.
"That's what happens when you're new to Blackridge," a third-year said with a shrug. "Freshmen."
I stood there, watching, but I wasn't horrified. I wasn't even disgusted. My heart should have been racing, my stomach twisting into knots. But I felt… nothing. No, that wasn't entirely true. I felt something—something darker. The sight of the blood stirred a part of me I didn't want to acknowledge. A twisted fascination.
The Echo.
I clenched my fists as its voice stirred in my head.
"This is natural, Noah. See how it feeds you? Feel the strength in your veins. You don't have to fight the urge. You can kill someone like this and have others admire your work of art. Be free and give in to your desires."
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath, the words almost imperceptible in the noise of the crowd.
I focused on the corpse again, trying to distract myself, and that's when I noticed it—the positioning of the body, the deliberate exposure. The killer didn't even try to hide this. It was in the middle of a main hallway, where dozens of students would pass through. The intricate carvings, how he took his time and carefully harvested his organs, the sheer boldness… this wasn't just a murder.
But why?
I scanned the crowd, watching their reactions. Most of the students didn't even seem surprised. Some were annoyed.
"Sloppy work," one older student muttered to another. "Didn't even get rid of the body."
"Amateur," his friend agreed. "Leaving it like this? Idiot's gonna get caught."
Caught. That word stood out to me. The way they said it, like the killing itself wasn't the problem. It was getting caught that mattered.
Before I could think too much about it, I heard her voice.
"Well, that's a mess."
I turned to see Elise standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable. She didn't look shocked or scared, just… curious, like she was observing a puzzle she wanted to solve. Beside her was another girl, shorter, with cropped black hair and sharp brown eyes. She wore a leather jacket over her uniform, her arms crossed as she looked at the scene with mild disinterest.
"You're unfazed," Elise said, her green eyes locking with mine.
"You are too," I replied.
Her friend stepped forward, her gaze flickering over me. "You must be Noah," she said, her tone casual. "Elise mentioned you."
I didn't know how to respond, so I just nodded.
"I'm Leila," she said, offering a hand. "First year, like you."
I shook her hand briefly, noting the firm grip. There was something about her—calm, confident, but not in a loud way. Like she didn't need to prove anything.
"Nice to meet you," I said quietly.
She gave me a once-over, her sharp gaze lingering for a moment too long. "Elise told me, so your apparently your the quiet type huh? ."
"Elise," I said, turning to her, ignoring Leila's comment. "What's going on here?"
"Another day at Blackridge," she said with a shrug.
"That's not an answer."
"Trust me, you'll figure it out," she said, her voice light but her expression serious. "Maybe sooner than you think."
Before I could press her, the bell rang, cutting through the low hum of conversation. The crowd began to disperse, leaving the body behind like it was just another piece of trash.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, but I couldn't shake the image of the body. The symbol carved into its chest. The blood. The way everyone had reacted—or hadn't reacted.
Back in our dorm that evening, I cornered Aoron while he was sitting on his bed, staring at a textbook he clearly wasn't reading. He looked pale, his usual energy dulled.
"What the hell was that?" I asked.
He looked up, confused. "What was what?"
"The body," I said, sitting down across from him. "The way everyone acted like it wasn't a big deal."
"Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze. "Yeah, about that…"
"Well?" I prompted.
He sighed. "Look, man, Blackridge isn't a normal school. It's fucked, You've probably figured that out by now. Violence… it's kind of allowed here."
"What?"
"As long as you don't get caught," he clarified. "Like, if someone disappears, no one cares. But if there's evidence? Like a body? Then the cops get involved, and if they trace it back to you, you're done. Your screwed over. Expelled. Arrested. It's not the killing that's the problem—it's screwing up and leaving evidence."
I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. "And that's normal here?"
He shrugged. "It's part of the system. Survival of the fittest, I guess."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Fuck no," he said quickly. "But I'm not planning on killing anyone, so I don't have to worry about it."
I leaned back, my mind racing. Blackridge was more than just a school—it was a battlefield. A place where strength and cunning mattered more than anything else.
And I needed to figure out how to survive. Fast.