Akshran sat at his desk, idly spinning his pen between his fingers. The monotonous drone of the theoretical lecture washed over him like a dull hum, fading into the background.
His thoughts drifted. 'Those orbs... why do they churn in my stomach?' The sensation was relentless, a stirring deep within him, primal and rooted in his very core.
He glanced around the room. No one spared him a second glance. Most of his classmates were either half-asleep or quietly whispering among themselves, their attention far from the lecture. Akshran smirked to himself. 'Perfect. I'm invisible to them. A nuisance to some, a nobody to others. That could be useful.'
Being overlooked wasn't always a disadvantage. Sometimes, it was a blessing. 'If they don't see me coming, they won't know what hit them.'
The sharp creak of the classroom door broke his thoughts. The atmosphere shifted instantly as a figure entered the room.
The man was massive, his broad shoulders stretching his black t-shirt. Wild crimson hair framed blood-red eyes, sharp and fiery. His every movement exuded lethal precision, making his tactical gear seem almost unnecessary.
The room fell silent as he strode forward.
'Adolph Letzer.' The name surfaced from Akshran's new memories. 'The academy's Martial Arts Instructor. This guy broke this kid's bones last time'. The thought lingered for a moment before Akshran corrected himself. 'Not 'this kid's' bones—my bones now.'
He didn't flinch at the memory. A part of him, buried somewhere deep, even smiled at the thought.
"Brat, stop zoning out," a sharp voice snapped from behind him.
Akshran froze. A chill shot down his spine, cold and sharp, as if someone had dumped ice water over his head. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to run, to flee before something terrible happened.
Slowly, he turned to meet Adolph's gaze.
The man's crimson eyes locked onto him, brimming with an intensity that made Akshran's skin crawl. A predator sizing up its prey. Yet, beneath the wave of fear, a flicker of defiance stirred within him.
"No fear? What an interesting boy you are," Adolph said, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk.
Akshran stared back, his heart thudding in his chest like a war drum.
"Stop thinking so much," Adolph said, his tone calm but firm. "I can hear your thoughts from a mile away."
Akshran blinked. 'Hear my thoughts? What the hell is he talking about?'
Akshran's heart raced, though his face stayed calm. 'Does he know what I'm thinking? No, impossible—'
"Impossible?" Adolph cut in, raising an eyebrow. "Quick to assume, aren't you?"
Akshran froze. His breath caught in his throat. 'Wait, did he just—'
"Read your mind?" Adolph finished, his smirk growing wider. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just that easy to read."
Akshran's hands tightened around the edges of his desk. His mind raced for an explanation, but nothing made sense. 'Coincidence. It's just coincidence. There's no way—'
"Coincidence," Adolph interrupted again, waving a hand dismissively. "Now quit standing there like a fool and head to the training hall. Everyone else has already left."
'What the hell is going on?' Akshran thought, glancing at the empty classroom. 'When had everyone left? He hadn't even noticed their departure. Not a single person had bothered to call him out or even acknowledge his existence.'
It wasn't just ignorance—it was as if he had been detached from reality, his presence slipping through unnoticed.
He turned to find himself walking side by side with Adolph Letzer.
"Some nice stealth skills you've got there," Adolph remarked, his crimson eyes glinting as they flicked to Akshran.
'Stealth?' The word made Akshran's thoughts pause, though his expression betrayed nothing. His face remained calm, a mask of indifference.
"I didn't even realize you were still in the classroom," Adolph continued, his voice tinged with faint curiosity. "Does that come under your illusion power too?"
"Well, kind of," Akshran replied smoothly, his tone even. He conjured a quick lie, his mind spinning while his face remained impassive. "I've figured out how to turn my body into an illusion of sorts."
Adolph raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Fascinating ability, kid. If you're dodging my senses even at this stage, who knows how far your espionage skills could go?"
Akshran gave a slight nod, his expression neutral, though inwardly his thoughts burned. 'Espionage skills, huh? Sure. If you only knew.' Behind the mask of calm, he let loose a silent tirade of curses aimed at Adolph and his entire lineage.
Then, something caught Akshran's eye.
A large green orb hovered around Adolph, pulsating faintly, almost like it was alive. It circled him lazily before locking onto Akshran. Without warning, it lunged, merging into Akshran's body like water pouring into a vessel.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. His body remained still—cool, controlled—but his mind was flooded with images.
A younger Adolph stood in a dense jungle, his fiery hair unkempt, his t-shirt soaked with sweat. Around him, the ground was littered with the torn remains of wild tigers, their bodies shredded as if by a force of nature.
Behind him, ten massive mammoths lay defeated in grotesque stillness, their bodies cracked open, their insides blasted out. The memory shifted to Adolph sneezing—just once—and the raw force had obliterated the mammoths like they were made of paper.
The scene shifted again. Adolph was seated beneath a twilight sky, talking to someone whose face remained blurred, like a smudge on glass.
"If everything dies, rots, and fades into nothing," Adolph mused aloud in the memory, his voice hollow and contemplative, "then existence is just a spark in the dark—brief, meaningless, and already doomed. So why bother at all?"
The words lingered in Akshran's mind as the visions faded. He found himself back in his own body, walking alongside Adolph. His senses felt sharper, his mind clearer, and a strange happiness bubbled within him, like an unseen weight had been lifted.
Unconsciously, he laughed.
Adolph turned sharply, his predator's gaze narrowing on Akshran. "What's so funny?" he asked, his tone neutral but laced with suspicion.
Akshran straightened, his composure returning instantly. "Sir, mortality doesn't negate meaning," he said, his voice calm yet steady. "It gives us urgency—to live fully, to create, to connect, to laugh, to cry. To leave some trace of ourselves behind, even if it's fleeting. Mortality makes every moment precious, not because it lasts, but because it doesn't."
Adolph stared at him for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, his expression unreadable.
'How?' Adolph thought, feeling a shift he couldn't quite place. 'My instincts tell me this boy has grown stronger. But how?'
_________________________________________________________
"A wise woman once said," Akshran began, a faint chuckle escaping his lips, "'Someone has to die in order so that the rest of us can value life more.'"
Adolph's eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "What's got you pondering mortality, kid?" he asked, his tone light but curious.
Akshran shrugged. "Here's a counter-thought for you," Adolph said, his expression turning contemplative. "The people we leave traces behind for—they die too, don't they? So isn't every memory, every legacy, just another drop in an ocean that's destined to dry up?"
"Exactly," Akshran replied, his tone even, as though he had thought about this for years. "Every memory, every legacy, every so-called trace fades into the same box. The truth is, nothing we do lasts—not our names, not our deeds, not even the stars above us. But maybe that's the point. We're not here to be remembered; we're here to vanish, like everything else."
Adolph studied Akshran for a long moment. The boy spoke with the calm detachment of someone far older than his years, his words layered with a wisdom most spent lifetimes searching for.
"Pair up into duos," Adolph called out to the class, his voice cutting through the chatter. "You'll battle it out."
Akshran raised an eyebrow. "And where are you going?" he asked, watching Adolph turn to leave.
"I'll watch Kid," Adolph replied with a faint smirk. "This isn't my style. I want to see where your levels are before giving you proper training."
Akshran noted the subtle shift in Adolph's tone. 'He said 'kid,' not 'brat.' Progress, I guess.'
"Oh, sure," Akshran said with a slight nod, setting off to find a partner.
The buzz of the training hall swirled around him as students paired up. Akshran wandered through the crowd, observing. 'School started just a week ago. Why was I expecting simple drills?'
His thoughts drifted as he scanned the room. 'Everyone here chases strength through competition, desperate to prove themselves. Sure, it forges strong contenders. But no rival, no contest, no victory compares to life itself—relentless, indifferent, undefeated. These kids don't need more fights; they need lessons in survival. The kind life doesn't hand out gently.'
Lost in thought, Akshran didn't notice the hand until it tapped his shoulder. He turned, his gaze locking onto a girl.
She had long, flowing blue hair, streaked with silver, and strands that fell delicately across her face. Her eyes, a crescent-shaped purplish-blue, seemed to shimmer like twilight skies, she was probably beauty maxed out.
"Hey, you don't have a partner, right?" she asked, her voice carrying a casual confidence.
Recognition flickered in Akshran's mind. 'Anatolia Blue. Of the Noble House of Blue. Renowned for her sharp tongue and even sharper attitude,Ranked fourth among the first-years. One of the few students already at the peak of Stage 2, if the rumors were true.'
His gaze dropped briefly to her knees. Blood streaked across them, and her legs were positioned oddly, her body slightly favoring one side.
'She's hurt,' Akshran thought, noting the subtle details. 'But she's hiding it well. That stance, though—compensation for the pain. She's pretending to be fine.'
He met her gaze again, his calm demeanor unshaken. "No partner," he said simply.
"Good," Anatolia replied, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "You're with me now."
At a short distance, a boy sat clutching his arm, his face streaked with tears as blood trickled down to his elbow. Around him, a cluster of students laughed at his misfortune, their voices sharp and cruel. Medics worked quickly, patching him up—not out of pity, but out of obligation.
Akshran's gaze flickered between the boy and Anatolia. Her knees and feet bore faint smears of blood, and the boy's position aligned perfectly with her earlier path. 'She beat him up,' he thought, the conclusion forming with unsettling clarity. 'Badly. The blood, the boy's broken spirit, her calm gait—it all fits. She's merciless. And with her smug attitude, she's not here to fight me—she's here to mock me.'
Despite his deductions, Anatolia's appearance betrayed no weakness.
Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction, a wolf's glint that matched her condescending tone. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cluster of gems. Each glimmered faintly in the light, radiating faint pulses of magical energy.
"My Resonance is the Gem Resonance," she said, holding one up. "I use gems as catalysts to power my magic. For instance, Fyrite lets me manipulate fire."
Akshran tilted his head slightly. 'Why is she telling me this?'
As if reading his thoughts, Anatolia's smirk deepened. "You must be wondering why I'm sharing this. Well, let me enlighten you—a weakling like you needs all the help you can get. At least this way, you might last a few seconds."
Her words cut sharply, her tone dripping with contempt. Akshran noted the way she carried herself: her smirk, her body language, the way her words drew laughter from those nearby. 'A sadist, through and through,' he thought. 'She thrives on putting others down while basking in the attention, no thats not right, it does not fit, somethings wrong,'
Before he could dwell on it further, something shifted.
Above her, a faint blue orb materialized, swirling in the air like a wisp of smoke. It lingered for only a moment before surging toward Akshran. He barely had time to react before it merged with him, disappearing into his body.
A surge of clarity followed—not memories this time, but something more primal. He felt sharper, stronger, more attuned to the flow of magic around him.
"Let's begin," Anatolia said, tossing a red-orange gem into the air. It hovered for a moment, glowing with an intense warmth before she spoke.
"Zaal-nah Threl!"
The gem erupted, unleashing a searing torrent of fire that roared toward Akshran like a hungry beast.
Akshran's instincts kicked in. He sidestepped just in time, the heat licking at his skin as the flames scorched the ground where he had stood moments before. That was too close, he thought, his mind racing.
He raised his hand, focusing his Resonance. "Illusion Resonance: Illusion Formation."
Two shimmering copies of Akshran materialized, identical in every way. The three figures began circling Anatolia in unpredictable patterns, each moving with the same fluidity.
"Using illusions to confuse me?" Anatolia scoffed. "How predictable."
Without hesitation, she tossed several Fyrite gems into the air. Each glowed briefly before unleashing bursts of flame, scattering fiery projectiles in every direction.
Akshran ran through the chaos, his mind analyzing every detail.
'She's not using incantations anymore,' he noted, watching her rapid-fire attacks. 'Does that mean she only needs to cast once?'
He dodged another flame burst, the intensity far weaker than before. The flames sputtered out midair, their potency diminishing with each strike. 'The quality is dropping. She's burning through her reserves.'
Akshran's lips twitched into a faint smirk. He adjusted his stance, his illusions still circling her. 'Let her exhaust herself. If she's this wasteful now, she'll collapse before long.'
Anatolia's attacks continued, but her breathing grew heavier, her frustration mounting. She fired another flame burst at one of the illusions, which shimmered before vanishing.
"Enough of these tricks!" she snarled, her voice laced with impatience.
Akshran didn't respond. He simply moved closer, closing the gap with calculated steps, his remaining illusion shadowing him. 'Let her think she's winning.''
He raised his hand again, summoning a faint glow of magic. "Time to end this," he murmured under his breath, his calm demeanor unbroken.
Akshran watched as both his illusions shattered, vanishing into the air like smoke dispersed by a gust of wind. The break in their form rippled through him, a faint echo of their destruction. She boosted the flames. 'Must've used an incantation to amplify their power,' he deduced, his eyes narrowing.
Without hesitation, he sprinted forward. 'I just need to get in close. With Adolph's memories, there's no way she can outmaneuver me up close.'
He focused his Resonance again, his voice sharp yet steady. "Illusion Resonance: Triple Illusion Formation."
Three illusions materialized, forming a triangular formation as they flanked Anatolia. Akshran locked eyes with her, his calm gaze meeting her fiery determination.
"Illusion Resonance: Pause."
For a split second, Anatolia froze in place. The hesitation was barely perceptible, but it was enough. Akshran closed the distance in an instant, his fist connecting with her chest. The force sent her hurtling backward, the air ringing with the impact.
As she staggered, the illusions behind her surged into motion, launching a coordinated attack that sent her flying again. Dust and debris scattered as her body hit the ground.
By now, a crowd had gathered, their murmurs and cheers rising as they watched the battle unfold like a scene from a legend. Even Adolph had stopped to observe, his sharp eyes analyzing every move.
"Illusion Resonance: Illusion Control." Akshran's voice cut through the noise. His three clones merged into a single form, denser and faster than the previous ones. The clone darted forward, moving with near-blinding speed.
From her position on the ground, Anatolia gritted her teeth, her frustration boiling over. 'Why is this idiot announcing his magic like a carnival act?' she thought bitterly, forcing herself back to her feet.
Then Akshran felt it—a sudden wave of malice, sharp and oppressive.
"That's it. You're dead. I'll kill you!" Anatolia snarled, her voice dripping with venom.
She charged forward, strings of magic unfurling from her hands. They darted toward her satchel, deftly pulling out gems that pulsed with energy. A barrage of flames erupted from her, roaring toward Akshran in waves.
Akshran tried to dodge, but his body wouldn't move. His eyes flicked downward. His shadow was bound by something dark and jagged.
"Gotcha, loser," Anatolia sneered. "I used Obsidian to lock your shadow in place. You're finished."
The flames bore down on him, and Akshran braced himself. But then, his illusions surged forward. They intercepted the fiery assault, shielding him from the full brunt of the attack. The flames dissipated, but not entirely. A stray burst grazed his arm, searing his skin. He staggered back, his breaths coming shallow and fast.
His arm burned painfully, the acrid scent of charred flesh filling the air. He looked exhausted, his body trembling with effort.
"YES! Take that, you loser!" Anatolia crowed, her voice ringing with triumph. But despite her celebration, she felt it—the bottom of her reserves. Her magic was nearly spent, leaving her with just enough for one final attack.
Adolph watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. 'Even after everything, she still has more in her tank,' he thought. 'Nobleborns truly are blessed.'
But his gaze lingered on Akshran. It's over—but not for him. He's not done yet.
Anatolia surged forward, her final assault ready. The fiery gem in her hand pulsed with energy, her intent clear—to finish Akshran with one decisive blow.
Akshran's fingers twitched, forming deliberate hand signs. His posture shifted subtly, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"This is my trump card," he said, his voice calm and steady despite the chaos around him. He pointed above Anatolia. "Illusion Magic: Illusion to Reality—Giant Spider Trap."
Anatolia froze, her eyes snapping upward.
Adolph's lips curled into a faint smile, his sharp eyes following the scene. 'What a clever boy,' he thought, watching the battle unfold.
Anatolia's gaze darted upward, her focus drawn to where Akshran had pointed moments earlier. Expecting an attack, her body tensed in anticipation.
But nothing came.
In that split second of distraction, Akshran appeared in front of her, his fist connecting squarely with her torso. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock. 'What? Where's the attack?'
Before she could recover, Akshran struck again, and then once more. Each hit landed with precision, driving her further off balance until she collapsed onto the ground.
The crowd murmured in surprise. The fight was over. Akshran had won.
Anatolia, sprawled on the floor, clenched her fists. Her sharp mind worked quickly, piecing together the sequence of events. 'He baited me. The shouting, the supposed exhaustion—it was all calculated. He made me think he always announced his Resonance, luring me into a false sense of security. Then he feigned weakness to lower my guard before striking decisively.'
She gritted her teeth as she pushed herself back to her feet. "Cheeky bastard," she muttered, brushing dust off her uniform.
Akshran shrugged casually, the picture of calm confidence. "You lost to that 'cheeky bastard,' so what does that make you?"
Anatolia scowled, her pride stung. "Shut the hell up, loser."
Akshran leaned back, a devilish grin spreading. "Calling me a loser after losing is like setting your house on fire and whining about the heat. Face it—you're the gold standard for failure."
A stunned silence followed, broken only by the sound of laughter from the crowd.
"OOO, burn!" someone called out, their voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Anatolia's glare could have melted steel, but Akshran simply turned, his smirk firmly in place, leaving her to stew in her humiliation.