"OOO, burn!" a voice called out, slicing through the tension like a blade.
Akshran turned, the smirk still lingering on his face. His eyes settled on the source of the voice—a boy standing a little taller than himself. The boy's presence was magnetic, his sharply defined features striking without seeming out of place. His jet-black hair fell neatly, framing a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed to glimmer faintly under the lights. Those eyes weren't just attractive—they were captivating, holding a quiet intensity that commanded attention without effort.
Several girls nearby were staring at him, their expressions caught somewhere between awe and admiration. He held a sword in his right hand, the blade unsheathed, and his hands were damp, glistening faintly as if freshly washed.
Akshran's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the details. 'The sword's in his right hand—he's most likely right-handed. The wet hands and faint smell of soap suggest he's just returned from the washroom. And those calluses... both arms show signs of frequent practice. Swordsmanship, then. His Resonance must be sword-related.'
His gaze flicked briefly to Anatolia. The boy's expression shifted subtly when he looked at her—a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, the barest trace of satisfaction at her defeat.
'So, he doesn't like her,' Akshran concluded, his smirk widening.
"I'm Kevin Mclaren," the boy said, his voice steady and composed. He stepped forward, extending a hand toward Akshran. "I saw your match with Anatolia. Impressive. You're strong."
Akshran's thoughts immediately went to the name. 'Mclaren? Did his mom put an exhaust pipe in her or what?' He stifled the joke and shook Kevin's hand, his grip firm but not overbearing.
"I'm Akshran," he said with a slight nod. "And you're not wrong. But honestly, I doubt I'd have stood a chance if she wasn't injured."
Kevin's eyes narrowed at once, his posture shifting. "Injured?"
'Monkey took the banana,' Akshran thought, hiding his amusement.
Anatolia, who had been sitting silently as medics tended to her wounds, glanced sharply in their direction. Her gaze lingered on Akshran, suspicion clouding her face. 'How does he know?'
"She was hurt," Akshran said, his tone even. "She tried to hide it, but I noticed."
Anatolia's eyes widened slightly at his words. That fleeting reaction was all Kevin needed to confirm the truth.
His expression darkened as he turned toward Anatolia. "Are you serious? You were injured and didn't tell anyone? What if you'd gotten seriously hurt?"
Akshran watched the exchange, his mind quietly processing the interaction. 'So, he doesn't dislike her after all. If he did, he wouldn't care this much. He dislikes her actions, her arrogance. A goody two-shoes, then, frustrated by how she carries herself.'
Satisfied with his analysis, Akshran dusted himself off and began walking away. But before he could leave, a firm hand gripped his shoulder.
"Wait," Kevin said sharply.
Akshran turned back, meeting Kevin's steady gaze. "What is it, Kevin Mclaren?" he asked, his tone calm but with a hint of playful curiosity.
"Please, just call me Kevin," he said, his tone steady, but his expression carried a weight that Akshran couldn't immediately decipher.
Akshran blinked, studying Kevin's face. There was no hesitation there, just unwavering seriousness. 'What does he want?' Akshran thought, his mind already piecing together possibilities.
Then Kevin bowed, his movements deliberate and composed. When he looked up, his dark blue eyes held a rare earnestness. "Please, be my friend."
The words hung in the air like a discordant note.
"...W-what?" Akshran muttered, his voice betraying a crack in his calm.
Kevin straightened, waiting for an answer, his sincerity pressing down like an unspoken challenge.
"Okay, I guess... I'll be your 'friend,'" Akshran replied, but the word felt alien in his mouth. Friend. It rolled off his tongue like a borrowed phrase, hollow and unfamiliar. His chest tightened as he realized how long it had been since he'd uttered that word with meaning—decades, perhaps. Even now, it surfaced wrapped in pretense, a lie given life for convenience.
Kevin's brow furrowed slightly, his piercing gaze softening. "You're just trying to get out of this conversation, aren't you?"
Akshran's composure faltered for a fraction of a second. He met Kevin's gaze and saw no judgment, only quiet understanding. The pretense was pointless. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice flat.
Kevin sighed but didn't break eye contact. "I figured as much. My intuition never lies."
Without waiting for a response, Kevin turned and began walking. Akshran, half-expecting more resistance, followed alongside him. This time, Kevin didn't try to stop him or demand anything.
"I'll start over," Kevin said, his voice lighter but still earnest. "I'm Kevin Mclaren. Ranked first in the academy, tied with Scarlet Red. I love waffles—or anything with chocolate, honestly. I'm into pop music, and I really like talking to people. Making friends is kind of my thing. And my goal? To become one of the Twelve Paladins of the Royal Family—the crusaders of justice."
Akshran raised an eyebrow, Kevin's words tumbling over each other like an unfiltered stream of thought. 'A Paladin?' Akshran thought, dissecting the declaration. 'They're supposed to be paragons of purity. No indulgences, no vices, no shortcuts. That explains why he dislikes Anatolia's behavior but still cares for her wellbeing.'
"Rank 1, huh? Well, good luck with your journey," Akshran said casually as they reached the weapon stand. He picked up a practice sword, testing its weight.
Kevin's eyes narrowed slightly, picking at something beneath Akshran's words. "You really don't care, do you?"
Akshran paused, setting the blade down. He gave Kevin a sidelong glance. "Did your intuition tell you that too?"
Kevin smirked faintly, but his voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes. Want to know what else it said?"
Akshran tilted his head slightly, his calm gaze meeting Kevin's.
Kevin stepped closer, his voice barely audible. "It told me you've killed someone."
The words lingered between them, a weight Kevin was testing carefully. "But that can't be true, right? The academy does background checks. There's no way they'd let someone with a history like that in."
Kevin's eyes searched Akshran's face, probing for cracks, for a flicker of guilt or surprise.
But Akshran didn't flinch. His expression remained perfectly composed, his calm so absolute it was unsettling.
"Heh, you're a funny guy," Akshran said, a light chuckle escaping his lips. But his expression shifted almost instantly, the humor evaporating. His features hardened, a shadow of hurt flickering across his face, subtle yet deliberate—as though he were someone wronged in a way he didn't wish to admit aloud.
Kevin's sharp eyes caught the change immediately. His body stiffened for a moment before he bowed deeply, his voice carrying quiet remorse. "I'm sorry. It seems I've crossed a boundary."
The apology threw Akshran off balance. "I-it's okay," he said, his voice faltering just slightly, betraying a sliver of surprise.
Kevin straightened and reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. "Here. My number," he said, holding it out. "Message me, and I'll add you to the class group chat."
Akshran accepted the paper, his fingers brushing against it almost absently before he raised an eyebrow. "You mean I wasn't already in it?" His voice turned cold, venom threading through each word, laced with quiet accusation.
Kevin winced slightly but maintained his calm. "Apologies again. It's just that…" He hesitated for a beat, as though searching for the right words. "Sometimes, I barely notice your presence in class. It's almost as if—"
"You have never existed,"
"You think I don't exist?" Akshran finished, his voice low and biting.
Kevin laughed nervously, waving a hand in dismissal. "Not at all! That came out wrong. Anyway, take the paper. And remember, I owe you one. Don't hesitate to ask me for anything."
With that, Kevin turned and walked away, his posture upright and composed, a picture of sincerity.
As the distance grew between them, Akshran's lips curled into a faint smirk, his expression returning to its usual calm. 'What terrifying intuition.' He clenched the paper slightly as his thoughts churned. 'He came so close. Too close. I didn't know his instincts could graze the edges of my old life. Still... I deserve an award for that performance. Bravo, Akshran. You almost deserve an Oscar.'
His smirk deepened, but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed his inner thoughts. 'Kevin Mclaren. A problem. A big problem. His intuition is dangerous, and I'll need to profile him. He doesn't need to know anything real about me. Not yet.'
He tucked the paper into his pocket, The moment felt lighter now, but his mind remained restless.
Unbeknownst to Akshran, a figure lurked in the shadows nearby, watching silently. Their presence melded seamlessly into the darkness, concealed yet observant, their eyes fixed firmly on him.