Akshran stepped out of his dorm, a weight lifted from his chest, the void in his heart now filled with clarity. He finally understood who he was—or at least, who he needed to be. Yet one lingering question gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Scarlet Red.
'She's connected to the incomplete memories,' Akshran thought, his gaze sharpening. 'That boy didn't seem to be lying. Hmm... no matter. If she won't tell me, I'll just force it out of her.'
His face, once a one of faint emotions, now reflected nothing. His pitch-black eyes swirled with an unsettling indifference, their depth unreadable. His raven-black hair fell neatly into place, but his expression was an absolute void—the epitome of emotionless.
He glanced at his watch, its hands ticking steadily.
'It's time for Letzer's class.'
Skipping two monotonous lectures without a second thought, Akshran headed straight for the one worth his attention—the one taught by Letzer, the undisputed master.
'The goat,'
________________________________________________________
In a field far from the bustling academy, Adolph Letzer stood, surveying the students with his piercing gaze. To him, they were a mess of strengths and weaknesses—unrefined, untapped, and ripe for transformation. Today, he intended to teach them how to weaponize what they had, no matter how little it seemed.
Plucking a leaf from a nearby tree, he held it up for everyone to see.
"Alright, pests, listen closely," Letzer began, his voice commanding. "Today, I'll show you what it truly means to weaponize. A leaf in the hands of a master can carve through steel, while the finest blade in the hands of a fool is nothing but decoration. The legendary weapons you admire? Their fame isn't their own—it belongs to the ones who wield them. Without skill, even the most omnipotent sword gathers dust. With mastery, even a speck of dust can become a weapon of legend."
He paused, his words slicing through the murmurs that rippled through the group. His tone grew sharper, cutting away any doubts that lingered.
"A fat pig with a crown is still a pig. Power doesn't come from what you hold—it comes from who you are. It's in the mind that sees opportunity, the hand that shapes it, and the will that bends it to purpose. You don't need greatness in your tools; you need greatness in yourself."
Akshran watched, his dark eyes narrowing as he absorbed every word. 'Spoken like a true master,' he thought, his lips curling faintly.
Letzer held the leaf higher. "Look closely at this leaf," he said, his voice steady. He gestured toward a towering tree nearby.
"That's an Akacia tree," he continued, "capable of withstanding the strength of ten thousand Elephant Kings."
The students exchanged startled whispers.
'Elephant Kings?' Akshran's mind raced. 'Those creatures can destroy entire cities with a single swing of their trunks. And this tree can endure ten thousand of them?'
Letzer's gaze swept across the group, silencing the murmurs. "It might look like this tree is thriving," he said, glancing at the Akacia's imposing figure, "but don't be fooled. Its roots barely scratch the surface, and the ground it stands on is tainted. Over time, it's developed a tough exterior, but that doesn't change the fact that its days are numbered. Most of the trees here, despite their appearance, are living on borrowed time."
He turned back to the leaf in his hand. "Now," he said, his voice quieter but no less powerful, "watch closely."
With a casual flick, Letzer launched the leaf toward the Akacia tree. The moment it struck, the tree split cleanly in half, its trunk severed with surgical precision. The leaf didn't stop there; it cut through an entire line of trees behind it, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake.
The students stood frozen, their jaws slack in disbelief.
"Impossible," Seri Black muttered, his voice a mix of awe and skepticism.
But then, Seri's analytical mind kicked in. "That's impossible," he said louder, his tone firm. "A leaf doesn't have the mass or density to penetrate wood, no matter how much force is behind it. Even if you could generate enough speed, the air resistance alone would tear it apart before it reached the tree. And friction?" Seri gestured toward the severed trunk. "The leaf would crumble the moment it made contact with the bark. Unless, of course, you cheated."
Letzer turned his gaze to Seri, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Cheated?" he echoed, his tone laced with amusement. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you've just witnessed what happens when mastery meets imagination."
The silence that followed was thick with tension as the students grappled with what they had just seen—and what it meant for their own potential.
'Why is he so defensive?' Akshran thought, watching Seri argue with Adolph. 'He's the silent type—why go out of his way to refute him?'
The answer was obvious, of course. Seri's skepticism wasn't just logic; it was pride.
"That's where intent comes into play," Adolph said, his eyes gleaming with a predatory edge.
"Intent?" Seri scoffed, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're telling me you chopped through Akacia with sheer intent? You expect me to believe that?"
Adolph didn't flinch. His lips curved into a faint smirk. "Killing intent," he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the rising tension.
"Intent," Adolph continued, his tone steady and deliberate, "is a weapon sharper than any blade. You don't need magic. You don't need strength. All you need is will. A will so unyielding it tears through reality itself."
He stretched out his arm, and the faint gleam of crimson dripped from his fingertips.
"With sheer intent alone, I believed that leaf would sever the trees—and it did," he said, his gaze cutting through the students like a blade, daring anyone to deny his words.
'That's impossible,' Akshran thought, his mind racing. 'Will cannot bend reality. If it could…' But unease crept into his thoughts, a shadow whispering doubts he couldn't quite silence.
Adolph's smirk deepened, as though he had plucked the thoughts from Akshran's mind. "You don't believe me, of course," he said, his tone casual, almost mocking. "Belief is for the weak. Truth isn't heard—it's seen. And you saw it."
He stepped forward, the weight of his presence suffocating the air around him.
"Intent defines everything," Adolph continued, his voice dropping into something darker, more visceral. "Killing intent, pure and focused, can make anything a weapon. Without intent, even the sharpest blade is meaningless. But with it?" His eyes gleamed like a predator's. "With it, the tiniest leaf becomes death itself."
He paused, letting the words settle like a noose tightening around the room.
Then, with a swift motion, Adolph pulled a stack of papers from his coat and handed them to Scarlet.
"Distribute these," he instructed.
Scarlet moved quickly, her movements efficient and silent, passing the sheets of paper among the students. Once the last paper was handed out, Adolph spoke again, his tone calm yet commanding.
"Don't focus on the paper. Focus on the tree," he said, pointing to the towering Akacia. "Picture it as your enemy—an obstacle in your path. The paper in your hand isn't just paper; it's a weapon. A shuriken. In your mind, it's already tearing through your enemy. Visualize it. Feel it. The intent must come before the act."
The students held their papers nervously, their gazes shifting between Adolph and the tree.
Akshran's eyes narrowed as he gripped the paper in his hand. The unease lingering in his mind began to take root, but another thought crept in alongside it.
'If this works… what else is possible?'
Adolph let the silence stretch, letting his words settle into the minds of his students. Then, with a faint smile, he added, "This is just practice. When you master this power, it'll become effortless—like slicing through butter. That's how I see it. But don't just mimic me. Find your own model. Start here, then make it your own."
Akshran held the square piece of paper in his hand, his dark eyes narrowing in thought. 'It's more about imagination than raw intent,' he mused. 'Though I suppose the two overlap.'
He positioned the paper as instructed and flicked it toward the tree. It fluttered weakly, hitting the ground with all the force of a leaf in the breeze.
He tried again. And again. Each attempt ended in failure, the paper either spiraling aimlessly or bouncing off the bark with no effect.
'Adolph's model doesn't work for me,' Akshran thought, his lips pressing into a thin line. 'I need something... familiar.'
Closing his eyes, Akshran adjusted his approach. Instead of imagining the paper as a shuriken, he visualized it as a gun, the tree an escaping enemy. His finger itched with the phantom sensation of pulling a trigger. In his mind's eye, the "bullet" struck its target—but when he opened his eyes, the paper had done little more than bounce off the bark.
'Why was I expecting to fell this beast?' he thought, exhaling in frustration.
But his failure carried a realization. 'I didn't use killing intent—just intent. There's a difference.'
Akshran narrowed his focus, reshaping the scenario in his mind. This time, the tree was no longer an abstract enemy. Instead, he imagined a wounded rabbit, its leg twisted as it tried to flee. He was the wolf, closing in for the kill. His claws struck out, hunger and purpose sharpening into a singular, focused drive.
The moment the vision solidified, Akshran felt it—a dark, primal force stirring within him.
He flicked the paper.
This time, it struck the tree with a thud, leaving a noticeable dent in the bark.
Adolph's eyes narrowed as he observed from a distance. 'This kid... channeling killing intent so naturally? It's as if he's done this before. As if he's killed before.'
Akshran's lips curled into the faintest smirk. 'Perfect.'
And though the others continued to struggle, Akshran had been the first to achieve the impossible.
Over time, most of the students succeeded in channeling their intent—except for the last person anyone expected: Kevin McLaren.
Kevin's attempts were... different. His paper didn't cut into the tree. It didn't even dent it. Instead, it landed gently against the bark before sliding to the ground. Undeterred, Kevin picked up the paper and tried again. This time, instead of aiming to harm the tree, he muttered something under his breath, and a faint shimmer of water trickled out of the paper's edge, nourishing the soil beneath the tree.
Adolph's sharp eyes fixed on Kevin, his expression unreadable.
'He's... watering the tree?' Adolph thought, struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. 'Every other student is smashing, breaking, and proving their toughness, pushing their intent to destroy. But Kevin? Kevin's caring for the tree? This isn't what we train for. We teach students to overcome challenges, to break through barriers—and here he is, treating a combat exercise like a gardening lesson.'
Adolph crossed his arms, the faintest twitch of curiosity flickering across his otherwise stern face. 'Still... there's something different about him. While everyone else sees something to destroy, he sees something to preserve. It's strange, maybe even naive. But in a world where the instinct is to crush and dismantle, Kevin is a rare kind of force—one that seeks to nurture life instead of eliminate it.'
Nearby, Akshran's gaze followed Kevin, his dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully. 'Naive, as always. Since the day I met him, he's been an honest fool. But... honest fools are rare these days.'
Kevin continued to work, oblivious to the stares and whispers of his peers. Where others sought power through destruction, he seemed to find strength in compassion. And though it didn't conform to Adolph's lessons or the expectations of his classmates, there was something undeniably... unique about it.
___________________________________________________________
As the lesson concluded, Adolph scanned the class, his sharp gaze lingering briefly on each student. "Well done, all of you," he said, his voice steady but devoid of unnecessary praise. He made no mention of Kevin's peculiar actions, though everyone had noticed them.
Akshran blended into the crowd of Class S students as they made their way back. His stride was calm, measured—an effortless act of invisibility in plain sight. But then he felt a tug on his arm.
Turning, he saw Anatolia, her expression unusually serious.
With a sigh, Akshran allowed himself to be pulled aside. She led him to a secluded corner, her gaze darting around as if she were making sure no one was within earshot.
"Be more careful," she said, her tone low but laced with urgency.
"Why?" Akshran asked, his voice flat. He hadn't done anything remotely incriminating—yet.
Anatolia glanced over her shoulder, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her hands clutched her elbows tightly, as though warding off a chill only she could feel. "... I didn't want to talk about this guy here, but you need to know. Have you heard of Jin Atsushi?"
Akshran's brow furrowed. "The Grand Viceroy's youngest son?"
Anatolia nodded, her eyes betraying a flicker of raw fear—something Akshran had rarely seen from her.
"Whatever you do," she hissed, her voice trembling, "stay out of his way. He doesn't just predict what you'll do—he decides it for you, like you're some puppet he's already dissected."
Akshran tilted his head, a faint smile curling his lips. "Why would I do that? People like him can be quite... enlightening."
"He's... beyond normal," Anatolia whispers, her voice catching. "Your tricks... they won't work on him. He's not just calculating. He's... different."
Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breathing quickened as she spoke. Akshran's gaze lingered on her, his mind ticking. 'What did this guy do to scare her like this? She wasn't even this rattled during the audio tape plan.'
"I've seen him rip someone's life apart without lifting a finger. He didn't just win—still hear it sometimes... that quiet, almost... amused chuckle he had. Like he was enjoying a private joke only he understood."
"Why hasn't he been here?" Akshran asked, his tone casual.
Anatolia hesitated. "Some say he didn't need to learn. Others say he was... recalibrating. Whatever that means. Either way, he's coming back different."
"They say even the teachers avoid him. You've heard the rumors about the ten teachers who resigned? That was his doing. Why? Simply because he didn't want them around when he joined the school."
Anatolia closes her eyes for a moment, a shiver running down her spine. "They say... they say it was almost like... he willed it to happen. Just... thought it into existence."
"So," Akshran murmured, his voice steady but his eyes narrowing slightly, "the monster returns to his den. Interesting."
Anatolia nodded, her jaw tightening. "He's already on the roster. You've got a some days—tops—before he walks back in here. And when he does, the whole game changes."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. 'A monster who knows what you'll do before you do?' Akshran resisted the urge to smirk. 'Predictability can be a weakness, too. If he truly sees everything, then he's already bound by the limits of his own perception. '
Her words hang in the air, heavy with the scent of ash and decay. Akshran lips curving into a faint smile. 'Monster, huh?' he thought to himself. 'I wonder if he'll like the games I play.'
"Who told you?" Akshran asked, his voice calm but piercing.
"What do you mean?" Anatolia muttered, her gaze momentarily averting.
"Who told you about his arrival?" Akshran repeated, his tone unwavering.
Anatolia hesitated. "I... I can't tell you that," she said, her voice quieter now.
"You're violating our deal," Akshran pointed out, his eyes narrowing.
"I still can't," she said, shaking her head. "Sorry."
"So, it was Scarlet Red," Akshran said, his voice devoid of surprise.
Anatolia's shoulders sagged. "...Damn your observation skills," she muttered, folding her arms.
"It wasn't difficult," Akshran said coolly. "It could only be her or Jin himself. The rest of the class is either too dense to know anything of value, or you wouldn't feel the need to hide their names from me—like Seri."
"Smart boy," Anatolia said, a flicker of amusement crossing her face as she reached out to pinch his nose.
Akshran's expression remained indifferent, his tone unchanging. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you," he said, stepping back.
"Meet me tomorrow at a café," he added, turning on his heel. "We'll finalize the rest of the plan there."
Anatolia nodded, but just as Akshran began to leave, she called after him, jogging to catch up. "Wait! Give me your number."
Without turning around, Akshran shouted over his shoulder, "98567***69."
"Got it," she said with a grin as she watched him walk away.