The Next Day
Akira trudged toward class, eyes half-shut, steps slow and uneven. He muttered to himself, "I'm so tired… I barely got a wink of sleep. Mum was so excited she kept talking till 4 AM. I'm practically sleepwalking… Any sudden push and I'll collapse on the spot."
A few steps behind, Trixie followed, holding his shirt neatly folded in her arms. She tilted her head, watching him wobble.
He hasn't noticed me… And he looks completely drained. Was it the fight? Or the gym work?
She glanced at the shirt, then smirked slightly. Maybe if I surprise him a little, he'll wake up…
Without warning, she gave his legs a playful nudge from behind with her knees.
Akira, already at his limit, didn't even flinch—he just dropped like a sack of potatoes.
"Well… I won't be able to stand for a while," he mumbled as his face hit the ground.
"AKIRA?!" Trixie screamed, eyes wide. "Are you okay? Are you dead?! Oh my God, what did I do?!"
Still face-down, Akira groaned, "Please… you're being too loud…"
Trixie sighed in relief and crouched next to him. "Phew, thank goodness. Uh… do you need help down there?"
"I can't move at all, so yes," he replied in the most deadpan tone possible. "But if it's too much trouble, feel free to leave me here. The ground is surprisingly comfortable."
Trixie tried to hold back a laugh. "No way. You helped me yesterday, so now it's my turn."
She slung one of his arms around her shoulder and began dragging him toward class.
As Trixie carried Akira toward class, he was already halfway asleep, his head occasionally nodding against her shoulder.
Trixie chuckled. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me—it's already hard enough carrying you like this. Unless… you want me to give you a piggyback ride?"
Akira, barely conscious, mumbled, "Nooo… that'd be embarrassing…"
"Then stay awake," she said with a playful glare.
"I'll try," he muttered, stifling a yawn. "But… can I ask something first?"
"Go ahead."
"You're in the same squad as Edward, right?"
Trixie blinked, a bit caught off guard. "Yeah… I am. Why?"
Akira's voice slowed, drifting further into sleep. "How does he act with your team? 'Cause the way he is… it's obvious he's got a pretty nasty personality."
Trixie frowned slightly but answered honestly. "Yeah, his character is definitely… questionable. But so far, he hasn't done anything physical. And don't worry—I'm not someone who gets pushed around easily. I'm strong."
Akira, eyes barely open, mumbled, "Well… if he ever touches you, just tell me… I'll fight him."
Trixie looked at him for a moment, a small smile forming. She whispered to herself, Is it the drowsiness, or does he not realize how dangerous Edward really is? If Edward has killing intent… Akira wouldn't stand a chance.
"What was that?" Akira asked weakly.
"Nothing," she said quickly, then smiled. "But I'll take you up on that offer. Just make sure you get stronger first."
Akira gave a slow, sleepy nod. "Deal…"
As they entered the classroom, Akira and Trixie were met with a mixture of stares and curious glances. Yukiko, already seated, raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's wrong with him?"
Trixie sighed. "I don't think he got any sleep last night. He can barely stand. And wow, he's really heavy. Where's his desk?"
Yukiko lazily pointed to Akira's seat. Trixie guided him over and gently dropped him into the chair, resting his head on the desk. She placed his shirt neatly by his side.
Just then, Mr. Simon walked into the room, glanced at Akira, and asked flatly, "What's wrong with him?"
"He didn't sleep," Trixie replied. "He's totally exhausted."
Mr. Simon frowned. "Take him to the infirmary. I don't want him tired for the mission. Yukiko, you should get some rest too. I want this mission going smoothly. Oh, and Trixie—help carry him to the infir—"
Before he could finish, Trixie bolted out of the room.
Mr. Simon blinked, sighed, then turned to Yukiko.
Yukiko stared back blankly, then stood up, walked over to Akira, and kicked him out of his chair.
Akira opened his eyes, but everything was pitch black. No light. No sound. He glanced left, then right—still nothing.
He muttered to himself, "This has to be that same darkness I used to dream about… But this time, I'm not floating aimlessly. I can actually feel the ground beneath me. Am I still in school?"
Suddenly, the shadows beneath him began to shift. Something was forming—rising. It slowly molded into a figure… his figure. A perfect copy of Akira, except for one glaring difference: its eyes glowed an eerie, burning red.
Akira instinctively stepped back, heart racing. What the hell is that? Why does it look like me?
He turned to run—but in the blink of an eye, the shadow copy appeared in front of him. Its hand clamped around his neck, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease.
Akira struggled, gasping for air, his thoughts spiraling. I'm strong… but I'm not this strong.
Suddenly, dark shackles erupted from the ground, snapping around the shadow replica. With a screech, it was dragged into the abyss below. Akira collapsed to the floor, gasping for air—then his eyes snapped open.
He jolted upright in the infirmary bed, only to tumble off and hit the ground hard, coughing and struggling to breathe.
"Should I really tell someone about this?" he thought, rubbing his neck. "That was the first time I've felt my life genuinely threatened… by a dream."
He scanned his surroundings. "Is this the infirmary? How did I even get here?"
Looking at the window, his eyes widened. "Damn… how long was I out?"
Just then, the door opened and Mikage strolled in with Yukiko.
"The sleeping princess has finally awakened," Mikage teased.
"Shut up," Akira muttered, groaning.
Yukiko cut in, arms crossed. "We leave in five. The car's already waiting." With that, she turned and walked out.
"You heard the girl," Mikage said, following her with a shrug.
Akira sighed and followed them out. As they reached the car, he noticed something at Yukiko's waist—two sleek katanas strapped securely.
"Are those actual katanas? They're so cool… I'll ask her about them later."
Yukiko dropped her blades into the trunk and took the front seat. Akira raised an eyebrow. "Why's she sitting in front?"
He glanced at Mikage, who simply gave a clueless shrug.
When they arrived at the mission site and stepped out of the car, Mikage's expression turned serious.
"Do you feel that?" he asked.
Yukiko nodded. "Yeah. There's a lot in the vicinity. A hundred… at the bare minimum."
"A hundred?" Akira thought, stunned. "How can she estimate that so easily? But I do feel something… eerie."
Mikage took charge. "I'll take the north. Yukiko, you cover the east. Akira, take the west. And raise your mana levels as high as possible—they're attracted to strong mana sources."
Yukiko added, "Don't forget to activate the Phantom World. We don't want civilians seeing this—and I don't feel like paying for destroyed buildings."
She drew one of her blades and leapt away in a graceful arc toward her sector.
Mikage muttered to himself, "How wide should I make it…? For safety's sake, let's make it 200 meters." He raised his hand and chanted, a ripple of invisible energy bursting outward as the Phantom World activated.
Akira blinked. "Doesn't that cost a ton of mana?"
Mikage smirked. "Good luck." Then, with a burst of flame at his feet, he rocketed forward.
Akira muttered to himself, "What a show-off," as he trudged toward his sector. Just then, he felt a sharp surge of mana in the distance.
Both he and Mikage turned instinctively—it was coming from Yukiko's direction.
Mikage smirked. "You're not outdoing me that easily."
He released his own mana in response, a blazing wave of heat and pressure filling the air.
Akira blinked, shielding his eyes. "Sheesh… their mana is intense."
Back at the school…
A knock sounded at Mr. Simon's office.
"Who is it?" he called.
"It's a package," a staff member replied from outside.
"A package? From who? I don't recall ordering anything."
"It's from Mr. Oliver."
Mr. Simon furrowed his brow. "It's not my birthday. Why didn't he say anything about it? Then again, he's always been a strange one."
He unlocked the door and waved lazily. "Drop it and leave it there."
The staff member entered, placing the package on a table. As he turned to leave, a grin slowly crept across his face. From beneath his coat, he drew a sleek black pistol and stepped forward.
Still seated, Mr. Simon calmly spoke.
"I noticed something strange when you stood at the door… I couldn't sense any mana from you."
The man froze.
"I thought maybe you had a small reserve or were masking it," Simon continued. "But even the best sorcerers leave residual traces—on their steps, in the air. You? Nothing. So I figured... you don't know magic."
The imposter narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about? Doesn't matter—you won't be alive much longer."
He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out. Mr. Simon slumped back in his chair, blood trailing down his face.
The man stepped over the body and silently exited the office.
The killer's phone rang.
He answered casually, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Have you infiltrated the school?" a voice asked on the other end.
"I already infiltrated over a week ago," the killer replied with a smirk, glancing at the lifeless body of Mr. Simon slumped on the floor.
"That's great. I hope everything went smoothly," the caller said.
"Perfectly," the killer said calmly. "No complications."
"Good. We'll be there in five minutes."
"That'll do just fine," the killer said before the line cut.
Inside a nearby van, one of the men turned to the caller. "Where the hell did you even find that guy?"
The caller shrugged. "Who cares? As long as the job's done—and if it all goes well—we're out of this life for good."
He turned toward the driver. "Now step on the gas."Back at the mission site...
Frozen Night Walkers stood like eerie statues scattered across the area.
Yukiko moved silently into a half-ruined building. As soon as she entered, the Night Walkers inside turned and charged toward her. With a sigh, she drew one of her blades.
In a blink, she vanished—then reappeared behind them.
"Ten down," she muttered.
The creatures froze mid-step, deep slashes across their bodies. Ice erupted from their wounds, shredding them into glacial fragments. She stepped onto the rooftop and looked out over the battlefield.
"This'll do," she whispered.
She extended her hand, freezing every entrance below and encasing the entire structure in a jagged mountain of ice. Then, she let her mana surge freely into the air.
On Mikage's side, every Night Walker that entered within twenty meters of him burst into flames, their screams vanishing into the night.
Meanwhile, on Akira's side, he had already shackled several Night Walkers with shadow chains. As he approached them, one snapped its teeth at him.
"Still human?" he asked, almost to himself.
The creature snarled in response.
Akira narrowed his eyes. "Didn't think so."
He raised his hand—shadow spears formed and launched forward, piercing the creatures clean through their skulls.
A growl echoed from behind. Without turning, Akira's shadow extended, spreading like ink across the ground. It swept beneath the incoming Night Walkers—and impaled them with dozens of shadow spikes, lifting them off the ground in a web of death.
Akira sighed and cracked his neck.
"Damn," he muttered. "Why haven't I found even one that hasn't completely lost their mind? Is it okay to kill them now? They're not really human anymore… Guess I'll treat them like animals."
He glanced around cautiously, then added,
"I better keep my distance. Don't want any of those things biting me."
With that, he continued walking forward.
Back at the school—
A van pulled up to the gate. The driver leaned out the window.
"Hey, open up. Delivery."
The security guard squinted and replied, "I need to see an ID."
"Seriously? We're delivery guys. Why would I carry an ID for this?" the driver snapped.
Inside his office, Mr. Oliver watched the live feed from a wall-mounted screen. He frowned and muttered,
"I hope this doesn't become a problem…"
Back at the gate, the security guard narrowed his eyes.
"You're acting suspicious. I'm calling the principal."
He picked up the phone—but before he could dial, the killer crept up behind him and shot him in the head.
"If they won't listen," the killer said coldly, "you silence them for good."
He pressed the gate control button, and the iron doors slowly opened.
From the van, the caller leaned out, frustrated.
"Are you insane? You just shot someone right in front of a camera!"
The killer turned toward the camera with a blank look, then gave a menacing smile.
"Oh… didn't see that there. Well, maybe it works in our favor."
He stepped directly in front of the lens and spoke clearly.
"Whoever's watching, you can tell this is a real gun. And your guard—he's not a witness anymore. So do us all a favor. Gather the students and staff. Put them in the main hall or something. Have them kneel and wait quietly. Otherwise… we might lose a few kids today."
Then he shot the camera.
He turned to the others.
"Let's get rich, boys."
One of the men grumbled under his breath,
"Who made him the boss?"
Back in Mr. Oliver's office—
He stared at the now-dead feed with a stoic expression, then exhaled slowly.
"All the senior students with combat experience are out on missions," he muttered. "I can't endanger the younger ones…"
He hit a button on his desk. Across the school, speakers crackled to life.
"This is Mr. Oliver. All teachers, staff, and studentsproceed to the field immediately. Stay quiet. Keep your mana flowing at all times. Only engage if you're fired upon. These aren't regular bullets—they're infused with mana."
Students began moving in clusters toward the field as teachers helped maintain order.
Mr. Oliver, still watching the chaos unfold, clenched his jaw.
"How the hell did they get their hands on mana-infused weapons…?"
All the intruders wore masks—except the killer.
They entered the field where students were gathered under teacher supervision. The killer scanned the crowd and asked,
"Who's in charge here?"
Mr. Oliver calmly raised his hand.
"That would be me."
The killer sneered. "I meant the owner."
He stepped closer, tilting his head. "Huh… I was expecting a man in his sixties, not some rich-looking pretty boy in his twenties."
He reached to grab Mr. Oliver by the hair. Oliver didn't flinch. The killer yanked again. Nothing.
Frustrated, he pressed his gun to Mr. Oliver's head.
"Still wanna act tough?"
Mr. Oliver stared him down, calm and unbothered, thinking,
I could snap his neck before he even pulls the trigger.
One of the masked men stepped forward.
"Enough. We need him alive. And don't you think one dead body is enough for today?"
He turned to Mr. Oliver.
"We want a ransom. Minimum—1.5 billion pounds."
Mr. Oliver blinked. "Are you insane? What makes you think we have that kind of money?"
The man replied coolly, "We did our research. You're supported by powerful groups like Magata Corps and several others. And more importantly, some of their heirs go to this school."
Mr. Oliver narrowed his eyes.
"That's… highly confidential information. How do you know that?"
The man smirked.
"Let's just say… we have a source. One you don't need to know about."
Suddenly, the killer turned his gun on his own ally, pressing it to the man's temple.
"No one gives me orders, dipsh*t. And for the record, I killed two, not one. You want to be the third?"
Before the tension could escalate, a calm voice interrupted from behind,
"I'm guessing I was the first person you killed today."
The killer spun around.
"What? I thought everyone was on the fiel—"
BANG!
A shot rang out.
The killer collapsed, a clean hole through his head, blood pooling beneath him.
Mr. Simon stood behind him, holding a smoking gun.
He brushed dust off his shirt and muttered,
"That's for staining my favorite shirt."
The other men, stunned, raised their weapons and shouted,
"On your knees! Now!"
Mr. Simon sighed.
"Kids—cover your ears."
As one of the intruders pointed his gun toward the children, a giant stone wall surged up, shielding the students instantly.
"What the hell—?" one of them gasped.
Suddenly, Mr. Simon was standing right in front of him.
"I'm your opponent," he said calmly.
He snatched the man's gun, leapt into the air, then grabbed him mid-flight and slammed him into the ground with brutal force.
"Two down," Simon muttered. "Eleven more to go."
The others opened fire.
Mr. Simon deflected a few bullets mid-air, vanished in a blur—then reappeared in front of another gunman.
"You shoot like someone who just picked up a gun today."
CRACK!
He smashed the attacker's head into a stone wall.
Two minutes later, Mr. Simon casually knocked on the stone barrier.
"I'm done."
The wall slowly sank back into the earth, revealing a stunned but unharmed group of students.
Mr. Oliver stepped forward.
"Simon… thanks. But… did you kill them?"
Simon shrugged.
"No problem. And don't worry—I only killed one. The rest are just… badly broken."