The delicate porcelain teacup slipped from Mr. Oliver's hand, shattering against the hardwood floor. Tea pooled around the shards like spilled secrets.
He remained frozen mid-sip, the saucer still balanced in his other hand.
Across from him, Mr. Simon sat slack-jawed, his mouth agape as though trying to solve an impossible equation.
Akira stood awkwardly behind the rest of the group, scratching his head as Mikage finished speaking.
"…and that's when the knight dropped to one knee and called him Malakar."
Silence stretched. The only sound was the quiet drip… drip… drip of tea falling from the edge of the table.
Mr. Oliver finally spoke, voice low. "Malakar? The Malakar?"
Mr. Simon closed his mouth and muttered, "Calling someone Malakar is a bold claim. That name isn't tossed around lightly."
Oliver rubbed his temples. "That… somewhat explains the whole coming-back-from-the-dead situation."
"We're honestly more shocked than we sound," Mikage added, crossing his arms.
Oliver exhaled slowly, then looked at Akira. "Can you prove this? Because if this is true, it's not just serious—it's history-shattering."
Akira gave a nervous chuckle. "Honestly, I don't believe I'm Malakar either. I feel… normal. But there is someone who thinks I am."
"Where is this person?" Oliver asked.
Akira looked toward the window. "We'll need somewhere spacious."
"The school field?" Mr. Simon offered.
"That should work."
"Very well," Oliver nodded. "Let's go."
As the group exited the office, Oliver and Simon hung back, trailing a few paces behind.
"Who is this person that calls him Malakar?" Simon muttered. "How did they convince Mikage, Yukiko, and Edward? Mind control? No… I don't sense anything tampering with their minds. But why can't I sense this person at all? Are they masking their presence that perfectly?"
Oliver remained quiet, his eyes narrowed.
Simon continued, "Akira's mana levels are rising rapidly. It's unpar with everyone else in his group. When did this happen?"
Oliver finally replied, voice low. "Prepare for the worst-case scenario. But try to prevent any collateral damage… especially near the students."
Trixie glanced over her shoulder. "There's some serious tension behind us right now."
Once they arrived at the field, Oliver raised a hand and activated a Phantom World, cloaking the entire area from outside perception.
"Call him," Oliver said.
Akira exhaled deeply, then extended his hand. His shadow darkened and spread across the field, covering nearly a quarter of its surface.
Simon's eyes widened. "He's using shadow as a transportation medium now?"
From the spreading abyss, shadow soldiers began to rise, one by one, their forms armored and eerily silent. At their head stood Sigvard, towering and composed. He knelt.
"Shall I kill them, my lord?" he asked calmly.
Akira waved him off. "No—just tell them what you told us."
Sigvard stood and faced Oliver and Simon. "You stand before Malakar. His existence is not to be questioned."
Simon blinked, intrigued. "A construct that speaks… and shows emotion? Fascinating."
"I'm not doubting what you are," Simon added, "but why do you believe he is Malakar? He's not even an elf."
"I doubted too," Sigvard said. "But the Grimoire revealed its words to him. And the Crimson Beam designed to eliminate imposters didn't kill him."
"What?" Akira muttered.
Oliver stepped forward. "Do you know what Malakar's goal is? What he wants?"
"I do not," Sigvard replied. "But I know my purpose—protect and serve him until the end of time."
Oliver sighed. "Very well. All of you—return to your dorms. And keep this quiet—for Akira's sake."
He deactivated the Phantom World.
One by one, the soldiers returned into Akira's shadow—except Sigvard, who lingered.
Suddenly, Sigvard picked up his blade and dashed at Oliver in a blur. The air split as he moved.
Oliver's demeanor changed instantly. He flicked his finger, generating a sharp burst of force that shattered the ground and repelled the blade.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Akira yelled.
"My apologies," Sigvard said, straightening. "I simply wanted to test him."
"Why?" Akira snapped.
"Old habit."
Oliver relaxed and gave a small nod. "It's fine."
Sigvard gave a respectful bow and sank back into the shadows.
Akira turned to Oliver. "I'm sorry—he just does things like that."
As the group began to leave the field, Oliver watched Akira closely.
> "The name Malakar isn't just a title—it's a warning, a legacy, and a threat. I hope you understand the weight of what's been placed on your shoulders," he thought. "And I honestly wish you luck.".
"Today's been rough. Let's go shower, Trixie," Yukiko said, brushing some dust off her shoulder.
"Oh yeah, a hot shower sounds like heaven right now," Trixie replied with a tired sigh. She turned to the boys, giving a casual wave.
"Alright, this is where we split up. You guys try to relax—and maybe let's not think about today, yeah?"
Mikage and Akira waved back. Edward just shoved his hands into his pockets and silently walked toward the dorms, letting out a faint sigh.
As Akira turned to follow, a voice echoed in his head.
"Master, I must apologize for striking Mr. Oliver without your order."
It was Sigvard.
"Why did you do it?" Akira asked telepathically, his steps slowing.
"I sensed something off about him. It almost slipped past me… but his eyes gave it away."
"What do you mean by that?" Akira asked.
"He has the eyes of someone who's killed many... and wouldn't hesitate to do it again."
Akira paused, brows furrowed. "Could you beat him?"
"Not even close." Sigvard answered bluntly.
"Huh?! That's a bold way to admit defeat."
"I held back, yet he chipped my blade without even trying. It's already regenerating, but still…" Sigvard paused, then added,
"That man… should be your minimum standard if you want to survive in this world."
Akira lowered his gaze. "And what if I don't want to fight? What if I just want a normal life?"
Sigvard's voice was calm but firm.
"Then I'm sorry—but that's no longer an option. Starting tomorrow, I'll personally train you and your squad. Like it or not."
Just then, Mikage slung an arm over Akira's shoulder, pulling him back to reality.
"You zoned out there, bud. You good?"
Akira blinked. "Huh? Yeah… I was?"
Mikage smirked. "Come on, let's get to our room, Chosen One."
In Trixie and Yukiko's dorm, the air was warm and hazy from steam. Trixie sat in front of the mirror in a white robe, gently drying her hair with a towel. Her reflection was calm, but her eyes held lingering thoughts.
Behind her, the bathroom door creaked open. Yukiko stepped out, wrapped in a robe with another towel coiled around her hair, steam billowing out behind her like a retreating mist.
"His head must be spinning right now," Trixie said softly, eyes still on her reflection.
"Whose head?" Yukiko asked, settling onto her bed.
"Akira's, of course."
Yukiko reached up to adjust her towel. "I don't think it's really weighing on him that much."
Trixie glanced over her shoulder. "Why do you say that?"
"He barely knows anything about our world. And just how powerful Malakar was… honestly, even we don't know. All we have are stories. It might tug at him, sure, but it's not crushing him."
Trixie gave a thoughtful hum. "I guess you're right. Not much to worry about then."
Yukiko stood, crossed the room, and gently wrapped her arms around Trixie from behind. "Good. Now finish your hair and help me with mine."
Trixie laughed softly. "Yes, ma'am."
But as she reached for her brush, her mind flickered back—to his eyes. Not the ones she'd grown used to… but those other eyes. The ones marked in crimson, that didn't belong to any normal boy.
Meanwhile...
Water coursed down Akira's body in steady rivulets, steam curling around him in the shower. His palms rested against his forehead, eyes closed as thoughts churned beneath the surface.
"Did I actually die?"
The question repeated, echoing inside him like a whisper trapped in a cave.
Mr. Simon stood by the window, arms folded, while Mr. Oliver sat slouched in his chair, eyes closed, fingers interlaced over his chest.
"Oliver, what do you intend to do with this information?" Simon asked, his tone low but concerned.
Mr. Oliver sighed deeply. "Simon… I honestly don't know."
He didn't move, letting the silence hang between them like a fog.
Akira stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind him. A towel was wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still running down his chest. His eyes landed on Mikage, who sat on his bed in nothing but a pair of joggers, casually scrolling through his phone—his torso lean, defined, and toned.
"What?" Mikage asked without looking up, sensing the stare.
Akira didn't respond. How do I get that ripped? he wondered, completely ignoring the question as he subconsciously sucked in his stomach.