---
The combat hall echoed with chaos.
Not the usual type—the kind that came before someone's reputation got shredded.
It was time for Mid-Term Rankings.
Top 20 got access to the elite dorms, private training gear, and priority missions.
Bottom 20? Public humiliation. And a week of "disciplinary" survival camp in the Toxic Zone.
Fun.
---
I stood in the corner, stretching my arms, mind half on Mikhail and the weird moment we shared in the mission.
He hadn't looked at me or spoken since.
But something in his eyes had changed.
Like I passed some kind of deadly test.
"Thinking about your assassin boyfriend?" Xavier leaned in, cocky as ever.
"Thinking about slicing your hair off in your sleep."
"Ooh, spicy."
---
The list of duel pairings flashed on the holo-screen.
One name jumped out.
Vane Wilder vs. Ryker Crimson.
I blinked. "Wait… The Ryker?"
"Good luck," Xavier said cheerfully. "Don't die."
Ryker Crimson.
Ruthless. Genius. And the third male lead of this cursed universe.
I hadn't interacted with him much—just seen him in the halls, cold and unreadable, always with bruised knuckles and an expression that screamed don't talk to me unless you want to bleed.
And now I had to fight him.
---
Ryker stood across from me on the blood-stained floor, twirling twin daggers like they were an extension of his hands.
"Try to entertain me, blondie."
I narrowed my eyes. "I'm not here for your amusement."
He smirked. "Pity."
Then he lunged.
Fast. Like, supernatural fast.
I barely dodged, my instincts screaming.
We clashed—dagger to blade, boot to kick. It wasn't a training match.
He was testing me. Hard.
Every move he threw was meant to expose me.
My breathing, my balance, my weak points.
He was analyzing me like a code.
---
Ten minutes in, my leg ached, and my right arm was grazed.
But I wasn't backing down.
"You've got secrets," he said mid-fight, his tone amused.
"Yeah? So does your shampoo."
He laughed—genuinely—before spinning low and knocking me off balance.
I hit the ground, groaning.
He hovered above me, dagger near my throat.
"Final chance. Show me your real form, little spy."
My blood froze.
"Excuse me?"
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.
"I know a fake voice when I hear one. And you? You're no boy."
My heart stopped.
---
But before I could panic, a loud buzz rang out.
Match over.
Tie.
I rolled away, forcing a shaky smile. "Maybe you just have a gender obsession."
He winked.
"I like puzzles."
---
Back in the dorm, I paced like a lunatic.
Ryker knew. Or at least suspected.
But how? I'd masked everything—posture, speech, routine.
Only Professor Vale might know. And even he hadn't said anything.
"Trouble?" Mikhail asked, appearing in the doorway like a shadow.
I froze.
He noticed my stiff posture and said nothing. Just watched.
"Mikhail… what do you know about Ryker?"
He shrugged. "Smart. Dangerous. Obsessed with patterns. He sees what others miss."
Yeah. That was the problem.
Mikhail leaned closer. "But if he really knew… you wouldn't still be breathing."
Charming.
---
That night, I snuck into the vault lounge—a place only top students could access.
Xavier was already there, hacking the security cams for fun.
"I need eyes on Ryker," I said.
"Oooh, we stalking now?"
"I think he's onto me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Did he sniff your shampoo or something?"
"XAVIER."
"Fine, fine."
---
A few minutes later, a screen lit up with live hallway footage.
Ryker walked alone—toward the headmaster's wing.
Then suddenly stopped.
He turned, looked straight at the hallway camera.
And smiled.
My heart dropped.
"He knows," I whispered.
Xavier whistled. "You're in deep now, pretty boy."
"Girl."
"Right. Forgot."
---
As I slipped back into my bed that night, thoughts spun wild in my head.
Ryker Crimson.
Did he know?
Or was he baiting me?
And if he did…
Why wasn't I already exposed?
One thing was clear—
This game just got more dangerous.
And I was running out of disguises.
---
End of Chapter 18
---