Chapter 777 - Confontration, but girls
The Elemental Chamber hummed softly with latent energy, the crystalline walls refracting moonlight into faintly shimmering hues of silver and blue. Maya stood at the center of her reserved section, the intricate patterns etched into the floor glowing faintly as they resonated with her mana. The air around her was thick with power, yet it felt calming, a sharp contrast to the turbulence within her mind.
She exhaled slowly, her breath steady but deliberate, as she raised her hand. With a flick of her wrist, a tendril of mana coiled around her fingers, its translucent hue shifting between her natural affinity and the crimson undertones that lingered, unbidden, at its edges. The sight sent a flicker of unease through her, but she steadied her grip.
'Focus,' she told herself, closing her eyes.
Her training today centered on refining her mental barriers—the techniques Alden had shared with her over the past two weeks. They had proven effective. The once-suffocating presence of her other self no longer loomed as heavily, the boundary between their minds more defined. Yet, even with this progress, anxiety lingered like a shadow at the edges of her thoughts.
The runes beneath her feet pulsed as she channeled her mana outward, shaping it into an intricate lattice of light and shadow. She moved with precision, weaving the strands into a controlled spiral that shimmered in the air around her. But her focus faltered as her thoughts drifted.
'She's quieter now,' Maya thought, her lips pressing into a thin line. The memory of her other self's crimson eyes burned vividly in her mind, their unrelenting intensity still capable of sending shivers down her spine. 'Too quiet.'
The silence wasn't comforting—it was unnerving. It felt like a predator waiting, watching, biding its time for her to slip. The image of her other self's cruel smirk, the venom in her voice, echoed faintly:
"You don't deserve someone like him."
Maya's fingers twitched, and the lattice of mana quivered, destabilizing before fracturing into shards of light. She opened her eyes sharply, her blue gaze narrowing as she steadied her breathing. The failure was minor, but it pricked at her pride.
The Elemental Chamber continued to hum softly around Maya as she steadied her breathing, trying to refocus. The lattice of mana had dissipated, but the residue of her frustration lingered. Her fingers flexed at her sides, the faint crimson undertone in her mana still gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.
'Why does she care so much about him?' Maya wondered, the memory of her other self's voice echoing louder now. 'Why does it matter if he only sees me and not… her?'
The questions felt like cracks in her resolve, and for the briefest moment, she wondered if her other self's obsession stemmed from a truth she refused to admit.
But before she could dive deeper into that unsettling thought, her smartwatch vibrated against her wrist. The unexpected sensation broke her concentration, and her gaze snapped to the glowing screen.
Amelia.
Maya frowned, her brows knitting together. Amelia never called her during training sessions unless it was important. A flicker of worry ignited in her chest as she accepted the call.
"Amelia?" she asked, her tone calm but edged with curiosity. "Is everything okay? Did something happen?"
Amelia's voice came through immediately, breathless and tinged with urgency. "Maya! Hurry—check the school forum! Astron… something happened to him!"
Maya's heart skipped a beat, her mind instantly sharpening as the words registered. "What do you mean?" she asked, already swiping her smartwatch to open the academy's public forum. "What happened to Astron?"
"I don't know all the details," Amelia said quickly. "But there's a video—it's bad, Maya. Just look."
Maya's fingers moved swiftly, navigating to the trending section of the forum. At the top of the page was a headline in bold:
[Violence in the Academy]
Her breath hitched as she opened the post. A video clip began playing, and Maya's chest tightened with each passing second.
The footage was grainy, taken from someone's smartwatch, but the events were unmistakable. A group of students, both seniors and some from her own year, surrounded Astron in one of the academy's open training fields. They moved with aggressive intent, their voices a cacophony of taunts and jeers as they cornered him.
Maya's sharp eyes picked out a familiar face among the crowd—Victor, one of her classmates, someone she had sparred with on occasion. He stood at the forefront, his expression twisted with malice as he shoved Astron back with a glowing fist charged with mana.
Maya's fingers curled into tight fists as the video continued. The unfairness of the scene sent a surge of anger coursing through her, and when Victor landed a particularly vicious strike that sent Astron stumbling, Maya closed the video abruptly, unable to watch any further.
"Where is he now?" Maya asked, her voice low but carrying an edge of steel.
"I think they took him to the infirmary," Amelia said quickly. "Maya, are you—"
"I'll handle it," Maya interrupted, her tone firm. She ended the call without waiting for a response and turned on her heel, her steps quick and purposeful as she left the Elemental Chamber.
The cool evening air bit at her skin as she strode through the academy grounds, her thoughts a storm of fury and resolve. The sight of Astron being assaulted burned in her mind, fueling her determination.
'They'll answer for this,' she thought, her jaw tightening. 'Every single one of them.'
But for now, her priority was Astron. Whatever state he was in, she needed to see him—and she needed to see him now.
As she approached the infirmary, the faint glow of its lights visible in the distance, Maya's grip on her emotions steadied. She would confront Victor and the others soon enough, but first, she needed to make sure Astron was safe.
As Maya entered the infirmary, the sterile scent of antiseptics and mana-infused salves greeted her senses. Her sharp gaze swept across the room, instantly locking onto Astron, who sat composed on one of the cots. His violet eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable but attentive. For a fleeting moment, relief coursed through her. He appeared unharmed—or at least as much as one could be after what she'd seen.
But her moment of reprieve was short-lived. Standing beside him, a striking figure with fiery hair and an aura of brazen confidence, was Irina Emberheart.
Maya's heart skipped, then tightened. Her vision tinged with a faint redness, a heat that rose unbidden as she took in the scene. Irina's posture was unrelenting, her arms crossed as though she had claimed the space around Astron.
'This…'
The thought clawed at her mind, but she shoved it aside with practiced resolve. Maya strode forward, her gaze cold and steady, locking onto Astron. The rest of the room—the medics, the quiet murmurs of patients—faded into the background.
"Junior!" Maya's voice cut through the room like a blade, calm yet carrying an undeniable authority.
Astron inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her, but before Maya could step closer, Irina moved.
The fiery-haired junior stepped between them, her amber eyes meeting Maya's with a defiant glint. The tension was palpable, the room holding its breath as the two women stood face-to-face.
"Senior Maya," Irina said evenly, her tone polite yet laced with an unspoken challenge.
Maya's gaze flicked to her briefly, then returned to Astron as if Irina's presence were inconsequential. "Junior Irina," she replied, her tone cool, bordering on dismissive.
Irina didn't flinch, holding her ground as she spoke again. "What are you doing here?"
Maya's gaze didn't waver as Irina's question hung in the air. The fiery-haired junior stood firm, her amber eyes gleaming with an unspoken challenge. For a moment, Maya considered brushing past her entirely, but the subtle tension in Irina's stance demanded a response.
"I'm here to check on my junior," Maya said evenly, her voice calm yet carrying a distinct edge. Her piercing blue eyes flicked briefly to Astron before locking onto Irina again. "After all, it's my responsibility to ensure his well-being."
Irina raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, almost smug smile. "Rest assured, Senior. He's in safe hands. With me here, nobody can touch him."
The words struck an unexpected chord within Maya. Though Irina's tone was polished, there was an undercurrent of possessiveness that grated against her nerves. Maya's lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
"And yet, here I am," Maya replied coolly, her voice steady. "Because it seems the situation warranted it."
Irina's smirk widened slightly, though her eyes narrowed. "You're mistaken if you think I can't handle this. I was already making sure he's fine, while you were taking your sweet time."
Maya's gaze hardened a flicker of something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. The words weren't just defiance; they carried a weight of intent, as though Irina was deliberately drawing a line.
Maya's gaze darkened as Irina's words settled into her chest like a taunt she couldn't ignore. Her jaw tightened, and for the briefest moment, a thought crystallized in her mind, sharp and clear.
'This wench.'
The realization struck her with an almost visceral intensity: Irina was coveting him. That fiery-haired junior, with her confident stance and deliberate words, was laying claim to something—no, someone—that Maya wasn't willing to let go unchecked.
The thought churned within her, igniting a storm that she could barely contain. It's annoying. The words echoed in her mind, repeating like the relentless beat of a drum.
Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying.
Her lips curved into a sharp, humorless smile, but the tension in her posture betrayed the turmoil simmering beneath her cool facade. A faint vein pulsed at her temple, her body betraying the anger she fought to suppress.
"It appears," Maya began, her voice deceptively calm, "that you have a misconception of me, Junior. I am not someone who takes 'sweet time.'" Her words carried a dangerous edge, one that made the medics subtly glance at each other, sensing the growing tension.
Irina didn't falter. If anything, her smirk deepened, her amber eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and defiance. "But you were awfully late for someone who doesn't take their 'sweet time,'" she replied smoothly. Then, as if aiming for the jugular, she added, "Or do you imply that you don't value him enough?"
The words hit like a dagger, precise and unrelenting. For a split second, Maya's composure cracked, her breath hitching imperceptibly as the sting of Irina's remark lanced through her.
Value him enough?
The accusation was baseless, yet it clawed at her resolve, planting a seed of doubt that she couldn't ignore. A faint crimson light flickered at the edges of her vision, her other self stirring in response to the emotional storm Irina had unleashed.
Annoying.
Maya's hands clenched at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her emotions in check. But the sensation of loss—of being challenged in a way she couldn't rationalize—gnawed at her mind, threatening to pull her under.
'Why don't you just kill her?'
And suddenly a dangerous voice echoed in her head.
Chapter 778 - Confontration, but girls (2)
The tension in the infirmary pressed against Maya's chest like a vice, her clenched fists trembling at her sides. Irina's words replayed in her mind, sharp and mocking, yet the source of her agitation wasn't entirely external. As much as Irina's defiance grated on her, there was something else gnawing at her, something deeper, darker.
And then, it came—a voice, low and venomous, curling through her thoughts like smoke.
"Why don't you just kill her?"
Maya stiffened, her eyes widening fractionally. The voice was hers—but not. There was an edge to it, sharp and unyielding, laced with a primal hunger that she recognized all too well.
'Huh?'
Her breath hitched as recognition washed over her. It was her—the other self, the darker fragment of her psyche she had worked so hard to suppress.
-----------------------
"He's the only one I can see. The only one I can feel," the voice continued, its tone dripping with disdain and anguish. "Every time he looks at you, it's like I'm screaming in silence, clawing at the edges of your control, just for a sliver of recognition."
----------------------
Maya's vision flickered red, the faint hum of the infirmary fading into the background as the voice grew louder.
-----------------
"And yet… he only sees you. Never me."
----------------
Her heart thundered in her chest as the memory of that crimson void resurfaced—the oppressive presence, the piercing eyes of her other self. The raw pain and fury that had echoed in those words came rushing back, cutting through her like a blade.
'No,' she thought, her mind racing. Not now. I've contained you.
But the other self was relentless. "Look at her," it hissed, its tone dark with malice. "Standing there as if she has a claim to him. As if she could ever understand him like we do."
Maya's body trembled, her composure slipping as the voice grew louder, drowning out reason. Her breathing quickened, her hands shaking as she fought to suppress the surge of crimson mana that threatened to engulf her.
Maya's eyes snapped to Irina, but they didn't carry their usual piercing clarity. Instead, there was a flicker of something raw, something unguarded—and Irina noticed.
But it wasn't enough.
"Kill her," the voice urged again, its tone rising, laced with venom and a maddening intensity. "She stands in your way. She covets him, challenges you. She doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as him. End it."
Maya's knees nearly buckled under the weight of the words, her vision blurring as crimson tendrils of mana flickered at the edges of her aura.
'Stop,' she thought, her mental voice trembling. I won't… I won't lose to you again.
But the other self only laughed, cold and biting. "You can't suppress me forever, Maya. I am you. I am the part of you that sees the truth, that understands what you refuse to admit."
Maya's breath trembled as she fought to suppress the crimson tide clawing at the edges of her mind. Her other self's laughter echoed faintly, but Maya forced her gaze to steady on Irina, whose expression had shifted from guarded to triumphant.
Irina stepped forward, her movements deliberate and purposeful, her fiery hair swaying slightly with each step. Her amber eyes glinted with a mix of confidence and something sharper—victory.
"Senior."
When she was close enough, she tilted her head slightly, her voice soft yet cutting as she whispered,
"Remember your place."
The words carried the weight of her pride, underpinned by the subtle mockery in her tone. She held Maya's gaze for a moment longer, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
Maya's fists clenched tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as her mind teetered on the edge of losing control. The voice within her surged again, dark and venomous.
"Are you going to let her talk to you like that? Prove her wrong. Show her what it means to challenge us."
The red flicker in Maya's vision flared briefly, her body trembling with the effort of restraint. Irina's presence, her smugness, and the proximity felt suffocating, her words cutting deeper than Maya wanted to admit.
But Maya's resolve didn't break. Her breathing slowed, deliberate and measured, as she latched onto the faint tether of logic still holding her together. The crimson aura around her dimmed, receding slightly as she forced herself to regain control.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low and icy, each word carrying a quiet but dangerous edge. "Junior Irina," she said, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Irina's with renewed intensity. "I would advise you to choose your words carefully."
Irina's smirk widened slightly, her confidence unshaken. "Oh, but I have," she said smoothly, stepping back with the same deliberate grace. "After all, it's important to remind even seniors that their actions—or inactions—don't go unnoticed."
Maya's jaw tightened, the crimson light flickering faintly once more. She felt the weight of her other self pressing against the fragile boundaries she had erected, the mocking laughter echoing faintly in her ears.
"She's nothing," the voice hissed. "Prove it. Show her the truth."
The crimson light flared at the edges of her vision, her other self clawing at her thoughts, demanding action. It was a storm she was barely holding at bay, the force of it threatening to spill over.
And yet, amidst the chaos, a different sensation began to settle in her chest. The heat of anger and competitiveness faded, leaving behind a hollow ache that gnawed at her resolve. The fire she had relied on to face challenges was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a creeping sense of inadequacy.
For the first time, she didn't want to fight.
"I—" Maya started, her voice catching in her throat. Her gaze flickered to Astron, who remained quiet but watchful, and then to Irina, whose confidence radiated unshaken, unyielding.
Something inside Maya faltered. The words she wanted to say—the cutting retorts, the icy commands—they didn't come. All she felt was a weight dragging her down, pulling her away from the confrontation entirely.
Maya's fists loosened, her hands falling to her sides. Her piercing blue eyes dulled slightly as she broke eye contact with Irina, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing her expression.
"I need to go," she said softly, almost to herself. Then, louder but still unsteady, "I—I have something to attend to."
Her words were abrupt, and uncharacteristic, and they hung in the air like an unfinished thought. Before Irina or Astron could respond, Maya turned sharply on her heel and strode toward the door. Her steps were faster than usual, and it was as if she couldn't escape the room quickly enough.
Irina's smirk faded slightly as she watched Maya leave, her amber eyes narrowing in thought. "Well," she murmured to herself, her voice carrying a faint trace of surprise. "That was… unexpected."
Astron's gaze lingered on the doorway where Maya had disappeared, his expression calm but unreadable.
Yet, there was one other person watching the scene unfolding.
*******
Maya's feet carried her automatically through the academy corridors, her mind a haze of fragmented thoughts and emotions. The cool air brushed against her skin, but it did little to ease the tightness in her chest.
The voice in her head was silent now, but its lingering presence felt heavy, like a shadow that refused to dissipate.
Why couldn't I stand my ground?
The question repeated itself over and over, each iteration heavier than the last. She had faced challenges far greater than Irina's smug defiance. She had confronted her other self, battled her instincts, and emerged stronger—or so she thought.
And yet, in that moment, she had faltered.
Maya reached the sanctuary of her room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she exhaled shakily. The silence was deafening, her mind filling the void with doubts she didn't want to confront.
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the faint, uneven rhythm of her heartbeat. "What's wrong with me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Do you not get it?"
The devil in her head whispered.
*******
After seeing the video, Sylvie was also one of those who immediately headed to the infirmary.
After all, the contents of that video were brutal and dangerous, and she was unable to stomach all.
Sylvie hesitated outside the infirmary, her chest tightening as she reached for the handle. Her breathing was shallow, the images from the video still fresh in her mind—Astron, battered and bruised, but unyielding. The scene had been brutal, too much for some to stomach, and she had barely been able to keep herself from rushing here immediately. Now, standing just outside the door, she steeled herself and stepped inside.
The sterile scent of the infirmary hit her instantly, but it wasn't the sight of Astron that greeted her. Instead, her gaze fell on an entirely different scene: Irina and Senior Maya, standing face to face in the middle of the room, their postures taut with tension.
Sylvie froze, her instincts screaming to retreat, but her [Authority] flared unbidden, revealing the storm of emotions swirling between the two women. She couldn't look away.
Irina's emotions blazed like a firestorm, bright and raw.
'What is this?'
But it was a completely different thing, for the senior who loved snacks.
'This is…..'
Way different.
Chapter 779 - Confontration, but girls (3)
Sylvie's breath caught in her throat as the peculiar scene before her unfolded. She had come to check on Astron, her heart still racing from the brutal images in the video, but instead, she found herself standing frozen at the edge of something far more intense and incomprehensible.
Irina and Senior Maya stood facing each other in the middle of the infirmary, their postures rigid, the air between them charged with an almost tangible tension. Neither seemed to notice Sylvie's presence, their focus locked entirely on each other.
Sylvie hesitated, her [Authority] flaring instinctively, pulling her into the storm of emotions that swirled around the two women. What she saw made her chest tighten.
Irina's Emotions
They burned bright and raw, a kaleidoscope of vivid hues that seemed to reflect her fiery presence.
Pride, sharp and unyielding, radiated like a crown atop her head.
Jealousy, simmering and potent, surged through her aura, directed with unmistakable clarity.
Love, deep and passionate, wove through the rest, grounding her emotions even amid the storm.
And then there was ambition, a steely undercurrent that spoke of unrelenting determination.
The combination was overwhelming, a firestorm of feelings so intense it left Sylvie breathless. But what struck her most was the clarity of it all—there was no hesitation in Irina's emotions, no doubt. Everything she felt, she felt with conviction.
Then Sylvie's gaze shifted to Maya, and what she saw sent a shiver down her spine.
Maya's emotions were far more complex, layered in a way that Sylvie had never encountered before. It was as if there were two entirely separate palettes within her aura, each painting a vastly different picture.
The first palette was warm and familiar:
Liking, a soft, fond glow.
Fondness, tender and genuine.
Desire, pulsing faintly but unmistakable.
Anxiety, trembling at the edges, as though uncertain of its place.
But then there was the second palette—darker, more primal, and far more unsettling:
Anger, the deep, pulsating red of blood, surging in a rhythm that felt almost alive.
Jealousy, a purple so heavy it seemed to weigh down the air around her.
Love, bright and vivid, but threaded with something darker, something possessive.
And beneath it all, obsession and madness, swirling together in a chaotic blend that made Sylvie's chest tighten further.
The red was unlike anything she had seen before. It wasn't just anger—it was pulsating, alive, almost predatory. It felt like blood itself, seeping into everything, tainting the other emotions with its relentless rhythm.
Sylvie staggered slightly, her grip tightening on the doorframe as she tried to process the overwhelming flood of emotions. This wasn't a simple confrontation—it was a clash of forces, each woman radiating such intensity that it felt as though the room itself might shatter under the weight.
Sylvie's breath quickened as the scene in front of her grew heavier, more dangerous with every passing second. Irina's fiery intensity was one thing, but Maya's presence was entirely different—a storm of contradictions and instability that made Sylvie's chest tighten with unease.
That pulsating red… it wasn't just anger. It was alive, predatory, and it felt wrong in a way that Sylvie couldn't fully articulate. It throbbed in time with something deeper, darker, as though it were connected to a rhythm that wasn't entirely human. And that wasn't the worst of it.
Maya's second, darker palette struck at her first, like two forces locked in a battle for dominance. Sylvie could feel the instability radiating off her in waves, the clash between the two emotional palettes threatening to boil over. It was like standing on the edge of a volcano, the pressure building with no way to predict when or how it would erupt.
'This isn't normal…' Sylvie thought, swallowing hard. The nauseating feeling that accompanied Maya's darker emotions was almost too much to bear, making her stomach churn as she tried to steady herself. 'What's happening to her?'
She glanced briefly at Irina, whose sharp amber eyes hadn't left Maya. Irina's emotions were intense but stable, her resolve clear and unwavering. But Maya… Maya was a storm, and Sylvie had no idea what might happen if the darker palette consumed her entirely.
'Should I tell the Headmaster?' The thought surfaced unbidden, and Sylvie's fingers clenched against the doorframe. Jonathan Arcwright would know what to do—he always did. But even as the idea took root, her gaze drifted to the far side of the room, where Astron stood.
He was watching Maya, his sharp purple eyes locked onto her with a cold, calculating gaze. There was no warmth in his expression, no trace of the quiet empathy he often showed Sylvie. And yet, there was something else there—a knowing glint, subtle but unmistakable.
Sylvie's chest tightened further. 'Does he know?' she wondered, her thoughts racing. 'Does he see what's happening to her? He has to, right?'
Astron's composure never wavered, but Sylvie knew him well enough to recognize when he was assessing a situation. The way his gaze lingered on Maya, the slight tilt of his head—it was as though he was dissecting her every movement, every word.
'If he knows, then why hasn't he said anything? Is he waiting for something? Or does he have a reason not to speak?'
Her thoughts spiraled as she watched him, her trust in Astron warring with her own uncertainty. He wasn't someone who acted without purpose; every word, every decision he made carried weight. If he hadn't addressed Maya's instability yet, there had to be a reason.
'If it's him, then…' Sylvie thought, her resolve hardening. She had seen Astron at his lowest, had watched him fight his way through struggles that would have broken most people. He had helped her when she needed it most, his quiet strength and guidance shaping her in ways she was only beginning to understand.
She trusted him.
More than that, she believed in him.
'I should ask him first.'
Though it may not be right now, she promised herself that she would ask him.
And at the same time, she had also achieved the reason for coming here.
He was safe. That much she could tell,
Satisfied that he wasn't in immediate danger, Sylvie turned toward the door, her steps slow and deliberate. The tension in the room pressed against her back as she walked away, the storm of emotions between Maya and Irina still brewing, unresolved.
As she reached the doorframe, a strange, unexpected feeling washed over her—a faint but unmistakable sense of regret.
'What is this?' Sylvie wondered, her hand brushing against the doorframe as she paused. The feeling gnawed at her chest, sharp and insistent, but she couldn't quite put it into words.
Regret.
That's what it was. But why? What was she regretting?
The answer came to her like a whisper, soft but undeniable. 'I'm not the one standing by his side.'
The thought startled her, making her grip on the doorframe tighten. She didn't know where it had come from or why it hurt so much, but it was there, heavy and unshakable. She had been the one to notice him first, to see his strength even when no one else had. She had been the one who cared, who tried to help in whatever small ways she could. And yet now, she stood on the sidelines, watching as others—Irina, Maya—claimed the space beside him.
'No. Stop it.' Sylvie clenched her jaw, forcing herself to bury the feeling deep within her. It wasn't fair to think like that. Astron had grown so much, had faced his own battles and emerged stronger for it. He didn't need her by his side. He didn't need anyone. That was who he was—calm, steady, and unshakable.
And yet…
Sylvie shook her head, cutting off the thought before it could take root. Now wasn't the time for this. There were more important things to focus on—like the dangerous instability she had sensed in Maya, or the clash of emotions between Maya and Irina that could spiral out of control at any moment.
She straightened her posture, taking a steadying breath as she stepped fully into the hallway. The sterile scent of the infirmary faded as she walked, replaced by the familiar hum of the academy corridors. But the regret lingered, a quiet ache in her chest that refused to fade no matter how much she tried to ignore it.
'I'll talk to him,' she promised herself again, her steps carrying her further away from the tension she had left behind. 'Not just about Maya, but… about everything.'
And with that resolve, she buried the regret as best she could, focusing on the path ahead and the growing weight of the questions she still needed answers to.
*******
On the other hand, inside a dark room that was save for the pale glow of the monitor illuminating the room, a young man was sitting on a chair.
He leaned forward in his chair, the tension in his body coiled like a spring. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of his desk as his purple eyes burned with an intensity that matched the hate-filled words scrawled across the photo behind him.
The video played on his screen. The same scene Irina had just witnessed. But where her reaction had been one of worry and anger for Astron, Trevor's was different—a roiling storm of fury directed at the reactions flooding beneath the video.
The comments were pouring in, each one stoking the fire in his chest.
"That's brutal… someone should report those sophomores."
"Astron's not even fighting back. Is he okay?"
"Victor Langley is a piece of shit. This isn't the first time he's pulled something like this."
"Why would anyone target Astron? He doesn't even bother anyone."
SLAM!
Trevor's fist slammed against the desk, the sharp crack reverberating through the room.
"Useless bastards!"
Chapter 780 - Confontration, but girls (4)
Trevor's hand smashed into the table again, the monitor shaking from the force. His voice echoed through the dimly lit room, raw with frustration and rage.
"Useless bastards!" he roared, his purple eyes blazing with fury. His chest heaved as he glared at the looping video on the screen. The scene repeated like a mockery: Astron enduring the beating, bloodied but unbroken, and now, the comments flooding the forums were painting him as some kind of silent hero.
He grabbed the edge of the desk, his knuckles white as his nails dug into the wood. His rage boiled over as he shoved the monitor aside, sending it crashing against the wall. Sparks flew, the screen flickering briefly before plunging the room into darkness.
The faint vibration of his smartwatch pulled him from the brink of another outburst. He snatched it off the desk, swiping the screen aggressively to answer. Victor's voice came through, laced with pride.
"Boss, it's done," Victor said, sounding smug. "Mission accomplished. Everyone's talking about it now."
Trevor's lip curled into a snarl, his voice a venomous hiss. "Open the school forums."
Victor hesitated. "What?"
"I said open the forums, Victor." Trevor's tone was ice-cold, every word deliberate. "Look at what's trending."
There was a brief pause on the line as Victor fumbled with his device. Trevor could almost hear the growing unease in his voice as he navigated to the forums. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of Trevor's breathing.
And then, Victor's shout tore through the connection.
"What?! How?!" Victor's voice cracked, his usual bravado gone. "How is there a video? We made sure—there was no one around! The cameras in the room weren't even functional!"
Trevor smirked, but there was no humor in it, only malice. "Oh, there's a video, alright. And it's everywhere. Your faces are plastered across every corner of the forums."
"No… no, that's not possible!" Victor sputtered, his panic growing. "We scanned the room! The artifact was supposed to detect everything—hidden cameras, recording spells, anything! We checked!"
"Well, clearly you missed something," Trevor snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "The angle… it's too close. Whoever recorded this was inside the room. And the fact that it's out now means your so-called 'precautions' were a complete joke."
Victor stammered, his voice a mix of disbelief and anger. "But… no one else was there! We locked the room, we checked the perimeter—there was nothing! Nothing! This doesn't make sense!"
Trevor's jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, his rage bubbling just beneath the surface. "It doesn't matter how it happened," he said, his tone deadly calm. "What matters is that you failed. And now, this… mess is public."
Victor's breathing grew heavier on the other end of the line, his panic giving way to desperation. "Boss, I swear, I don't know how—"
Trevor leaned back in his chair, his purple eyes glinting coldly in the faint glow of his remaining monitor. He listened to Victor's panicked rambling with a blank expression, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the edge of the desk.
Well, expecting anything from this worthless bastard was wrong anyway, Trevor thought, a bitter smirk creeping across his lips. He let Victor's voice fade into the background, already calculating his next move.
"Boss, I swear, I don't know how this happened—" Victor stammered, his voice cracking with desperation.
Trevor's smirk widened. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers brushing the edge of his keyboard as he spoke. "Enough," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "You've already ruined everything. Your faces are all over the forums, Victor. Everyone knows it was you. At this point…" He paused, letting his words hang ominously in the air. "…at least make yourself useful."
Victor hesitated. "What do you mean?"
"Execute Plan B," Trevor said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Victor froze on the other end of the line. "But—Boss! That means—"
"That means nothing!" Trevor's voice rose, a sudden edge of fury cutting through his usual composure. "You're already finished, you idiot. Everyone has seen your face, your name is already being whispered around campus. Do you think there's any way out for you now? At least salvage what's left of this disaster."
"I—I'll do it," Victor stammered, his resolve clearly wavering.
"Good," Trevor said, his tone mocking. "At least die with a shred of purpose, you useless bastard."
Without waiting for a reply, Trevor ended the call with a swipe of his fingers. He leaned back, his smirk growing wider as he reached toward a small concealed button beneath his desk. With a sharp press, a faint click echoed in the room.
The discarded smartwatch on his desk began to heat up, the metal surface glowing faintly. Within seconds, the device began to melt, a viscous, molten pool forming where it had once rested. The acrid smell of burning plastic filled the air.
Miles away, Victor's phone emitted a high-pitched whine. His hand tightened instinctively around it, his expression twisting in confusion—then panic—as the device suddenly grew hot. "Wha—AHHH!" he screamed, dropping the phone as the searing heat burned his hand. The device fell to the ground, melting into a blackened mass of slag as smoke curled up from the remains.
Victor clutched his hand, his breath ragged as he stared at the charred remains of the phone. The pain was sharp, but the realization of what had just happened was worse.
"Bastard," he hissed under his breath, his voice trembling with both fear and anger. "He knew…"
Back in his dark room, Trevor chuckled softly, the sound low and menacing. He watched the molten remains of his own device cool into a lifeless lump of metal and plastic.
"Let the pieces fall where they may," he murmured to himself, his gaze flickering to the photo on the wall—the one with the massive X slashed across Astron's face. His smirk faded into something colder, sharper.
"This is far from over."
*******
On the other side, Maya was sitting on the floor of her room.
"Haaah…"
Maya's heart skipped a beat as the silence in her room was broken, not by the world around her but by the voice in her head—dark and familiar.
"Do you not get it?" the voice whispered, curling through her thoughts like smoke, soft yet unyielding.
Maya froze, her breath catching in her throat. She clenched her fists, willing herself not to respond, but the voice pressed on, relentless.
"It was because I retracted my feelings," it said, the words slow and deliberate, laced with venom. "That was why you didn't find the strength to stand before that girl."
Maya's chest tightened, her gaze dropping to her trembling hands. The voice was lying—it had to be.
"You're weak," the voice continued, its tone dripping with malice. "Without me, you're nothing. You don't deserve him."
The words hit like a blade, sharp and unrelenting, carving through the fragile defenses she had managed to erect. Maya shook her head, her voice trembling as she whispered, "That's not true."
"Oh, but it is," the voice replied, almost mockingly. "Think about it. Who has been the one to push you, to give you the strength to fight, to endure?"
Maya's lips parted as if to argue, but no sound came.
"It wasn't you," the voice spat. "It was me. All this time, it was me who gave you the drive to stand tall, to be proactive, to face those who challenge you. You think you've done this alone?"
Her hands clenched tightly into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to suppress the rising tide of emotion.
"You need me," the voice whispered, quieter now but no less insistent. "You've always needed me. And the sooner you admit it, the sooner you'll stop faltering like you did today."
Maya's head dipped forward, her hair falling around her face like a curtain as her breathing quickened. She wanted to deny it, to scream that the voice was wrong, but the malice and certainty in its tone were like chains pulling her down.
"Face it," the voice hissed. "You couldn't even stand up to her without me. And do you know why?"
Maya gritted her teeth, her voice barely a whisper. "Why?"
"Because," the voice said, its tone softening into something almost tender, "without me, you're hollow. You're a shell pretending to be whole. You've built your strength on control, on discipline, but when it crumbles, when the chaos creeps in, you have nothing. You. Are. Nothing."
Tears pricked at the corners of Maya's eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"I won't let you take over," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "I've faced you before, and I'll do it again."
The voice laughed, a sound that sent chills down her spine. "Oh, Maya. Sweet, naive Maya. You think this is about control? No. This is about truth. And the truth is, you're only strong because of me. You're only bold, only capable, because of me."
Maya pressed her hands to her temples, her voice rising as she shouted, "Stop!"
But the voice ignored her plea, its tone dropping into something almost soothing, yet laced with cruelty.
"You can fight me all you want," it murmured. "But eventually, you'll see. You'll come to me. Because without me… you'll lose everything. Him included."
It was confusing.
Chapter 781 - Confontration, but girls (5)
"You can fight me all you want. But eventually, you'll see. You'll come to me. Because without me… you'll lose everything. Him included."
Maya's trembling fingers slowly loosened their grip on the edge of the bed as her breathing steadied. The suffocating silence in the room gave way to the quiet hum of her thoughts. Her mind replayed the voice's words, each one sharp and cruel, but they weren't entirely baseless.
The voice wasn't wrong—it wasn't entirely right either—but it had struck at truths she hadn't wanted to confront. The realization gnawed at her, forcing her to reflect on everything that had brought her here, to this moment.
Her confrontation with Irina.
Her faltering resolve.
Her failure to stand firm.
And then, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, a memory surfaced—calm and steady, like a ripple in still water.
"Your vampiric part is also a part of yourself. It is not a weakness necessarily."
The words were Astron's, spoken with his characteristic composure, as if they were the simplest truth in the world.
Maya's breath hitched as the memory settled over her, soothing the raw edges of her mind. She could almost hear his voice, feel the weight of his words grounding her.
'I see,' she thought, her lips parting slightly.
Her gaze drifted to her hands, the faint crescent-shaped marks on her palms from her clenched fists serving as a stark reminder of her struggles. But now, those marks felt less like symbols of failure and more like proof of something greater—her resilience.
Her vampiric side, the part of her she had fought so hard to suppress, wasn't just an adversary. It wasn't just a threat. It was her.
The chaos, the hunger, the raw instincts—it wasn't weakness. It was strength, untamed and misunderstood.
'We're not opposites,' Maya realized, her heart steadying. 'We're two sides of the same coin. My normal self, my discipline, my control—they're not enough alone. But neither is the chaos of my other side.'
The voice within her, once venomous and mocking, had fallen silent, as if waiting for her to understand what it had been saying all along.
"What do I need to do?" Maya asked softly, her voice trembling but resolute.
She didn't expect an answer, but in the stillness of her room, clarity began to take shape.
To deny her other self was to deny her own strength. To suppress it was to cripple herself.
Acceptance.
That was the answer.
Maya closed her eyes, her breath steadying as she whispered, "I accept you. All of you."
A low, almost amused chuckle resonated in her mind, but it wasn't mocking this time. It carried a strange warmth, a sense of approval.
"Ho?" the voice murmured, softer now, almost playful. "So, you've finally figured it out."
Maya opened her eyes, her gaze steady and sharp, as if the weight of her realization had already begun to shift something deep within her.
"You're me," she said aloud, her voice firm. "Not a weakness. Not an enemy. You're me, and I won't run from you anymore."
"Heh...Interesting…." The voice hummed, pleased.
"But I do have my own conditions."
********
"Interesting."
Watching the video that had now become a hot topic on the entire school forum, a girl with silver hair cascading down to her waist spoke. Her voice was soft, yet carried an edge of curiosity. The silver strands shimmered faintly in the dim light of her room as she leaned closer to the screen. The faint glow from her monitor illuminated her sharp, pale features and the icy blue eyes that studied the video with quiet intensity.
On the screen, the video looped: a dimly lit room, four sophomores advancing on a lone figure. The young man with purple eyes and black hair stood at the center, silent, unflinching, as Victor Langley and his lackeys surrounded him.
The first blow landed—a sickening crunch that echoed faintly through the recording. Blood splattered, painting the metallic floor and walls. The girl's expression didn't falter. Her eyes flickered between the aggressors' actions and the still, resolute demeanor of the beaten.
"How peculiar," she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing her chin. The young man—Astron, she recognized—wasn't cowering. He wasn't pleading. Despite the viciousness of the attack, there was no sign of fear in his eyes. Only a quiet, unshakable resolve.
'Most people would at least try to defend themselves in such a situation. Fight back, run, or even beg. But not him. Why?'
Her thoughts lingered on the details of his demeanor, replaying the moment his cold, unwavering gaze met the camera's lens. She rewound the video to watch it again, her pale features reflecting an unspoken intrigue.
"Astron Natusalune," she mumbled the name, tasting each syllable.
It was a name she had encountered more than once, and every time, it seemed to pull her interest further. First, Irina and her changes. Then, there was the letter from her mother, containing a cryptic warning that had piqued her curiosity.
And now this.
'I can't see them.'
That thought returned, sharper now. Her trait, which always allowed her to see the parameters of others—their strength, their weaknesses, the layers of their being—showed her nothing when it came to Astron. It was as if he was cloaked in an unbreakable barrier, impervious to her ability.
'It's not a coincidence. It can't be. No one can simply evade my trait without a reason. A guy like that wouldn't just let himself get beaten for no purpose either.'
Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk as she stared at the frozen frame of the video, his bloodied face still calm, his gaze like steel.
'He's hiding something.'
People had secrets. That was how the world worked.
Seraphina leaned back in her chair, her icy blue eyes narrowing as her thoughts coalesced into a plan. Her fingers brushed her chin thoughtfully, then tapped against the desk again, the rhythm betraying a sliver of impatience.
'And every secret is also a weakness.'
Her family's expectations weighed heavily on her, sharper now that she had been pushed to rank three. She could almost hear their voices—disappointed, disapproving. Falling behind Irina, the girl who had once seemed unremarkable, was unacceptable.
'No. Irina didn't just surpass me on her own. There's more to this.'
The shift in Irina's strength had been sudden and baffling. Seraphina had tried to piece it together, and every thread led her back to him.
'Astron Natusalune. He's the reason. Whatever it is he's hiding… that's what gave her the edge.'
Her gaze drifted to the frozen image on her monitor. His bloodied face, calm and unyielding, seemed to taunt her. The thought that Irina had somehow gained something—power, knowledge, an advantage—through her connection to him only fueled her determination.
'I need to get him.'
The conclusion was simple, but the execution would be anything but. Astron was a fortress of mysteries, his very existence seemingly shielded from prying eyes. But Seraphina thrived on challenges, especially when her position—and her pride—were at stake.
RING!
The chime of her smartwatch interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at the notification with a raised brow, her fingers swiping to bring up the message.
Her breath hitched ever so slightly as the image loaded—a photo sent by one of her personnel.
Two figures, captured in a candid, almost intimate moment.
One, a red-haired girl with a sharp yet delicate profile, unmistakably Irina.
The other, a black-haired young man with piercing purple eyes.
Astron Natusalune.
Seraphina's lips curled into a slow, calculating smile. She leaned forward, the faint glow of her monitor highlighting the glint of triumph in her eyes.
"Ho? This can definitely be used," she murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction.
Her finger tapped the screen, enlarging the image to study it further. The composition was perfect—Irina leaning slightly toward Astron, her expression softer than usual, her posture unusually relaxed. Astron, though as stoic as ever, appeared almost protective, the subtle angle of his stance suggesting a closeness Seraphina found deeply intriguing.
'I wonder what your mother will think of this, Irina.'
The Emberheart matriarch was notoriously strict, valuing status, discipline, and above all, the preservation of her family's image. Irina, who had always been under her mother's sharp eye, had just handed Seraphina the perfect weapon—a hint of vulnerability.
'So this is why you've changed. This is what's behind your newfound strength.'
Seraphina's fingers brushed her chin as she stared at the photo, her mind racing with possibilities.
'Astron Natusalune. Can you afford to let this picture spread? Can you afford to let Irina's carefully crafted image be tarnished?'
She let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in her chair, her silver hair cascading like a curtain over her shoulders. The game had just gotten far more interesting.
'With this, I can force your hand. Whether it's Irina's downfall or your secrets, Astron, one of you will have to break.'
Her icy blue eyes sparkled with a dangerous light as she typed a quick message to her informant:
[SeraSylveris]: Good work. Ensure no one else gets their hands on this. Keep watching them. Report anything unusual.
After sending the message, she glanced at the frozen video on her monitor once more.
"Astron Natusalune," she whispered, savoring the sound of his name. "Let's see what you are going to do now."
It was a wicked smile.
Chapter 782 - Why should I
Outside the infirmary, the evening air was crisp, carrying a faint chill that made Irina's fiery hair seem even more vibrant under the fading light. She walked alongside Astron with a spring in her step, her hands clasped behind her back as she hummed softly to herself. Her amber eyes sparkled with satisfaction, with her mood noticeably lighter.
'That went better than expected,' she thought, her lips curling into a triumphant smirk. 'She didn't say it outright, but I could see it in her eyes—she hated every second of that.'
Irina's steps were light, almost skipping as they moved down the cobblestone path. Her hum carried a cheery tune, and she occasionally glanced at Astron, whose expression remained unreadable, as usual.
"Good day, isn't it?" she said, breaking the silence with a playful lilt in her voice.
Astron raised an eyebrow, his sharp purple eyes flicking to her briefly. "You seem… unusually cheerful."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Irina replied, her tone breezy. She spun slightly on her heel, facing him as she walked backward, her fiery hair bouncing with the motion.
'That vexing woman didn't stand a chance. Did you see her face when I put her in her place?'
She wanted to say it, but for some reason when she looked into Astron's eyes, she couldn't. His gaze was calm and collected, as always—a quiet steadiness that seemed immune to her energy. But something in the way his sharp purple eyes lingered felt… distant. Detached. It wasn't unusual for him to be unreadable, but this time, Irina felt a strange pang in her chest.
'This guy… he's thinking about someone else.'
The thought came unbidden, sharp and clear, and she couldn't shake it. She had no proof, no solid reason to believe it, but the feeling settled in her gut like a heavy stone. Her mind flashed back to the infirmary, to the way Senior Maya had looked at him—to the faint tension in his posture when she'd arrived.
'Is he thinking about that Senior? When I'm right here?'
Her fiery hair swayed slightly as she stopped in her tracks, her hands clenching behind her back. She wasn't even angry, not exactly. Annoyed, yes. A little frustrated? Absolutely. But guilty? Not even close.
'Why should I feel guilty? So what if I'm coveting the person I like? Is there a problem with that?'
The thought only fueled her irritation. She turned abruptly, stepping forward until she was directly in front of Astron, cutting off his path. Her amber eyes burned as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her expression a mix of defiance and something sharper.
"This guy…" she muttered under her breath, her voice low but laced with annoyance.
Astron stopped, his calm purple eyes meeting hers with faint curiosity. "What is it?" he asked evenly, his tone as steady as ever.
Irina didn't answer immediately. Her gaze bore into his, searching for something—anything—that might betray his thoughts. But his expression remained unreadable, a perfectly composed mask. It only made her frustration simmer more.
'He's not even going to deny it, is he? He probably doesn't think there's anything to deny.'
She crossed her arms, her fiery hair catching the dim light as she squared her shoulders. "You've got some nerve," she said finally, her tone sharper than usual.
Astron blinked, the faintest hint of confusion flickering in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
Irina huffed, stepping even closer, her voice dropping slightly as if to shield their conversation from the evening air. "I'm talking about you. You're standing here with me, but you're somewhere else entirely. Who are you thinking about?"
Astron tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but edged with a subtle wariness. "That's quite the accusation," he said, his tone measured.
"Oh, don't play coy with me," Irina shot back, her amber eyes narrowing. "I can see it in your eyes. You're thinking about someone else. Don't even try to deny it."
Astron sighed softly, his gaze steady but unreadable. "You're imagining things," he said calmly, though the faintest trace of tension flickered at the edge of his voice.
At least, Irina felt like it.
Irina's lips curled into a faint smirk, though her annoyance was still palpable. "Imagining?
She harrumphed, her fiery hair swaying as she turned her head sharply, a glare still simmering in her amber eyes. "Am I also imagining that your face looks like I went a little bit overboard? Or," she added, her voice rising slightly, "am I imagining that you look like you're thinking what I did was wrong? Should I have just stood there and accepted what she was doing?"
Before Astron could respond, she stepped forward and jabbed her finger into his chest, her voice dropping to a pointed whisper. "What do you take me for?"
Her frustration radiated off her in waves, the intensity of her emotions almost tangible. But as her fiery gaze bore into him, Astron remained calm, his sharp purple eyes steady as he studied her.
"I am not taking you for anything," he said finally, his tone measured and even. "Neither have I said anything about what you should or shouldn't have done."
"Then—!" Irina started, her voice louder now, but Astron held up a hand, a subtle gesture that quieted her mid-sentence.
"But," he said, his calm tone carrying a faint edge of intrigue, "let's say things have developed into a more… interesting situation. And I felt like I had seen something I had never considered before."
Irina blinked, momentarily thrown off by his cryptic response. "What?" she said, her voice sharper than intended. "You've seen something you've never considered before? What does that even mean?"
Astron tilted his head slightly, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to her, calm and composed. "It would be hard to explain without context," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And if I were to give that context, it would be an invasion of privacy… and a breach of trust."
Irina stared at him, her annoyance shifting into something closer to confusion, her fiery energy momentarily dampened by his words. "Privacy? Breach of trust?" she echoed, her tone carrying a hint of disbelief. "You're seriously going to leave it at that?"
Astron's expression didn't change, his gaze unwavering. "Yes," he said simply, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument.
Irina's jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms, her fiery presence still unyielding even as her mind worked to process his cryptic statement. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean? Interesting situation? Breach of trust? Is he just trying to sound mysterious on purpose?'
For a moment, the two stood in tense silence, the cool evening air carrying the faint hum of distant conversations. Irina's frustration simmered, but as she looked at him—at his steady, unflinching gaze—she felt the faintest flicker of something else. Curiosity. Unease. Something she couldn't quite name.
The silence stretched between them, but inside Irina's head, a single word echoed relentlessly, hammering against her thoughts like a drumbeat: 'Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. Annoying!' Her fiery amber eyes narrowed as she stared at Astron, the calm composure in his gaze only fueling her growing irritation.
'The nerve of this guy…' she thought, clenching her fists at her sides. 'The reason for his unease is probably her. That Senior. The idea of him thinking about another girl—just the idea—is so annoying.'
Her frustration bubbled over, and before she could stop herself, she stepped forward, pointing a finger at him. "You… you need to compensate me."
Astron blinked, his calm purple eyes flicking to her finger and then back to her face, his expression barely shifting. "I need to do what?"
"Compensate me," Irina repeated, her voice firm, though her annoyance tinged her words with a sharper edge.
Astron tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Why?"
"Because you need to do it," she said, crossing her arms as if that settled the matter.
He regarded her for a moment, his gaze steady. "You need to give me a reason. Compensation without a reason is extortion."
Irina paused, tilting her head as though considering his words. Then she gave a small, deliberate shrug and smirked. "Hmm… you're right. You are being extorted right now."
Astron's lips parted slightly, but no words came. For a brief moment, he simply stared at her, the faintest flicker of disbelief flashing in his otherwise calm gaze. Then he let out a soft sigh, shaking his head slightly. "I see."
Irina leaned closer, her smirk widening as she sensed his resignation. "So? What's it going to be? I'm waiting for my compensation."
"And if I refuse?" Astron asked, his voice calm but edged with quiet challenge.
Her smirk turned playful, though the fire in her amber eyes burned brighter. "Then I'll make sure you regret it. You don't want to find out how creative I can get when I'm annoyed."
"..." Astron looked like he was ready for a challenge, but Irina was exactly waiting for that.
'Come on challenge me.'
She was waiting for a challenge.
Regardless of what happened after all, she would be the one getting whatever she wanted.
'You have already walked into the trap.'
Astron let out a faint hum, his gaze flicking away briefly as though weighing his options. Finally, he returned his focus to her, his sharp purple eyes meeting hers directly. "Fine," he said evenly, though the faintest trace of exasperation colored his tone. "What do you want as compensation?"
Irina's smirk softened slightly, and she tilted her head as if genuinely pondering the question. "Hmm… I haven't decided yet. But don't worry. I'll let you know when I do."
Astron raised an eyebrow. "So, you're demanding compensation without even knowing what you want?"
"Exactly," Irina replied cheerfully, her confidence unwavering. "That's how extortion works, doesn't it?"
"….."
Irina had won for the first time in a while this time.
Chapter 783 - Why should I (2)
The soft glow of Ethan's tablet illuminated the otherwise dark room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. His room was small but meticulously organized—training gear neatly stacked in one corner, books and notes spread out on the desk. The faint hum of the academy's automated systems filtered through the silence, but Ethan paid no attention to it.
His hazel eyes were fixed on the screen, unblinking. The video played for what felt like the hundredth time, but the weight in his chest hadn't lessened.
Astron was in the center of the screen, bloodied and beaten, surrounded by Victor Langley and his lackeys. Ethan's jaw clenched as he watched the first punch land, the sickening crack reverberating in his mind like an echo.
The young man with black hair and purple eyes didn't fight back. He didn't even flinch. He simply endured, his silence speaking volumes in a way no words ever could.
Astron was in the center of the screen, bloodied and beaten, surrounded by Victor Langley and his lackeys. Ethan's jaw clenched as he watched the first punch land, the sickening crack reverberating in his mind like an echo.
The young man with black hair and purple eyes didn't fight back. He didn't even flinch. He simply endured, his silence speaking volumes in a way no words ever could.
Ethan's grip on the tablet tightened, his knuckles turning white as. The sophomores' blows came hard and fast, the sound of fists and feet connecting with flesh making his stomach twist. Blood sprayed across the floor, splattering Astron's dark hair and pale face.
The video ended, looping back to the start. Ethan didn't move to stop it. He leaned forward instead, elbows resting on his knees as his free hand pressed against his mouth. His hazel eyes glinted in the dim light, his expression unreadable but filled with quiet tension.
"Why didn't you fight back?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and edged with frustration.
The comments beneath the video scrolled past, but he barely glanced at them.
"Victor's a piece of trash. Someone needs to stop him."
"Astron's tougher than anyone thought. Respect."
"This just proves how far he's willing to go. He didn't break."
Ethan paused the video mid-loop, freezing the frame on Astron's face. Blood trickled down his chin, his hair plastered to his forehead, but his purple eyes stared back at the camera with unyielding resolve. That look unsettled Ethan—not because it was weak, but because of what it concealed.
"Damn it, Astron," Ethan muttered, leaning back in his chair. His hand ran through his blond hair in frustration, his grip momentarily tugging at the strands. "What are you trying to prove?"
Was this the same guy that had fought with himself?
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his head resting against the wall as his thoughts churned. Astron. A name that had come to occupy a peculiar space in his mind. For all the time they'd been around each other, Ethan still couldn't figure him out. Astron was like a scarred wolf—proud, solitary, and fiercely guarded.
'Why do you do this to yourself?' Ethan thought, his eyes drifting back to the frozen image on the tablet screen. The bloodied, unyielding expression Astron wore felt haunting. It wasn't weakness; it wasn't submission. It was something else entirely, something Ethan couldn't quite place.
Astron's demeanor had always been different from most. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't cruel either. He was distant, cold, and blunt to a fault, yet there was something beneath that exterior—a quiet determination and a certain… brokenness.
'He's not a bad guy,' Ethan reminded himself. Despite Astron's aloofness, Ethan had seen enough to know that he wasn't malicious. He didn't meddle in other people's business, didn't seek trouble, and he trained with an intensity that few could match. 'But why is he always alone?'
The thought gnawed at Ethan. It wasn't just the loneliness that bothered him, though that was part of it. It was the fact that Astron accepted things—like the beating he'd endured in the video—as if he expected them, as if he believed he deserved them. That didn't sit right. Not with Ethan.
His jaw clenched as he stared at the tablet, anger bubbling under his calm exterior. 'No one deserves this. And yet he just stood there and took it.'
As the image of Astron's bloodied face filled his mind, a memory stirred—a fragment, faint and disjointed.
"I'm sorry."
The words echoed faintly, like a voice from another world. Ethan's brow furrowed as he grasped at the memory, trying to make sense of it.
"You are sorry for what?"
A figure stood before him, shadowed and indistinct. Blood dripped from their body, pooling at their feet. Ethan's grip tightened around the spear in his hand, its tip pointed toward the person. The weight of the scene pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.
The memory ended as abruptly as it had come, leaving Ethan with a lingering sense of unease. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. 'What was that?'
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his breath steady but his mind anything but calm. The fragment of memory lingered, its edges blurred but its weight undeniable. He hadn't recalled anything like that happening before—no such moment in his life, no scene that would explain it. And yet, it felt real. Too vivid, too heavy, to simply dismiss as a stray thought.
'What is this?' he wondered, rubbing his temples as if that might help dislodge more from the depths of his mind. He tried to piece it together, but the more he thought about it, the more elusive it became.
What he did remember, however, were the eyes. Empty, haunting purple eyes staring back at him. There was no anger in them, no defiance—just silence. Acceptance.
Ethan's hazel eyes flicked back to the tablet, frozen on the image of Astron's bloodied face. His stomach twisted as he realized why those eyes felt so familiar.
'They're the same.'
The same emptiness. The same hollowness that seemed to swallow everything around them. Astron had looked just like that in the video—like someone who wasn't fighting back, not because he couldn't, but because he didn't see the point.
The thought sent a chill down Ethan's spine. 'Why does this feel so familiar? Why does it bother me this much?'
He closed his eyes, the fragment of memory resurfacing unbidden. The blood pooled at the feet of the shadowed figure. The weight of the spear in his hand. The words, faint but clear:
"You are sorry for what?"
Ethan's chest tightened as he tried to make sense of it. He had never wielded his spear in a moment like that. Never stood before someone so broken. And yet… he could still feel it. The trembling in his hands. The ache in his heart.
RING!
The sudden chime of a notification jolted Ethan from his thoughts. The familiar sound felt almost intrusive, breaking the heavy silence of the room. He glanced at the tablet, the group chat lighting up with a new message.
It was from Julia.
A voice message.
Ethan hesitated for a second before pressing play. Julia's fiery tone blasted through the speakers, her words sharp and unrestrained.
"These sophomore fuckers! Who do they think they are?!"
Her voice practically shook with rage, and Ethan could almost picture her pacing furiously as she vented. Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at her language or even teased her about her lack of decorum, but this time, he didn't feel the need to say anything. He couldn't.
Because he agreed.
Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his jaw tightening as Julia's words echoed in his head. 'They're really going too far.'
He glanced back at the paused video of Astron, bloodied and beaten. The memory of those purple eyes—empty, resigned—burned in his mind. It wasn't just Astron. It was all of it. The power plays, the bullying, the unchecked arrogance of those who thought they were untouchable.
Another message pinged in.
[Lucas: I told you they've been acting like this for weeks. Someone needs to stop them.]
Ethan's fingers hovered over the keyboard, his thoughts racing. His friends were right. This wasn't just one incident. The sophomores had been throwing their weight around for a while now, and no one seemed willing to stand up to them.
Another ping.
[Lilia: Julia, calm down. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm.]
[Julia: I'll calm down when they get what's coming to them!]
[Carl: She's not wrong, though. They're out of control. Astron wasn't the first, and he won't be the last.]
They were right, right….
But what could they even do about this matter?
That was something worthy to think about.
*******
The following day, the atmosphere in the classroom was unusually tense. The students of HA25 sat quietly, the usual morning chatter subdued as if the air itself carried the weight of something unspoken. Ethan sat near the middle, his hazel eyes occasionally flicking toward Astron, who was, as usual, seated quietly in the corner, his expression unreadable.
The door opened with a sharp click, and Professor Eleanor stepped in. Her posture was rigid, her movements deliberate, and her cold, piercing gaze swept across the room. The students immediately straightened in their seats, the silence becoming absolute.
Eleanor carried her usual stack of papers and tablet, but there was a different energy about her today. She placed her belongings on the podium and stood there for a moment, letting the silence deepen before she finally spoke.
"Before we begin today's lecture," she said, her voice calm but steely, "there is something I must address."
Her sharp gray eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on Astron and then another student near the front—Taylor.
Eleanor's gaze lingered on them for a moment before she continued.
"Student Astron. Student Taylor," she said, her voice carrying an unusual softness, though it didn't lose its firmness. "As a representative of Arcadia Hunter Academy, I owe you both an apology."
Chapter 784 - Why should I (3)
"Student Astron. Student Taylor. As a representative of Arcadia Hunter Academy, I owe you both an apology."
The room seemed to collectively inhale, the weight of her words settling over the students like a heavy blanket. No one dared to move or speak, their eyes fixed on Eleanor.
"The academy's negligence," she continued, her tone unwavering, "has allowed certain individuals to act beyond the boundaries of discipline and respect. These actions, which you have both endured, are not reflective of the values this institution claims to uphold."
Eleanor straightened, her gaze still fixed on Astron and Taylor. "What happened to you should not have been allowed to happen. And for that, I am sorry."
The silence in the room grew heavier, the tension palpable. Some students exchanged uneasy glances, while others remained frozen, unsure of how to react. Even Julia, usually quick with a quip or comment, sat quietly, her blue eyes focused intently on Eleanor.
Astron, for his part, didn't move. His expression remained as calm and unreadable as ever, though his purple eyes seemed rather cold.
And for the students who had watched the video, a wave of unease rippled through them. They understood, at least partially, what Astron must have been feeling. The beating he endured had been brutal—far beyond anything that could be dismissed as mere hazing or a fight between students.
The image of Astron bloodied and battered but never retaliating, remained vivid in their minds. It wasn't just the physical damage that struck them; it was the cold, unyielding look in his eyes, as if he had long resigned himself to such treatment.
Taylor, seated at the front, shifted slightly in her chair, her jaw tightened. She was also in such a situation, but those gazes felt burdensome.
Eleanor let the silence linger for a moment longer before continuing. "Let me be clear," she said, her tone sharpening slightly. "The academy does not tolerate such behavior, and measures are already being taken to ensure it does not happen again. Those responsible will face the appropriate consequences."
The room remained silent, the weight of her words settling over the students like a storm cloud. Some looked uncomfortable, while others seemed relieved that the issue was being addressed so openly.
Eleanor took a step back, folding her hands in front of her. "Now, let us proceed with today's lesson. Open your tablets to page 42. We will begin with an analysis of advanced team dynamics."
As the students began to shuffle in their seats, reaching for their tablets, the tension slowly began to dissipate. But the impact of Eleanor's words lingered, especially for Ethan, who glanced at Astron once more.
'What are you really thinking Astron.'
Ethan was really curious.
******
RING!
The bell rang sharply, signaling the end of Eleanor's class. The students moved hesitantly, the atmosphere still thick with the weight of her earlier apology. Many shot uncertain glances at Astron, their curiosity simmering beneath the surface, though few dared to approach him outright.
As Astron stood and began packing his things, a small group of students finally mustered the courage to gather around him. Their movements were tentative, their expressions a mix of concern and nervousness.
"Uh, Astron…" one of them started, a girl with a hesitant smile. "I just… we wanted to ask… what happened? Was it… were you having issues with those seniors?"
Astron's hands paused briefly as he zipped his bag, his purple eyes flickering up to meet the girl's. His expression was cold, his gaze sharp enough to make her falter mid-sentence. He straightened slowly, his posture calm but radiating an unmistakable edge of annoyance.
"This topic is uncomfortable," he said, his voice measured but carrying a distinct chill. "I would rather not talk about it."
The firmness in his tone sent a clear message. The students surrounding him stiffened, their curiosity instantly dampened by the cold anger in his words. Astron's usually composed demeanor now seemed darker, and the slight crease in his brow only added to the unease.
One of the boys in the group scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, man. We didn't mean to—"
Astron's gaze flicked to him, silencing him mid-apology. The students exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they had struck a nerve.
The girl from before forced a strained smile. "We just… we wanted to say that we're glad you're okay now. That's all."
"Yeah! And if you ever need anything, we're here. Just, you know, take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will keep that in mind."
The group took this reply as their cue to leave, backing away with murmured well-wishes and embarrassed smiles.
As the last of them dispersed, Sylvie, who had been watching the scene unfold from a distance, approached quietly. Her steps were careful, her gaze steady as she stopped a few paces away from Astron.
"You okay?"
"Did you not confirm that yesterday?"
Sylvie froze for a moment at Astron's response, her breath catching slightly. 'Right… Of course he would know.' She thought back to the infirmary and how easily Astron had read her then, piecing together things she hadn't intended to reveal. It was no surprise he could do it again now.
But she quickly composed herself, forcing a small smile as she looked at him. "I did," she said softly. "But I just wanted to make sure."
"Thanks?" Astron replied, though his tone made it sound more like a question than genuine gratitude.
Sylvie frowned slightly, brushing off the faint sting of his nonchalance. "Well… you don't need to be thankful," she said quickly, though the words felt a little rushed.
"Really?" Astron asked, his sharp purple eyes flicking to hers. "Okay then."
The casualness of his response caught Sylvie off guard, and she felt a sudden pang of regret at her own words. 'Wait… no… that's not what I meant!' Her mind raced, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.
"No, no, you should be thankful for things like this," she said, her tone firm but flustered.
Astron raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Thankful or not?"
"...Urghk—!" Sylvie let out a strangled noise, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as she squirmed slightly in frustration. Her cheeks flushed, and she struggled to find a proper response.
Before she could gather her thoughts, a familiar voice cut through the moment. "Hey, stop teasing her," Jasmine said, appearing from the side with a playful grin. She crossed her arms and gave Astron a mock glare.
"Teasing?" Astron repeated, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at Jasmine. His calm expression didn't change, but there was a faint glint of curiosity in his eyes.
Jasmine sighed, her grin widening slightly. "Don't tell me… You're really clueless."
"Am I clueless?" Astron asked, his tone even, as though genuinely considering the possibility.
Jasmine threw her hands in the air in exaggerated exasperation. "Why is it so hard to talk with you?"
Sylvie, who had been caught in her own spiral of embarrassment, suddenly felt the tension ease at Jasmine's antics. She let out a small laugh despite herself, her shoulders relaxing as the weight of the moment lifted slightly. "He's always like this," she said, shaking her head.
"Yeah, well, someone needs to call him out for it," Jasmine retorted, pointing a playful finger at Astron. "Seriously, learn how to read the room, Mr. Purple Eyes."
Astron's lips twitched slightly—almost, but not quite, a smile. "Noted," he said simply, turning back to his bag as if the conversation hadn't happened.
Jasmine turned to Sylvie with a dramatic sigh, throwing her arms around her in an exaggerated hug. "Sylvie, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice laden with mock pity. "You really have it hard, dealing with this guy. He's absolutely hopeless."
Sylvie blinked, startled by the sudden hug, but she quickly let out a soft laugh, patting Jasmine's back lightly. "It's fine," she said, her voice gentle but tinged with amusement. "I already knew he was like this from the start, so I can't exactly complain, can I?"
Jasmine pulled back, studying Sylvie with a grin. "You're way too patient," she teased. "If it were me, I'd probably have strangled him by now."
Sylvie laughed again, the warmth of Jasmine's teasing momentarily easing the tension in her chest. But even as she smiled, a faint pang of something deeper stirred within her—a flicker of resentment she couldn't quite suppress.
'Why does he have to make things so… difficult?'
Well, that was a question that was hard to answer.
*******
Astron walked through the corridors, the quiet hum of distant conversations echoing faintly. His steps were steady, purposeful, though his mind was not entirely at ease. The weight of Eleanor's earlier apology and the lingering stares of his classmates clung to him like a shadow.
As he turned a corner, a subtle shift in the air caught his attention. His senses sharpened instinctively, and he slowed his pace, his ears straining for the faint sound of footsteps trailing behind him. The steps were light, almost imperceptible, but they were there.
He stopped abruptly and turned, his sharp purple eyes locking onto the figure behind him.
A young girl with long silver hair stood a few paces away, her posture relaxed but her presence commanding. Her silver eyes gleamed with an almost playful intensity, and her lips curled into a knowing smile.
"We need to talk."