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Velmora Central Academy was never quiet.
Even in the early hours of the morning, its towering marble halls vibrated with life. A thousand students, a thousand abilities, a thousand stories—some whispered, some shouted, some written in blood. It was a world of brilliance and violence, where power shaped status, and silence made you a target.
Kenneth Prince walked through the East Wing corridor alone.
Though his stride was calm, there was a presence about him that caused others to make space—an aura both graceful and menacing. Students glanced at him from corners, whispered behind their hands, some in awe, some in fear. His uniform, neat and pristine, clung to a body honed through daily combat training. His skin glowed warm gold in the filtered sunlight. Even in his silence, there was a loudness to him, like a blade sheathed but not hidden.
Beautiful... yet terrifying.
> "He doesn't even try, and he still looks like a sculpture," one girl whispered.
> "I heard he beat Joren Marex without using any powers," another said. "Like, raw speed and martial skill. Who the hell is he?"
Kenneth heard it all. He always did. But his eyes remained forward.
Inside, something darker whispered.
They see me… but they don't know me. That's good. That's safe.
---
Later in the day, he sat in Ability Theory Class beside Zarek and Kael.
Professor Ellor paced before them, his cloak swirling with each step. The lesson today: Resonance Amplification—the art of syncing two or more abilities to create exponential results. The theory was complex, but Kenneth paid attention. It wasn't the lecture that intrigued him. It was how Zarek's fingers tapped in rhythm on the table, how Kael had already written a code simulation of dual-ability resonance on his wristband.
These two had become his world.
Zarek, quiet but intense, who never asked too many questions but always showed up when it mattered.
Kael, brilliant, talkative, with eyes that never missed a flicker in the system. He could make drones out of scrap and once hacked the lunch hall to change everyone's food to spicy meatballs.
> "Kenneth," Kael whispered, eyes flicking up, "after class, you coming to spar?"
> "Not sure."
> "Come on, man. We need someone to kick Zarek's smug face in."
Zarek didn't even look up. "You couldn't touch me with a mech suit."
Kenneth smirked faintly. "You two are exhausting."
---
By lunch, the whispers had grown louder.
Joren Marex hadn't returned to class since his humiliating defeat, and rumors spread that his elite group of upperclassmen—The Copper Fangs—were planning retaliation. The academy had rules. But like any place built on power, rules bent to those who had enough of it.
And Kenneth was drawing too much attention.
In the crowded dining hall, he sat quietly with his tray—steamed vegetables and meat strips—ignoring the stares. A few students glanced at the mark on his neck: a faint crescent scar he often kept hidden. Malrik said it was from the night of his first transformation. Kenneth remembered nothing of it—only fire and howls and the look of terror on his own reflection.
Across the hall, Zarek was already handling two would-be challengers in a training discussion. Calm voice, firm posture.
Kael sat beside Kenneth, chewing through noodles while displaying a floating screen of combat matches from past school tournaments.
> "Look," Kael whispered, pointing to a muscular older boy with wind slicing from his fists on the screen. "That's Aeron Vale. Number One."
Kenneth glanced briefly.
Aeron moved like the wind—literally. His foresight let him dodge even invisible attacks, and he combined strength and speed with terrifying precision.
> "He's the final boss," Kael muttered. "If the tournament happens again this year, that's who we'll all have to go through."
Kenneth nodded but said nothing. His thoughts were elsewhere.
---
That evening, he met with Malrik in the outskirts of the city, where forest met steel and the fog rolled heavy.
Malrik—now known to locals as "Old Lucius"—wore a battered hunter's coat and a hat that covered his sharp eyes. But Kenneth could still see the ageless strength beneath the disguise. The man had been many things: royal advisor, monster slayer and now , a father figure.
Now, he was a ghost hiding in human territory.
> "You look tense," Malrik said, placing a steaming mug of herbal broth in front of Kenneth.
> "They're watching me."
> "They should. You're beautiful and dangerous. That's rare. Fear follows beauty like vultures follow blood."
Kenneth sipped slowly. "Someone's going to push me too far."
Malrik crouched in front of the fire, his face lit orange.
> "Then you show them the wolf and the vampire only if you must. Until then… let them wonder."
Kenneth's jaw clenched. "I keep seeing fire. The phoenix again. It's like it's calling to me."
Malrik's gaze darkened. "The phoenix is not just a beast, Kenneth, If anything it's the werewolf in you that desires it as werewolves consumes powerful beasts to increase their strength—it can awaken what you're not ready for. Are you certain?"
> "I don't want to keep hiding who I am," Kenneth muttered. "But I can't become it either."
> "Then learn to control it first," Malrik said. "We'll hunt it. But only when you're ready."
Kenneth nodded.
He didn't say it out loud, but he already knew: ready or not, something inside him was burning.
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