Eyes forward. Body relaxed. Don't give them a reason.
That was the mantra running through my head as I stepped onto the combat mat with Aria Vale at my side.
The training gym was a wide arena, caged in high-tech safety barriers and watched by half a dozen cameras. Digital name tags floated above us in light blue holographic letters.
Eli Cain — Rank: F | Awakening: None
Aria Vale — Rank: S | Awakening: Ice Manipulation
Yeah. This would go well.
Across from us stood our opponents: Jason Korr, a hot-headed fire-type B-rank, and Mira Lune, a wind-user with more ego than actual talent.
I rolled my neck and gave Aria a sideways glance. She stood like a blade, arms crossed, face unreadable, her silver hair tied in a high tail that didn't move even with the gym's air vents.
"Got any plans?" I asked her.
Her gaze flicked toward me.
"I don't need one. Just don't get in my way."
Charming.
The instructor raised a hand.
"Match Three: Begin!"
The moment the word dropped, Jason lunged forward like a man shot from a cannon.
Flames burst from his fists.
"Come on, Cain! Let's see what a no-talent loser can do!"
I sighed and stepped back.
Aria didn't move.
Jason was fast. Sloppy, but fast.
Too bad speed means nothing when you telegraph your every move.
He threw a flaming haymaker toward my head.
I ducked. Sidestepped.
And lightly tapped his extended arm with a finger.
Just enough to send a shock of pain into his elbow joint.
He stumbled.
Aria took that exact moment to lift a hand. The temperature in the room dropped five degrees.
Crack!
A wall of ice exploded from the ground, slamming into Jason's chest and sending him flying backward into the barrier wall.
Mira cursed and leapt forward, slicing the air with a razor-thin blade of wind.
Amateur.
She was aiming for Aria — probably thought I was the easier target.
Wrong answer.
I stepped in between them.
She blinked.
Too slow.
My right foot slid forward. My left twisted. I caught her wrist mid-swing, stepped under her balance, and with a twist of her shoulder—
Thud.
She hit the mat like a sack of flour.
Wind blade fizzled.
Silence stretched for three beats before the room erupted in a mix of gasps and scattered applause.
"What the hell was that?" someone muttered.
"No awakening, my ass…"
I stepped back, letting Mira groan on the floor, and turned to Aria.
She was staring at me.
Not angry.
Not confused.
Just… focused.
"Where'd you learn that throw?" she asked.
"Watched a video once," I said.
She didn't laugh.
Didn't believe me either.
After class, the hallway buzzed with voices. I ignored them all.
"Did you see what Cain did?"
"He dropped Mira like nothing!"
"Think he's faking his rank?"
"Maybe he's hiding a forbidden skill—"
I turned a corner and leaned against the cold metal lockers, trying to push the noise out.
It was starting again.
The attention. The whispers.
The kind of pressure that made you visible.
And visible people die fast.
I needed to lay low — again. Make them forget me before anyone important started sniffing around.
But of course, Aria Vale showed up.
She leaned against the locker next to mine, arms crossed.
"What are you hiding?"
I met her eyes. Cold and sharp, like the steel edge of a blade still dripping frost.
"Nothing."
"You disarmed a wind-user mid-blade in under two seconds. That's elite-level reflex."
"Lucky angle."
"You threw her without using any ability."
"Just good posture."
"Cain." Her voice dropped. "I don't like games."
"Then you'll hate me."
She stared a moment longer. Then pushed off the locker.
"I'm watching you."
I gave a faint smile. "You and half the school, apparently."
She hesitated — just a blink — then walked off down the hallway like she owned it.
I watched her go.
The world was dangerous. But that girl? She was on a different kind of list.
Not as a threat.
As a complication.
And complications get people killed.
Back in the dorm, I sat on the floor of my room, pulling the faded curtains shut.
I needed answers. I needed to know if this body had any hidden potential, bloodline gifts, locked powers — anything that explained why I was here.
Or how I was still alive.
I focused inward, slowing my breathing.
In my old life, I'd trained to enter a meditative state so deep I could feel the beat of my heart in my fingertips.
Now, I tried to find that same rhythm here.
What I found instead… was something foreign.
A pulse.
Not in my chest — in the air.
A pressure. Subtle. Ancient.
Something in this body was sealed.
I pushed deeper. The pressure resisted.
Then—
Click.
Pain lanced through my skull. Images. Flames. Steel. Eyes in the dark.
I snapped out of it with a gasp, blood dripping from my nose.
That… wasn't from this world.
Later that night, I sat on the roof of the dorm building, legs dangling over the edge, watching the sky.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
I knew that kind of silence.
The wrong kind.
I turned just as a shadow stepped from behind the water tower.
Black combat gear. Night-vision visor. Silencer on the pistol. One hand raised.
"I was told you'd be more alert," the figure said.
"You were told wrong," I replied, standing up.
"Orders are to confirm identity. If it's you, eliminate."
I squinted at the figure.
"You from Eclipse?"
The man stiffened.
"How do you know that name?"
"I created that name."
Then I moved.
He fired — too slow.
I was already inside his reach. I grabbed his wrist, twisted the gun from his hand, slammed a knee into his ribs, and elbowed him in the neck.
He crumpled to the rooftop.
I crouched beside him, took the visor off.
"Who sent you?"
He gurgled. "Ghost… isn't… supposed to…"
I snapped his neck.
No point in letting him report back.
But this confirmed one thing:
They knew I was here.
And if they knew… more would come.
The next morning, I walked into class with a bruise on my knuckles and a new thought in my head.
Stay invisible? That ship's already sunk.
Now the goal wasn't to hide.
It was to control the narrative.
Because if the world's deadliest assassin had truly returned, this time he'd write the story his way.
One clean kill at a time.