The bell echoed through the academy corridors, and Ash left Class B with firm, measured steps. His expression remained calm, distant as ever. However, behind his serene posture, his red eyes glowed faintly beneath his bangs, scanning every detail of the hallway. He had no plans to cause trouble, but they were already waiting for him.
Just beyond the stairs, the four lackeys of Rai, the fifth student in Class A, stood shoulder to shoulder .
"Well, look who's strutting like a peacock," one of them scoffed. "I thought Class B should clean up their own mess,"
Ash paused. His gaze swept over them, his expression unchanging.
"You have a lot of nerve showing up after being the clan's disappointment for so long," said another. "You think a more elegant look and better posture will change anything?"
Ash remained silent. This angered them even more.
"Say something, coward," snapped the third, grabbing Ash's shoulder.
The moment the hand made contact, the hallway went silent.
Ash's head turned slowly. His hair moved just enough to reveal both eyes, and there it was. The Sharingan, deep and red, swirling with chilling grace. In that instant, the third lackey staggered back as if a cold blade had scraped his spine.
"I'm not in your way," Ash said, his voice low and precise. "But if you insist... I'll be quick."
They all advanced on him at once, fists clenched, feet heavy. But Ash moved like water in a storm. He She dodged a hook, ducked to avoid an elbow, and with a fluid twist, slammed her palm into the chest of one of the attackers, knocking the wind out of him.
The next took a kick to the jaw before hitting the lockers. A knee shattered another's nose in a crimson explosion, and before the room could react, Ash wrenched her arm back, ready to break the joint.
"Enough!"
A powerful aura crashed over her like a crashing wave. The hallway shook. Ash froze, and everyone turned to the source.
A tall woman with gray hair tied in a tight braid stood at the end of the hallway. She sported the S-Class Instructor badge on her sleeve. Her cold eyes narrowed on Ash.
"A schoolyard fight... and you were about to break a student's arm." Her voice was stern, but her gaze wasn't on the victim, but on Ash's eyes.
'That presence. That intent. The bloodlust in her. his movements. She'd seen fighters with monstrous potential before, but his was different. His killing intent was refined, controlled, and pure.'
Ash slowly released his arm and let it fall."They surrounded me," he said simply.
She stepped closer, still pressing. "And you handled it like a predator. Tell me your name."
"Ash of Aragon."
His eyes narrowed slightly. She'd heard the name before: 'Aragon family disappointment. But now...'
"Interesting," she muttered, turning to the students groaning on the floor. "Go to the infirmary. If you can't win a four-on-one, you don't deserve to be barking in the hallways."
She walked away without another word, but her mind lingered on that red gaze . Whatever it was, she wanted to see more of it.
Minutes later, Ash leaned against the courtyard window as Lina approached hesitantly.
He turned to her, sensing her before she spoke.
"You haven't changed your walk," he said. "Still treading lightly."
She gave a slight smile. "I didn't expect you to notice."
"I always did. I just didn't talk much."
She looked down. "Listen, about before. I didn't mean to ignore you back then. I just…"
"You've gotten stronger," Ash interrupted gently. "And I haven't. I understand."
She blinked. "Don't you resent me?"
He shook his head. "No. Those who want to ascend can't afford to carry those who refuse to move. You did well to focus on yourself."
Lina studied him, noticing the clarity in his gaze. 'The old Ash wouldn't have said something like that. This Ash... was different. And dangerous.'
"I hope we can still talk someday," she said softly.
"If you mean it, I don't mind," Ash replied.
That night, Ash entered a training facility beneath the academy: the Reflex Simulator Chamber. The room was filled with mirrors, pressure sensors, and dozens of motion-detecting drones.
He took off his coat and stepped into the circle. With a mental command, the simulation began.
Lasers fired from random angles. Drones advanced with foam blades. The ground shook beneath his feet.
Ash's Sharingan spun, and the world slowed.
He saw every movement, every twitch of a thread, every hum of a drone's core. He moved with near-perfect precision, dodging, weaving, analyzing. For an instant, he wasn't just surviving the simulation, he was mastering it.
Copy. Predict. React.
These were the Sharingan's greatest gifts. And now, he was testing its limits.
A blade passed below. He jumped back. A laser shot overhead. He doubled over.
His breathing remained calm. His heartbeat was steady.
After twenty minutes,the system beeped: Simulation complete. Success rate: 98% .
It went silent
.
"I'm getting close," he whispered.
Ash's eyes glowed like embers.