The three of them—Kaito, Alps, and Maxim—stepped out of the training room. The morning air at Marry Academy was slightly chilly, carrying with it the metallic tang of buildings filled with military equipment.
Maxim crunched on a bag of chips pulled from his jacket as he walked. "I swear, training you just now made me hungry. Good thing I always carry extra."
Alps turned his head, his face stiff. "You can stay that relaxed… even though I almost shot my own hand earlier?"
"That's exactly why you need a snack," Maxim replied, shoving the chip bag toward him. "Helps ease the tension."
Kaito simply exhaled and made his way toward a building marked Service Center. From outside, it buzzed with machine hums, cables hanging across its walls.
Inside, a student in a navy jacket crouched on the floor, surrounded by bolts, wires, and circuit boards. His hands moved deftly, clearly accustomed to tinkering with small devices.
"Hey, careful with the red wire. That one will shock you," the student said without looking up, as if he already knew someone had entered.
Kaito approached. "Who are you?"
The student stood, dusting his cargo pants covered in grime. "Name's Gaguk. Grade 11. If a weapon jams, gear breaks down, or even someone's dorm fan dies, I'm usually the one they call."
"What's your weapon?" asked Kaito.
"FAMAS," Gaguk replied tersely, gesturing toward the rifle leaning against the workbench, though his hands stayed busy with a small screwdriver.
They began a casual conversation. Gaguk's answers were brief, but Kaito sensed a sharp observer behind them.
Just as Gaguk was showing off one of his custom-made tools, an exposed wire brushed against his skin. Zzzt!
"Argh!" He jerked back, grimacing.
Kaito immediately stepped forward. "Wait—you actually felt that shock?"
Gaguk held his hand, still tingling. "Of course I did. That's normal. Every student here feels pain if they get shocked."
Alps nodded innocently. "Yeah, me too. Once I even collapsed after touching a live wire in the infirmary."
Kaito frowned. "Then why doesn't Max?"
Maxim, still munching, suddenly stopped. He stared at them lazily, then smirked. "Heh… long story. And Teacher, you probably wouldn't believe me."
The Service Center door creaked open. Two students in Primanoel uniforms strolled in, faces casual as if just passing by. But the moment their eyes landed on Kaito, their expressions turned cold.
"…That Teacher." one of them hissed. Instantly, weapons were raised toward Kaito.
Click!
Reflexively, Maxim stopped chewing and swung up his MP5. Gaguk snapped to attention as well, FAMAS aimed squarely at the intruders.
"What are you doing here?" Gaguk's voice was flat, but firm.
One Primanoel student sneered. "We were just patrolling under the alliance program. But to find him here? That cursed Teacher… siding with the enemy school." His gaze burned into Kaito. "We'll end you."
Kaito stood calmly, his sharp stare locking them in place.
Maxim arched a brow, chuckling bitterly. "Hah… don't tell me you're still clinging to the Glaxina alliance grudge. Glaxina and Ixirus are about to unite any day now."
That made one of the Primanoel students frown. "What does that matter? Glaxina and Ixirus? We're here for revenge."
"Oh, I see." Maxim swung his MP5 lazily, though its muzzle stayed fixed. "If you're obsessed with revenge, you'll just drag yourselves down with it."
Alps, tense at the side, swallowed hard. "W-wait. Don't pull the trigger. If a firefight breaks out in a room this small, the walls won't be the only things shattered—we'll tear apart the alliance itself."
The Primanoel students kept glaring at Kaito, fingers twitching on their triggers.
Kaito finally spoke, his voice calm but resonant. "If you fire here… I promise the consequences will be far worse than your loss at Oxiom."
The room fell silent, the only sound the low drone of machines.
Seconds later—chaos exploded.
The Primanoel students broke into mocking laughter, then unleashed a hail of gunfire—rat-tat-tat! Sparks erupted across tool racks, dust swirling, cables snapping, neon lights flickering like panicked heartbeats.
"Traitors!" one of them shouted, weapon sweeping the room. "You don't deserve to stand with the honored Ixirus!"
Their fury ignited the fight.
Maxim moved first—his lazy demeanor evaporating as bullets tore past. He returned fire with sharp, controlled bursts, cutting off their movement, but the Primanoel pair were trained; they retreated quickly and flanked from unexpected angles. Gaguk, moments ago buried in tools, snapped into action; his FAMAS roared, but a heavy blow slammed into him, sending him sprawling, his repair gear scattering across the floor.
Alps, stationed near the wall, shoved Kaito behind concrete without hesitation, shielding him with his own body as a shot ripped through where Kaito had just stood. Dust rained down; harsh light from work panels cast the scene in stark, cinematic flashes.
This wasn't a duel—it was guerilla chaos in a workshop. Chairs, benches, repair carts became makeshift cover. Maxim held one flank, while Gaguk, dazed, clawed back to his feet, pulling something from his sling bag—a small handmade device shaped like a solid ball. He glanced at Kaito, breath ragged.
Kaito scanned them quickly—no time to overthink, panic spreads like fire. His voice cut through the noise:
"Gaguk, create a diversion on the right! Maxim, press them back—don't kill, just drive them off! Alps, stay with me and watch the fight lines!"
The command was crisp, not tactical jargon but roles—simple, executable, steadying.
Gaguk nodded and hurled his device. It didn't explode but discharged bursts of crackling sparks and blinding flashes—his custom "blinding pop," designed to stun with noise and light. The Primanoel attackers staggered, vision seared. Maxim seized the moment, kicking a side table to spill a toolbox, tripping one opponent into retreat.
Using the chaos, Gaguk vaulted onto a rack, swinging up by loose cables. From above, he tossed a wire snare, hooking onto an enemy's magazine plate, jamming their rifle. Not a kill move—just disruption. His hands moved like a tinkerer turned fighter, improvising with the environment.
Meanwhile, Maxim's bursts forced the other assailant back. "Fall back! Now!" Kaito's voice rang above the gunfire. Maxim's pressure combined with Kaito's authority shook the Primanoel fighters—they weren't used to being countered with such coordination.
One attacker lunged in close, slicing the distance. Gaguk dropped from above, shoulder-checking him hard into a pile of supply sacks. The second, fumbling with his jammed weapon, found himself cornered as Maxim advanced, forceful but measured, stripping the rifle from his grasp in one swift rip.
Amid the din, Kaito stepped out from cover, his voice carrying like a commander's order: "Enough! Stop this now!"
It wasn't anger, but authority born of someone who had commanded in far bloodier fields. His warning cut deeper than bullets:
"If you keep this up, it won't just be about Oxiom—you'll lose your honor entirely."
The weight of his tone stilled the air. The Primanoel students panted, chests heaving. In Kaito's eyes they saw fatigue, experience—but also a door to stand down. He hadn't raised a gun; he had chosen command instead.
Sensing the shift, Maxim and Gaguk sealed it. Gaguk yanked free his wire snare, tossing another gadget to the floor—sparks flaring, forcing the enemy's weapon loose. Maxim snatched it mid-air, raising it high as a symbol of dominance without striking. His voice was heavy: "That's it! Drop it now—or we call in the Munadhi Team!"
One Primanoel froze. He glanced at his staggering comrade, then at Kaito standing firm, Alps holding position, Maxim armed, Gaguk steady once more. The tension broke—not into more shots, but into choice: fight on and fall, or retreat with pride intact.
The vocal one glared at Kaito, then spat through clenched teeth. "This isn't over… You win this time."
The two retreated swiftly, boots pounding the corridor like fading threats.
The Service Center quieted. Dust hung in the air. Maxim lowered his MP5, breathing hard, chip crumbs littering the floor. Gaguk slumped down, hands trembling faintly from adrenaline. Alps rushed forward, checking them both—scratches, bruises, nothing serious.
Kaito stood motionless, breathing deep. In his mind flickered the shadow of his past—a child commander once barking orders, now issuing them only to prevent pointless casualties. His eyes lingered on the door where the Primanoel students had vanished, then turned to his young companions.
"Good work," he said softly. Not hollow praise, but recognition of courage under control. "But remember—we don't win by destroying people. We win by ending conflict. Rest and recover. Alps, tend their wounds. Maxim, Gaguk—clean up the area and report damages. Treat this as a lesson, not a trophy."
Maxim smirked faintly, lifting his snack bag to his lips. "Heh. Got it, teacher."
Gaguk nodded, pale but sharp-eyed as ever. "Yes, sir."
Alps patted his back gently. "You okay? Want to hit the infirmary for a bit?"
Gaguk nodded again. "Yeah."
Kaito glanced up at the flickering neon lights, a tremor in his chest—not from leftover adrenaline, but from the weight that always returned: responsibility for this generation. Quietly, he made a vow to himself:
❝I'll protect everyone in this city. Not just with weapons, but with my mind and my heart.❞
Outside, Akarius' sky was indifferent—the sun kept moving, the city oblivious to how close a scuffle had come to disaster. Inside the Service Center, scattered chip crumbs, faint gunpowder, and retreating footsteps bore witness to a truth: sometimes victory isn't found in bullets fired, but in the choice to stop before everything is lost.