Gabriel held Jane's gaze, his mind searching for the perfect question. Yet the more he thought, the more his thoughts tangled. The tension in the room thickened, as if every person present was waiting for his decision.
"Third question…" he began, before his words caught in his throat.
A dull pain shot through his head, and the image of Sera—wounded, gasping—flooded his mind. The next moment, it wasn't her he saw… but that face. His girlfriend's. Alive. Just like in the fleeting vision he'd had before the flame in his eye went out.
His breath hitched. The flame—that feeling of absolute calm, of icy focus—was gone. In its place surged a tide of emotions he could no longer control. Rage, sorrow, guilt… all crashing down on him at once. His hands trembled slightly, and he felt something warm on his cheek. A tear.
He wiped it away quickly, but Jane had noticed.
"That… is the price of your eye," she said softly. "When it vanishes, everything you've buried to fight comes rushing back all at once. And sometimes… it's worse than physical pain."
Gabriel clenched his fists.
"Don't try to analyze me."
"Alright… third question," he resumed, his tone lower. "Am I the weakest one in this room?"
A faint smirk crossed Jane's lips.
"In terms of raw power? Yes."
She paused, letting her words weigh heavy.
"But… in terms of pure potential, that's another story."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that even injured, even without training… you managed to face and wound someone most here wouldn't even dare to approach."
She folded her arms, turning to the others.
"You know who he fought? Sera."
Silence fell… then several muffled exclamations.
"What?! But she's—"
"Alive," Jane interrupted. "But Gabriel hurt her badly."
Faces around the table shifted—some with disbelief, others with concern. One boy in the back muttered:
"You're saying he actually… assassinated her?"
"'Assassinated' is a big word," Jane replied. "Fallen angels return to their sanctuary when they're on the brink of death. But in her clan, what he did will be seen as an execution attempt. In other words… a declaration of war."
The murmurs returned, heavier this time. Some glanced at Gabriel with distrust, others almost with admiration.
Jane stepped closer, her eyes locked on his.
"You want to know why I said you're not the weakest? Because none of them here have ever brought a fallen angel to their knees."
Gabriel didn't respond. But deep down, he knew that this "war" she spoke of… he had no intention of avoiding it.
The silence settled again, broken only by the faint creak of old shelves under the weight of books. Gabriel kept his eyes on Jane, waiting for her to continue, but she seemed more interested in observing the others' reactions than his.
"Since we're all here… let's make things clear," she finally said.
She straightened and leaned on the table, commanding the room.
"This school isn't just an institution. It's neutral ground… in theory. Different clans send their heirs, their agents, or their spies here. The rules are simple: no open conflict on campus, no public assassination attempts… and most importantly, no harm to a protected member."
She paused and pointed at Gabriel.
"You just broke the third rule."
Gabriel's expression didn't change.
"I just responded to an attack."
"That's not how they'll see it," one of the members interjected—a tall blond guy with a smug look. "To them, you're a Hunta who drove a blade into the heart of one of theirs."
"So what?" Gabriel replied flatly.
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room. Jane's smile turned cold.
"That's why I said you're not the weakest here. But if you want to survive, you'll have to understand how this world works."
She turned toward the wall, where several symbols were carved: a split circle, an inverted cross, a broken feather.
"Each clan has its own methods, powers, and codes. Fallen angels like Sera belong to the Cult of Erevan—a clan obsessed with collecting souls. We… are the Onyx Claws, a demon clan. And you… you're a Hunta."
Gabriel frowned.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Jane stepped closer, almost in whispering range.
"The Hunta are the natural predators of anything non-human. It's said your eye ignites when you mark prey… and only fades when the hunt is over. But the problem is… Hunta attract trouble. Always."
She stepped back, her voice rising again.
"Sooner or later, the Erevan will send someone to finish the job. And trust me… it won't be Sera."
Gabriel held her gaze, ego burning in his eyes.
"Then I'll be waiting."
Jane gave a smile that wasn't amused in the slightest.
"You're a walking cliché. But remember this: here, everyone's playing a game… and you've just walked in without knowing the rules."
The other members exchanged meaningful glances. Some were already calculating what Gabriel's presence might bring… or cost.
Jane grabbed an old book from the shelf and placed it in front of him. The black cover bore an engraving of fangs.
"Read this. It's a survival manual. Literally. And get ready… because by tomorrow, everyone will know who you are."
Gabriel studied the cover for a moment, then looked back at her.
"The Diary of Jane ?"
She didn't answer. So Gabriel began to read.