First-years clustered nervously in a line, their gazes darting between Professor Leo and the third-years sparring in the background.
The ground thudded with fists and boots; the sharp sounds of impact echoed like a drumbeat.
Professor Leo raised his voice over the noise.
"Today, you'll see what real combat looks like. Kael Alanto, level 90,will demonstrate the basics of hand-to-hand. No powers. Watch carefully."
My name glinted from the display board above the stage: Kael Alanto, Level 90.
I stepped forward. My focus should've been on the students, on Leo's orders. Instead, it was on her.
Serie Winston
Every nervous twitch in her fingers, every hitch of her breath...I felt them like they were mine.
My head hissed don't look, but the thread burned, and my eyes obeyed.
For a second, she looked at me. Something flashed across her face—jealousy, maybe. Then her chin tipped away, refusing me.
Leo's voice cut in. "Level zero," he said. The words landed heavy. Murmurs rippled.
Someone muttered, "Weakling."
The laugh that followed was small and mean.
Her shoulders stiffened. Her face..humiliated.
I wanted to enjoy it, wanted to feel triumph. Instead my chest burned.
Leo stepped aside. The arena was mine.
I straightened, ignoring the constant tug on my finger, and barked,
"Everyone! Shut the hell up and listen."
The buzz of chatter died instantly. Silence, except for the distant roars of third-years trading blows.
"Here, your worth is decided by one thing only--power and level. The higher your level, the greater your chance at survival. Your special power is your weapon. Training polishes it...
Earn your level. Simple."
I gestured sharply. "You."
David,the trustee's son strode forward, jaw hard, posture proud. He already knew the drills. His movements were clean as he demonstrated basic stance, strike, block.
But Serie's eyes were on him. Wide. Impressed.
My fist twitched. My teeth clenched. I stepped forward and clipped him across the face.
"Ahh!" he staggered back, clutching his cheek.
"Rule one," I said, voice low but sharp enough to cut. "Don't get distracted."
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the first-years. David slunk back to his place, his pride bruised more than his jaw.
"Any girl volunteer?" I asked.
Erina stepped forward instantly, eager.
I looked at her once and shook my head. "You.... No !..."
Her face fell, girls nearby snickering. I ignored them and pointed instead.
"You"
Serie Winston...
The arena shifted. Murmurs rose Level...zero... Weakling...
Her chin lifted, but her hands shook. She stepped forward anyway, jaw tight.
"Oh, level zero," I said, mock pity dripping from my voice. "Tch...Tch...!!!"
"So?" she shot back, anger flashing in her green eyes.
A few of the first-years gasped.
"It'll be hard for you," I told her, letting a cruel smile twist my mouth. "If you want to leave, do it now. I hate breaking fragile things. Show ends fast, that's all."
"No," she snapped. "Just show me. It's supposed to be a demo, not a lecture."
My jaw tightened. I grabbed her forearm, jerked her into stance. My hand yanked harder than I meant, and she hit the mat with a thud.
The crowd hissed. Some laughed.
For a second I was above her, her body under mine. Close enough that the heat of her skin hit mine, the sweat on my neck chilled.
And the thread burned white-hot.
Flared.
I saw it shimmer. She did too. Her hand jerked to her ring finger. Confusion rippled across her face. Did she see it? No. Impossible.
I pulled back instantly, tearing my grip away, shoving the moment down.
"See?" I said coldly, turning to the crowd. "That's how easy it is to knock a weakling down."
Laughter broke again. Cruel. Shallow.
She stood, trembling, but her eyes...burning. Hatred, sharp and alive. For me.
And for the first time, her face twisted with something more. Disgust...
I should've felt pleased. Victorious....
Instead, I felt torn.
Professor Leo clapped once.
"Good. Kael, remain with the first-years. You'll assist the rest of their session."
Of course.
Of course I had to stay.
And she was still standing right there.
I showed a few more moves with other first-years.
My body moved on instinct; my mind wasn't there. Every throw, every block felt mechanical.
The constant tug on my ring finger was louder than the noise of the arena.
I didn't even need to see her. I knew she was there.
When the session ended, I dismissed them with a flick of my hand and walked off before Leo could ask more.
By the time I reached the third-year training grounds, Ruan and Ryuk had already finished their matches.
They were laughing about something, sweat slicking their faces. I muttered a greeting and went straight back to my room.
Shower.
Cool water pounding my skin.
Steam curling around me.
It didn't clear my head.
I dried off, pulled on a fresh uniform -- blue coat, crisp white shirt, black trousers. University crest gleaming at my chest. Pretend student. Pretend normal.
But the memory of her expression wouldn't leave me. That look , the disgust... The hatred...
It burned through my skull worse than the thread itself.
Am I going insane?
This is madness...
I can't harm her myself..
I already know that. My power keeps moving on its own, protecting her without my permission.
It's automatic, instinctive.
Why?
I needed answers.
Maybe the library.
Maybe Mrs. Liza...no..!!. I shouldn't involve her.
Not yet. ..
This was my problem.
My subject is mythology. Maybe, buried in some dusty shelf, there's something about this cursed thread. Maybe I can find out what it is, how to break it, why it even exists.
I was still thinking about it when a hand clapped down on my shoulder.
"Ae, bro," Ruan's voice...
"What's got you so serious? About to confess? You had a little moment with my toy?"
My gut twisted. His toy.... He meant Serie...
I ignored the bile rising in my throat. "Disgusting."
Ruan laughed. "Your face says otherwise. Something bothering you?"
"No," I lied.
Then, before I could stop myself,
"Do you know anything about red thread bonds?"
He blinked, then frowned.
"Nope. Red thread bonds haven't happened in centuries. Out of syllabus now." His eyes narrowed, curious. "You and Erina?"
"Shut up. No!!" My voice came out sharper than I meant.
We reached the academic block. Students streamed past. I pulled my hood a little lower, kept walking.
Inside the lecture hall, I opened a search on my phone. "Red thread bond." Page after page of irrelevant myths, half-lost legends. Nothing concrete.
The class droned on. It wasn't even an important subject today. I slipped out before it ended, blending into the corridor's shadows.
The library smelled like ink and old wood. With my high-level privilege I walked past the restricted ropes. My shadow rose from my feet, split into ten smaller creatures, and fanned out across the stacks like silent hunters.
"Find it," I whispered.
They obeyed, pulling down old tomes, sliding scrolls free from dust. I stood still in the aisles, eyes half-shut, feeling what they touched. By the time they returned, arms full of books, I'd already issued them in my name.
The shadows carried the stack back to my room.
I didn't follow.
Not yet...
Instead, I stepped into Regio Obscura
the blind man -- the one who'd appeared to me once, who'd said I'd soon find my purpose.
Maybe he knew why. Maybe he knew how to cut this thread.
Maybe this madness had an answer.
Here , the world twisted dark. The air here tasted of iron and ash.
Whispers slid beneath the skin, voices you never saw.
A place abandoned by the University because even their laws couldn't chain it.
I walked to the tree.
The same twisted trunk where I'd seen him once--the blind man in white.
I stood beneath it and called.
"Old man in the white kimono. I need words."
Silence...
Again: "Where are you? I came for answers."
Silence.
For the third time, louder: "Show yourself!"
Still no one.
My fist slammed into the trunk. The bark split with a crack, dust spraying into the cold air.
That's when I heard it.
Laughter.
Thin, high, mocking. Not from a throat. From the air itself. Whisper-laughter, wriggling into my head.
I ignored it. This was Regio Obscura. This was normal.
I turned---
and froze.
A black figure stood across the clearing. Vague, featureless. But smiling.
A smile I knew...
Too familiar...
The figure tilted its head at me, almost playful.
Then it vanished....