The months leading to graduation passed in a blur of structure and silence.
Classes. Exams. Evaluations.
Everything at Sky Severing Academy unfolded with predictable precision—just as Arata Kurogane preferred.
He never missed a lecture, never made a scene, never lost composure.
He didn't need to.
His grades hovered perfectly in the range that reflected quiet brilliance — enough to honor his family's name, yet never enough to spark unwanted eyes.
The teachers admired him; the students ignored him.
Exactly as planned.
During the final week, the academy's courtyard bloomed with anticipation.
Students sparred in practice rings, instructors shouted last-minute corrections, and the air buzzed with pride and exhaustion.
Arata sat on a marble bench beneath the great sakura tree, eyes half-closed as he listened to the wind.
The petals drifted around him, soft pink against his black uniform, as his mind wandered far beyond the academy's walls.
They think graduation is an ending, he thought. But it's merely the end of their illusions. For me, it's a beginning.
He could feel Koketsu, the Crimson Seal, pulsing faintly in his left eye—no longer unstable, but not yet fully mastered.
Its hum resonated with his heartbeat, a reminder of the power he was slowly molding into something infinite.
Patience. Precision. Position.
He watched his classmates duel, flinging fire and lightning, illusions and blades. The world saw strength in chaos.
He saw only noise.
Days slipped by like water.
He attended exams, answered questions with calm clarity, and performed every circuit demonstration with surgical precision.
A low hum filled the examination arena as his final practical test began—a duel simulation.
The teacher called out, "Arata Kurogane, you may begin."
Arata stepped into the circle.
The projection of his opponent materialized: a crystalline beast formed of compressed mana, designed to test control and adaptability.
He didn't flinch. He didn't posture.
He simply extended his hand, circuits whispering under his skin.
A pulse—clean, invisible, absolute.
The creature froze mid-lunge, limbs locking, eyes dimming, then shattered into harmless particles of light.
The teacher blinked. "I… see. Efficient."
Arata gave a polite bow and left without a word.
Never too much. Always just enough.
As the days ran out, whispers began to ripple through the halls.
"Did you see Kurogane's duel?"
"He didn't even break a sweat…"
"He's the quiet one, right? The youngest?"
Rumors, harmless ones. The kind that fade as quickly as they form.
Arata smiled faintly to himself. Perfect.
Outside, the world stirred with deeper tremors.
In the shadows of distant continents, Kurogami had begun to move.
Hidden strongholds had been built quietly across fractured regions.
The 10 Kings and Queens—each monstrously strong—had taken their positions.
Reports flowed in constantly through silent circuits only Arata could read.
Each message brief, coded, and delivered into his mind like the turn of a page.
"Lord Merciless, the council has assembled.
The Eastern gate is ours. The Shadows bend."
"The Masters await your word."
"Kurogami stands ready."
Arata sat alone one night, lights dim, watching the rain streak across the academy's windows.
Everything is ready. The world thinks John Merciless is a ghost story. They'll learn soon enough—
He stopped himself, smiling faintly. No. They'll never truly learn. Ghosts aren't supposed to be understood.
The ceremony was held in the Grand Hall—a vast marble chamber filled with banners, families, and ceremonial chants.
Students stood in perfect lines as Headmaster Daigo Rensetsu gave his final speech.
"May your circuits burn bright and your wills never falter," he declared. "Graduates of the Sky Severing Academy—step forth into the world, and leave your mark!"
Applause thundered through the hall.
Tears, laughter, vows of friendship.
Arata stood quietly at the edge, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
His name was called, his certificate handed to him, and polite smiles were exchanged.
No cheering. No spotlight.
Just the way he wanted it.
When it was over, he turned his back to the academy gates without looking back.
The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of sakura.
And so ends one act of my life, he thought. Time to write the next.
The Kurogane estate was vast—an empire of white stone, black banners, and disciplined silence.
Guards bowed as he entered. Servants whispered his return.
In the great hall, his father waited: stern, towering, the head of the Kurogane family.
Beside him, his siblings—elegant, powerful, and just as prideful as the bloodline demanded.
His father's voice broke the silence.
"So, you've finally graduated."
Arata nodded. "Yes, Father."
"You upheld our name without dishonor. For that, I am… satisfied."
His siblings exchanged looks—relieved, amused, dismissive. To them, Arata was still the "ordinary" one.
He didn't mind.
Perfect, he thought. The less they expect, the better.
After the formalities, his father dismissed the others and stood before him alone.
"I trust you have plans now that your training is complete?"
Arata's gaze didn't waver. "Yes. I plan to travel… observe the world, its circuits, its people. Knowledge before conquest, Father."
His father nodded approvingly. "Good. The Kurogane do not act without understanding. Go, then. But remember your name."
"I always do."
Night fell.
Arata stood at the edge of the estate gardens, the moonlight glinting off the lake. His reflection stared back—calm, pale, unreadable.
A ripple of energy flickered across his form as he whispered, almost casually:
"John Merciless."
The world shifted. His black uniform transformed into the tailored, regenerating suit of his alter ego.
The white mask with black markings materialized over his face.
His aura changed—calm intellect replaced by royal arrogance, cold superiority.
From Arata Kurogane… to John Merciless.
Time to move the board, John thought, his voice deeper, colder, detached. Phase One begins tonight.
Far away, in a hidden fortress buried beneath the mountains, the Kurogami organization stood in formation.
Ten figures knelt—five kings, five queens—each radiating power enough to annihilate nations.
When John Merciless stepped through the shadows, silence fell like a blade.
He stood at the center, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on his sword.
His voice was calm.
"The world believes in balance. We… will redefine it."
The hall echoed with one unified response:
"For Kurogami."
The wind howled outside the fortress as if bowing to something greater.
Back in the Kurogane estate, a faint flicker of light shimmered in Arata's empty room—
just the soft glow of Koketsu, pulsing once before fading to darkness.