The first day of the academy ended the same way it always had like a circle closing upon itself.
As twilight bled into the sky, I slipped behind the academy's rear wall, where ivy clung to ancient stone and secrets were swallowed by shadow. I crouched before the narrow hole I knew too well, fingers brushing cold earth as I prepared to crawl through.
"Yo. Where are you sneaking off to this late?"
The voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
I stiffened.
Vale stood behind me, moonlight catching in his easy smile. He stepped closer, laid a hand on my shoulder with casual familiarity, then bent to inspect the hole. When he rose again, the smile had faded, replaced by something keen and searching.
"How did you find this on your very first day?" he asked. "And why are you slipping out of the academy like a thief?"
"That's none of your concern."
He laughed softly, unoffended. "Maybe not. But at least tell me why you're leaving."
"I'm quitting the academy," I said. "There's nothing left for me to learn here. And there's a matter I must see through."
"What kind of matter," he asked quietly, "that you won't even share with your friend?"
The word friend struck deeper than I expected.
In this world—this fragile iteration—Vale had never turned his back on me. Keeping the truth from him felt heavier than carrying it alone. After a long silence, I spoke of the Abraham clan, of their hidden slaughter, of the pills forged from human lives.
Vale did not interrupt.
"So the pills flooding the markets…" he murmured at last. "They were once people?"
His face twisted with revulsion, as if the air itself had grown foul. "To think a clan could sink so low—to grind lives into power."
For a moment, he stared into nothing. Then he looked at me and gestured toward the hole.
"Go."
I crawled through the narrow passage, the earth scraping my palms. A heartbeat later, Vale followed.
Outside, beneath the open sky, I turned to him in disbelief. "Why did you come with me? What about your studies? Your parents? The tuition?"
"I'm an orphan," he replied, his voice steady. "I enrolled using the money my parents left behind for my future."
I said nothing. Some truths are best left untouched.
As fate repeated its steps, I rented a room at the same inn as before. When dawn arrived, pale and quiet, we boarded a train bound for Aether Haven. By the time we reached the station, the sun stood high.
I hailed a carriage, and the road carried us home.
When we arrived at the farm, I had barely stepped down before Leo—only a year old—came running toward me. I lifted him into my arms, warmth flooding my chest, and walked toward my father, who stood among the sheep, hands weathered by honest labor.
I introduced Vale and told my father everything—leaving nothing unsaid. He listened as the wind moved through the grass.
That night, Vale and I slept in the shed, wrapped in silence and the scent of hay.
When dawn broke again, I rose and practiced my sword beneath the waking sky. Steel sang through the air, each strike echoing with memory and resolve.
As sweat traced my brow, footsteps approached.
Vale stood there, watching.
I turned to him and asked.
"What's the stratagem that unfolds in your mind, and what path shall we tread?" I asked, my voice laced with anticipation.
Vale's gaze turned somber, his words measured. "The Abraham clan is a monolith, their power daunting. The clan head stands at Level 3 echelon, his eldest son at Level 4, a formidable duo. Their security is a bulwark, commanded by a Level 6 echelon warrior, with soldiers ranging from Level 13 to Level 8, a veritable army. Our sole recourse is to ally with their rivals, the Blackstone clan, equals in might and stature. And there's Emma Robert, the clan head's daughter, who studied among us at the academy, a familiar yet enigmatic presence."
I furrowed my brow, a whisper of curiosity escaping my lips. "Emma Robert? Blackstone head's daughter, yet she bears her father's name as surname, not the clan's. A peculiar choice, don't you think?"
Vale's shoulders rose in a gentle shrug, his smile tinged with intrigue. "Perhaps she cherished her father's legacy, much like we honor our own father's names, a testament to the bonds that tie us to our kin."
"Yeah, maybe like that. So our plan is to join Blackstone and have its people overthrow the Abraham clan?"
"No, our plan is to first gather man power and after some year, we will infiltrate the Abraham clan by joining their security, becoming their soldiers, and earning their trust and think we are loyal to them and destroy them from inside."
"Okay, I got it."
The whole time we discussed the plan, I was swinging my sword and training my swordsmanship. After the discussion, Vale stood up from his seated position.
Vale's smile broke through the gloom. "What transfixes you? We should be departing this place."
I sheathed my blade, curiosity etched on my face. "Departing? To what destination?"
"Argenta," he replied, his eyes aglow with purpose.
We arrived at the station, Leo padding faithfully beside me, his tail wagging in anticipation. We secured tickets – two for ourselves, one for my loyal canine companion – and settled into our seats. As the landscape blurred past, I turned to Vale, my voice tinged with wonder. "Why Argenta?"
Argenta, the border city of Hera kingdom, a desert outpost I'd barely heard of. My three lifetimes of training had confined me to Beryl and Aether Haven; I'd never bothered to explore beyond.
Vale's gaze turned introspective. "I've heard whispers of Argenta's arena, a crucible where hunters prove their mettle. Level 13 and 14 echelons clash, their prowess a spectacle to behold. Perhaps we'll unearth hidden gems, kindred spirits with potential to shape our fate."
I nodded, the prospect igniting a spark within me. As sunset's fiery hues surrendered to twilight, we reached Argenta station. A rental apartment awaited, a brief respite before dawn's awakening. We arose with the sun, bound for the arena, where the crowd's fervor swirled like a tempest. I turned to Vale, the air electric with anticipation.
"Why do the fighters here skew toward lower echelons, Vale?" I asked, puzzlement etched on my face.
Vale leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. "Hunters above Level 10 often fight with tactics and power plays, strategies that bewilder the masses. These lower echelons provide the spectacle, the visceral thrill of brute strength and skill."
As I turned my gaze back to the arena, two men took their stance, their movements a dance of death. One face stood out, familiar and unexpected – John, Vale's erstwhile teammate. I watched, enthralled, as the battle unfolded, the crowd's cheers a deafening wave.
The crowd's thunderous chant rolled through the arena like a tempest: "Edwin! Edwin!"
"He's the reigning champion of this arena, a formidable Level 13 echelon fighter," Vale informed me, his voice rising above the din.
My gaze drifted to a weathered board, the name 'Khetra' emblazoned upon it. I turned to Vale, curiosity etched on my face. "What's the significance of that name?"
Vale, his smile a gentle whisper. "It's the arena's name, and its champion earns the title "Shura of Khetra", a badge of honor, forged in the crucible of combat."