They moved down the hall, the alarms screaming above them, the academy trembling under their feet, and the office behind them shrinking into the distance like a bad decision they'd escaped just in time.
Kez kept close, because the corridor felt too long and the lights felt too thin. The emergency strips along the floor flashed between pale white and amber, like the building couldn't decide if it was warning them or guiding them. Every few seconds, the stone underfoot shivered with distant impacts that made the walls sigh.
'Ah why am I in this situation??? My plan was to go to the research museum building and wait out this attack. I remember that museum building wasn't impacted during this attack. Why is my luck so bad???'
'The teacher's lounge that I was in definitely was one of the places that got hit the hardest. Damn it, I don't know any place here that might be safe. My only option is trusting this stoic ass looking instructor.'
'If I remember correctly, he was mentioned a decent number of times in the novel and he should be a good guy. I don't know if he is actually any good in this situation though.'
Kez stared a hole into the back of Dan's head as he contemplated, but Dan didn't look back. He walked with the same controlled cadence he'd used in the lecture hall, as if tempo could turn panic into procedure. But the calm was not smooth anymore. It had a hard edge, like a polished blade that had been used once and never cleaned.
They passed the first open doorway.
The room inside had been a classroom. Chairs were scattered. A chalkboard was half covered in equations, the lower lines smeared by a hand that had dragged across them. On the floor, a cadet lay facedown beside the front row.
Kez slowed without meaning to.
The cadet's uniform was crisp at the shoulders, as if the fabric had tried to stay respectable. Everything below that was wrecked. One sleeve was torn into jagged strips, threads snapped and stretched. The academy insignia still clung to the arm, absurdly intact, but smeared with grime and dark, drying flakes. The body lay twisted in a way that didn't match a simple fall, one boot turned wrong, fingers scraped raw like he'd tried to claw his way forward.
Beside him, drag marks cut through the dust in thick, uneven strokes, stopping and starting as if whoever hauled him had gotten bored and yanked again. A messy pool had spread from under his cheek and been smeared outward by passing steps, streaks fanning down the corridor like a pointing hand.
On the wall above him, someone had left a message. Not ink, not chalk. A wet, crooked scrawl pressed hard enough to drip. It didn't read like words so much as a taunt, written by someone who wanted the next person to see it and understand that this wasn't just an attack. It was entertainment.
Kez's heartbeat rose. Reality seeped in, cold and unavoidable. He wasn't just reading a story anymore. He was in it, and the cadet in front of him was proof of how easily a name could turn into a body.
"Do not go in," Dan said.
Kez swallowed and pointed at a small dagger lying on the floor. "I need that blade."
Dan stopped at the threshold long enough to look in. His eyes swept the room in one quick pass. Not grief. Not shock. Just a clinical assessment. "Get it. Quick."
Kez moved, trying not to look at the mangled body again. But his eyes betrayed him anyway, snagging on torn fabric and dried streaks on the tile. Devil Sect. Maniac humans who chose Devils over people, because Devils didn't have to break into human territory on their own. They just needed someone inside willing to open the door. Money. Power. Promises that rotted the soul first. There were plenty of groups like that, but Devil Sect sat near the top when it came to cruelty, the kind that wasn't a side effect of war but the point of it.
Kez snatched the dagger, the metal cold and slightly tacky against his palm, and backed out fast enough that his heel caught the threshold. Dan started moving again and he followed from behind.
Further down, the corridor widened into a junction. Two branches split away. The left was brighter, and it smelled wrong. Not smoke. Not dust. Something coppery, thick in the air like warm coins.
The right was dim and colder, the floor lights stuttering.
Dan paused.
Kez listened past the alarms. Past the distant booms. Past his own pulse.
There was movement somewhere in the bright branch. A slow sound, almost gentle.
A drag.
Like fabric sliding over stone.
Kez's throat tightened. "Allies or ..."
Dan's eyes stayed on the bright branch. "We should probably assume the worst..."
Dan shifted his weight a fraction. His hand drifted toward his coat pocket, then stopped, as if he'd caught himself reaching too early. He made his arm hang naturally again.
The drag came again. Closer. Then a soft bump, like something had nudged a wall and corrected course.
Kez gripped the blades' handle even tighter despite knowing he was no match for these guys who managed to infiltrate one of the most secure places in the human territories.
Dan raised two fingers.
Kez froze.
A shadow moved at the far end of the bright branch, briefly crossing the light. Not a person in a hurry. Not a guard. It moved like it had time.
Then came a laugh.
Low and quiet and entirely wrong. Not loud enough to echo properly. Not shaped like joy. It sounded like someone repeating a human sound they had heard once, the way a child repeats a word without understanding it.
"Yeah so...that way is probably a no-go." Kez said quietly.
Dan's gaze sharpened. Not fear. Calculation again, fast and tight. He listened, head angled slightly, like he was trying to locate the laugh by how it failed to fit the hallway.
The laugh stopped.
A second later, the dragging resumed. Slower now, as if it knew they were listening.
Dan turned into the dim branch, contemplating how safe that direction might be but then a soft scrape came from the bright branch, like nails finding purchase.
"This is not ideal." Dan said and walked towards the dim corridor. Kez followed closely.
The air changed immediately. Cooler, thinner, with a faint sterile edge that made Kez think of sealed rooms and locked drawers. The alarms became muffled, replaced by the building's deeper sounds. A low vibration in the stone. Occasional impacts that felt far away but heavy enough to carry through bone.
They rounded a corner.
Two cadets lay in the hallway.
One was slumped against the wall as if he'd tried to sit down and simply forgot how. His head lolled at an angle that made Kez's eyes itch. The other lay on his side a few paces away, one arm stretched toward the first, fingers half-curled like he'd almost managed to grab something, almost managed to stand, almost managed to live.
There was blood, but not in a clean pool. It had been tracked. Smeared in streaks across the tile, dragged into thin, ugly lines that led back the way they'd come, then vanished where the corridor dipped and the lighting failed. Whoever did this hadn't just killed them. They'd moved them. Arranged them. Left them where someone would find them.
Kez slowed, not panicking anymore, just taking it in. He had already adapted to the situation quite a bit. The bodies were meant to permanently scar whoever finds the bodies. Scar them enough to not even consider going up against the Devil Sect.
Dan stopped for a heartbeat beside them, eyes sweeping the floor, the walls, the corners of the ceiling. His face stayed composed, but his focus tightened like a fist. "Keep moving," he said quietly.
Kez nodded once, then crouched anyway. Not to linger. To take what the dead wouldn't need. He kept his dagger low and worked fast, fingers slipping into the slumped cadet's coat pockets with quick, efficient pats. He came up with a small vial no bigger than his thumb, the liquid inside a thin amber that trembled with each distant impact. A minor potion, the kind meant for bruises and shallow cuts. He pocketed it without ceremony, then pulled a second item free: a wrapped strip of gauze and a tiny tin of seal paste stamped with the academy crest.
Dan didn't protest. He only watched, eyes tracking Kez's hands the way he tracked everything else, then shifted his gaze down the corridor again.
"Done," Kez murmured, already standing. He pocketed a third item too, quietly. The cadet's ID card.
Dan nodded once. "Move."
Kez fell in behind him, dagger low, eyes scanning corners and doorways. The corridor ahead dipped into a dimmer stretch where the floor lights stuttered like a failing pulse.
They'd gone maybe ten steps when Kez leaned closer, voice kept tight and quiet. "Do you have anything. Weapon, tool, anything. Or are we just doing this with vibes."
Dan didn't look back. "Yes."
Kez blinked. "Yes what."
Dan kept walking, unhurried, and for a second Kez thought he'd get nothing else. Then Dan's left hand moved to his coat pocket with a controlled, practiced motion. He drew out a small glass sphere, no bigger than a marble, sealed with a thin band of silver wax. Inside, a cloudy liquid swirled as if it didn't like being contained.
"A flash vial," Dan said. "Impact activated. Blinds, concusses. Short radius."
Kez's eyebrows rose. "You just had that on you."
Dan's expression didn't change. "Found it in Miss Verin's emergency drawer."
Kez just nodded. "I guess she won't mind you 'borrowing' that. Anything else? Hopefully some overpowered relic that might one shot anyone that comes our way?"
Dan didn't even blink at the "overpowered relic" part. "No."
Kez sighed, theatrical but quiet. "Tragic. We're really doing this the hard way."
Dan's right hand drifted to his side, fingers curling around empty air as if he were taking hold of something that wasn't there. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then steel slid into existence with a soft, precise whisper.
A sword appeared in his grip, but not the academy-issue kind. The blade was slim and pale, almost glassy in the flickering floor light, with a faint pattern inside the metal that looked like trapped smoke. The guard was understated, dark and clean, the sort of craftsmanship that didn't need ornament to announce its price. No runes flared. No glow. Just a weapon that looked expensive in the way good tools always did, because every line had been decided by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Kez's eyes widened. "Holy, you got a spatial storage on you? Don't they cost like millions or something?"
For the first time, Dan looked back and smiled. It was small, controlled, and didn't reach his eyes. "Well," he said, almost politely, "I am quite rich."
Kez's eyes twitched for a second. "Wow… Flexing on the poor kid huh?"
Dan's smile didn't linger. It folded back into the same flat composure, as if it had never happened. He faced forward again, blade held low, the point angled toward the floor so it wouldn't catch too much light.
Kez exhaled softly through his nose. "Okay. So, you're rich. Cool. Love that for you. Does being rich come with, like, a personal evacuation route or -"
"Quiet," Dan said, but there was no bite in it this time. Just urgency.
Kez shut up immediately.
Ahead, the corridor dipped and narrowed. The emergency strips flickered harder here, turning the stone into a stuttering sequence of frames. Then the smell hit. Copper, stale and thick, like warm coins pressed under the tongue. Kez's grip tightened, not from fear, from anger, from the simple fact that this was someone's idea of fun.
A sound drifted down from somewhere ahead.
Not footsteps.
A drag, slow and steady, like fabric sliding over stone.
Dan lifted his hand, two fingers raised again. Kez froze immediately and listened. The drag paused. A soft bump followed, like something had nudged a wall and corrected course. Then, very softly, a laugh. Low, quiet, wrong. It did not echo right, like the corridor itself did not want to carry it.
Dan's gaze sharpened. "This way," he said, and guided them toward a recessed door set into the stone on the right.
It looked like an access point, not a classroom door. A metal plate with the academy crest. A narrow slot beside it.
Dan's hand went to his pocket. For the first time, his calm faltered in a way so small most people would miss it. He forced his movement to slow as he pulled out the metal cylinder. He slotted it in.
For a second, nothing happened.
Behind them, the drag resumed, slower now, as if it knew exactly where they were going. The laugh came again, closer, almost pleased.
The crest warmed. A thin ring of light crawled around it. The lock clicked.
The door began to open inward.
Dan caught Kez by the sleeve and pulled him through. "Inside."
Kez stumbled into a small, cold chamber lit by faint blue lines embedded in the walls. It smelled sealed, filtered, untouched. Dan followed and shoved the door shut.
The latch clicked.
For one breath, the corridor went silent.
Then something scraped along the seam of the door. Not pounding. Not forcing. Testing, patient and curious.
Kez backed a step, blade still in hand, eyes fixed on the metal like he could will it to stay closed.
Dan stood between Kez and the door without thinking about it, posture rigid, voice low.
"Do not speak," he said. "Do not answer anything."
Kez held still. His eyes stayed on the seam where metal met stone.
The scraping outside continued, slow and deliberate, like whoever was there wasn't trying to break in, just learning the door's shape. The sound paused. A breath later, a heavy impact slammed into the door hard enough to bow the metal inward, the shock traveling through the frame and into the walls, rattling the blue lines and making dust sift from the ceiling seam.
Kez's stomach tightened. "Holy shit," he whispered as he quickly hid the blade inside his shirt. Fighting against that kind of force is simply impossible.
Dan didn't answer. He was staring at the door like it had become a problem set with only one correct solution and no time to solve it.
Another impact hit the metal. Not quite the same spot. The frame shuddered. The blue lines embedded in the walls flickered, dimmed, then steadied again with a faint hum that sounded strained.
"There's a service vent in this chamber. It drops to the lower floors." Dan said, voice low.
Kez's eyes darted across the small room. Everything was too clean, too sealed, too designed to keep people in. "Where."
Dan moved immediately. He crossed to the far wall where a rectangular outline sat half-hidden beneath a flush stone panel. Four screws, old and worn, their slots half stripped like someone had tightened them and never expected to loosen them again.
He ran two fingers along the seam and found no latch. No handle. Just stubborn engineering.
"Here," Dan said. "Maintenance route."
Kez stepped in behind him, keeping his breathing controlled. "Can you open it."
Dan's expression didn't change. "Yes."
He reached into empty air at his side and drew out a small, flat pry tool from his spatial storage, the kind used to lift panels without making noise. He worked it into the seam with careful pressure.
The cover didn't move.
Dan tried a second angle, levering upward. The metal complained, a faint creak, but held.
Outside the door, scraping resumed, slower now, as if whoever was there had settled into patience. Then another impact struck, closer to the hinge. The room trembled.
Dan exhaled once through his nose. Controlled. Irritated. "Stuck."
"Fuck try kicking or something."
Dan didn't argue. He stepped back half a pace, eyes flicking between the panel and the door, calculating time like it was a physical object.
"Kicking will echo," Dan said.
Kez's mouth twitched. "I think we are already doomed enough. Move, I'll try to muffle it under the next bang."
Dan didn't argue. He stepped back half a pace, eyes flicking between the panel and the door, measuring the rhythm like it mattered.
Kez planted his foot and waited.
Outside, the scraping paused.
A beat of silence.
Then the door took a heavy hit, metal bowing inward with a low, brutal thud that shivered through the frame and made the blue lines in the walls tremble.
Kez moved on the same pulse, driving his heel into the vent cover with full force.
The kick's ring got swallowed under the door's impact, reduced to a smaller, duller clang. The cover bucked a fraction. Screws squealed. The seam widened by a hair. Intense pain shot up his heel, but he simply ignored it.
He waited again, breathing through his nose.
Another hit slammed the door, closer to the hinge this time, hard enough to make dust sift from the ceiling seam.
Kez kicked again immediately.
This time the vent cover shifted a full millimeter. A thin breath of cold air leaked out, along with a sprinkle of grit that dusted his boot.
"Good," Dan murmured, voice tight.
Kez hooked his fingers into the gap and pulled. The metal resisted, stubborn, like it was offended to be used. He braced his shoulder against the wall and yanked again, teeth clenched.
The door boomed once more.
Kez ripped harder.
The cover jerked outward, still half held by one screw that screamed in protest.
"One more kick shou-"
But by then the banging had already stopped.
The sudden quiet was worse than the noise. It made the chamber feel exposed, like a throat going bare.
Dan's head snapped toward the door.
Kez froze. His hands let go of the vent cover.
A soft click came from the latch.
Turned. Not forced.
Dan's posture tightened.
The door began to open.
A voice rang out. "You could've told me you had the access key sooner."
A thin line of corridor light cut into the blue-lit chamber. Then the door moved wider, and a figure stepped into the gap, half-lit, eyes bright with amused curiosity.
He wore a cadet uniform like a costume. The academy insignia had been scratched off, leaving raw fabric. Dark stains marked his cuffs and knees. Behind him, another shadow leaned into view, smiling like this was a game.
The first man spoke gently, almost friendly.
"There you are."
For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Kez did.
He shifted one step sideways, smooth and casual, and put himself between the doorway and the vent cover like it was an accident. Like he'd just happened to stand there. His shoulders blocked the crooked seam. His stance widened enough to hide the loosened panel and the stripped screw without looking like he was guarding anything.
The man in the gap smiled wider, slow and pleased. His eyes swept the room like he was admiring a setup, then settled on Kez with that same curious amusement
Dan stayed a step-in front of him, posture straight, face blank, as if composure could substitute for a barricade. Kez's mind was already running at full speed.
'Damn it, if only we had one more second. I can't just get in the vent now because they are definitely faster than me. It won't work. Come on...Think of something please.'
'These people are simply insane. There's no way to negotiate with them. Fuck is this how I die a second time?' Kez contemplated.
The first man's gaze slid from Kez's face to Dan's face. His expression sharpened with interest. "Instructor," he said, tasting the word. "That's a nice surprise."
'No! This situation is even worse. They can take an instructor as hostage for getting access to doors or even for serving as meat shields and logically thinking I am just an extra burden here. Killing me here is simply the best option for them.'
'Fuck I got no choice. Please let this gamble work.'
"Who are you guys?" Kez asked loudly.
The words bounced off the chamber walls, too bright for the moment. Too confident. The kind of confidence that was either stupidity or performance.
The man in the doorway tilted his head, amused. "You don't know."
Kez's grin snapped into place. Wide. A little too eager. He took a half-step forward, hands open, posture loose like this was the highlight of his day. "No, no, I know," he said quickly. "I'm just… confirming. To think I'd get this opportunity...This...This is just too insane."
Dan stayed still, a wall at Kez's side. His eyes never left the doorway. His face remained composed, but his focus was razor-thin, like one wrong syllable would cut it.
The first man's smile widened. "What's your name."
"Lucas," Kez said immediately, like it was an honor to be asked. "Lucas Jules. First day. Literally first day. And this is already the best thing that's happened to me."
The man blinked. "Best?"
Kez nodded rapidly. "Yeah. Look at you. You walked in here like the building owed you space. The alarms are screaming and you're smiling. That's… that's art."
The second figure leaned in closer, eyes bright with interest. "Oh? You like us or something?"
Kez's grin sharpened. "Of course I like you. The academy sells itself as the edge of humanity, right. Discipline. Order. Big speeches. But you guys, you're the real thing. You're what happens when people stop pretending fear matters."
The second figure snorted, the sound sharp with disbelief. "Hahaha I gotta give it to you kid, you are the first one to try flattering us."
The first man's smile didn't fade, but it sharpened at the edges. "Cadets don't talk like that unless they're trying to stay alive. So," he said softly, "which is it. Idiot, or liar."
Kez didn't drop the grin. He leaned into it harder, eyes wide, hands open like he was offering worship. "Liar is such an ugly word. I prefer 'aligned.'"
"Aligned?" the second figure repeated, amused. "With who? The instructor who you were hiding with or with us?"
Kez's grin twitched once. He kept it bright. "With winners."
The second figure's smile widened. "He's got spirit."
Then, almost lazily, the first man turned his head toward Dan. "Instructor," he said, voice mild, like he was asking a classroom question. "What do you think. Your cadet here. Switching sides so quickly."
Dan didn't move. His posture stayed perfect, face blank, but his eyes flicked once to Kez, then back to the intruders.
"He is not my cadet," Dan said evenly. "Also, he's lying because he wants to live."
The second figure laughed. "Hear that. Even he thinks you're lying."
Kez's grin sharpened. "No, he's right but also wrong. At the end of the day, I am just a guy trying to survive so I can thrive the next day. However, my devotion to the Bell-Bearing Covenant is not a lie."
The room shifted.
The first man's amused curiosity flickered into something else. He tilted his head slowly, smile still there but tighter now. "Where did you hear that name."
Kez beamed like he'd been praised. "I pay attention," he said, eager. "People say a lot when they think nobody important is listening."
The second figure watched Kez for a long moment, the laughter fading into a quiet assessment. Then he chuckled once, softer. "Interesting."
The first man's eyes stayed on Kez, but his voice angled toward his partner. "What do you think, Sine. The kid did more than guesswork."
Sine's smile didn't widen. It thinned.
He looked Kez up and down like he was reading a cheap disguise, then let his gaze slide to Dan. The instructor's stillness seemed to irritate him, like calm was a kind of arrogance.
"You think we trust you because you memorized a name," Sine said flatly.
Kez's grin didn't falter. Inside, his mind was already sprinting.
Sine stepped closer, one measured pace, shrinking the chamber without raising his voice. "No," he said. "You prove loyalty the way loyalty is proved."
He lifted two fingers and pointed at Dan, casual as choosing a tool.
"Kill the instructor."