Later, inside the academy reception hall (where arrivals are processed), guards led them through corridors of polished marble and banners of the Imperial Crest. Keal lagged slightly behind, eyes still shifting.
Zack nudged him again. "Huh… you okay? You're acting weird."
Keal forced a laugh. "Just… tired."
Ron winked at Zak. "He's gonna kill you."
Zack shrugged. "Not unless I let him."
The three stepped out into the wide courtyard. Students milled, squirrels darted, a fountain of crystalline water glowed softly. The academy gates loomed further ahead.
Zack pointed. "There it is — the world's greatest training ground. And we're… how late again?"
Ron checked his watch. "Six weeks. Exactly."
Zack grimaced. "Great. We'll blend in like sore thumbs covered in battle scars."
Keal's eyes drifted to the skies. The eclipse above had grown—a thin dark ring around the moon, hardly noticeable in daylight. His heart skipped.
The towering gates of the Imperial Academy creaked open as Keal and Zack stepped through. The sun painted golden streaks across the marble walls, students filled the walkways, but every eye turned toward the two.
"Who is that?"
"Is he royalty?"
"He's too fine to be real…"
"…Then why's he walking with Zack?"
Keal's steps slowed as whispers chased them. Zack, ever the devil, grinned wide and waved dramatically.
"Yes, yes, we've arrived! Bask in our glory!" he called, tossing invisible rose petals. "And yes, the beauty beside me is real!"
Keal gave him a dry look. "You're not helping."
Girls giggled. One whispered too loudly, "Poor guy. Imagine looking like that and having Zack as your friend."
"I heard he's his butler!"
"No way. No butler has that jawline."
"Tragic. Ruined."
Zack gasped in mock betrayal. "RUINED?! I made this man!"
Keal sighed. "We're late. Where's the classroom?"
Zack winked. "Second floor. Come on, Prettyface."
"Zack… you're late."
"And dramatic," another classmate muttered.
Zack threw an arm over Keal's shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the hero, the mystery, the man who survived me—KEAL!"
Ron blinked, then stood and walked over, his gaze piercing. "You're Keal?"
Keal nodded. "You must be Ron."
Ron smirked. "Respect. Anyone who can survive Zack deserves an award."
The two shook hands. Zack pretended to wipe a tear. "My boys bonding already."
After class, in the hallway
"So," Zack began, "we have a dilemma."
Keal raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
"We're two months late. We've missed orientation, class ranking fights, and the girls already picked their eye candy."
"And?"
Zack clapped his hands. "So tonight, we throw a party!"
Keal frowned. "A party? How does that solve the problem."
"Too late!" Zack sang. "I've already invited people. We are finding you a woman—a real, non-shadowy one."
Ron appeared beside them. "You're not escaping this one, Keal. He's relentless."
Keal groaned. "I regret everything."
Zack wrapped his arms around both their shoulders and yelled toward the open hallway.
"Tonight! Drinks, chaos, and maybe a little romance—for our man, Keal!"
The academy students nearby erupted in cheers and laughter.
Keal closed his eyes, muttering, "Kill me now."
The night was thick with smoke and blood. Echoes of battle still lingered in the air like ghosts refusing to rest. Kira ran — limping, bleeding, silent.
Her cloak was torn, soaked in blood not just from others but from her own side. The wound burned, deep and ugly, just beneath her ribs from the weird Zack strike had landed. She hadn't expected him to move like that. She hadn't expected him to fight with such desperation.
Her boots skidded across cobblestones as she ducked into a narrow alley. Ink shimmered faintly around her body, reacting to her distress, trying to hide her. She leaned against a crumbling wall, sliding down until she hit the ground.
"Damn it," she hissed, pressing her palm to the wound. "I wasn't supposed to get hurt…"
Blood soaked through her fingers, warm and fast. She couldn't stay here long — if Sereh's forces were still hunting, they'd find her. Hell, if anyone saw her now, she was done.
Shaking hands dug into a hidden pocket inside her cloak, pulling out a small stitched leather pouch. Inside, a single vial glowed a faint silver — a hunter's recovery extract. Rare. Expensive. It can only be used by people from the Hunter path .She popped the cork with her teeth and downed it.
The pain got worse before it got better. Her body arched, ink pulsing around her like a second skin, flickering and unstable. She groaned, sweat beading on her forehead. Then… the healing began. Not fast, but enough to dull the edge.
Ink tendrils slithered out of her skin, stitching around the wound like black thread. She let out a breath, slumping back against the wall, eyes fluttering half-shut.
It wasn't just the wound that hurt. It was the betrayal. The setup. She had been a pawn — meant to die so that they can discover how strong they re or what. Luckily Marr gave me this potion incase. Kira clenched her jaw.
"She used me," she whispered. "She… actually used me."
Her shadow flickered. The ink in her blood stirred with quiet rage. She was a Hunter. A shadow. A ghost. Not a toy.
The night was quiet now. Too quiet. She didn't trust it.
With effort, she pushed herself up, legs trembling. Her ink had stabilized — the stitches holding for now, but she couldn't fight like this.
She had to vanish.
Not forever. Just long enough to heal. To plan. To strike back.
Before stepping back into the darkness, she whispered, "I'll make them all pay… every one of them."
And with a shimmer of ink, Kira disappeared into another city, her footsteps fading like smoke.