THIRD POV
The city was quiet that night.
Streetlights buzzed, cars passed once in a while, and cold air brushed against the empty road.
Kael rode his delivery bike through the neighborhood, the small engine rattling beneath him. It was already late, but he only had one more house to visit. After that, he could finally go home.
He parked the bike in front of a small gate and looked at the address on his phone.
"Last one..." he muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.
Before getting off his bike, a bright light flashed across the street. Kael lifted his head.
A giant screen on a building was broadcasting the news-no, not the news.
A raid.
Hunters were fighting monsters in the Red Zone.
Explosions lit the area.
Weapons glowed.
Bodies moved fast, confident, powerful.
The reporter's voice echoed from the speakers:
"-the raid team has successfully cleared the nest. Casualties remain low thanks to the hero unit's quick response-"
Kael watched quietly.
One Hunter swung a blade and ended a monster in one clean strike. Another created a shield of light to protect the civilians. They looked strong-untouchably strong.
Kael's fingers tightened around the handlebar of his bike.
"If I were stronger..." he whispered.
"Maybe I could do something like that too."
A small, tired smile crossed his face.
"Yeah. As if."
The screen continued to shine brightly, but Kael turned away. He still had a job to finish.
He picked up the small box, walked to the door, and knocked twice.
No answer.
He knocked again.
"Delivery!" he called out.
Footsteps approached. The door opened, and a middle-aged man grabbed the package without even looking at him.
"Oh. Thanks," the man said before shutting the door.
Kael blinked once.
"...You're welcome," he murmured, even though the man was already gone.
He walked back to his bike, put on his helmet, and started the engine. The sound echoed down the quiet street as he drove off.
Just another night.
Just another delivery.
...
Kael stepped into the apartment and closed the door quietly behind him. The smell of warm food drifted from the kitchen.
His sister peeked out. "You're back. How was work?"
Kael removed his shoes and placed his keys on the little table. "Tiring," he admitted. "A lot of deliveries tonight."
She nodded and set another plate on the dining table. "At least you're home now. Sit, eat."
Kael sat down and let out a long breath. "What about you? How was school?"
She poured water into his glass before answering. "Normal. Classes were fine. Homework... not so fine." She gave a small laugh, then her expression softened. "But it's okay."
Kael picked up his chopsticks. "And tuition? Everything paid?"
"Not everything," she said quietly. "But I'll manage. I can ask the office for an extension again."
Kael paused. "You shouldn't have to. I'll take more shifts."
She frowned immediately. "Brother, you're already working too much."
"It's fine," Kael said with a tired smile. "As long as you can stay in school."
She lowered her eyes but didn't argue. "Just... don't push yourself too hard."
Kael nodded, though he wasn't sure he could keep that promise.
They began eating in silence, the soft clink of dishes filling the small room.
For a moment, everything felt calm. Just another quiet night at home.
...
The door to his room slid shut behind him with a soft click.
Dim light from the hallway spilled in for a moment before fading, leaving the small space quiet and still.
He crossed to the worn cabinet tucked against the wall. When he opened it, a single folded sheet of paper lay inside-its edges creased from being opened and closed too many times. Wrapped inside were the savings he had been setting aside for her fees.
He slipped a few more bills into the bundle, smoothing the paper before tucking it carefully into the corner of the cabinet. It wasn't much... but it was what he had.
The cabinet shut with a muted thud.
He moved to his bed and dropped onto it face-first, arms stretched out, legs heavy and slack from the long day. The thin mattress barely softened the impact, but it felt good to finally stop moving.
A muffled sigh escaped into the pillow.
"Another day of teaching," he muttered to himself, voice low and tired. "Can't believe how draining it is."
His eyes slowly drifted shut, the exhaustion wrapping around him like a blanket. The world faded-not knowing that tonight would be the last time he slept as the weakest instructor alive.
SILVERTHORNE ACADEMY
Silverthorne Academy was huge.
The buildings, made of white stone with silver lines running through them, shined brightly under the morning sun. Tall towers rose high above the grounds, each one marked with the academy's symbol-a blooming thorne wrapped in light.
The main gate looked almost magical.
A wide stone arch stood at the entrance, covered with vines full of small silver-blue flowers. When the wind blew, soft petals fell like glowing dust. Past the gate, the academy opened into wide paths, big lawns, and open spaces filled with green.
Gardens were everywhere.
Flower beds of blue, white, and purple stretched along the walkways. Trees with bright leaves shaded the paths, and the air smelled lightly of flowers and fresh morning breeze.
The peaceful scenery didn't stop the place from being lively.
It was the first day of school, and the grounds were full of noise and movement.
Students walked in groups, talking excitedly.
Some ran across the courtyard, afraid they were late.
Others laughed with friends, showing off their uniforms and new bags.
A few older students stood near the trees, practicing small bits of power-little sparks, glowing palms, or tiny waves of wind-while younger students watched with wide eyes.
Near the central fountain, a bunch of first-years were already panicking about their orientation, running in the wrong direction again and again.
Others stood with a map, turning it around, confused about which building was which.
Voices, footsteps, laughter, and the splash of water mixed together, filling the air with life.
Silverthorne Academy was beautiful, bright, and full of excitement.
A perfect beginning for a year that would change everything.
The walk toward the academy's east wing felt quieter than the rest of the grounds. Students hurried past with loud voices and bright excitement, but the path slowly grew emptier the farther he went. Papers rested neatly in his hands, held close to his chest as he followed the familiar hallway.
This part of Silverthorne wasn't polished like the main courts.
The walls were older, the light dimmer, and almost no students gathered here. Everyone knew what this section was for - the ones who struggled, the ones teachers avoided, the ones who didn't fit the academy's bright image.
A soft breath escaped him.
"Another day... let's do our best," he murmured, barely above a whisper.
He climbed the stairs, steps gentle, then walked through a long corridor where even the sound of voices seemed thin. Some passing students glanced his way, whispering behind their hands, but he kept his eyes forward. It wasn't new. It didn't bother him anymore.
At the end of the hall waited a simple wooden door.
Room 2-F.
The room for students everyone else had given up on.
He reached for the handle - but paused when he heard noise from inside.
Arguing. Movement. A small mess already starting.
And among the voices, one stood out - firm, sharp, irritated.
Raven Holt.
The red-haired boy with a bright temper and a heavy reputation.
Son of two famous, powerful hunters... yet placed in the "failure" room.
A name teachers whispered about, a student other classes feared to touch.
He was in there too.
Waiting.
...
The noise inside slowly faded the moment he stepped through the door.
Chairs scraped, conversations stopped halfway, and every student in the room turned toward the front as he walked to the teacher's desk. He placed the books down carefully, keeping his movements quiet and gentle, then looked up at the fifteen faces watching him.
Some looked bored.
Some annoyed.
Some tired.
And a few... simply lost.
He folded his hands in front of him and offered a small, warm smile.
"Good morning, everyone. My name is Kael Ardyn Thelos, your assigned instructor for this term."
His voice was soft, calm, almost soothing - the type that didn't force attention but slowly drew it.
He glanced around the room, making sure to meet each pair of eyes, even the ones that tried to avoid his.
"This class is known as Section F," he continued.
"Students placed here often struggle with abilities, with control... or simply with keeping up."
A few students lowered their eyes.
Someone scoffed quietly.
Raven Holt leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind the sharp red strands falling over his eyes.
Kael kept his tone gentle.
"Being here does not mean you are hopeless. It only means you need a different pace. A different kind of guidance."
He placed a hand over the stack of books.
"And that is what I will give you."
The room was quiet, unsure how to react to a teacher who didn't yell or judge.
Kael smiled again, soft and sincere.
"So... let's begin. Together."
The lesson had barely started, yet the room was already drifting apart.
A boy near the window yawned loudly and rested his head on his desk.
Two girls in the back whispered to each other, not even pretending to listen.
Someone tapped their pen over and over, more interested in the noise than the lesson.
Raven Holt sat with his arms crossed, eyes half-open, looking like he was forcing himself not to fall asleep.
Kael continued speaking softly at the front of the room.
"A Gift is something you're born with," he explained, drawing a simple diagram on the board. "It can be weak at first... but with the right training, anyone can improve."
The chalk made a quiet scrape.
No one reacted.
He tried again, turning toward them with a patient smile.
"Our goal in Section F is to control your Gifts, step by step. Even the smallest progress matters."
Nothing.
One boy was literally snoring.
For a moment, Kael simply stood there, watching the room-messy, unmotivated, restless. Any other teacher would have yelled, thrown a book, or stormed out. Section F was infamous for a reason.
But Kael didn't raise his voice.
He didn't scold.
He just breathed out softly.
"I see..." he murmured.
He walked slowly between the rows of desks, checking on each student. Some avoided his eyes. Others didn't even notice he was there. When he reached Raven's desk, the red-haired boy looked up lazily.
"What?" Raven asked, voice rough.
Kael answered with the same gentle tone.
"Nothing. Just checking on you."
Raven clicked his tongue and looked away.
Still smiling, Kael returned to the front.
This class was a mess.
But he didn't hate it.
He was here for them - the ones everyone else had already abandoned.
"Alright," he said softly, almost to himself, "let's try again."
...
The lesson went on with half the class not listening. Kael still explained everything carefully, trying his best even when some students were snoring on their desks.
Then the bell rang.
Chairs scraped.
Books closed fast.
Students rushed for the door like they had been waiting the whole time.
Kael quietly gathered his notes, stacking the papers so they wouldn't fall. He stepped aside so the students could pass. Some brushed past him without even looking.
When the room finally cleared, he looked up-and saw someone still inside.
Raven.
The red-haired boy stood near the window, hands in his pockets, staring outside like he didn't care about the bell, the crowd, or anything else. His face was calm, but his eyes looked... angry? Or maybe tired. It was hard to tell.
Kael paused for a moment.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't want to bother him.
Maybe Raven just wanted to be alone.
So Kael simply tightened his hold on his books and walked toward the door.
Teaching was all he needed to do. Nothing more.
Behind him, Raven didn't move.
He just kept looking out the window, quiet and unreadable.
....
Kael walked to the faculty office with his books pressed against his chest. The hallway was noisy, but the office was bright and calm. When he pushed the door open, several instructors were already inside, gathered around the long table.
They looked up
The room was filled with soft chatter, papers stacked high, and the warm smell of coffee drifting from a corner table.
A few instructors looked up.
"Ah, Kael. Good afternoon."
"Back from your class already?"
He gave a polite nod. "Yes. Good afternoon, everyone."
Some teachers continued their talk while Kael walked toward his desk.
"I heard the first-year batch this time is impressive," one instructor said. "There are more gifted students than usual."
"Mm, especially those from high-ranking families," another replied. "Their skills are already close to second-year level."
"I wouldn't be surprised if we get a few prodigies this year," someone added proudly.
Then the tone shifted.
"But the academy also received the usual troublemakers," a man groaned. "Weak abilities, bad manners... some don't even try."
Another laughed lightly. "I feel bad for whoever got assigned to handle them."
Kael placed his books down, quietly. He didn't react, but he already knew who they were talking about.
His class.
Section F.
He slid a notebook into a drawer, pretending he didn't hear the last comment. Even so, he carried the same thought he always did.
No matter what others said, he would keep teaching them.