This was war.
The system wanted me gone.
The Owner—my friend wanted his narrative back.
But more than that… he was sending a message.
You don't get to rewrite my story.
And yet—
I rose.
Broken ribs, failing mana, no weapon.
But I rose.
Because the moment I didn't, the moment I gave in—that was when the story won.
My story?
It was just getting started.
Above, the fortress began to descend.
And something—someone—was emerging from its gates.
A figure draped in crimson robes, his face hidden behind a porcelain mask.
Then he started to laugh like mainc.
"Hahahahaha!"
Slowly, every head turned toward the sound.
The figure in crimson robes withporcelain mask on his face took a step forward, moving with an unsettling grace. Dust swirled around him, framing his silhouette like the arrival of something far beyond human.
His gaze swept across the everyone in that broken arena ground, taking in everything—the cadets cowering, the professors standing on high alert but stillbehind the barrier, the two Protagonists poised for battle, and the guard who had just fought the trolls moments ago.
Then, for a fleeting second, his eyes locked onto me.
I felt my breath hitch.
An invisible weight settled on my chest, cold and suffocating. My body tensed
instinctively, a primal warning screaming at me—this man is dangerous.
A heavy silence followed.
Then, his expression twisted into one of mild displeasure, like an artist unimpressed by his own work.
"Truly magnificent," he mused, his voice smooth yet laced with mockery. "Perhaps I underestimated Velcrest Academy. The best academy in the world, wasn't it?"
Despite his words, there was no admiration in his tone. Only contempt.
The figure turned slightly, arms still loose at his sides, as if what lay before him was not a battlefield, but a stage for a performance long overdue.
"And yet…" he continued, tilting his head, "this is the extent of your resistance?"
His voice carried through the wreckage, clear and effortless, as though the very air parted to make way for his presence. It wasn't magic—not the kind we knew, at least. It was authority. Ownership.
Ryen stepped forward first, his blade drawn. Leo followed a second later, spear in hand, eyes narrowed.
The figure chuckled again, like they were children pretending to be warriors.
"You dare?" he said, not with anger, but with genuine amusement. "Even now, with your timeline bleeding from the seams, you resist? My dear protagonists…"
His porcelain mask tilted toward the sky.
"You weren't supposed to see me yet. But what can I do? I have to change my plans little bit."
A pulse of dark mana radiated from his body, warping the ground beneath him. Reality rippled, like his very presence twisted the fabric of the world. I felt the system react to him—no, recoil. Error warnings flickered faintly across my vision before vanishing. Even it didn't know how to process this.
At the same time, from the distance I watched and also I know remember his identity.
The sadistic, pleasure-seeking killer.
Kai Foster.
In the original novel, Kai attack the academy in intent to kill a talented first year cadet that are going to join the academy.
And he did it.
He accompanied his goal by killing over half the first year cadet and left with satisfaction.
That's why in the original novel the fortress was gone after done attacking.
But this time, he couldn't accomplished his plan, so he was here to end this all his own.
It was only revealed in 3rd volume that Kai Foster was mastermind behind this incident when Ryen faced him.
This battle is going to be More dangerous then before.
Shit!
The Guard, bloodied and staggering, moved in front of the cadets, stance firm. "Cadets," he barked. "Regroup. Form defensive lines!"
Some responded. Most didn't.
They were still staring at him.
"Ah, the brave guardian," the masked man said, taking another step. "Do you think you can protect them?"
Then, without warning—
He moved.
"Hey, watch out—!" I barely had time to shout before Kai cut me off.
"I don't care about you." His voice was flat, uninterested. His words weren't even directed at me—he was talking to the guard. "Why don't you take a nap for a while?"
The guard's eyes widened, but before he could react—
Kai flicked his wrist.
A staff materialized from beneath his cloak as if conjured from thin air. And the moment it appeared—
A spell was unleashed.
Fast. Too fast.
A surge of dark energy shot forward at terrifying speed, giving the instructor no time to dodge.
My breath caught in my throat.
Shit.
This was bad.
For a split second, everything was silent.
Then—chaos.
Screams erupted as cadets finally registered what had happened. Their faces paled, eyes darting between the collapsed instructor and the boy who had just taken him down.
I turned back to Kai.
He hadn't even moved from his spot.
The bastard simply tilted his head, as if analyzing his handiwork, before letting out a quiet sigh.
"Tch. That was disappointing," he muttered.
The gaurd wasn't dead—I could see his fingers twitch slightly—but he sure as hell wasn't getting up anytime soon.
Kai chuckled, shaking his head.
"Well, would you look at that? He's still breathing. Lucky man."
Then, without any rush, he raised his staff again.
A sickening chill ran down my spine.
He was going to finish the job.
I forced my legs to move.
"Stop—!" I shouted, voice raw, but my body screamed in protest. Mana flared, unstable and flickering, just enough to lift me from the ground.
But someone else got there first.
Ryen.
He moved in a blur, blade slashing downward with enough force to crack stone. Kai didn't dodge—he parried with his staff, one hand behind his back, expression still unreadable beneath that porcelain mask.
The shockwave from their clash blew debris outward, and I had to throw up a weak shield just to keep from being knocked over again.
Kai's head tilted, just slightly.
"Oh? You aren't scared? And here I thought. Must be because you are so talented."
Ryen gritted his teeth.
"Stop with your bullshit."
Kai's laugh was sharp, cold.
"That's not how you are supposed to talk with adult you know?"
And then he moved.
It was like the air gave way to him. He twisted inside Ryen's guard and slammed the end of his staff into the boy's stomach, sending him flying backward with a gasp.
Before Ryen even hit the ground, Leo was already in motion, spear spinning into a throwing stance.
"Leo, wait—!" I called out, but too late.
Leo launched it.
The spear shrieked through the air—lightning-infused, aimed with deadly precision.
Kai didn't dodge.
He raised one hand and caught it.
Just caught it. Fingers closing around the shaft like it was a stick tossed by a child.
He glanced at the weapon, then at Leo.
"Still playing support, I see," he said, cracking the spear in half with a slow, deliberate motion. "Unfortunate."
Mana detonated where the broken spear fell.
Leo had loaded it with a secondary spell—a trap.
But the explosion did nothing.
The dust cleared, and Kai was still standing, untouched, brushing soot off his shoulder like it was lint.
Then he pointed the cracked shaft at Leo like a wand.
And fired.
Not magic. Not even a spell. Just force.
Leo's barrier shattered on contact, and the boy crumpled with a sharp, involuntary grunt.
My stomach twisted.
Both protagonists—down. Not dead, but dazed. Wounded.
And yet… in the grand scheme of things, Kai Foster shouldn't have stood a chance.
He wasn't stronger than them. Not even close.
In fact, compared to Ryen and Leo, he was laughably weak.
Kai's talent? Just a low-grade dark mage. Dark Magic [B-] rank—barely above average. The kind of talent you'd see in dozens of cadets every year. It wasn't rare, it wasn't special, and it definitely wasn't supposed to topple two of the top talents in the academy.
Ryen was an A-rank sword prodigy. Leo, an A-rank spear user with lightning affinity.
Kai?
He was the kind of guy who'd be written off in the early chapters of any story—an obstacle, maybe a stepping stone at best.
And yet… here we were.
Ryen gasping on the ground. Same with Leo. Kai hadn't even broken a sweat.
So what made him so dangerous?
Two things.
First, experience.
This wasn't his first battlefield. While Ryen and Leo had been training under instructors, Kai had been out there in the world—fighting, killing, surviving. Every move he made had the sharpness of someone who had bled for it. His instincts were honed like a blade, precise and unforgiving. He didn't waste mana. He didn't hesitate. Every action he took had a purpose.
Second…
Artifacts.
From head to toe, the bastard was wrapped in enchanted gear—each piece customized, calibrated, and refined for war. His robe? Reinforced with multi-layered shielding spells. His mask? Probably blocked mental interference and gave him Illusion spell or maybe poison. That staff he conjured? Not a weapon—it was a cheat code, amplifying every scrap of his magic to levels far beyond his base output.
Every single item on him had one purpose: to fight people stronger than him and win.
He wasn't powerful by talent.
He was powerful by preparation.
And when that kind of cunning meets a mind that enjoys killing?
You get a monster.
I looked back at the collapsed figures of Ryen and Leo, their weapons scattered, faces bruised and bloodied.
And Kai?
He was just standing there. Calm. Relaxed. Watching like this was all part of some elaborate play.
Because for him, maybe it was.
He didn't fight fair.
He fought to win.
And that's what made him terrifying.
Certainly. Here's the revised and improved version of the chapter, keeping the tone intense while making the characters and dialogue feel more human and natural:
---
But that didn't mean everything was hopeless.
Both Ryen and Leo, bruised and bloodied, managed to push themselves back onto their feet.
It was slow, painful, defiant.
And for the first time, Kai paused.
He clicked his tongue.
"Tsk. Talented kids really are a pain."
The mask hid his expression, but his voice was laced with annoyance. Beneath that porcelain, it wasn't anger—it was something deeper. Spite.
Because if there was one thing Kai Foster truly hated… it was talent.
He had spent his whole life watching people with gifts walk ahead of him. People who were handed everything from the moment they were born—power, status, a future paved in gold.
And yet, when the time came, those same people faltered. They flinched. They crumbled under pressure.
Because they never had to fight to survive.
But Kai?
He'd dragged himself through hell with nothing but grit and a bitter, stubborn will. No blessings. No gifts. Just pain—and the refusal to kneel.
That was why he was here.
That was why he came to this academy.
Not to prove anything.
But to ruin it.
Out of jealousy. Out of spite.
Out of a deep, ugly need to watch the gifted suffer.
Across the field, Leo gritted his teeth and fumbled into his dimensional bracelet. His fingers trembled slightly, whether from adrenaline or pain, but he managed to pull out several vials.
He tossed a few toward Ryen.
"Here. Catch."
Ryen barely managed to snatch them out of the air.
High-grade healing potions. A few strength boosters. Expensive, high-quality stuff. The kind most students didn't carry unless they expected to face death.
"Thanks," Ryen muttered, uncorking the bottle.
Leo didn't even look at him. "Don't thank me. Just shut up and drink."
He downed one of the vials himself and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I just want to kill that bastard."
The anger in his voice was raw, and for once, not just ego. There was rage there—yes—but also something else.
Fear.
Understanding.
He knew that if they didn't stand together now, they wouldn't stand at all.
If this had been any other day, Leo might've refused to share potions. Might've made a jab at Ryen just for breathing too close.
But this wasn't a normal day.
This wasn't a spar.
It was survival.
Across from them, Kai didn't interrupt. Didn't move. He just watched them patch themselves up like a wolf watching wounded prey crawl toward a second round.
It excited him.
He wanted them to come at him again.
Stronger.
So he could break them properly.
Kai's fingers danced lazily over the shaft of his staff, like he was bored—but his voice betrayed him.
He chuckled, low and slow.
"Good," he murmured. "Come at me again. Make me feel something."
The ground beneath his feet trembled slightly, as if even the earth was reacting to the malice radiating from him.
Ryen tightened his grip on his blade.
Leo spun his cracked spear once, sparks dancing across the tip.
They stood side by side now.
Enemies.
Allies.
Two Protagonists who hated each other on most days, but today—
Today, they'd fight like their lives depended on it.
Because they did.
Then they attack, Ryen with his sword and Leo with his new spear that he had taken out of dimensional bracelet.
Leo was fast—frighteningly so—but his movements were too clean, too rehearsed.
Ryen's blade was sharp, but his footwork left openings. He fought like someone who always had backup watching his blind spots.
Kai grinned, from excitement.
"You two are strong," he admitted, breathing heavily. "But you're soft."
In a blur, he leapt back, staff spinning in his hand.
"You think this is a duel?" he spat, his voice rising. "You think I'm going to fight fair just because you want to show off?"
The shadows beneath his feet writhed.
"No. I'm not playing your game."
With a sudden, violent pulse, dark magic erupted from Kai's staff. The arena dimmed as if the light itself recoiled.
And then— he attacked.
So fast that it won't be possible to see anyone with naked eye.
And that attack was aimed towards Leo.
A bolt of lightning shot out, striking Leo square in the shoulder.
"Damn it—!"
His eyes widened in shock as he stumbled backward, clutching his burned shoulder.
Leo's body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his spear clattering beside him.
The broken arena went dead silent.
For a moment, no one moved—no one even breathed.
All eyes locked onto Leo's unmoving form, the faint wisp of smoke still curling from his shoulder where the lightning had struck. His uniform was scorched, the flesh underneath seared. His breathing was shallow, labored.
Unconscious.
Just like that… one of Velcrest Academy's shining stars was out.