"Rayden… what's wrong?" Luis asked, his voice low and cautious. "You look like you're… angry or something."
Rayden didn't answer. He slammed the door behind him—not loud enough to break it, but hard enough to make them all flinch. He stormed past them and dropped onto his bed with heavy steps, sitting at the edge like his own weight had become too much.
Luis tried again. "Rayden?"
Rayden ran both hands through his hair, his fingers dragging down his face like he was trying to wipe something off—not sweat, not dirt, but something heavier. His breath came out sharp, strained. Then he sighed—loud, long, full of frustration that had nowhere to go.
"It's the principal," he said, almost spitting the word. "He's… he's something else. Arrogant, smug—Aaarrgh! I hate him."
He let himself fall back on the bed, arms sprawled out. The mattress creaked under him.
The others exchanged glances across the room. No one said anything else. Quietly, one by one, they climbed into their own beds. But they didn't sleep. Not right away.
Rayden stared at the ceiling.
'He said he didn't come looking for me… But the guys said he did. So which one is lying?'
He rolled over.
'If it wasn't the principal… then who?'
He rolled again. The blanket twisted around his legs.
'I can't focus. Not like this. I want to get stronger but… who am I even trying to be? I don't have anyone to follow. No one to look up to.'
He clutched the blanket tight in both fists, his knuckles turning white.
'And now we're in 2B. Great. Just great.'
Another sigh escaped him—this one quiet, defeated. The anger faded, and in its place, something heavier settled.
'I hate myself sometimes…'
He let go of the blanket and closed his eyes.
Sleep took him, not kindly, but with the weight of exhaustion that only a restless heart knows.
—
Girls dorm. Room 5.
"Hey, Aria," one of the girls whispered from her bed, her voice muffled by a pillow. "That guy you waved at today—during the section check—who was he?"
Aria blinked, then gave a small shrug, acting like it didn't matter. "Rayden? Oh… he's just a friend."
The other girls—Mira, Lianne, and Jules—exchanged looks, all three grinning the same way, their voices rising in perfect unison. "Are you suuuure? Not your boyfriend?"
Before they could laugh, Aria grabbed her pillow and chucked it at them. It bounced off Mira's head and landed on the floor.
"Alright, alright, that's enough," she said, turning off the light. "It's bedtime. Good night."
The giggling faded, replaced by soft breathing as the room slipped into quiet.
Aria lay on her side, staring into the dark.
'I think he's doing alright, I hope so, anyway.'
She thought.
She closed her eyes.
—
Somewhere far from the safety of their rooms, another voice stirred.
A voice like a memory made from smoke and thunder.
"Haaa… Thorne. That was your last warning."
The voice of Lady Veyra carried through the dark like a blade pressed against a neck. Invisible. But felt.
"You remember, don't you?" she said. "The hunters who entered the Gate fifteen years ago. The ones who never returned. Everyone said it was Kael's fault. But that was a lie."
The air grew cold.
"Kael is dead. That much is true. That's why Damon left. Do you know what it means to lose a son?"
Her voice cracked—softly, but it cracked.
"You only know the surface. You only know what they let you know. That day… you sealed the dungeon entrance. You closed the path behind them. And they were torn apart by the beasts of that cursed Gate. You knew it was an S-rank dungeon. And you let them walk into it."
Thorne stood still in the empty room, trying to locate her. But she was nowhere—only a presence. A voice.
Then he laughed. It came from deep in his chest, but it shook.
"So… you found out," he muttered. "Those hunters… they were B-rank. Strong. Better than me. Every time we fought, they made me look like a fool. All because I was just a D-rank. No one listened to me. No one followed me."
His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a bitter whisper.
"I got jealous. So I did what I had to do. I killed them. All of them."
Silence.
Veyra's voice didn't come again.
The room felt heavier than before. Something in the air shifted.
Thorne stepped out, shoulders stiff.
'That was too close, he thought. I almost died back there.'
He left the school in silence.
—
Elsewhere, in a quiet home wrapped in old sorrow and thicker silence, Aelina held a photo in her hands. It was a little faded now, but the faces still smiled back. Damon, Aelina, and in the middle—Kael.
"Damon," she said softly. "Look at this. It's from the last time we were all together. I miss him… Kael. And Rayden. Don't you think we should tell him? That he had a brother?"
Damon didn't answer.
His gaze had gone far—past the walls, past the photo, past her voice.
"Damon!" she said again, sharper now.
He blinked, shaking himself out of it. "Sorry… I was just…"
He looked at her, face tired. "Kael is gone. There's no reason for Rayden to know about him."
Aelina stared at him for a long moment, her lips parted like she had more to say. But she didn't say it. She just wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
"I won't let what happened to Kael happen to Rayden," she whispered.
"Promise me."
He didn't speak. But his arm moved to her shoulder. They walked back together, slow and silent, down the hallway.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The alarm blared in the dorm room like a warning shot. Rubby stirred first, squinting at the red digits blinking on the wall. Luis pulled the covers over his head. Troy sat up, stretched with a loud yawn, and muttered something under his breath.
But one bed was empty.
"Luis. Troy. Where's Rayden?" Rubby's voice cracked with sleep.
Troy rubbed at his eyes and waved toward the bathroom. "What? He's probably in the washroom."
Rubby walked over, knocked once, then pushed the door open. Nothing, Dry floor, and no steam. Just empty.
"He's not here."
Troy's eyes opened wider now. He swung his legs off the bed. "Maybe he needed space. Free time or something."
---
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Rayden's footsteps echoed across the dew-soaked courtyard. The sky was still dark, touched only by the faintest whisper of dawn. He jogged in silence, jaw tight, fists clenched, his mind louder than any alarm.
'I've got to work harder… If I want even the smallest chance to become a Hunter.'
His breath grew heavier. His legs slowed. He stopped and sat on a rusted bench near the training fields. His eyes caught the sight of several squads already moving—practicing in quiet formation, their blades flashing like ghosts in the early light.
'Who trains this early…? It's not even six yet.'
A breath left him, almost a laugh, but it held no warmth. He stood again and walked away, shoulders stiff.
---
"Do you think it's a good idea to leave Rayden alone like that?" Luis asked as he adjusted his belt.
Troy smiled faintly and nodded. "He needs this."
---
Rayden pushed the dorm room door open. Still no one there. He didn't head for the washroom. He dropped his bag, dropped to the floor, and started pushing.
"One… Two… Three…"
His arms trembled and his chest hit the floor.
"Four…"
He collapsed with a soft grunt, sweat dampening his forehead.
'At least… I made it to four.'
He dragged himself up and went to the bathroom. No towel. He hadn't brought one. Again. He used his shirt to dry off after the cold, rushed shower, then changed, threw on his cloak, slung his bag over one shoulder, and left for class.
---
Whispers started the moment he passed the front gate.
"That's him… the one Darion punched Yesterday during weed duty."
"Yeah. If the Disciplinary Squad hadn't stepped in…"
Rayden walked faster. His grip tightened on his bag strap.
Let them talk.
He stepped into Class 2B.
Eyes turned.
Laughter started low, then rose like a storm.
The professor slammed her book on the desk. "Enough."
Silence fell like a stone.
Rayden kept walking, head down. He spotted an open seat beside a girl near the window. As he moved to sit, a boy tossed his bag into the chair.
"No seat for losers," the boy muttered.
Snickers followed.
Rayden didn't say anything. He turned away and walked to the back. Sat down. Alone.
The professor looked over her glasses. "You. New boy. Introduce yourself."
Rayden stood, hands still gripping his bag. "Rayden Ashen. Fifteen years old. That's all."
He sat again.
She raised a brow but nodded, then her phone rang and she stepped outside.
The moment she left, two boys leaned back from the row ahead.
"Hey. Puppy. Want us to chew your food for you?"
More laughter.
Rayden's shoulders tensed. He stood, picked up his bag, and walked out. No one tried to stop him.
---
The air outside was sharp and cold. He walked with no destination until the bench found him again. Same one from before. He sat down and stared ahead, chest rising and falling like someone who had run a longer race than he had.
'Will my life always be like this?'
His thoughts drifted to his parents. Their faces. Their voices. The warmth of a place he no longer had.
Three more months… If I can just earn some respect. That's all I want.
He clenched his fist, not in rage, but something quieter. Something deeper.
Across the yard, the squads kept training. One moved in near-perfect formation.
Then a voice cut through the air. Firm. Slightly mocking, but not cruel.
"You're the one who ran off from Elemental Class this morning, huh?"