Shadows fell from the treeline like leaves in autumn—silent, controlled, and heavy with intent. One after another, they stepped into the clearing, their numbers swelling with each movement until the count reached at least fifty. The forest, once whispering with the sounds of birds and wind, now held its breath.
The students around Zeke tensed. Whispers rippled through the lines of his army like static in a storm. Some gripped their weapons tighter, others widened their stances instinctively. Zeke, however, stood still, his gaze unwavering, even as one figure stepped forward from among the dark-cloaked intruders.
This one was different.
He moved with practiced ease, the sway of his cloak giving glimpses of polished boots and a well-maintained blade. Sunlight filtered through the branches above, catching on the golden sheen of his hair. Then, with theatrical flair, he pulled down his mask to reveal a sharp-jawed face, smirking like someone who believed the world spun for his amusement.
"Hahaha," he laughed, pointing a lazy finger in Zeke's direction, "You must be Zeke."
A ripple of surprise broke through the ranks of the other shadows.
"Zeke?"
"He must be the one from the update we got yesterday."
"Yeah... kill him and we get an instant pass."
Zeke's eyes narrowed. Even now, with tension thick enough to choke on, his mind processed everything. Their numbers. Their attitude. The weight of killing intent in the air.
His enhanced senses—sharpened since the breakthrough—picked up every word. Even the tiniest rustles and murmurs didn't escape him.
Behind him, his formation remained firm, but uncertainty pulsed like a heartbeat among the students. How had they not noticed this many people watching them from the shadows?
Zeke tilted his head slightly and spoke, voice calm but layered with something deeper.
"You guys... it was a task given by the Academy, right?"
He paused, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"To kill other students, I mean."
The words hung there like an unhealed wound.
Unease spread through the students at his back—Zeke's army. Their hands shifted on hilts and staves. The idea of classmates becoming prey, of this whole thing being engineered, left a bitter taste.
The blonde figure smiled. The light hit him just right, casting golden halos on his face, as though he were some twisted saint.
"Indeed, my friend," he said brightly, tapping a cross against his chest in mock piety. His tone was playful, teasing. "We were forced to do this. I wouldn't have killed this many students otherwise."
Spit.
All eyes snapped back to Zeke, who'd just spat on the forest floor.
"Disgusting," he muttered, voice low and sharp. His gaze burned as it swept over the crowd of killers. "You. All of you."
He stepped forward.
"Killing your classmates like this."
He turned his attention to the blonde.
"And you, blondie... looking at your face hurts more than being told I have a girlfriend."
From his right, one of the earlier prisoners—still tied up—let out an embarrassed cough, averting his eyes.
The blonde's grin faltered for just a moment.
Then he started laughing.
Not just a chuckle—this was a loud, cracked laugh that rolled out of his chest like thunder. It was unstable, full of sharp edges and something fractured.
"Yes! Yes, very good!" he said through the laughter. "I like killing the talkative ones the most."
He licked his blade, eyes wild. Blood clung to it, thick and fresh. But it wasn't his. And he wanted them all to know it.
"Let's play a game," he said suddenly. "You versus me. One on one. A duel. Because, let's be honest here—if both of us let them fight it out my team would win."
The confidence in his voice was maddening.
Around Zeke, his students shifted again—offended, yet quiet. They didn't like how accurate it felt. They turned to Zeke.
Zeke tilted his head, pretending to think. He even scratched the side of his jaw.
"Hmmm... honestly, I'm a little short on time. I had a date scheduled, you know..."
A few students exchanged confused looks some, crooked smiles. Zeke sighed as if heavily burdened.
"Fine. Sure. Let's do it."
The blonde clapped. "Very good, my friend! Don't worry, if you miss your date, I'll explain everything to your girlfriend."
Zeke's expression fell. His eyes narrowed. His jaw twitched.
His voice came out strained, sharp as steel dragged across stone.
"Holy shit... how many times do I have to tell everyone—I don't have a girlfriend."
Even the executioners flinched at the sudden seriousness in his tone. Some of Zeke's students chuckled awkwardly under their breath, half-relieved at the break in tension.
A gap opened in the formation. The executioners entered, their movements precise. Some looked unsure, others eager. The circle that had once been formed for protection now became a stage.
Zeke stepped forward, blade in hand, the steel glinting faintly under the canopy's fragmented light.
He didn't rush. He didn't posture. He just stood tall, steady, and certain.
The blonde took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.
"Let's make it interesting," he said. "If I win, I take command of this lovely little army of yours."
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "And if I win?"
The blonde smiled.
"Then I die. Fair and square."
Zeke stared for a long moment, then gave the smallest of nods.
The air shifted.
A single leaf fell between Zeke and the blonde.
The moment it touched the ground, the duel began.