The rankings at Sirris Academy shifted again. Word spread like wildfire through every hallway, cafeteria corner, and whispered clique — Daniel had clawed his way to Rank 11.
From Rank 17, he'd ripped through six rankers in less than three days. Each fight was quick, decisive, almost casual. To the spectators — the few lucky enough to witness those encounters in back alleys, empty streets, or private halls — it was almost unnerving.
Zeke, who once towered over him in arrogance, now seemed like nothing more than a warm-up. The rankers from 16 to 12 had gone down one after the other, their abilities nullified, their pride stripped bare. Daniel didn't just defeat them — he dismantled them. Every exchange felt like he was simply playing.
And the worst part for them? Daniel didn't even look winded.
While Sirris Academy buzzed with the rumors, one name surfaced repeatedly — Seraphine Veyra, Rank Nine of Valhalla's list. The silver-haired beauty with crimson eyes who commanded a small legion of unranked but deadly lackeys. People said she could make even the strongest kneel, that she didn't just want followers — she wanted servants.
That morning, she stepped onto the school grounds. The shift in atmosphere was instant.
Boys whispered in awe, girls watched her with a mix of admiration and fear. Even the teachers seemed quieter than usual. Seraphine moved with the composure of a queen inspecting her territory. Her gaze was sharp, searching.
She asked one question to the first person she deemed worthy of speaking to:
"Where's Daniel?"
The student stammered, cheeks flushing. "H-he's… not here today."
Her expression didn't change — not a flicker of irritation, not even disappointment. Just a small, knowing smirk before she turned and walked away.
That afternoon, fate — or maybe something darker — decided their meeting place.
A quiet park, where the sunlight cut through the leaves in scattered golden rays. Daniel was there, slouched on a bench, one arm draped over the backrest, idly scrolling through his phone as if he had all the time in the world.
He looked up when he sensed someone approaching.
Silver hair caught the sunlight first, shimmering like molten frost. Crimson eyes locked onto him, and for a moment, neither spoke.
Daniel blinked, tilting his head slightly, as if trying to place her face.
She was… beautiful. Not the kind of beauty that faded under scrutiny — the kind that pulled your eyes in and didn't let go. Her presence was overwhelming without her even trying.
For Seraphine, seeing him was just as striking. His features were sharper than the whispers had suggested, his golden hair catching every shard of light, Bright golden eyes with slitted pupils holding an unshakable calm.
And then, inexplicably, both of them blushed.
Daniel broke into a low chuckle, leaning forward slightly. "I remember you now…" His tone dipped into something that made the air feel heavier. "You're a ranker, aren't you?"
The way he said it — not a question, but a recognition — was almost unsettling. He leaned back, grin widening, whispering almost maniacally.
A flash of surprise crossed Seraphine's face before she let out a soft laugh of her own. "Since you know who I am, that makes things easier, no?"
Daniel shook his head, feigning indifference. "I'm not strong enough. So go back, find someone else to make your dog."
Her eyes narrowed slightly at his choice of words, but she didn't correct him.
Because in his past life, he knew the truth. Rank Nine — Seraphine Veyra — was infamous for bending people to her will. He had been one of them once. She had taken him in, molded him into a weapon that served only her ambition. But he had slipped away eventually, fleeing to the borders of Niflheim while still within Asgard's reach. There, he had made a life for himself — fragile but free.
And that was where he'd been betrayed. The ones he called friends had sold him out, leaving him to be killed by Niflheim's forces. That betrayal was burned into him, an old wound he would never let fully close.
So seeing her now — here, alive, unchanged — brought back more than just memories.
Seraphine studied him for a moment, and then her expression sharpened. She stepped closer, the faintest trace of bloodlust leaking into the air around her.
"It doesn't matter what you want," she said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. "What matters… is what I want."
Her crimson gaze locked onto his with unshakable intent.
"And what I want…" she paused, letting the tension stretch between them, "…is you."
Daniel didn't flinch. If anything, his grin widened.
For the first time in years, the game between them had started again.