The road to Zenith Academy was quieter than Daniel expected.
The city itself stretched wide, gleaming with signs of wealth and order, far different from the chaos of Sirris. The streets were lined with clean stone, polished glass windows reflected the sun, and uniformed students walked in small groups. Their chatter carried easily in the air—talk of classes, family pride, and the academy itself.
But Daniel wasn't here for the scenery. His hand kept brushing against his empty hip where his katana usually rested. He had decided not to bring it. Weapons would only weigh him down in this place. If Ragnar's words had any weight, then fists would do just fine.
Form a crew.
The thought rolled through his mind again, carrying the image of Odin with it. The silver-haired phantom from his past life. A walking storm. A man whose very existence had bent rules.
Daniel's jaw tightened. He wasn't even sure if Odin would recognize him, an outsider—or if he would care. But he had to try.
As he neared the academy gates, his presence drew attention. Students stopped their conversations and turned. Some whispered, others sneered. He was an outsider, and in Zenith, outsiders weren't welcomed with smiles.
Three figures broke from the crowd, blocking his path at the gate. They wore the school's uniform, but their eyes carried arrogance.
"Hey, you lost, stranger?" one of them asked, cracking his knuckles. "This isn't a sightseeing spot. Outsiders don't get to step inside."
Daniel tilted his head, unimpressed. "Step aside."
The boy laughed. "Or what? You'll—"
He didn't finish. Daniel moved before the words could leave his lips. His fist struck the boy's gut, folding him like paper. The impact echoed across the courtyard, leaving silence in its wake.
The others lunged, but Daniel barely shifted his weight. He ducked under a swing, shoved an elbow into a ribcage, then turned his body with a sharp pivot, sending another sprawling with a clean strike to the jaw.
It was over in seconds. They groaned on the ground, clutching their stomachs and faces.
Daniel exhaled slowly. "Too weak."
And then—
A voice broke the silence. Smooth. Confident. Mocking.
"You really don't hold back, do you?"
The crowd parted, as if pushed back by something unseen. From between them walked a boy with silver hair that shimmered under the sun, his hands buried deep in his pockets. His red eyes scanned the scene lazily, as though the three beaten bodies at Daniel's feet were nothing more than spilled water.
Odin Vera.
Even without the memories of his past life, Daniel would have known. His presence was different. He didn't walk like a student. He didn't look like one. He moved like a predator wearing a school uniform.
Daniel met his gaze without flinching.
"You know I came here for you, right?"
Odin smirked, the corner of his lips curling upward. "I know."
And then—without warning—both of them vanished.
Gasps echoed across the courtyard. To the onlookers, it was as if two ghosts had disappeared from sight. But in truth, they had simply moved. Too fast for human eyes, too fast for anyone bound by ordinary limits.
The fight began with a blur. Odin struck first, his right leg whipping forward with the sharp snap of a taekwondo kick. Daniel blocked with his forearm, the force rattling his bones. Odin spun, a heel slicing through the air toward Daniel's temple. Daniel leaned back, the strike missing him by inches.
Each kick came faster than the last—precise, merciless, meant to break. Odin's style wasn't flashy; it was lethal.
But Daniel kept up. Step for step. Strike for strike. He retaliated, mirroring the movements with frightening speed. His own kicks clashed with Odin's, the sound of impact cracking through the air like thunder.
The two moved like storms colliding. Feet scraped the ground, air split with every clash, and neither yielded an inch.
Then Daniel changed. He dropped his stance, fists tightening, switching into boxing. His movements became sharper, closer, every strike aiming for Odin's ribs, his chin, his throat. Odin weaved between them, his kicks lashing out to keep distance.
For a moment, it was a deadlock.
Neither breaking.
Neither bending.
Then Daniel stopped, lowering his fists slightly. A small sigh escaped his lips.
"Tch… I thought holding back was gonna cut it." His eyes narrowed, glowing with quiet rage. "Guess I'm crazy for believing that."
Odin laughed, breathless but amused. "You're an interesting one."
They lunged again—faster, harder. But this time Daniel moved differently. He twisted, copying Ragnar's unique skill. A brutal back kick—heel driving upward with impenetrable, indomitable force.
Odin's eyes widened. He couldn't block in time. The strike connected with his chin, snapping his head back as his body lifted from the ground. For the first time, Odin was sent flying.
Daniel followed instantly. His fist drove deep into Odin's gut midair, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. Odin's body slammed into a wall, cracks splintering outward from the collision. Dust rose, silence followed.
Daniel stood there, exhaling. "...Sigh. Why did you even fight me, man?" He tilted his head. "You aren't this weak. That kick to the chin—you felt it. So why hold back?"
Odin coughed, then… laughed. A low, amused sound that grew louder as he pushed himself off the wall.
"Well…" He wiped blood from his lip. "I wouldn't have won either way. So why waste it all?" His grin widened. "But you're right. I was holding back."
Daniel frowned. "Why?"
Instead of answering, Odin tilted his head. "Why did you come here?"
Daniel stepped forward, his gaze steady.
"My name is Daniel Valtier. And yours?"
"Odin Vera," he replied smoothly. His smirk lingered. "Not answering my question, though."
Daniel didn't flinch. "I need you for something."
Odin raised a brow. "Why me? With strength like yours, you could do anything. Why ask for help?"
Daniel's voice lowered, carrying a weight Odin hadn't expected. "Because you also have the strength. And I may look strong in your eyes, but where I come from… I'm not even ranked fifth."
The words sank into the silence between them. Odin's smirk faded for a moment, replaced by genuine curiosity.
"Then now what?" he asked finally.
Daniel's lips curved into something between a smirk and a challenge. "I want you to join my gang."
Odin blinked… and then laughed. A loud, carefree laugh that carried across the courtyard. "A gang, huh? Heh. Let's hope it's not only the two of us."
Daniel turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm planning on adding four more members."
They began walking side by side, their footsteps echoing in sync.
Odin glanced at him. "What's the name of this gang of yours?"
Daniel didn't hesitate. His voice was calm, steady, but his words carved into the air like stone.
"The Celestial Phantoms."
The courtyard fell silent again. Whispers rippled through the students who had watched everything unfold. The name, once spoken, carried with it an omen.
And so, the first two phantoms walked away together—leaving behind only broken stone, bruised bodies, and a legend waiting to be born.