The words Celestial Phantoms still echoed in Daniel's mind as he and Odin walked side by side out of Zenith Academy. Daniel's lips curled into a smirk, though the shadow in his eyes told a different story—this wasn't just about forming a gang. This was war.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
Three figures stepped in front of them at the gate, blocking their path. They weren't ordinary students. Their posture, the way they carried themselves, the way the air seemed to tighten around them—everything screamed strength.
"Looks like we've got company," Daniel muttered, narrowing his eyes.
Odin, however, didn't even look fazed. Hands still shoved in his pockets, he tilted his head, a faint grin spreading across his face.
"Boss," he said casually, "let me take care of this one."
Daniel scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Fine. You do the honors, subordinate."
The three students cracked their knuckles, smirking as they approached. "Leaving already? Not before you pay the toll."
Odin didn't respond with words. His footwork blurred, and in an instant his leg whipped out like a spear. CRACK! His heel smashed into the first guy's ribs, sending him crumpling against the wall with a sickening thud. The second rushed in, fists flying, but Odin ducked under the strikes and delivered a lightning-fast roundhouse kick across his jaw. His body spun midair before crashing face-first into the dirt.
The third managed to grab Odin's collar—but before he could follow through, Odin's knee shot upward, burying itself into his gut. The poor bastard gagged blood, folding over as Odin pushed him aside like trash.
It was over in seconds.
Odin dusted his hands and turned toward Daniel, smirking. "Was that a good show for a new member?"
Daniel chuckled and shook his head. "More than enough."
And with that, the two left, making their way to Odin's small apartment tucked in a quieter place. Inside, the room was sparse, nothing more than a couch, a table, and a cracked mirror on the wall. Daniel sat down, stretching his legs as Odin leaned against the counter.
"There are others I want to recruit," Daniel said quietly, "but it'll take time. I want you to help me."
Odin tilted his head. "Why go that far? You're strong enough to crush anyone who stands in your way. You don't need anyone."
Daniel's expression darkened, shadow crawling across his face. His voice was low, laced with venom.
"For revenge. My ultimate revenge on those bastards in Niflheimr… and in Valhalla."
He clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. "I'll go to any means to make that happen."
Odin's smirk faded, replaced by something harder, sharper. "The underworld then…" he muttered.
Daniel nodded. "Creating a crew… a gang… it's a signal. It means we've entered that world. A place where strength is law, and weakness is death."
For a moment, silence filled the room. Then Odin laughed, but it wasn't mocking—it was grim. "That's all? Then I'm in. Valhalla… they've got blood on their hands too. My friend was taken by the Asgardians, claimed it was to 'help' him. When he came back, he wasn't the same. He became violent. Uncontrollable. His name was Zeke. You've probably seen him."
Daniel's heart clenched. The memory resurfaced. Zeke… Rank 18. The first real loss of his second life. The sting of defeat came flooding back.
"…Yeah. I remember."
The connection between Odin and Zeke only made the fire in Daniel's chest burn hotter.
"Forget the sad shit," Daniel said finally, standing up. "There's someone else. A guy from Sirris Academy. Always quiet, so quiet I almost forgot him. But I know him. He's no ordinary man."
They left Odin's apartment together, and fate once again threw its dice.
Because standing at the gates of Sirris Academy, they saw him.
A tall figure with sharp glasses, silver eyes glinting under the sunlight, and black hair neatly combed back. He looked studious, harmless almost—but Daniel knew better. The man was called Leviathan Kevin.
Daniel didn't waste time. His body blurred as he dashed forward, launching into a flying knee aimed straight for Leviathan's nose.
WHOOSH!
But Leviathan slid to the side effortlessly, his eyes cool behind his glasses.
"Looks like I've been found out," he said calmly. His tone carried no fear—only certainty.
Daniel smirked. "I knew it. You're not ordinary."
Leviathan didn't reply. Instead, his body shifted, stance lowering. Daniel recognized it immediately.
Muay Thai.
Odin whistled. "Well, this just got interesting."
Leviathan's elbow shot out, spinning through the air like a blade. Daniel ducked, feeling the wind slice past his cheek. Leviathan's knee followed, lightning-fast, aimed at Daniel's ribs. Daniel blocked, but the impact rattled his bones.
"Tch… mid-Ascendant," Daniel muttered. "I guessed right."
They clashed, fists and knees meeting in rapid succession. The sound of bone striking bone echoed through the empty courtyard. Leviathan's strikes were precise, brutal, meant to break.
Daniel, however, smiled through the chaos. His blood boiled with excitement.
After a particularly heavy exchange, Daniel stepped back, breathing hard but smirking. "I guess this was the right choice." He lifted his chin. "Hey. Join my crew."
Leviathan adjusted his glasses, silver eyes gleaming. His response was immediate.
"No."
The word hit like a hammer.
Odin blinked in surprise. Daniel's smirk, however, didn't fade—it only widened.
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?" he muttered, cracking his knuckles.
And for the first time, Leviathan smiled faintly, his voice calm and sharp as a blade:
"Prove to me your crew is worth following… Daniel Valtier."
The courtyard's air thickened again as the tension built. The storm of fists and wills was far from over.