The soft hiss of steam from her kettle echoed through her cramped dorm room as Calla slowly buttoned her uniform. Her fingers moved on autopilot. Shirt. Tie. Jacket. None of it felt like it belonged to her. Not the too-stiff collar brushing her throat, nor the navy-blue school colors she wore like borrowed skin.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
Calla. Frail. Timid. Forgettable.
Not Nyxshade. Not the shadow-wrapped predator who walked freely beneath the moonlight.
She exhaled slowly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Maybe if I'd been louder. Or colder. Or meaner from the start…" Her voice drifted into silence.
But it was too late to reinvent herself.
They'd already made their decision about her.
And soon… she'd make hers about them.
* * *
The hallways of Duskfall Academy buzzed with energy—shoes squeaking on tile, laughter bouncing off lockers, and students clustered in tight social circles. Calla kept her head down, weaving through the tide like a ghost.
They didn't even notice her.
That was fine.
She slipped into her homeroom class, her seat tucked away near the windows, and sat quickly before anyone could take note of her presence.
But of course, peace was never guaranteed.
"Yo, Calla~"
Her heart skipped.
She froze.
That voice.
Zach Monroe. Blond hair, varsity jacket, and that perpetually amused expression carved into his face like some discount Greek statue. He leaned against his desk lazily, flanked by his crew—Jared, the musclehead with more biceps than brain cells; Tyler, the sly one with snake eyes; and Benji, who laughed too much at things that weren't funny.
Calla swallowed and turned slowly, trembling on cue.
"H-Hi… Zach," she murmured.
His grin widened. "Don't look so scared. I missed you."
He took a step forward, eyes scanning her.
"What's with the baggy clothes? Trying to start a new trend or just hiding something gross?"
The boys snickered behind him.
Calla's hands trembled at her sides, her lips moving just fast enough to say what she knew they wanted.
"I—I'm sorry…"
"Oh, she apologized, boys!" Tyler laughed. "See? She knows she's pathetic."
Another voice cut through the room like the crack of a whip.
"That's enough."
Every head turned.
Standing at the doorway was a girl with piercing blue eyes and platinum-blonde hair braided tightly behind her head.
Tatiana Volkova.
She was the kind of presence that silenced rooms—cold, dignified, and impossible to ignore. She walked in crisp strides, the emblem of top-rank student gleaming proudly on her shoulder.
Zach raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey now, we were just chatting. Right, Calla?"
Calla didn't speak. She just looked down.
Tatiana's gaze sharpened like a blade.
"It looked more like harassment."
The tension was thick. No one moved. No one dared speak.
Everyone knew the unspoken rules. Tatiana and Zach were both apex predators in this class—rivals in skill, popularity, and presence. You didn't pick sides lightly.
"Come on, Volkova," Zach said with a smirk. "Don't make it a big deal."
"It already is."
But before either could dig deeper, the classroom lights flickered twice.
Then silence.
Then—click.
The classroom door opened.
And in walked a woman with long silver hair and a face untouched by time. Her voice carried the weight of ages, even as she said nothing. Her eyes, dark as obsidian, scanned the classroom as though she already knew every mistake you were about to make.
Instructor Lysandra Vale. Hero name: Chrona
An A-Rank pro hero.
A wielder of Chrono Magic—the ability to bend time itself.
Only ten A-Ranked instructors taught at Duskfall Academy.
And she was one of the most feared.
"Seats," she said without raising her voice.
Everyone obeyed.
Calla dropped into her seat, heart still racing. Zach's laughter, Tatiana's blade-like glare, Lysandra's presence…
It was all noise.
Her eyes drifted to the window as the lecture began.
She didn't care about the lesson.
She only cared about time.
How little of it her classmates had left.
* * *
The classroom was quieter than I liked. Lysandra—no, Chrona—stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, her silver-white cape draped like time itself over her shoulders. Her golden eyes scanned the class with that familiar air of weighty presence. When she spoke, it was like a clock tower chiming across centuries.
"Welcome back to Duskfall Academy," she said, her voice echoing through the room. "I am your homeroom instructor, Chrona. I trust you all had a restful break… because that peace will not last."
There it was. The shift. My eyes flicked from the window back to her.
Chrona continued, "Before we begin your training modules this semester, I must inform you of an incident. A Class B hero, Emberbrand, was found dead three nights ago. The culprit is believed to be a rising villain who calls herself—Nyxshade."
The room stirred, like dry leaves kicked by a cold wind.
But me? I sat very, very still. My fingers curled slightly around the edge of my desk, my nails pressing into the wood.
"Some of you may already know her… by another name," Chrona went on. "She's been dubbed by the media as The Hero Killer."
The Hero Killer.
It was the first time I'd heard them call me that.
Gods, I liked how it sounded.
Gasps rippled through the class like dominoes tipping. A girl two rows in front of me clutched her shirt. Someone whispered a curse under their breath. Kai, one of our so-called golden boys, raised his hand with his usual mix of faux calm and inflated concern.
"Ma'am, are you saying Nyxshade is behind all the other murders, too?"
Chrona gave a sharp nod. "Yes. The methods match. Same pattern. Same signature. It's her."
Zach, always the sceptic, leaned forward. "But why are you telling us this? What's the point?"
Chrona's gaze swept the room. "Because you need to understand that this is real. Nyxshade is active. She has no known face, no reliable description. But she's targeting heroes. That includes young ones, like yourselves."
Ah, but they still don't know it's me.
Devon, fidgety and a bit too curious for his own good, frowned. "Then how do we know her name if there's no information?"
Chrona paused for a beat. "On the night Emberbrand was murdered, Nyxshade called the authorities herself. She told them her name… and then killed him before they arrived. Every time she strikes, she leaves behind a crow-shaped origami figure. Soaked in the victim's blood."
A murmur spread like wildfire.
Pale faces. Quivering hands. Devon looked like he might throw up. Lena's hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. Zach actually went quiet for once.
And me?
…I bit my lip to suppress a smile. Not out of nerves, but satisfaction.
They're finally saying my name.
I should have felt fear, or shame. But all I felt was a thrill. A heat in my chest. Like applause after a performance only I knew I had given.
Chrona folded her arms again. "I apologize for bringing such grim news on your first day back. But consider it a warning. Stay vigilant."
Then, just like that, the moment passed. She turned to the blackboard, summoned her chrono-sigils into the air, and said, "Now. Open your textbooks. Page thirty-two."
Ugh.
There it was. The sudden drop back into monotony. Heroes and ethics. Battle formations. Regulations. Schedules.
My interest died the second she said "textbooks."
I turned my gaze to the window.
Outside, the city stretched endlessly beneath the dying afternoon sun. Heroes, villains, all of it… just little pieces on a board.
And me?
I was moving in the spaces between them. Not a piece, not a player.
I was the hand that would knock the board over.