The cave was silent now, save for the crackle of fading lightning still buzzing off Jorin's skin. Dust hung heavy in the air, coating everything in gray.
Jorin bent down, lifting Kael's limp body into his arms. The boy was frighteningly light, his head rolling against Jorin's shoulder. The glow from the mark had vanished, leaving only pale, sweat-streaked skin behind.
When he emerged from the cave mouth, the students waiting outside froze. Not a word was spoken. All eyes fixed on the sight of their instructor carrying a student who looked very much like a corpse.
"Move." Jorin's voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. "Back to base. Now. No talking."
The students hesitated, their fear and curiosity pressing at the edges of silence. Fayla's heart cracked as she saw Kael limp in the instructor's arms. He's gone… The thought echoed like a scream in her chest. She stumbled after the others, fighting the sting in her eyes.
Then came a voice. Bren, the bully, sneered as if victory had been proven.
"Knew he'd die out here. Useless blank."
The words cut through the silence like a blade.
Jorin stopped. His head turned, his gaze landing on Bren. Just a look—no words, no lightning. But it was enough. Bren's breath caught in his throat, a chill crawling down his spine. He looked away instantly, the smirk gone, fear gripping his chest.
Not another word was spoken on the way back.
---
Hours later, Kael's eyes blinked open. The white ceiling above him blurred, shapes swimming in and out of focus. The sterile smell of medicine stung his nose. He realized he was lying in a bed, his chest sore, his body heavy.
And then he noticed him.
Jorin stood at his side, arms crossed, gaze fixed on him. His expression was unreadable, but the deep furrow in his brow spoke of a storm behind his eyes.
"You're awake," Jorin said. His voice was low, controlled. "Don't speak. Just listen."
Kael swallowed, his throat dry, but he nodded faintly.
"I saw you," Jorin continued, stepping closer. "That power. That blade. You killed it. Don't deny it—I was there."
Kael's mouth opened, but Jorin cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"You can never tell anyone. Not a soul. Do you understand? No one can know it was you who killed that beast. No one can know you even fought it."
Kael blinked, confusion swirling with the fading fog in his head. "I… did what? I killed it?" His voice was hoarse. "What even is a Type 3?"
Jorin exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. His voice dropped, more solemn now.
"A Type 3 is no ordinary beast. They're classified because they can use abilities. Stone, flame, frost—depends on the creature. Even the weakest Type 3 usually takes a full team of five trained cadets to put down." His eyes locked onto Kael, steady and unflinching. "But you… you did it alone. Like it was nothing."
Kael's stomach turned, the weight of what Jorin was saying sinking in. He had no memory beyond the dagger, the strike, the collapse. His chest tightened.
Jorin leaned in, his tone a quiet command. "No one can find out, Kael. Not the other students. Not the academy. Not anyone. If they knew…" His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. "You wouldn't survive it."
Kael stared at him, the words heavy, unfamiliar. For the first time, the title "blank" no longer fit.
But it also terrified him.