Chapter 1: The Lone Cadet
Five years earlier…
Enix leaned back against the cold metal of the helicopter cabin, the rhythmic thrum of the rotors vibrating through his body. Below, the sprawling blue sea stretched to the horizon, dotted with small islands that glinted under the morning sun. The Secret Military Academy of Novarra, perched on one of the largest islands, was a fortress of steel and glass, its towers reflecting the pale light like a beacon. Prodigies, cadets with exceptional skill and the potential to protect Novarra or even the world, were the only ones accepted here.
The academy had been built decades earlier by a wealthy, enigmatic nobleman known only as Mr. Raven. He envisioned a generation of soldiers capable of facing threats no ordinary army could withstand.
Most cadets would have felt a surge of excitement seeing the academy for the first time. Enix kept his gaze fixed on the waves rippling beneath the helicopter, noting currents, the shimmer of sunlight, and the way the wind twisted around the towers. Observation was instinct. Precision was habit. He relied on no one else to notice the details.
The helicopter's skids touched down with a gentle thud, and the ramp lowered. Enix stepped off, adjusting his jacket, and spotted a lone figure waiting on the helipad.
The man wore a sleek black suit, a black hat, and polished white shoes that gleamed in the sun. A yellow, bird-like beak covered his face, elegant and bizarre.
"Magnificent. You are here," the man said, his voice smooth and confident.
"And you are?" Enix asked.
"Oh, well, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself once more. I am the founder of this military academy. I am Mr. Raven. Pleasure to meet you."
"Oh, is that so," Enix replied evenly.
"Wow, that was cold," Mr. Raven said, tilting his head slightly, amusement flickering in his tone.
"Mr. Raven—" Enix started.
"It is okay, you can call me Mr. Blue," the founder interrupted, grinning through the mask.
"Huh?" Enix blinked.
"Hahaha, just kidding, my boy. Just call me Mr. Raven."
Enix muttered under his breath as he followed him down the rooftop walkway, scanning the towering buildings. This weirdo is the founder of the academy. Terrible luck.
Mr. Raven's voice cut through his thoughts. "Before we continue touring the academy, there is one thing I want to clear first."
Enix raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"
The masked man stopped and turned to face him. "Rules, my boy. You may be exceptional, but this academy has its own way of doing things. One misstep, one breach of protocol, and you will learn very quickly that even a prodigy can be humbled."
Enix kept his posture straight, though internally he bristled. Humbled? I will be the one teaching lessons, not the other way around.
Mr. Raven chuckled softly. "Now, shall we begin the tour?"
As they approached the main training arena, a man suddenly appeared behind them, walking with a brisk, disciplined stride. This was Mr. Greyhound, one of the academy's lead trainers. He was in his mid-thirties, tall with an average build, and carried himself with quiet confidence. His brown hair was neatly combed, and thin glasses reflected the sunlight, giving him a sharp, analytical look. A crisp white shirt beneath his grey suit completed his professional appearance.
"Pleasant to see you here, Mr. Raven," Mr. Greyhound said, bowing slightly.
"Yes, there you are, Mr. Greyhound," Mr. Raven replied, tipping his hat. "By the way, I want to introduce you to our new—"
"I am interested," Mr. Greyhound interrupted, his tone sharp but polite.
"Pardon, Mr. Raven, it is just a bad habit of mine," Greyhound added quickly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
"No worries, Mr. Grey. I knew you would be interested in him," Mr. Raven said, his voice almost conspiratorial.
"Yes, I can sense it. There is something in his aura," Greyhound whispered back. The two men conversed in low tones, leaning toward each other slightly, their words overlapping. Enix could catch bits of it, an awkward yet oddly respectful exchange.
Enix tilted his head slightly, rifle resting against his shoulder, and called over his shoulder. "What is the rule, Mr. Greyhound—"
A sharp voice cut through before he could finish. "Call him Mr. Grey, my boy. Short and simple," Mr. Raven said, his eyes twinkling behind the mask, a smirk tugging at the corner of his hidden face.
Enix raised an eyebrow but kept his expression neutral. "Mr. Grey," he repeated, testing the name.
"Good," Mr. Raven said, giving a slight nod. "You will find brevity saves time here. Especially when you need to survive it."
Mr. Grey glanced at Enix with the faintest hint of amusement in his otherwise stern expression. "Short enough," he said. His tone was calm but carried a subtle authority that made Enix instinctively straighten his posture.
Mr. Raven waved a hand toward the targets. "Well, Mr. Grey, I will leave the boy to demonstrate. Let us see what potential hides behind that serious gaze."
Mr. Grey nodded once and turned his attention to Enix. "Very well. Let us see what you can do, cadet."
Enix stepped forward to the firing line, rifle in hand, scanning the targets carefully. The wind off the sea tugged at his sleeves, but his eyes, precise and calculating, measured every detail.
"Hit all ten," Mr. Grey said calmly.
Enix's pulse quickened, though his expression remained calm. The first shot rang out. Bullseye. The second, third, each shot landed dead center. Ten consecutive rounds, ten perfect bullseyes, echoed across the training grounds.
"I am not done yet," Enix said, raising the rifle for another round, ignoring the murmurs of cadets beginning to gather.
Mr. Grey moved closer, analytical gaze fixed on him. "It is okay. If you miss the bullseye, it is acceptable. As long as you hit all of them."
"I do not do acceptable. Only perfect," Enix replied, adjusting his stance.
Another series of shots rang out, each one precise and deliberate. Cadets nearby began converging on the arena, whispering among themselves, eyes wide with awe at the display.
Mr. Raven's chuckle carried across the grounds. "Impressive. Very impressive, my boy."
Mr. Grey's lips twitched, a faint sign of approval. "Exceptional," he muttered, though his gaze betrayed slight devastation at the chaos left behind. The targets were not just hit, they were totally destroyed.
"Ahm, no more shooting for today," Mr. Grey said, then placed both hands on Enix's shoulders, twisting him gently around and guiding him toward the hallways. One quick glance back at the target range showed his frustration.
Enix did not respond, letting himself be guided, a small smirk tugging at his lips. The destruction did not bother him. It was a natural byproduct of perfection in action.
As they walked, a cadet approached briskly, slightly out of breath. "Mr. Grey, Ms. Emelton was looking for you. She said it is urgent, about the reports."
Before she could finish, Mr. Grey raised a hand. "Okay, I am on my way. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Mr. Grey," the cadet replied, bowing slightly before hurrying off.
Enix tilted his head and offered a faint smirk. "It is okay, I can manage, Mr. Grey. You can go ahead. I will just find the dorm myself."
Mr. Grey paused, studying him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Do not get lost, cadet."
"I doubt I will," Enix said confidently, adjusting his rifle on his back.
The corridors were wide and echoing, sunlight streaming through tall windows, reflecting off the polished floors. Enix's mind began noting exits, staircases, and potential shortcuts. Even walking through the halls, he observed patterns, movements, and details others might miss.
Soon, he stepped outside into the open courtyards of the academy. The morning sun cast long shadows across the polished paths, and the faint chatter of cadets echoed through the air. A few groups walked past, laughing and discussing drills, but none seemed to notice him, or at least, none he wanted to approach.
As he walked, a passing cadet's gaze lingered on him, white-and-black hair catching their attention. "I bet he is a weirdo," the cadet muttered under their breath, shaking their head before hurrying away.
Enix smirked faintly, unfazed. Maybe. It does not matter.
After wandering for a while, he spotted a large tree casting wide shade over the courtyard. The sun was warm, and the thought of walking aimlessly lost its appeal. Maybe Mr. Grey will come looking for me when he is not busy, he thought.
Setting his rifle case gently on the grass, he lowered himself down. The cool shade and soft rustle of leaves offered a rare moment of calm. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the tranquility settle around him.
Then he felt a strange presence above him.
Looking up, his eyes landed on a girl with long pink hair, her school uniform slightly disheveled as if it caused her discomfort. She had been napping in the tree, hidden among the branches, until he noticed her.
Their eyes met, panic flashing across her face.