The next morning, sunlight spilled over the horizon, cutting through Chris's dorm window. He stretched lazily on his bed, the faint bags under his eyes a testament to a restless night. Passing his hands beneath them, he watched the darkness vanish, restoring a semblance of normalcy.
No one can see me like this, he thought, forcing himself to stand and freshen up.
As he left the dormitory, he noticed Lina trudging toward class, her head bowed, a shadow of melancholy dragging her steps. Chris called softly, "Lina… Lina."
Her eyes lifted, and for a moment, the weight of yesterday seemed to anchor her gaze.
"I'm sorry… how long did you call me?" Her voice was quiet, apologetic.
"Just now. Don't worry about it. Is everything… okay?" he asked, concern threading his tone.
"Yes… everything is fine. Don't worry about me." She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Chris nodded slightly. "I know how you were when we first met. Something's wrong. If you don't want to talk, I understand." He turned and walked away.
Lina watched him go, a stab of guilt tightening her chest, but she shoved it aside and continued toward class.
Chris reached the infirmary, where a woman in a crisp blue nurse's outfit waited behind the desk, calm and composed.
"Good morning… umm…"
"Freda," she said softly, smiling. "What brings you here so early?"
"I came to check on my classmates. Most of them were severely injured after the Leo incident. I wanted to know their status."
"Ah… so you were among those sent after Leo. What was your group called again?" She tilted her head, amused. "Never mind. You next-generation children… you have heart."
"Thank you… Do you think they'll recover soon? I know inside school boundaries they'd heal, but outside…"
Freda's voice cut him off gently. "They've all been discharged. No need to worry."
Chris frowned. "What do you mean…?"
"If you don't believe me, check their rooms," she suggested, pointing down the hall.
He moved to the rooms—empty. Relief softened his shoulders. But the moment he closed the door, the infirmary went black. Then it returned, as if nothing had happened.
"What… just happened?" he murmured.
A calm, chilling voice broke the silence. "Yo."
Chris's eyes snapped to the window. Leo sat there, serene, distant.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Chris instinctively stepped back.
"I wouldn't try to summon help if I were you," Leo said.
Chris's voice wavered. "What are you trying to say?"
Leo stood, his aura seeping like ink into the air. He leapt from the window into the room, advancing with deliberate, unhurried steps. Chris froze.
Finally, Leo stopped before him. "Live your life as normal. I have no intention of making a comeback soon."
Chris's jaw tightened. "So… you will, but not now."
"That depends on me." And just like that, Leo faded, leaving the room—and the world—still.
Chris whispered to himself, unease lacing his words. "Was it just me… or was I unable to use mana when he appeared?"
Shaking off the lingering dread, he left the room and returned to Freda.
"You look tense… almost like you saw a ghost," she observed.
"I kind of did," he muttered. "You said they'd been discharged… how did they recover so fast?"
Freda's calm smile didn't waver. "When you get hurt, you could say time moved forward. I simply reverted their bodies to full health while keeping their minds anchored in this moment. They won't forget what happened."
Chris blinked. "You say that as if it's simple."
"For me… I guess it is." She waved him off. "See you later."
Relieved, Chris left the infirmary and headed toward class.
In the corridor, Sylara—the leader of the Sovereignty Class—stood as if waiting for him. Chris bypassed her without a glance.
"I expected this," her voice called, smooth and teasing. "Couldn't you at least greet me?"
"What do you want from me?" Chris asked coldly, stopping.
"I want to talk. If you're interested… you could join us, become a Sovereignty." She turned to face him, her smile radiant.
Chris met her gaze, his expression unreadable. No flicker of emotion betrayed him.
Chris lingered in the corridor long after Sylara had walked away. Her words replayed in his mind, twisting over and over. Power, influence… opportunity… He had refused her offer in the moment, but now, away from her gaze, doubt began to creep in.
It wasn't a bad offer, he admitted to himself. Joining the Sovereignty Class could provide him access to resources, knowledge, even protection—all things that might matter in the long run. And yet… he hadn't even considered what it could cost.
Chris exhaled and shook his head. "I'll think about it later," he muttered, continuing toward class. He hadn't noticed the shadowed figure leaning against the wall in the corner—Raya.
Her eyes had widened slightly as she caught the entire exchange. So he's considering it… she thought, concern flickering in her gaze. She remained silent, waiting for the right moment.
Inside the classroom, Kira and Rhea were already seated. Kira's eyes, usually calm, flickered with unease, while Rhea leaned back in her chair, thoughtful but composed.
"Chris," Kira greeted quietly, "you met Sylara?"
Chris nodded, his voice neutral. "She tried to recruit me. I said no."
Rhea's gaze shifted toward the window, sunlight glancing off her hair like silver. "She's clever. Don't underestimate her. Even the Sovereignty Class isn't just about power—it's about influence. And Sylara… she knows how to wield both."
Chris leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "I'm not interested in influence. Just survival. And keeping what matters intact."
Kira's expression softened slightly. "You're not wrong. But sometimes, avoiding the game doesn't mean it avoids you."
The classroom was quiet, but Raya lingered just outside the door, her presence unseen by Chris. She had listened. Every word. Every doubt he didn't voice.
Hours passed. Chris remained in his thoughts, replaying Sylara's offer, weighing the advantages, and—despite himself—finding it tempting. Yet, when Raya approached him later, stepping quietly into the empty hallway, she caught him before he could act.
"You were thinking about her offer, weren't you?" Raya asked softly, her eyes calm yet piercing.
Chris looked up, expression unreadable. "Maybe. Doesn't matter."
"You're not considering returning, then," she pressed, a hint of concern threading her voice.
Chris's gaze remained steady, cold even. "No. Not my path."
Raya exhaled lightly, a mixture of frustration and understanding in her eyes. "Just… don't let your pride blind you, Chris. Sometimes the right choice isn't the one that feels the hardest to refuse."
Chris didn't reply. He simply turned, walking away with measured steps, leaving Raya standing there in the fading light of the corridor.
For a moment, the silence was complete. Outside, the school hummed quietly with its routines, oblivious to the subtle power plays and internal struggles within its walls. But Chris's mind was far from still.
In the shadow of the aftermath, between survival and opportunity, one thing was certain: the choices he made now would define not just his path, but those who survived alongside him.
And somewhere, quietly observing, Raya knew she had just glimpsed the first cracks in his resolve.