The sky was no longer a sky.
It had transformed into layers of moving metal—tens, no, hundreds of aircraft slicing through the air, carrying examinees who shared nothing except a single goal… and ignorance of what awaited them.
Inside one of them, the noise was thick as smoke.
Overlapping voices. Laughter. Shouting. Tension. Seats barely enough for the number of people.
Everything suggested that this place was temporary… and that silence was a luxury not found here.
In the back row sat Son Ryuji.
With strange calmness, he opened his book and placed it before him, as if the chaos around him didn't matter.
His eyes moved between the lines, but his mind… was elsewhere.
"He wanted to say goodbye…"
His eyes stopped reading for a second.
"What a hypocrite."
He turned the page slowly.
"He hates me… I'm sure of it. I don't understand why he puts on an act in front of that old woman."
He exhaled silently, without raising his head.
"Damn… I'm tired."
Children's voices were the loudest.
Laughter. Trivial arguments. Blind enthusiasm…
But beneath this noise, there was something else.
Something not heard… but felt.
He raised his eyes slightly, without moving his head.
He observed those around him with a cautious side glance.
"There are strange energies…"
Some were ordinary, easily read.
But others…
"…These ones are no joke."
A faint pressure passed through his chest—not fear… but alertness.
"I need to be careful."
His eyes suddenly stopped.
"Oh… I remembered."
An image passed through his mind. A heavy presence—something that had nearly choked the place when she entered.
"Black Dawn…"
He tightened his fingers on the edge of the book without realizing.
"That fool… her presence was violent."
"Dangerous… very dangerous."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if reliving the sensation.
"So this is what an S-Rank feels like…"
He opened his eyes slowly.
"Strange…"
A faint, almost sarcastic look crossed his face.
"My father is the same rank… but I never felt a thing."
A brief inner stillness.
"Maybe… because I'm used to him."
"I've known his aura since I was small… it no longer affects me."
Then—
He stopped.
A different sensation.
Not general… but directed.
He raised his eyes this time fully, with measured slowness.
Someone was staring at him.
For how long…? He didn't know.
But the gaze was fixed… heavy.
"His aura… is strong."
Before he could do anything, that person moved toward him.
Confident steps, without hesitation.
He stopped in front of him.
"Hello. May I ask you something?"
Son closed his book calmly, lifted it slightly, then said without changing his tone:
"Introduce yourself first."
A faint smile appeared on the boy's face.
"I'm Gandhi. One of the examinees here."
Son's eyes paused at the word examinee.
But he didn't comment.
"You caught my attention ever since I saw you with Mr. Moris…"
He leaned slightly, with a look of genuine curiosity.
"Are you a relative of his?"
Son's gaze didn't change.
"Why does that matter to you?"
Gandhi smiled more.
"Someone like Moris… globally famous. It's natural to be curious about those around him."
A brief silence.
"I'm… Son Ryu—"
"Didn't you know?"
Another voice cut off the sentence.
They both turned.
A young man stood a few steps away, looking with a faint smile.
"He's Mr. Moris's son. I saw him with him in the news last year."
He approached slightly, as if amused by the situation.
"Strange, isn't it? A famous man… sending his son to take an exam he might not walk out of alive."
The silence changed.
It grew heavier.
Gandhi looked at Son again… but this time, the look was different.
Deeper… and colder.
"His son, then…"
His smile widened.
"Good."
He stepped forward.
"That means you'll be a good opponent."
Son furrowed his brows slightly.
"What do you mean?"
A short laugh escaped Gandhi.
"You're the son of a strong man…"
He paused, then added in a lighter tone, but sharper:
"And I… hate the strong."
He paused for a moment, then suddenly laughed.
"No… not hate."
He moved closer, his voice lowering.
"I tried to twist my feelings… but I couldn't."
His eyes fixed on Son.
"How dare you… enter this exam?"
Son's tone remained steady:
"What's wrong with that?"
Gandhi laughed, but this time with clear mockery.
"You ask what's wrong?"
He leaned slightly, his voice growing rougher.
"You're Moris's son… even if you fail, you'll succeed."
He paused, then added slowly:
"That's what disgusts me about people like you."
He grabbed the neighboring seat with his hand, and—
A strike.
The seat shook violently, the sound vibrating around them.
Some heads turned… then looked away.
Gandhi leaned close to Son's ear, his voice barely audible:
"Listen…"
"When we get off the plane… you'll say you surrender."
Silence.
"And if you don't…"
He paused for a second, then whispered:
"I'll eliminate you."
He pulled back slightly and smiled.
"That's a promise… from someone who worships equality."
"What are you doing?!"
A sharp voice cut through the tension.
A girl rushed toward them, her steps quick and light, her white hair flowing behind her, and on her back—a sword longer than should be carried so easily.
She grabbed Gandhi's arm and pulled him firmly.
"Stay away from him!"
Then she turned to Son quickly, bowing slightly.
"We're so sorry, please forgive him… he picks fights everywhere."
"Alma, don't interfere," Gandhi said coldly.
"I will interfere." She tightened her grip on his arm.
"Let's go."
He resisted for a second… then let himself be pulled, but his gaze never left Son.
Even as he walked away.
The noise returned as before.
Or perhaps it had never stopped.
Son remained seated.
Still.
His book was still closed in his hands.
He looked ahead in silence.
"Examinee…"
Then he closed his eyes for a second.
"Worships equality…"
He opened them slowly.
---
Son sat still, but inside, he was not.
"What's wrong with that idiot…"
His eyes didn't move, but his focus was sharp.
"He picks fights for no reason… no, that's not it."
"He's dangerous."
A short moment passed.
"His aura…"
He felt it clearly now, after he had gotten close.
It wasn't just strength… it was something heavier, as if pressing on the air itself.
"The heaviest aura among the examinees on this plane."
He closed his eyes for a second, reliving the sensation.
"Strong… very strong."
Then—
Another image.
White hair. A long sword. Swift movement.
"And that girl…"
He opened his eyes slowly.
"Alma…"
Her name passed through his mind differently.
Softer.
"A beautiful name…"
But the feeling was not the same.
"Her aura… is strange."
"Not heavier… but incomprehensible."
A brief inner silence.
Then… something changed.
The corner of his mouth rose slightly.
"I'm starting to get excited."
He tightened his fingers on the book without realizing.
"I want to face them."
"I want to know… what kind of abilities they have."
His thoughts accelerated, but not chaotically—they were sharp.
"His threat…"
He paused.
"I liked it."
A faint, cold smile.
"Finally… an opponent."
Then—
Something deeper, darker, passed through his mind without resistance.
"I want to kill him…"
He imagined for a moment—
A scream. Blood. A slow end.
"Drive a knife into his heart…"
He stopped.
He opened his eyes fully.
The image disappeared… but the feeling remained.
---
"Hello."
The voice came suddenly.
Son turned quickly, his body moving before his mind.
"Ha—!" Then he stopped, exhaling in frustration.
"You startled me."
The young man in front of him raised his hands slightly with an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, you seemed lost in thought."
He paused for a moment, then said:
"By the way, my name is Ayl."
Son looked at him with a cautious gaze that didn't fully fade.
"And what do you want?"
He paused for a fraction of a second, then added with slight sharpness:
"To kill me?"
Ayl laughed lightly, shaking his head.
"No, relax. I'm not here for that."
He took a small step closer, but without imposing himself.
"I came… just to ease your mind a bit."
He gestured with his head toward the direction where Gandhi had disappeared.
"Don't take his words seriously. He just… can't stand seeing people like you."
He paused, then added in a calmer tone:
"He's jealous. Because you're Moris's son."
Son kept his gaze on him for seconds… then looked away.
"It doesn't matter."
His tone returned to cold.
"I'm not afraid of him."
He paused, then said as if closing the subject:
"In fact… I've already forgotten about him."
Ayl didn't argue.
"Alright… as you wish."
But his gaze became slightly more serious.
"Still… there's something you should know."
Son didn't look at him this time, but he was listening.
"This plane…"
He paused for a moment, then continued:
"Is not ordinary."
Silence.
"It's one of the most dangerous planes."
This time, Son turned slowly.
"How?"
Ayl moved closer slightly and lowered his voice.
"It's carrying four examinees…"
His eyes moved around quickly, as if checking.
"You could say they're… among the strongest."
He paused.
"Didn't you feel it?"
Son didn't answer immediately.
Then he said quietly:
"I felt it… since I boarded."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Their auras… their killing intent is clear."
Ayl nodded.
"Exactly."
He gestured with his head to the right.
"Look there."
Son moved only his eyes.
A boy with green hair sat quietly, his features ordinary… too ordinary.
"His name is Cebro."
Ayl said in a low voice.
"They say he's a scent hunter."
He paused for a moment.
"I don't know much… but what's certain is that he's an expert in poisons."
Son didn't comment, but he didn't look away.
"And Gandhi… and Alma…"
Ayl continued.
"You saw them yourself."
Then he gestured to another direction.
"And there…"
A boy sat by the window, wearing headphones, his head tilted slightly, as if completely disconnected from the world.
"Peto."
Ayl's tone dropped further.
"Eccentric."
He paused, then added:
"Even the examinees stay away from him."
A brief silence.
"I don't know why… but that alone is reason enough to be cautious."
Silence returned.
Son slowly brought his gaze back to the front.
All these names…
All these auras…
Passed through his mind like a list of targets.
"Thanks for the information," he said finally.
His tone was calm… too calm.
Then he added:
"But… I won't engage with them."
Silence.
A faint smile, barely visible, appeared on his face.
"…Not yet."
---
He remained seated, his gaze fixed ahead, but what surrounded him began to fade gradually.
"The noise is annoying…"
"No… not the noise."
"The people."
"Too many… moving meaninglessly."
"If half of them disappeared now… nothing would change."
A brief silence.
"Actually… the place might become better."
…
"This thinking…"
"It's returning again."
"I didn't ask for it."
"But it's always here."
…
"Gandhi…"
"His steps were steady."
"No hesitation."
"Someone used to harm."
"Or… to inflicting it."
…
"He struck the seat without hesitation."
"Didn't look around."
"Didn't care."
"Either he's stupid…"
"Or confident that no one will stop him."
…
"Most likely… the latter."
…
"But his approach is direct."
"Threatens in a low voice…"
"Then smiles."
"Bad at hiding."
"Good at pressuring."
…
"If I faced him now…"
Silence.
"Would I win?"
…
"No."
"Not yet."
"But I could wound him."
"Deeply enough."
…
"Where?"
"The neck? No."
"Protected."
"The chest?"
"Too direct."
…
"The side."
"Under the third rib."
"Angled entry… then pull."
…
"He'll bleed slowly."
"He'll be surprised."
"He'll try to speak."
…
"I won't give him time."
…
Silence.
…
"…"
"Why am I thinking like this?"
"It doesn't matter."
…
"Alma…"
"She pulled him away easily."
"But he didn't resist seriously."
"So…"
"Either he respects her."
"Or…"
"He's afraid of upsetting her."
…
"A sword on her back."
"Not for decoration."
"Her steps are light."
"But steady."
…
"Dangerous."
"But not like Gandhi."
"Different."
…
"If I fought her…"
"She wouldn't rush in."
"She'd wait."
"And that's annoying."
…
"Waiting… is a weapon of the strong."
…
"Cebro…"
"He didn't move."
"Even when everyone turned."
…
"Someone who doesn't care about noise…"
"Means he's used to worse."
…
"Poisons…"
"So fighting him… isn't fighting."
"One mistake… and it's over."
…
"Boring."
"But dangerous."
…
"Peto…"
…
A longer silence.
…
"Everyone avoids him."
"Even the examinees."
…
"This isn't normal."
"Not ordinary fear."
"This… is repulsion."
…
"As if approaching him is a bad idea… even without reason."
…
"I want to see him open his eyes."
…
"Maybe…"
"I won't like what I find."
…
Silence.
…
"Four."
"And each one… a different problem."
…
"Good."
…
"The exam won't be boring."
…
"As for me…"
…
"What is my level?"
"Stupid question."
"It doesn't matter."
…
"What matters…"
"Is how many of them I can break… before something inside me breaks."
…
A brief silence.
…
"That feeling…"
"Returned earlier."
"When I imagined stabbing Gandhi."
…
"It wasn't just imagination."
"It was… clear."
"Too close."
…
"As if… I've done it before."
…
He stopped.
…
"…Have I?"
…
Silence.
…
"I don't remember."
"Or… I don't want to remember."
…
"But my body… remembers."
…
"The angle."
"The pressure."
"The withdrawal."
…
"Everything was precise."
…
"That's not normal for a child."
…
"It doesn't matter."
…
"In this place…"
"Normal… dies first."
…
Silence.
…
"He told me to surrender."
…
"Funny."
…
"I don't surrender."
"I… finish."
…
"But not now."
…
"No need to rush."
"Prey that runs…"
"Tires faster."
…
"And the strong…"
"Make mistakes when they're overconfident."
…
Silence.
…
"I'll watch."
"Learn."
"Wait."
…
"Then…"
…
"Choose."
…
"Who will be first…"
Ugh… I think I'm crazy.
---
Son rose quietly.
He didn't draw attention, didn't look around—he simply moved as if it were ordinary.
His steps were light between the seats, balanced, without haste.
"I need to move a bit…"
"Sitting too long… is annoying."
He passed by some examinees, their voices still loud, the same chaos, the same noise.
Nothing had changed.
Or so it seemed.
He reached the end of the aisle, where the narrow metal door stood.
He pushed it slowly.
A faint creak.
He closed it behind him.
—
Silence.
Completely different.
A narrow space, dim lighting, and the sound of the plane became muffled, as if distant.
He stood before the sink, looking at his reflection.
Silent.
"…"
"Calm."
"Too calm."
He reached out, turned on the water slightly.
A faint sound flowed through the space.
He looked at his hand.
Then—
"Bad timing."
The water stopped.
Slowly… he raised his head.
He wasn't alone.
Another reflection appeared behind him.
Standing.
Still.
Looking directly at him.
Gandhi.
Son didn't turn immediately.
He remained looking through the mirror.
"He entered… without a sound."
"I didn't feel him."
Silence.
"Bad."
Then he slowly turned his body.
Facing him.
The distance between them was short.
Shorter than it should be.
Gandhi wasn't smiling.
His face this time… was completely empty.
"I thought you'd ignore my words."
His voice was low.
Calm.
But heavier than before.
Son didn't respond immediately.
He just looked at him.
"And I thought… you only talked too much."
Silence.
The corner of Gandhi's mouth moved slightly.
"I don't like repeating myself."
A step forward.
The distance shrank further.
"That's why… I came to clarify."
Son didn't move.
"Clarify?"
Gandhi moved closer.
Close… so close that his voice no longer needed to be raised.
"This isn't a warning."
He paused.
"It's a decision."
Silence.
The air grew heavier.
Clear.
"He's pressing now…"
"If he attacks… the distance is perfect."
"The neck is exposed."
"But—"
The thought stopped.
"No."
"He's not alone."
A moment.
A sensation.
Behind him.
Light… but present.
"Mistake."
Son's eyes didn't move… but his focus shifted.
"I knew it."
"His being here… didn't make sense alone."
Gandhi noticed the slight change.
He smiled.
"You felt her?"
Son didn't answer.
But his gaze narrowed.
Gandhi tilted slightly, his voice dropping further:
"Good."
"That means you're not stupid."
—
"You're late."
A calm voice came from behind.
Female.
Clear.
It echoed in the narrow space as if closer than it was.
Son didn't turn immediately.
"Her steps…"
"I didn't hear them."
"No vibration."
"No sound."
…
Then—
He turned.
Slowly.
Alma was there.
Standing in front of the door.
Blocking the path completely.
Her white hair still, her eyes steady, and the sword on her back… closer than it should be.
She looked at him.
Not with hostility.
But—
It wasn't an apologetic look this time.
Silence.
The three of them in a tight space.
No room to move.
No room to escape.
—
"Convenient place," Gandhi said quietly.
"No one will disturb us."
Son didn't respond.
His eyes moved between them.
"Two."
"Enclosed space."
"Mistake."
But—
The corner of his mouth rose slightly.
"Finally…"
—
Gandhi noticed.
He smiled.
"What's so funny?"
A brief silence.
Then—
Son's voice came out calm… too calm:
"I thought… I'd have to look for you both."
The moment paused.
—
Alma narrowed her eyes slightly.
Gandhi… fell silent.
For a second.
Then—
He smiled.
Slowly.
"You…"
He paused.
"Are more interesting than I expected."
—
Silence returned.
But this time…
Heavier.
—
Son didn't move.
But inside his eyes…
Something changed.
His calmness was no longer just coldness.
It was—
Readiness.
—
"Now…"
"There's no turning back."
—
Gandhi took a light breath.
"Last chance."
—
Alma didn't speak.
But her hand…
Moved slightly closer to the hilt of her sword.
—
Son looked at them.
Then—
He closed his eyes for a second.
—
"Good."
—
He opened them.
—
"Begin."
---
End of Chapter Two