"I want to go back to my planet," Zane repeated, his voice calm but firm.
Zane's fingers twitched at his sides as he calculated his next move. This wasn't impulse - every muscle in his body was coiled with deliberate intent. Before stepping onto the training grounds, he'd carved the plan into his mind like scripture:
'Cause enough chaos, and the Master will have no choice but to appear.'
The rules were clear - no one demanded the Master's attention. You earned it, or in Zane's case, by breaking the very system the Master had created. And if the gamble failed? If the instructor decided to make an example of him?
His gaze flickered toward Onilia for the briefest moment. Her silver hair caught the pale light as she stood rigid among the other trainees.
'She'll intervene if it goes too far,' Zane reassured himself. 'The instructor won't kill her, because she is one of the people with the highest chance of completing the Master's training.'
The realization should have comforted him. Instead, it left a metallic taste in his mouth - the shame of using her loyalty as a safety net. But for Ariel, he'd burn every bridge, exploit every bond.
Instructor Marius narrowed his eyes. "I heard you the first time. Are you saying you're giving up on the training? You do know what happens if you quit—right? You'll die."
Zane didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady. "I'm not giving up. There's something that needs my attention. Something urgent. I came here to get stronger for that reason, but if I don't leave now, then everything I've learned so far—everything I've suffered for—will be meaningless."
The air around them grew still.
"Bullshit!" a voice snapped.
A trainee with metallic arms stepped forward, both chrome forearms gleaming under the pale sun. His fingers were tipped with steel claws, and steam hissed from the vents on his elbows. He pointed at Zane accusingly. "You just want to run away. Admit it!"
Another stepped in beside him, his voice sharp yet calm. "You can't just act on a whim, idiot. There are rules. If going back home was that easy, then all the poor bastards who offed themselves during training would've just strolled back to their cozy planets instead."
The one who spoke was different—his presence made others shift slightly away.
He had wild green hair that shot out in jagged tufts, and a half-mask covered his mouth and nose, leaving only his sharp green eyes exposed. They glowed faintly, matching the veins that pulsed beneath his bronze-tinted skin—no, not bronze. It was a cool metallic selenite grey, smooth and unnatural. His hands had eight fingers each, long and jointed like mechanical wires, but the rest of his body appeared deceptively human.
This was Nolem, one of the five apex-ranked awakeners among the trainees. Up until now, he'd always been quiet, watchful—never interfering.
Why now?
'Don't tell me he's one of those justice freaks…' Zane thought to himself.
Instructor Marius crossed his arms. "He's right, Zane. Get in line. We've wasted enough time already."
High above the clouds, where the sun turned the mist gold, a figure stood motionless—arms folded behind his back, long coat fluttering gently in the wind.
"Hmm… this is unexpected. Trying to draw me out eh, let's see how far he can take this." Daikyn muttered, observing the scene with quiet interest.
Back on the ground, Zane hadn't moved an inch.
Marius's brows furrowed deeper. "Zane. Last warning. Get in line."
Still no response.
Instead, Zane turned and began walking—toward the edge of the training arena. The other trainees watched in silence as he approached the weapon rack and picked up a practice sword.
It wasn't the first time he had done this. After every session with Marius, Onilia would help him train. She pushed him harder than anyone else, even if no one ever noticed. Most trainees believed Zane was weak. Soft. A background character barely worth remembering.
But that was exactly what Zane had made them believe. After all, the less people knew about him, the better.
And now… he was letting it go.
Zane turned back and slowly walked toward Marius, his grip tightening around the hilt.
"I know the Master is watching," Zane said, his voice cold and detached. "But he hasn't made a move yet."
"He's insane," one trainee muttered nervously. "He's gone completely off the rails."
"Hey!" another snapped, marching up toward him. "We're all waiting to start the damn training. Get the fuck back in line, you white-haired loser!"
This one was tall—at least a head taller than Zane—and built like a fortress. Muscles bulged under his armored skin, which shimmered with a faint obsidian hue. Spiked ridges ran down his forearms, and his eyes were a glowing crimson, with slit pupils like a reptile. Thick cords of muscle twitched beneath his scaled neck, like a beast barely held back.
He stopped in front of Zane and jabbed a thick finger toward his chest.
Zane looked up, his face unreadable.
"Move," he said.
There was no anger in his voice. No heat. Just... emptiness.
The trainee froze.
Something about Zane's eyes made his skin crawl—cold and hollow, like staring into a bottomless pit. This wasn't how he usually behaved, which surprised the trainee in front of him.
He scoffed, shaking it off. "Who the hell do you think you ar—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
In the blink of an eye, a silver flash cut the air—silent, clean.
And his head fell from his shoulders, tumbling to the ground with a heavy thud.
Gasps and whispers filled the training hall. Blood sprayed in a slow arc, painting the cracked stone beneath them.
Let them whisper. Let them doubt. Before sundown, he'd either be dead, or standing before the only being in this damned dimension who could send him home.
Zane stood still, sword at his side, his face as calm as before.
Not a flicker of emotion.
"That stance wasn't half bad, I guess he has been training with Onilia," Instructor Marius thought, narrowing his eyes as he watched Zane grip the sword.
The air inside the training hall had turned heavy.
Then it happened.
Three of the five Apex-ranked trainees darted forward, surrounding Zane from three sides. Their movements were sharp and synchronized, like trained predators boxing in prey. They had stayed out of the confrontation earlier, but now Zane had crossed a line—he killed a fellow trainee in cold blood, right in front of Instructor Marius. If they remained quiet, it would only hurt their pride.
They had to show him who was on top and who was below.
But Marius just stood there—arms crossed, expression unreadable—as though waiting to see how far this would go.
"Put down the sword. Now Zane," said Nolem, his voice cold and commanding.
He raised his hand toward Zane, glowing green energy forming at his fingertips, ready to strike. The other two Apex trainees mirrored him, each drawing power into their hands. Thin tendrils of light curled and crackled in the air, humming with tension.
But before they could do anything, a sudden blur cut through the space between them—
And Onilia appeared.
She moved so fast it was like she teleported. Her long silver hair fluttered as it reflected the colours around them. She stopped in front of Zane, her back facing him, her arms slightly outstretched in a protective stance.
"Lower your fingers," she said firmly, her tone ice-cold.
The three Apex trainees didn't move immediately, but they tensed, clearly on edge. They knew Onilia wasn't someone to take lightly.
Even though they were all the same rank, Awakeners of equal rank were never truly equal. Just like students in the same classroom—some might excel in every subject while others barely scrape by. They may be taught by the same instructor, but talent, discipline, and experience made all the difference.
It was the same here.
Awakeners could share the same rank, but the gap between them could be like heaven and earth.
A perfect example was Onilia and the Destroyer.
Both were Apex-ranked, but the strength between them wasn't even close. Onilia herself admitted the gap—it was clear, painful, and humbling.
Now, as the three Apex-ranked trainees stood with their fingers raised toward Zane, Onilia's presence alone shifted the balance. Her aura was calm, yet commanding, and none of them dared take a step forward.
The silence in the hall stretched for several tense seconds.
Then Zane finally spoke, his voice low but sharp.
"No need to get involved, Onilia. My target… is Instructor Marius."
The moment those words left his mouth, the entire room froze.
A stunned hush fell over everyone.
Even the crackling energy from the other trainees' fingers fizzled out in disbelief.
Zane… wanted to challenge Marius?
Every single trainee in the room remembered that moment—not long ago—when Instructor Marius ended a fully grown man's life with nothing but a flick of his finger. It was fast, brutal, and terrifying.
And now this white-haired bastard… this so-called weakling they had mocked and ignored-was declaring war against the man who trained monsters?
"He's lost his mind…" someone whispered.
"He doesn't stand a chance…" another muttered.
Instructor Marius let out a slow sigh, his arms crossed as he stared at the white-haired boy standing defiantly before him. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
Zane's behavior was reckless—borderline insane.
He wasn't just being unreasonable... he was being emotional.
No one except Onilia knew that it was because of someone named Ariel.
That girl—whatever connection Zane had with her—was driving him to act without thinking. Onilia thought.
But she was wrong, Zane was thinking clearly, he was just being a little reckless. He had let his guard down, believing the Whisperkin wouldn't attack. What if he was wrong? He needed to make sure his sister was safe.
Marius opened his mouth, about to speak, when someone else interrupted him.
A soft but firm voice rose from the crowd.
"Zane, think this through," said Nenis, stepping forward from the line of watching trainees. Her usually calm eyes flickered with genuine concern. "If you go through with whatever you're planning, you'll definitely die. I don't know what's so urgent that you need to return to your planet right now… but none of it will matter if you're dead."
The room fell still, almost as if time itself hesitated to breathe.
Murmurs swept through the trainees. Confusion. Shock.
Even disbelief.
It was well known—Nenis and Onilia didn't get along. Their rivalry was no secret, and since Zane spent most of his time with Onilia, Nenis had kept her distance from him, showing little interest—if not thinly veiled irritation.
And yet, here she was.
Trying to talk him down.
Trying to save him.
Zane didn't speak. His gaze remained forward, distant, unreadable.
The training hall echoed with silence. The stone floor beneath them glowed faintly with runes, responding to rising emotions and magical pressure. Columns as thick as trees lined the edges of the hall, stretching high into a ceiling so vast it disappeared into shadow.
Nenis turned toward Marius, her tone steady and respectful.
"Instructor Marius?" she called, her voice echoing slightly in the large chamber.
Marius looked at her without blinking, slowly shifting his attention away from Zane. For the first time since this entire debacle started, he gave someone his full attention.
His cold eyes met hers, and for a moment, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
The trainees watched with bated breath.
Would Marius stop Zane?
Would he allow him to leave?
Or… would this end in blood?