Kealix's head slumped heavy on the dark brown desk, the hard wood pressing against his cheek. The lecture buzzed faintly around him, but it all felt distant—like he was underwater. His breath came slow and even, steady in the silence of his own mind. He was lost somewhere else, far from the stale classroom air and dull voices.
A gravelly voice cut through the haze, old and worn, carrying authority like a distant thunder.
"Kealix von Eskarion, raise your hand if you're present."
No movement. No flicker of awareness.
The voice sighed. Again.
"Kealix von Eskarion, please raise your hand if you are present."
Still nothing. Only the dull ache behind his eyes, the heavy weight pulling him deeper into exhaustion.
Eyes flicked toward him—some amused, some irritated. Kealix barely noticed.
Just as the teacher was about to move on—
"Present, sir! I'm present!"
The words burst out sharp, raw, like a jolt of electricity snapping him upright. His throat caught on the dryness. His voice cracked, betraying the months of sleepless nights packed into that single sound.
Damn. Can't even fake it right.
Dark hair tangled wildly across his forehead. Shadows dug deep beneath his eyes, permanent and ruthless. Every bone felt tired, every muscle protesting. He hadn't closed his eyes properly in days, and it showed.
Around him, the classroom swelled with life—the dull hum of thirty-five other students, the low murmur of scribbling pens, the dusty afternoon sun slipping through tall windows, painting motes of light that floated like ghosts in the stale air.
As Kealix looked around the teacher's face came into focus: broad, weathered, fit in a way that made Kealix wonder if this man had once fought battles instead of battles of boredom. A shaved head, a thick gray beard, and eyes sharp enough to slice through daydreams.
Kealix's gaze flicked to the chalkboard—formulas and strange diagrams sprawled in chalk, foreign and confusing. He didn't recognize half of it, hadn't bothered to try. No time for school, no energy for it.
Just keep your head up, keep breathing. Just get through this.
Kealix barely registered the morning. He'd been running late, too drained to bother asking Joshua or Nox what class they were in. His mind felt foggy, weighed down by exhaustion.
Nonetheless, Kealix tried to focus he looked at the chalkboard again attempting to figure out what subject they had
A familiar voice tugged at him, sharp and teasing.
"So now you care what subject it is, huh? Earlier, when I tried to tell you, you just waved me off. Now look at you—desperate for the info I offered you."
Kealix turned slowly, catching Joshua's smirk aimed right at him. Even through the fatigue, a weak smile cracked his lips.
"Yeah, well... maybe I'm actually trying to care now."
Joshua chuckled, shaking his head like this was all some joke.
"Good luck with that. You're going to need it."
The professor's voice cut through the banter—sharp, no-nonsense.
"If we're done wasting time, let's proceed."
Kealix swallowed the sigh that threatened to escape him. Focus. Just focus. The lecture loomed over him like a mountain he had no strength to climb. All he wanted was a moment to close his eyes and disappear.
Joshua lounged back, feet resting on the dark wood desk, his grin smug and easy. The soft light caught the rich tone of his skin, making him look almost radiant in the dull classroom.
"Just spill it, Joshua. I won't ask twice," Kealix snapped, half frustration, half mockery.
"Oho? Getting feisty now. What if I don't tell you? What're you gonna do?" Joshua's grin widened, clearly waiting for a reaction.
Before Kealix could fire back, a calm, measured voice broke through.
"The subject is math. No need to make a scene over something so minor."
Nox. Reliable as ever.
Kealix gave a nod, a silent thanks.
Nox stood tall—lean but powerful, like a swimmer carved from muscle and balance. His skin was a shade lighter than Joshua's, darker than Kealix's—a steady presence.
Kealix shot Joshua a smug grin. Joshua rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the faintest smile.
"Let's focus on the lecture," Nox said quietly. "If we score high this term, our chances of getting into the Noxurian Empire go up significantly."
Kealix felt the weight of those words settle. Stakes were high, even if his mind begged for rest.
Kealix scoffed low, barely audible. The Noxurian Empire—a dream carved into whispers and hope for so many. Unlike Rah'dull, their city of worn-down colleges and cramped streets, the Empire was everything Rah'dull wasn't: stable, wealthy, orderly. None of them were starving or destitute, but getting into the Empire? That was a game changer. A ticket out of uncertainty, into a future where status wasn't just a fantasy.
"Ugh... he's right," Joshua muttered, sounding almost defeated as he let out a dramatic sigh.
They all knew the truth buried in those words. The Empire meant never worrying about money, never scrambling for scraps. For Kealix, that meant everything—because right now, no one besides their grandparents cared for him and his sister. No one to count on but those tired old souls.
The professor's deep voice cut back in, dragging Kealix out of his thoughts.
"Alright, class. Today, we'll be discussing relative probability."
Kealix's gaze drifted out the window instead. The sky stretched wide, brilliant blue with only a few soft clouds drifting lazily. But beneath that calm, something twisted in his chest—a prickling unease he couldn't shake. His instincts, usually sharp and reliable, felt fuzzy today. Disconnected. He blinked, forcing the feeling away, telling himself it was nothing. Focus.
Two hours later, the first period finally ended. Kealix shuffled down the hall with Joshua and Nox, all craving something solid to eat.
Suddenly, Joshua's stomach growled loud enough to echo down the corridor. Joshua winced, quickly turning away, cheeks flushing.
"Ah? Oh? Did someone skip breakfast?" The grin twisting on Kealix's face was wicked, sharp with teasing.
Before he could revel in the moment, his own stomach betrayed him—roaring louder than Joshua's.
Joshua's smug grin was instant. "Looks like I'm not the only one."
Nox cut through their banter with a flat voice.
"That's enough. Let's just eat in peace."
Kealix noticed the weariness dragging Nox's steps down, heavier than usual. The sharp edge in Nox's eyes dulled, shadows pooling there like dark stains.
"Did training wreck you yesterday, or did you just roll out of bed like a sloth?" Kealix asked, voice neutral but eyes sharp.
Nox rubbed at his eyes, sighing. "Is it that obvious? Seriously?"
Kealix knew exhaustion when he saw it—and even if he didn't, Nox wore it like a billboard. Hell, even a blind monkey could tell.
They rounded the corner, and the bright hum of the cafeteria spilled into Kealix's senses—the sharp clang of trays, bursts of laughter, the steady clink of silverware. The chaos felt strangely like home, a tether to the normalcy they all desperately needed.
The iron halls stretched ahead, cold and unyielding, but something ahead broke the monotony. A crowd had gathered near the cafeteria entrance, a tight circle of students murmuring and shifting with a strange energy. Kealix felt the tension prickling the air—a current of something electric, something waiting to snap.
Maybe a Vanguard showed up… yeah, right. He scoffed silently, dismissing the thought.
Vanguards—legends whispered about in stories—elite warriors clad in rare metals, wielding spears, swords, and axes that could cleave through anything. They were truly unstoppable is what everyone said.
If they'd faced the world thirty years ago, Kealix knew better. Back then, guns ruled. Those warriors wouldn't have lasted a minute. The world had changed, but myth still clung tight.
"They're formidable for this time," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
The Third World War had torn everything apart—so much destruction, so much loss. Due to this, firearms were banned, their blueprints erased, their parts recycled into the very buildings surrounding them. Even these colleges bore the bones of old wars.
Joshua's voice cut through his thoughts, curious and soft, unusual for him.
"Wanna go see what's going on?"
Nox was quicker to answer, decisive as always. "Sure."
Before Kealix could say anything, Joshua grabbed his arm, yanking him forward.
"You're coming too. We're not leaving you behind."
Kealix didn't pull away. The itch of curiosity was gnawing at him too, louder than the fatigue weighing down his limbs.
They pushed through the crowd, squeezed into the circle, and Kealix caught sight of the chaos—a young man pounding kicks into someone sprawled on the ground, defenseless. The victim didn't fight back. His face was hidden, but the crowd's whispers made it clear who was the aggressor.
Goddamn bastard.
Nox's growl rumbled low in his throat, raw and furious. Without hesitation, he surged forward—an unstoppable force breaking through the sea of bodies like a storm.
Nox hit the ground like a force of nature, tackling the aggressor and pinning his arms behind his back. The kid thrashed wildly, but it was useless. Nox was a mountain—stronger than most, both in muscle and will.
"Watch out!" someone shouted.
Nox twisted just in time to dodge a fist swinging at his face. The attacker's momentum faltered, and before Nox could even blink, the guy crashed to the floor.
Kealix's foot had found its mark—a brutal dropkick right to the face.
The instant the student collapsed, unconscious, Kealix landed lightly on top, then rolled away like it was no big deal. His face was flat, almost bored, like knocking someone out with one hit wasn't impressive at all.
Around them, the crowd's gasps echoed—shock, awe, a mix of disbelief rippling through the circle.
"Everyone, step back. Now."
The voice cut through the noise like a blade. Everyone obeyed immediately—the buzz of whispers vanished, and the crowd parted like the sea.
Joshua froze, as if rooted to the spot.
Three men stepped forward from the clearing. Two in dark uniforms, guards. Their faces unreadable. The third moved with a different air—authority thick in every step.
He looked to be about thirty-five, sharp brown hair cut close, jaw chiseled like it was carved from stone. His tracksuit might've seemed casual anywhere else, but on him, it was a uniform—a symbol of power worn without effort. His eyes pierced through the chaos—cold, calculating. A man who never needed to shout twice.
"I saw the footage," he said, voice firm and steady. "You two stopped the fight, so I'll let you off with a warning. But if anything like this happens again, there will be consequences. Understood?"
Nox and Kealix nodded quickly, eyes locked on the man.
Then the gaze shifted to Kealix.
"But... Did you really think a dropkick was necessary? You could've broken the poor kid's jaw, you know?"
Kealix's stomach tightened. He felt a flicker of defiance rise but swallowed it down. Yeah, maybe the kid deserved a lesson, but this wasn't the place for breaking jaws. The weight of authority pressed down, and for once, he kept his mouth shut.
Kealix's mouth went dry. Words tangled in his throat, refusing to come out. W-Well, sir, I—I just— He swallowed hard, legs suddenly weak, like jelly. Every second stretched, heavy with the possibility of disaster. Expulsion. Blacklist. Everything he'd worked for could vanish in a heartbeat if he messed this up.
Before he could choke on his own hesitation, Nox's voice cut through, steady and firm. "He was defending me. If you're going to punish him, punish me too."
There was no wavering in Nox's tone. No fear.
Kealix's chest tightened. Nox—the kid who'd survived the slums alone for years, fighting tooth and nail just to exist—standing tall now. Adopted by a mid-class family only a few years back, but still carrying those hard edges beneath his calm exterior. And always loyal. Always ready to stand up for those who couldn't.
The man in the tracksuit stared at Nox, eyebrows raising. Then he laughed—a deep, genuine sound that shook the tense air.
"Haha! You're a loyal little fellow, aren't you?" His voice carried a rare admiration, booming through the silence.
"Hurry to your next class. Break's almost over. And as for your punishment—don't worry about it. You're not getting one."
He winked, then turned, the guards slipping after him like shadows.
Kealix let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The pressure crushing his chest eased, just enough to breathe again.
He exchanged a glance with Nox—relief mingled with exhaustion and disbelief. They'd dodged a bullet.
"Let's not do that again," Kealix muttered, forcing a weak grin.
Nox chuckled quietly. "Agreed."
"Hey, guys, you alright?" Joshua's voice came from behind, worry threaded through it as he hurried over.
"Yeah, we're fine. But we should get to class now," Nox said, still steadying his breath.
Kealix nodded, already bending to gather his scattered supplies. Books, pens, a half-eaten granola bar he had been eating prior, even his phone lay strewn across the floor. He had dropped his bag while performing that fabulous dropkick with his hands shaking slightly, he stuffed his fallen items back into his bag, but a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. Something was missing. Something important.
Something irreplaceable.
His chest tightened, heart plummeting. No. No, no, no. The cards—his cards—gone? Fuck, are you kidding me? Panic sliced through his thoughts, sharp and cold. "I can't lose those cards." His voice cracked, desperation leaking in. Eyes darted wildly, searching the floor and shadows.
"Joshua, Nox—can you help me look for them?"
Joshua didn't hesitate. "Yeah, of course. But after, we gotta hurry, alright?"
They dropped to their knees, hands scrabbling beneath tables, chairs, and bags scattered like fallen soldiers. Kealix's fingers trembled violently as he pushed the corner of a bench, peering underneath.
These tarot cards weren't just a deck. They weren't just paper and ink.
The memory hit him—clear and vivid.
Eleven years old. The storm outside had knocked out the power, thick thunder rolling like distant war drums. Candlelight flickered, shadows dancing across the walls, turning the living room into a quiet, magical world instead of a frightening one.
His mother, graceful and mysterious in ways he never fully understood, had handed him a small velvet bundle with a smile that shone like hope itself.
"These used to be your grandfather's," she'd said softly, "but I think they'll speak to you now."
He'd unwrapped them slowly, reverently. The deck was old but beautiful—each card hand-painted with shimmering metallic inks that caught the firelight, glowing as if they held secrets just for him.
They weren't just cards.
That was the last birthday he'd spend with his parents.
His throat constricted, anxiety clawing its way back.
Then—
There.
"Found them!" Relief slammed into him like a wave. His hand yanked the deck from beneath a nearby table, voice raw, almost breathless.
They were dusty, edges bent, but still whole.
He crushed them to his chest for a bit, trembling moments before carefully slipping them into the pouch sewn inside his bag. No way would he lose them again—not for anything.
Joshua's voice pulled him back. "Okay, we really have to book it now."
"Fourth floor," Nox said, already breaking into a run.
Without a word, they burst forward.
Their footsteps thundered down the iron corridors, echoes pounding like war drums in Kealix's ears. His breath came fast, legs pumping hard as he dodged backpacks and sluggish students. The bag slapped against his side, but he didn't slow.
Not now.
They hit the stairwell, pounding upward two steps at a time. Third floor flashed by too fast. Fourth floor crawled, dragging with each heavy breath.
His lungs screamed. Sweat slicked down his spine, cold and sticky. Joshua cursed under his breath, ragged and sharp. Even Nox looked winded, jaw tight.
Just—one more—floor... Kealix forced the words out through the burn.
The fourth-floor landing loomed. The bell sounded its second warning chime—a cruel countdown. Kealix didn't hesitate. The door swung open under his shove, and he charged into the hall.
Heads turned. Eyes caught their ragged, stumbling shapes like a pack of wild animals barely holding it together.
Upperclassmen smirked. One girl clapped slowly, dripping with sarcasm as they passed.
The classroom door stood between them and salvation. Nox threw it open wide. They spilled in—sweaty, disheveled and definitely last.
The teacher stopped mid-sentence, brow twitching, irritation simmering just beneath her calm. Chalk tapped once on the board—a sharp warning.
Snickers rippled around the room. Someone in the back whispered, "The dramatic trio's back again," quiet enough to be a jab.
Kealix didn't care.
He hadn't lost the cards. He hadn't missed the class.
His lungs burned, but the relief tasted sweeter than any breath.
He dropped into the nearest seat by the window, panting, sweat stinging his eyes. Joshua and Nox flanked him, their glances brief but understanding.
As the lecture pulled him back, his gaze drifted out the window.
Something was off.
The sky—too blue, too perfect. Crystalline, like a polished gem. Clouds hung frozen, like painted illusions pressed behind glass.
Sunlight slammed against the window's edge, glaring sharper than it should, as if the world had been scrubbed clean of life.
A pressure settled deep in his chest—quiet but heavy, like the world was holding its breath.
What is that? Kealix squinted, leaning closer to the glass.
There it was. A thin, jagged tear in the sky, hovering about twenty meters from the building. It shimmered faintly—like cracked glass catching the moonlight—suspended, impossible. Not a reflection. Not a cloud.
It looked like reality itself had been ripped open—black at its core, edges bleeding deep violet light, pulsing slow and uneven, like a wounded heartbeat.
Kealix leaned forward without thinking. Breath caught tight in his throat. His fingers clenched the edge of his desk until the nails bit into the wood of his desk.
What the h—
Before he could finish, the crack exploded open with a shrill, soul-piercing scream that tore through his mind, skipping his ears altogether.
There was no time. No time at all.
A blinding flash burst from the rift—electric blues and purples arced violently, twisting and lashing like living lightning tearing through the air. The sky rippled and warped, heat blasting like a furnace.
Glass shattered all around with crystalline screams. Desks splintered. Books, bags, bodies thrown into the chaos like ragdolls.
Kealix barely registered the oncoming wave before it slammed into him. Fire and pain seared through his chest, every nerve on fire, screaming for mercy.
The classroom dissolved into madness—flames, shards, metal, and raw, burning energy.
In the last shattered moment before his mind cracked, one desperate thought blazed through:
Fuck. Not here. Not like this. I won't die here.
Then—nothing.
His body fell, limp and broken among the others. But inside him, something refused to die.
A spark. Tiny, fierce, and bright. It blossomed into a fierce glow, radiating from his chest, pushing back the darkness until the world around him faded away.
Suddenly, he was somewhere else.
A place both swirling with impossible colors and empty as void. Time stretched and bent. He could see everything—and nothing—all at once, trapped between dimensions, weightless, unmoored.
Where the hell—
His voice was gone. No sound came, but his thoughts thundered through the silence.
Instinct made him reach up to rub his neck. Nothing. No skin, no flesh.
His gaze dropped. No hands. No body. Just awareness—floating free, untethered.
Then a voice, soft and powerful, wrapped around him, coming from everywhere at once.
"Father, I did not expect your visit. Forgive me my insolence."
The sound burned into what was left of him—overwhelming, divine, and haunting.
"How may I assist you today?"