Rain poured steadily over the rooftops of Seimei Private Academy, with each drop soaking the shingles in a soft layer of moonlight that cast an otherworldly glow over the place. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously from behind the thick clouds, as if warning of something foreboding. Yet, down on the cold ground, the harsh realities of life felt all too real and much less poetic.
Ren stood at the edge of the rooftop, balancing one foot on the slick metal railing, his hands buried deep in his pockets—an attitude that conveyed a sense of having all the time in the world. In reality, he was acutely aware of the fleeting moments he had left, but he enjoyed the illusion of time, a small escape from the chaos of his everyday life.
Behind him, a group of six boys towered over a scared classmate, holding him by the collar like a trophy. Their fists were marked with the evidence of past fights, bloody knuckles showing just how rough they could be. Leading the pack was Takumi, a stocky second-year with an inflated ego that matched his lack of smarts. His horrible hairstyle seemed to cry out for a haircut, but what stood out most was the cruel smile on his face as he delivered another brutal kick to the downed boy, who gasped in shock, clearly overwhelmed by the pain.
Suddenly, Ren's voice cut through the sound of rain, sharp and clear enough to grab everyone's attention. "Do you really need six people to take down just one?"
Takumi turned to Ren, surprise flitting across his face for just a moment before he quickly masked it with disdain. "Mind your own business, Ren. You're just another weirdo trying to act tough."
In response, Ren shrugged casually, not even bothering to turn around completely. "You're not even making this fun," he said, letting his words drift into the damp air like feathers in a storm.
Just then, a lightning bolt split the sky, illuminating the face of the victim—a face that had once shown innocence but was now scarred by the harsh truths of fear and pain. Ren felt a quick pang of sympathy, but it faded almost immediately, overshadowed by a deeper, unsettling indifference.
"What was that, freak?" Takumi sneered, venom dripping from his voice.
Finally, Ren turned to face him completely, offering a smile that lacked any warmth. It was the kind of smile you'd expect from a predator—cold, calculating, and utterly void of compassion. "You're quite tiresome, Takumi. Completely predictable. Foolish. And the worst part? Yelling doesn't make you stronger."
Fury ignited in Takumi's eyes as he charged forward, muscles tensed with misplaced anger. It was always the loud ones who acted first, their eagerness outpacing their brains.
But Takumi barely managed three steps before Ren moved like a shadow. He struck Takumi's throat with pinpoint accuracy, causing him to double over against the steel railing of the rooftop. As air rushed from Takumi's lungs, silence fell for a moment as he grappled with shock and realization. The others, caught off guard by this surprise attack, stood frozen, but Ren was already in motion, moving swiftly through the downpour.
In just three seconds, all six boys were on the ground, groaning and gasping for breath, their shouts drowned out by the relentless rain. No longer the aggressors, they were now the ones in need of help. The boy they had been tormenting lay still below, his wide eyes filled with confusion and fear as they met Ren's.
"W-Why…?" His voice quivered, hanging in the air like a flicker of fragile hope.
Ren flashed a subtle smirk—one that hinted at both mischief and a touch of danger. "No specific reason. I just couldn't stand their rhythm," he said with a chilling calmness. His words seemed to twist around the leftover tension like a tightening noose as he brushed past the confused boy, who was still trying to make sense of the chaos. Ren didn't think of himself as a hero; he wasn't a knight in shining armor. He simply couldn't tolerate noise, and these pathetic bullies were the loudest noise he could imagine.
The next morning, as the sun rose on a fresh day, whispers spread through the conservative halls of Seimei Academy, quick as a wildfire. Students spoke of him in awed and nervous tones, dubbing him the "Black Monarch." They exaggeratedly referred to him as the "Demon King of Classroom 2-B." Some even suggested he had mysterious martial arts skills or a military background. Most of these stories were wildly inaccurate, yet they were amusing nonetheless.
The reality was much simpler: Ren was just good at spotting patterns.
His brain was like a finely tuned instrument, easily making connections, finding weaknesses, and reading people as effortlessly as a musician reads complex sheet music. To him, humans were predictably flawed. Systems were fragile constructs, and authority figures? They were laughable in their delusions of power.
All it took was one perfectly timed push, and the whole shaky structure could come crashing down.
In the quiet atmosphere of the library, with the comforting scent of old paper filling the air, Ren casually flipped through a strategy manual. But he wasn't really focused on the text; instead, he was skimming, letting his thoughts wander. His mind was already racing ahead, crafting elaborate scenarios and visualizing the social hierarchy of the student body like an intricate chess game. On this board, all the pieces were set up, but chaos simmered just below the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.
Ren squinted at the dimly lit pages in front of him, the words merging together in the low light. He couldn't have cared less about typical student worries like grades, clubs, or the mundane titles of the student council. Instead, the constant hum of pointless chatter around him felt more like an annoying buzz, drowning out the intricate complexities of his own thoughts.
His mind raced through a maze of ideas. Where would the next conflict arise? Who could disrupt the status quo? What if he could stir up a rivalry among the so-called 'Untouchable' seniors and get them fighting amongst themselves? The potential scenarios flitted through his head like a swarm of moths, each one a spark of chaos just waiting for the right moment to ignite.
When the final bell rang and classes ended for the day, Ren made his way back to the rooftop, almost hesitantly this time. The roof had turned into a gloomy refuge for him, soaking in the relentless rain and the charged energy of unvoiced struggles. It was here that he could think, plotting and strategizing like a chess player contemplating his next move in the shadows.
But today, he wasn't alone.
In front of him stood a boy, no older than fifteen, his wide eyes filled with an unmistakable fear. He clutched a gun, its barrel trembling slightly, mirroring the boy's obvious terror.
"D-Don't move!" the boy stammered, his voice barely piercing through the symphony of rain.
Ren blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief as a hint of amusement flickered across his mind. "Seriously, where did you even get that?" he asked, nodding toward the weapon as if it were a bad fashion choice.
"I-I know who you are!" the boy shouted, his words tumbling out in a rush. "You think you can control everything! You're a monster!"
With a heavy sigh, Ren's voice dripped with boredom. "Ah, but you're mistaken, kid," he said, taking a measured half-step closer. His gaze was piercing, as cold as steel on a winter's day. "I already do."
The boy's finger tightened nervously on the trigger, the weight of the situation hanging in the air like raindrops cascading from Ren's dark hair. "Don't come any closer!"
A wicked grin spread across Ren's face, revealing a sharp, predatory gleam. "Do you really think you're in charge here? You're standing there with a toy that wouldn't keep you safe from the real monsters lurking in this world."
In an instant, there was no pain.
Time blurred in a dizzying whirl; the sound of the gunshot faded into a dull rhythm, like the heartbeat of a drum marking his downward fall.
A brief moment of weightlessness.
Then… he was plummeting.
Darkness wrapped around him, thick and stifling, like velvet curtains closing around the stage of life. The fall was both exhilarating and terrifying, an explosion of muted colors and jumbled thoughts swirling chaotically through the empty abyss.
Deep in that void, a low chuckle echoed, blending with the silence like an unsettling melody.
"Another strategist falls without a war."
Ren found himself speechless, unable to respond.
"But you… you've caught my attention."
A sharp, unnatural light burst through the darkness, revealing a chessboard spread out before him, its pieces arranged as if waiting for a clever player. Some pieces were black, others white, each one representing a possibility, hidden violence lurking beneath the surface of the game.
"Care for another game?" the voice asked, a playful lilt bringing a sense of mischief.
Ren stared intently at the game board, studying the way the pieces were positioned, before letting his eyes drift to the imposing figure looming behind it. There was something both unsettling and captivating about this presence, a hint of chaos disguised as civility.
A sly grin spread across Ren's face—one that suggested confusion and impending turmoil.
"Only if I get to make the rules this time," he declared, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes.
Laughter erupted from the figure, its echo bouncing around the dark space.
"Fine then, Black Monarch. Let's get this game started."
Just then, a rumble of thunder resounded above, a foreboding sound warning that even in the darkest places, storms are always waiting for their moment to strike.