The return trip to the academy was nothing like the ride there.
The bus was silent.
No laughter. No casual chatter. No complaints.
Hiko Shinoegami sat near the back, hands resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the glowing runes etched into the window. Reflections of his classmates flickered faintly in the glass—faces stiff, wary, uncertain.
Some stared openly.
Others avoided looking at him at all.
He felt it clearly now.
Distance.
Fear.
A few seats away, someone whispered, not quietly enough.
"That thing… that power…"
"He's not normal."
"Did you see his eyes?"
Hiko's fingers twitched once, then stilled.
Inside his mind, the presence remained quiet.
Watching.
Waiting.
The bus arrived at the academy gates with a soft hum. The doors opened, and cold evening air rushed in.
Students stepped off one by one.
And the moment Hiko followed—
It began.
Someone flinched.
Another student backed away instinctively.
A girl pulled her friend closer to her side.
"He's coming…"
"Careful."
"Don't provoke him."
The whispers spread faster than wildfire.
Hero of the devils.
Monster.
Weapon.
Hiko stopped walking.
His chest tightened, not with anger—but something colder.
He had known this would happen.
But knowing didn't make it hurt less.
As they crossed the courtyard, the distance around him widened unnaturally, like an invisible barrier no one dared cross.
A boy muttered under his breath, loud enough to hear.
"If he loses control again, we're dead."
Hiko clenched his jaw.
That was when someone stepped forward.
"Enough."
The voice was deep. Steady.
Goru.
He moved without hesitation, placing himself directly in front of Hiko—between him and the rest of the class.
Broad shoulders. Firm stance.
He turned slowly, eyes sweeping across the courtyard.
"You're all real brave," Goru said, voice rising, "when the person you're afraid of isn't fighting back."
The whispers faltered.
"What are you doing, Goru?"
"Get away from him—"
Goru raised a hand.
"No," he said. "You listen."
He pointed back toward the direction of the Climate Arena.
"Every single one of you walked into that place scared. Every single one of you struggled."
Some students looked away.
"Eighty percent of us couldn't handle a Grade 3 beast," Goru continued. "I was one of them."
Silence.
"And when things went bad," he said, voice tightening, "no one stepped forward to save you."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward Hiko without looking at him.
"Except him."
Murmurs erupted.
"That wasn't saving—"
"That was something else—"
Goru snapped.
"Shut up!"
The courtyard froze.
"You didn't see him enjoy it," Goru said sharply. "You didn't see him smile."
He stepped closer to the group.
"You saw someone who was about to lose consciousness. Someone who didn't want to hurt anyone."
His voice lowered.
"And you decided he was a beast."
The words struck hard.
Goru clenched his fists.
"You want to call him a monster? Fine."
He turned back to Hiko, then faced the class again.
"Then answer me this."
"If he really was a monster… why didn't he burn this whole place down?"
No one answered.
"Why didn't he finish Daizen when he could?"
Still nothing.
"Why is he standing here right now," Goru said, voice rough, "looking more uncomfortable than any of you?"
Some students swallowed.
Others looked ashamed.
Goru took a breath.
"I don't know what answered him," he admitted. "And yeah—what we saw was terrifying."
He nodded once.
"But fear doesn't give you the right to treat someone like an animal."
His voice hardened.
"This academy trains us to face disasters. To face the unknown."
He pointed at the ground.
"And the moment something unknown stands in front of you… you fold."
The courtyard was dead silent.
Goru stepped aside slightly, no longer blocking Hiko—but standing beside him.
"If you're scared," he said, "be scared."
"But don't you dare pretend you're better than him."
No one spoke.
Even instructors watching from a distance said nothing.
Hiko stood frozen.
He hadn't expected this.
Inside his mind, the devil finally spoke.
…That one's rare.
Hiko didn't answer.
Goru exhaled and looked at Hiko, quieter now.
"You didn't ask for this," he said. "But you're still one of us."
Then he turned and walked away.
The invisible barrier around Hiko didn't vanish completely.
But it cracked.
Some students hesitated—then slowly closed the distance.
Not all.
But enough.
Hiko resumed walking.
Each step felt heavy.
Inside his chest, something loosened slightly.
…Why did he do that? Hiko asked internally.
The presence paused.
Because he chose courage over comfort.
Hiko glanced once more at the academy buildings ahead.
…Is it always going to be like this?
For a while, the devil replied. Legends are lonelier than heroes.
Hiko looked up at the sky, the evening light fading.
Then I'll endure it.
A faint sense of approval stirred within him.
That's why he chose you.
And for the first time since the arena, Hiko didn't feel like a beast.
He felt like someone still standing.