"That’s quite a story... And your group must have had a very capable leader," Ren said, leaning back into the creaky chair that was surprisingly comfortable.
Rumi offered a faint smile, nostalgia flickering in her eyes. "Oh, him... Yeah. I really admired him. Until... Trek decided to imprison him."
Ren frowned. "Wait—what? Imprison him? Not... kill him?"
"Yeah. Trek said Freedy was too dangerous to be left free. But that didn’t mean he wanted him dead."
Ren’s focus sharpened. "So he was some sort of political rival?"
"You could say that," Rumi replied, folding her hands in her lap. "Although his supporters weren’t as many as Trek’s, we still believed in him. In our culture, leadership isn’t inherited by blood or lineage, but earned through The Rite—a brutal annual colosseum battle. The victor claims the throne."
Ren nodded. "I’ve heard of that. So why was Freedy considered dangerous? Why not just neutralize him outright?"
"Because, besides being a political rival, they were... childhood friends," Rumi said softly. "They grew up together. Two souls forged by the harsh life of Eks. But over time, their ideologies diverged. Trek believed in power and stability through isolation, while Freedy believed in openness and change. That... led to conflict."
Ren fell silent for a moment, then asked, "And... is Freedy still imprisoned now?"
Rumi nodded. "Yes. But no one knows exactly where. Only Trek’s closest inner circle knows. Some say he’s locked in the lowest level prison beneath the colosseum. But that’s all rumor."
Ren stroked his chin, thoughtful. (So if I want to find Trek’s weakness... maybe Freedy could be the answer.)
"Thank you for sharing all this, Miss Rumi," Ren said sincerely.
Rumi chuckled softly, though a dry cough followed. "You’re too polite for someone talking to a loser."
Ren shook his head gently. "To people out there, maybe you’re a loser... But to me—you’re not."
"And why is that?" Rumi challenged, curiosity flashed in her gaze.
"Because even though you lost and fell... you didn’t surrender. You’re still alive, still taking care of your sibling, and still speaking about hope. That’s enough to prove you’re more than just a loser."
Rumi went quiet, then offered a faint smile. "Your perspective is strange. But... somehow, I like it."
Ren let out a small laugh and stood, brushing off his pants. "I have to go. Oh, one more thing... If you want to see something interesting, come by the arena tonight."
"Arena?" Rumi raised an eyebrow, confused. "Why?"
Ren didn’t answer. He simply gave a light wave to Ace and Rumi before stepping toward the door.
"See you, Miss Rumi... Kid."
And with that, Ren vanished into the haze and bustle of Eks, leaving behind a flicker of curiosity and a small ember of hope in that tattered shack.
The morning sky above the little island that houses Starford Academy was bright, but Erick Greyson’s mood was far from peaceful.
For the past three days, he felt... watched.
No matter how many times he looked over his shoulder, he never saw anyone. But the sensation remained—sharp eyes boring into his neck, like a knife that never touched skin, but was close enough to make him uneasy. The feeling appeared in the cafeteria while he ate alone, in the library when he read magical journals, even in the garden when he tried to relax. And most frustrating of all...
He gritted his teeth just recalling that memory.
"I’m not paranoid... I know someone’s observing me," he muttered under his breath.
Hidden behind a marble column of the academy’s main building, Kiriya stood silently. His cloak merged perfectly with the shadow cast by the pillar. He held his breath. His gaze was razor-sharp, focused on one target: Erick Greyson.
(Embarrassing. But it’s the only way. He’s the only person who might have clues about teleportation magic.) Kiriya thought.
His ability to remain hidden was honed over time—through extreme training with Ren, and living in a world inhospitable to those who were "different." His presence was minimized, almost like morning mist—present yet unseen.
Meanwhile, Erick was growing impatient.
He strode along a rarely traveled east hallway of the academy. The place was silent—only the whisper of wind and rustling leaves. He stopped and turned sharply.
"Hey... I know you’re out there, right?!" he shouted, scanning the shadows between pillar and wall.
Only the sound of leaves falling and his own heartbeat.
Erick ground his teeth, frustration rising. "Stop stalking me, damn it! Even in the bathroom?! Show some limits, will you? This is a violation of privacy!" he yelled, his voice echoing between the stone columns of the empty Starford hall.
Still no response. Only the wind gently brushing his cloak, as if mocking his rage.
Some distance away, concealed by thick foliage, Kiriya exhaled softly. His gaze remained intense, calculating—appraising Erick like a predator assessing prey.
(I should’ve been stealthier. I thought he wouldn’t notice so quickly... turns out his instincts are sharp enough.)
This wasn’t Kiriya’s first reconnaissance mission. Before the world shifted and he was summoned to this realm alongside Ren, he was already accustomed to acting as Ren’s "second eye"—managing communication, tracking enemy movements, guiding covert operations while Ren served as Techno back on Earth. Though still young, Kiriya carried responsibilities far beyond his age. And the harsh reality in this new world wasn’t much different.
He inhaled, stepped out from the shadows—and revealed himself for the first time since the surveillance began.
His stride was calm. His eyes cold. His face expressionless—but his gaze conveyed seriousness.
Erick Greyson—the genius student of Starford Academy—raised an eyebrow. His expression became dismissive. His posture defensive with a touch of arrogance, typical of a privileged youth idolized for his achievements.
"Oh? So here’s the mysterious stalker?"
Erick crossed his arms, the stance casual but his eyes suspicious. He sized Kiriya up from head to toe, narrowing his eyes as if evaluating how dangerous this newcomer might be.
"I expected maybe a hired assassin or a spy sent from some noble house that despises me."
Kiriya didn’t rush to respond. He simply stood tall, showing no sign of hostility. Yet his silence only heightened Erick’s suspicion.
"So... you’ve felt this before?" Kiriya finally asked, his voice calm but filled with intention.
Erick snorted. "Yeah. Once. I killed my stalker. Pleasant experience—definitely not one to repeat. But enough about that. Now answer—why have you been stalking me for the past three days?!"
Erick raised his right hand as he spoke, and magic began to swirl in his palm. The ground around them tremored, signaling movement from below.
Kiriya remained calm, but his gaze sharpened. "This is just a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean to harm you. I only wanted—"
"To talk?" Erick cut him off loudly. "To talk while stalking me like a ghost—even into the bathroom? I’ve had nightmares because of this! If it’s a misunderstanding... let me vent my frustration first!"
With lightning reflexes, Erick hurled a massive earth-magic boulder at Kiriya. Kiriya spun aside, dodging it with a fluid, acrobatic flip. He vaulted off a wall and leapt over two more incoming spells.
But Erick wasn’t done.
Hovering above his head appeared a magic orb—a sphere of cracked earth and crackling lightning—hurtled toward Kiriya. Unable to dodge midair, Kiriya landed and activated Shadow Trick. His shadow erupted from the ground, transforming into a thick shield that deflected the spell. Even though he held, the force rattled his nerves, leaving him slightly dizzy.
Then the ground beneath Kiriya turned into quicksand.
"Damn..." Kiriya hissed.
Erick chanted again. This time the spell took form: Stone Bullet, a swirling stone spear like a massive drill, its edge shimmering with earth magic sharp enough to slice steel.
"Answer me now. Who ordered you?" Erick demanded, his face dark as a soldier hunting a target.
Kiriya took a breath, steadying himself. "Seriously. I just want to talk."
"Then I’ll listen—after I cripple you!"
The Stone Bullet shot forward like a missile.
But at the last moment, Kiriya used his trump card—Shadow Step. In a blink, he vanished into shadows, leaving only the spell’s explosion behind, which obliterated the muddy ground beneath.
Silence fell. Erick spun around, eyes narrowed.
From behind a swaying shadowed pillar, a soft, sharp voice echoed:
"I seek a way home... And I believe you might be the only one who can help me."
Erick’s gaze tightened. His rage had faded, replaced by wariness and a flicker of shock. "Damn... This just got clearer. You’re definitely some kind of assassin."
From the shadows, Kiriya’s voice came again—clearer now, no longer hiding:
"Correct. You’re not wrong. Assassin is my hunter’s job."
In an instant, Kiriya leapt from the darkness, launching a short dagger at Erick. But Erick’s reflexes were sharp—he raised a hardened earth shield and blocked the throw mid-air.
"Then no more pleasantries!" Erick shouted and slammed his foot down.
A small quake rattled the ground. His geoshift magic fractured the earth—cracks opened, stone spikes erupted. Kiriya twisted between the shards, dodging with breathtaking agility.
With a swift motion, Kiriya embedded a shadow sigil behind a large rock—a rune trap set to detonate when activated. He knew Erick excelled in direct combat, so he must fight tactically.
But Erick was no ordinary student.
With a gesture, he summoned Earth Grasp, a giant earthen claw erupting from the ground to grab Kiriya’s foot and drag him in. Before Kiriya could react, Erick unleashed another devastating spell—Flare Rock, a concentrated fireball united with earth energy.
"This should humble you!" Erick roared.
The explosion rocked the ground. Dust and heat pulsed outward. Kiriya was blasted back—his armor absorbing most of the blow, though his right sleeve ripped from the force, and blood trickled into his vision.
But before Erick advanced to finish the fight—
A heavy, authoritative voice cut through the chaos.
Both turned instinctively.
From the darkened corridor, a tall figure marched toward them, cloaked in the academy’s official robes. The Student Council emblem glowed on his chest. His step was deliberate, eyes capable of freezing the air.
"Erick Greyson. Kiriya Asano. Explanation. Now."
The figure was Leonus Arvent, Student Council President of Starford Academy—a top-tier mage feared not for cruelty, but for uncompromising discipline.
"He attacked me first!" Erick defended sharply.
"I sought only to talk," Kiriya countered, spitting blood from his temple.
Leonus exhaled. "Behind the academy. Using second-level magic. After hours." He looked them over coldly. "Both of you, come with me. Now."
Without protest, they rose. Leonus’s presence was too commanding to contest. The fight wasn’t over—but it was postponed—for the moment.
And in Kiriya’s mind, one thought crystallized: Getting closer to Erick... has just become far more complicated.