Some hours before Sion's supposed "date."
Just when students were starting to settle into their new housing.
Ryder walked down the halls of the Infernal Home, his badge glowing faintly as it guided him forward.
Room 12.
He stopped in front of the door.
Took a breath.
Then pushed it open.
He froze.
The room was already occupied—not the problem.
The problem was what was happening inside.
A student stood tall, calm like a statue—except for the tentacles sprouting from his back like extra limbs. Two of them held another boy pinned to the ground. One already held a stolen badge.
The pinned student was shaking.
Tentacle-boy was smiling.
"Grant me permission to operate your badge," he said coldly. "Do it… and I might let you live."
He turned as Ryder entered—smiling wider.
"Another one. Lucky me."
Ryder's foot shifted. He didn't hesitate. He turned to bolt.
Too late.
A tentacle snapped out and coiled around his leg, dragging him back like meat across the floor. The door slammed shut behind him.
Now the tentacle-boy stood over Ryder, grinning like a god over peasants.
"Hand over your badge's permission," he said, voice low and amused, "and I'll consider sparing you."
What the boy failed to notice from the beginning of the situation was the fact that Ryder had a smirk on his face.
"Consider?"
A voice whispered from behind him.
Before he could turn—
Slash.
A crimson blade tore through his head.
A moment later, his body collapsed to the floor—lifeless.
Standing behind him: another Ryder. Coated in blood. Blade still dripping.
The real Ryder, lying on the floor, had flicked a single drop of blood onto the ground as he was dragged.
That drop became death.
He pulled the tentacle off his leg and stood.
Calmly.
But his eyes—hungry.
He turned to the only other presence in the room.
Smirked.
Then paused.
Something's off.
He glanced toward the window.
A boy sat there.
Casual. Cross-legged. Chin on one hand. Same face as the one on the floor.
"Clone?" Ryder asked, already amused.
The boy smiled.
"You can make them too, huh? What's yours like?"
Ryder stared for a long moment.
Then laughed.
Dark, slow, and loud.
"School life," he said, wiping a streak of blood from his cheek, "is going to be fun."
Elsewhere…
Kale stood at the edge of the rooftop, wind ruffling his blond hair.
The horizon stretched before him—wild, endless land. A world of chaos wrapped in mystique.
His eyes didn't blink.
His mind wandered.
Politics. Enrollment. Trials. Blessings.
And the moment that changed everything.
The moment he received it.
The thing that would make him more than royalty. More than noble.
The thing that would make him transcendent.
His hands clenched reflexively.
His thoughts drifted to Smilingdeath.
Others might not have known who he was.
But Kale had.
His elder brother—the First Prince—had spoken of him.
Praised him.
The only junior his brother had ever spoken of with respect.
Which meant only one thing:
Smilingdeath was real.
And dangerous.
Kale grit his teeth.
I'll surpass him.
And you, too, brother.
"Your Highness."
Crystal's voice pulled him out of thought.
He didn't turn. "Yes?"
"I found no record tied to the name," she said. "But if we go by his titles… and what he accomplished during the trials…"
A pause.
She glanced down at her badge.
"The superhero boy. It's most likely him. Sion."
Kale nodded slightly.
He'd figured as much.
"No bother. Whoever he is…" he said softly, a glow rising from his palm, "he's not ready for what I am now."
Crystal's eyes narrowed slightly at the light swirling in his hand.
"That glow… is it…?"
Kale finally turned, his gaze calm, controlled, royal.
"An Awakener's power."
A couple hours later.
Anessa exhaled as she stepped into her new home.
A mansion, technically. But she didn't care for the details.
It stood just a short distance away from the Destroyer's Abode—secluded enough to keep the noise out, close enough to hear the explosions if anyone got too excited.
She dropped her bag just past the entrance, let the giant door slam shut behind her, and flopped backward onto the velvet couch like it owed her sleep.
"I hate teleportation," she muttered to the ceiling.
They'd made her jump to another facility just to retrieve the mansion key, a guide scroll, and an official orientation pack that she'd promptly dumped in a corner. Worse—they made her wait.
Wait.
With him.
"Edward," she said flatly.
The name tasted like cardboard.
She'd been left in the same space as the golden boy himself. For fifteen whole minutes. Long enough for awkward glances to turn into dead stares. He'd looked away, she hadn't.
"He kept fidgeting," she said to no one. "Not even subtle about it."
She curled a leg up on the couch, brow furrowed.
"Definitely not my type."
She reached up, unpinned her hair and let the lime strands fall loose, catching stray beams of sun from the window.
Then her gaze drifted toward the ceiling again.
There was one thing that still nagged at her.
The Second Rank.
The one who never showed.
They'd called his name more than once. No answer. No appearance. Just a void in the ranking. A ghost with eighty thousand points.
Her finger tapped lazily against her knee.
"He never showed…" she muttered. "And he might've been cute."
She let the name roll out, half-smiling to herself.
"Sion, huh—"
The moment the name left her lips—
A weight.
Sudden. Subtle. Then gone.
Like the air had blinked.
Her eyes narrowed.
"...Interesting."
At the same time, elsewhere.
A golden beam of light shot down from the sky.
Edward stood beneath it, adjusting his jacket with stiff movements.
That damn girl… What kind of depraved monster stares at a man's crotch like that?
Irritation carved itself across his face.
If he had the power, he'd burn that staff member who thought it was a good idea to leave him in a room with her.
He looked up at the mansion before him—his assigned residence.
The irritation worsened.
Standing in front of it, waiting like a ghost from his past, was someone he recognized.
"What are you doing here, Bar—" he caught himself, jaw tensing.
"It's Barlee, my lord," the girl corrected with a respectful bow.
Her posture wasn't just polite—it was the practiced softness of someone who thought they were already his wife.
Edward stared at her.
What sin did I commit to deserve this engagement?
His thoughts spiraled, but he didn't get the chance to continue them.
A new presence approached from another direction.
"Edward. I'm here to challenge—"
BOOM.
The air exploded with fire.
A shockwave cracked across the field.
When the smoke cleared, Edward stood with one hand extended, flames curling around his wrist. The ground ahead of him was scorched black. The challenger was nowhere to be seen. Just ash and the scent of melted earth.
His face was no longer annoyed.
It was warped with rage.
"I'm already irritated," he growled. "Don't irritate me further."