The predators were circling—and the academy trembled beneath the weight of their collective gaze.
Whispers followed Arashi like phantom tendrils, a living, breathing current of raw, unspoken tension. Not the ridicule of before.
Not the dismissive mockery that had once defined his existence. No—this was something far more visceral.
Curiosity. A blade of suspicion. A grudging, almost reluctant respect.
The weight of their stares had metamorphosed. No longer dripping with arrogant contempt, they now burned with something far more dangerous—uncertainty.
And uncertainty? It was a poison that spread like wildfire through carefully maintained facades.
Arashi leaned against an ancient stone pillar in the courtyard, a silent sentinel amidst controlled chaos.
Around him, students were practicing their magical prowess—lightning fractured the air like shattered glass, flames danced with feral intensity, wind blades carved invisible wounds into the emptiness.
'A spectacle of power.'
'Overcompensation', he thought, the observation as sharp and cold as a winter blade.
Magic—a desperate crutch for the weak, a translucent mask hiding fundamental fragility. Strip away those arcane threads, and they would crumble like brittle bone.
That's why he had never relied on it.
The irony was a constant companion.
When the trio of noble heirs approached—their academy uniforms pristine, each movement laden with generational privilege—Arashi felt the atmosphere shift.
The air grew thick, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the magic crackling around them.
Elias Brontis. Tall. Calculated. Silver eyes that could dissect illusions with surgical precision.
"You're Kurobane," he stated. Not a question. A declaration that hung in the air like an unsheathed blade.
Arashi's response was a lazy tilt of the head, a performance of indifference that masked layers of calculated awareness. "So they tell me."
Elias's smile was a dangerous thing—sharp as a predator's tooth, as calculated as a chess master's most intricate strategy. "We've been watching you."
'Ah. Here it comes.'
Another noble. Another game of power, of perception, of hidden motives.
"And?" Arashi's voice was silk draped over tempered steel.
The shorter companion—reddish-brown hair vibrating with suppressed aggression—nearly snarled. "Watch your tongue, *peasant*—"
But Elias's raised hand was a silent command. Absolute. Controlling.
"You're quick," he mused, those silver eyes dissecting Arashi piece by intricate piece. "I *like* that."
Arashi eye twitched. A microscopic tell that would mean nothing to most—but everything to those truly watching.
'I don't like you.'
Elias leaned forward, the movement deliberate. Predatory.
Like a wolf testing the boundaries of unknown territory. "I want to know what you're hiding."
Another one joining the hunt. First Leonhardt. Now Elias.
The nobles were noticing. And they despised what they could not immediately categorize, could not instantly control.
Breath. Calculation. The delicate dance of revelation and concealment.
"I'm not hiding anything," Arashi said simply. A statement that was simultaneously everything and nothing.
Elias raised an eyebrow—a challenge, a taunt that spoke volumes.
"I'm just someone who knows when to act and when to watch."
Vague. Provocative. An invitation to interpretation that would keep minds spinning.
The game was set.
Elias chuckled—a sound that was more threat than humor, more calculation than mirth. "Interesting."
He stepped back, the movement laden with unspoken challenge. "I'll be watching you, Kurobane."
Arashi's smile was a razor's edge, sharp enough to draw blood from the unwary. "Enjoy the view."
And just like that, the encounter dissolved—leaving behind a web of tension that would continue to vibrate, to pulse, to hunt.
Because now, more eyes were watching. More minds were questioning.
Arashi had never sought attention. But attention, it seemed, had found him with predatory precision.
"Hey, Kurobane!"
The familiar voice cut through the lingering tension, announcing Leonhardt's approach before he was fully visible.
The blonde knight-in-training strode over, that infuriating grin of his a constant, provocative presence.
"I saw you talking to Elias earlier," he said casually, falling into step beside Arashi like they were old companions. "He's not an easy guy to impress."
Arashi hummed, a sound that could have meant anything. "Good for him."
Leonhardt chuckled, the sound threading between genuine amusement and something deeper. More calculated. "So? What did he want?"
"To know what I'm hiding."
The knight raised an eyebrow, a mirror of Elias's earlier gesture. "And what are you hiding?"
Arashi's smirk was a weapon all its own. "You tell me."
"Damn, you're fun to talk to," Leonhardt laughed, but his eyes never lost their edge of calculation.
'That makes one of us.'
"Seriously, though," Leonhardt continued, his voice dropping, becoming a weapon of its own kind of intimacy, "be careful around Elias. He doesn't like things he can't control."
Arashi's eyes flickered—a movement so subtle it might have been imagined.
Control. The fundamental currency of power.
People didn't truly fear strength. They feared strength that refused to be commanded, that existed outside their carefully constructed systems.
Elias had sensed something different about him—and now, he wanted to define it. To label it. To own it.
Arashi would never allow that.
"You're oddly invested in my survival," he noted, the observation hanging between them like a challenge.
Leonhardt shrugged, that grin never faltering. "I like strong people. And my instincts tell me… you're more dangerous than you let on."
Arashi's smirk deepened, becoming something almost predatory. "Then your instincts are flawed."
"We'll see," Leonhardt responded, the statement both a promise and a threat.
As Arashi parted ways with Leonhardt, he chose the longer path to his dormitory, weaving through less-traveled courtyards where shadows gathered like conspirators.
And then—he felt it.
A presence.
Subtle.
Deliberate.
Someone was following him.
Arashi didn't react. Didn't change his pace.
He simply continued, taking a turn into an empty corridor where silence pressed against the stone walls.
The presence followed.
'Interesting.'
He reached a secluded training field, long abandoned, where overgrown vegetation whispered ancient secrets.
Then, he stopped.
Seconds stretched into an eternity.
A voice broke the silence.
"You noticed me."
She emerged from the shadows like a phantom given form.
Slender. Graceful. Sharp golden eyes that could slice through deception.
Selene Vael.
A noble prodigy in stealth magic. One of the most talented assassins-in-training.
And she had just revealed herself to him. Not as an Assassin.
Selene's gaze was a battlefield of unreadable emotions. "You're not what you seem."
Arashi tilted his head, a gesture that was somehow both lazy and lethal. "Neither are you."
She smirked—a expression that was part challenge, part acknowledgment.
Silence settled between them, thick as fog, charged with unspoken challenges.
"I don't understand you," Selene finally said, the admission both a weapon and a surrender.
Arashi's smirk grew, becoming something dangerous. "Good."
That made her pause.
Most would rush to explain. To deny. To construct elaborate narratives of self-justification.
But he? He embraced the ambiguity like a lover.
And Selene noticed. Truly noticed.
"Fascinating," she murmured, the word heavy with implication.
Arashi gave a slow blink. "Are you going to keep stalking me?"
She chuckled, the sound sharp as a knife's edge. "Depends."
"On?"
Her eyes gleamed with something that defied simple description—part curiosity, part threat.
"On whether you're worth watching."
And then—she was gone. Dissolved back into the shadows as if she had never existed.
Arashi exhaled slowly, the sound almost a laugh.
Selene Vael. An assassin who hunted the unseen.
And now—she was watching him but not as one might except.
'How troublesome.'
…And yet, deep down, a part of him was curious.
The game was just beginning.