As he entered the dorm room, he said nothing to those seated in the living room who welcomed him home. He ascended the stairs in silence and made his way toward his room.
Garfield, who was a fair bit behind him, closed the door and entered the living room.
"Welcome back," Gareth said.
"Why's he in such a rush to go to his room? Was his first day that bad?" Harrison asked, lying on the ground doing pushups.
Garfield paused, rubbed the back of his neck, then spoke.
"I don't know... He's probably pissed because of today's classes."
Harrison jumped up, his body glistening from the sweat that enveloped his form. He laughed and said:
"Classes already hurting his brain? Been there!"
As Tristan arrived in his room, he locked the door behind him and summoned the shadowy figure.
From his shadow rose a being cloaked in darkness, and from that darkness emerged a man with slicked-back white hair, a sword glistening in the setting sunlight that slipped through Tristan's window. He appeared on one knee, head bowed in reverence.
"My Lord, what do you command?"
Tristan looked out the window, then closed the curtains and spoke.
"I want to conduct an experiment. The first part will be to see if you can move through this world unnoticed. The second will test how far you can travel away from me. And finally... I intend to use you as an example of sorts."
"Example?" Killington asked, his tone laced with confusion.
Tristan sat on his bed, leaned forward, joined his fingers together, and placed them against his lips.
"I want to learn your fighting style. That, however, is only one reason I summoned you. I intend to grow stronger, and to do that, I must slay beasts and harvest more Death Shards."
During his downtime, Tristan had studied the Death Shards he'd acquired during the entrance exam. Though he received a notification stating he had collected twenty-five, he concluded that not all had come from the beasts he had slain. His thoughts turned to the Crescent Moon gang, and how Killington had wiped out most of their members. He hypothesized that slaying them granted him some shards—perhaps not as significant as those earned from defeating beasts.
Maybe two or three Death Shards per person, Tristan assumed. For the beast—perhaps five or six.
"You will slay beasts in the Low District. At least enough to bring me to the level of a high-end One Star," Tristan commanded.
"I understand, my Lord. First, I will find a way to move unseen. That will not be a problem. I am a being birthed from the shadows, and to the shadows I shall return. I will use them to reach wherever you desire."
Tristan stood from his bed and walked toward the wardrobe that stood near the door. He removed his blazer and hung it on one of the hangers.
"Okay then, get going," he said as the fabric settled on the rack.
Without delay, Killington melted into shadow and slid beneath the crevice of the door.
He traveled through darkness, leaping from one shadow to the next until he reached the base of the staircase. Using the shadow cast by Harrison, who was climbing the stairs, Killington moved from Harrison's outline to the faint shapes stretching from the living room. From there, he exited the dorm and slipped past the boundaries of the Academy.
Outside, he used the long shadows of elegant buildings and passersby, weaving through them silently.
Soon, he reached the Lower District. With no one in sight, he fully emerged from the shadows, revealing his true form.
"My Lord, I have arrived."
Tristan sat cross-legged on the floor of his room, assuming the pose of one deep in meditation. With closed eyes, he saw through Killington's vision.
"Good, you went really far. I grant you full freedom to hunt One Star beasts," Tristan said through their telepathic bond.
Killington began walking the dirt roads of the Lower District, but shortly after setting off, he asked:
"My Lord, if I may inquire—why do you only seek to fight One Star beasts? With my strength, I could annihilate Two Stars with ease, even challenge most Three Stars."
Tristan answered immediately, his tone calm and composed.
"I know that. But I don't know how much of my own energy that would consume, and I won't risk ending up unconscious again. For now, I'm choosing quantity over quality."
Killington paused, then lowered his head.
"My Lord, I apologize for doubting you."
"It's fine. Just get to the task at hand," Tristan replied.
Killington nodded, gripped the hilt of his sword, and stormed down the dusty path.
After a few minutes, he encountered a pack of dog-like Star Beasts. Their bloodstained teeth jutted out, their claws protruded like daggers, their fur pitch black, and their crimson eyes glowed like embers in the dark.
"It seems they just killed someone. There's one... two... six of them. Five are mid-level One Stars. And that one—"
He shifted his focus to the largest of the pack, marked by a white streak running from its head to its tail.
"That one is the leader. Most likely a high-end One Star."
The beasts turned their glowing red eyes toward him, snarling with saliva dripping from their mouths.
"You may begin, Killington."
Killington unsheathed his blade—a weapon the size of a man. He gripped it tightly with both hands and assumed a battle stance.
"As you wish, my Lord."
The pack began to form a half-circle around him, the alpha in the center.
Killington inhaled deeply—and the attack began. Two of the beasts lunged with savage force, jaws wide open.
With one swift sidestep, Killington cleaved one in half, then raised his blade and pierced through the other in a single fluid motion.
He moved with surgical precision. No wasted motion. Every action had purpose.
Three more beasts launched toward him.
He slammed his sword into the skull of the first, instantly snapping its neck and dislocating its jaw. He skewered the remaining two and hurled them like rag dolls into an abandoned building.
"You're the last one left. Alright then. Come at me," he said, beckoning the alpha with a cold flick of his hand.
The beast growled, then let out a thunderous bark. More intelligent than its kin, it began circling him, searching for an opening.
Killington's eyes followed its every move.
Then, it struck—low, aiming not for his neck but his ankle.
Killington reacted instantly, shifting his leg out of reach.
The beast struck again, but this time, he was ready. As its fangs neared his foot, Killington thrust his blade through its mouth. He planted his foot on its nose, then, with one mighty pull, sliced the beast clean in half—from head to tail.
He raised his blood-soaked blade, then flicked it to the side, casting the crimson spray onto the dirt. He returned the weapon to its sheath, turned his back on the carnage, and walked away without a word.