Jelo forced himself to shrug, trying to hold his expression steady even though every movement sent a sharp stab of pain through his ribs. "It's no big deal," he said, keeping his voice as even as he could manage. "I got into a scuffle, that's all." He hoped the casualness in his tone would cover the fact that his entire body felt like it had been mashed by a sledgehammer.
Mira didn't look convinced. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she examined him again, slower this time, as if she was checking every detail she had already noticed. Nothing about him suggested something small or harmless. "What kind of 'scuffle' leaves you in this condition?" she asked, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice.
Jelo held his calm the best he could. "It was a minor deal. Nothing to worry about," he repeated, though even he could hear how weak the excuse sounded.
Before Mira could press him further, Ken spoke up with a sudden sharpness that sliced through the conversation like a blade. "Just believe Jelo and stop pestering him." His tone was harsh, snapped out of him as if he had been holding something back and it suddenly broke loose.
Mira blinked, taken aback by his shift in tone. She didn't respond right away. Instead she stared at Ken, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and confusion, as though she wasn't sure what to make of the unexpectedly defensive words coming from someone who had been nothing but friendly earlier.
After a brief pause, she gave a short shrug that seemed more tired than irritated, then turned away without arguing. She walked back toward Nurse Caldwell and handed her the tablet she had been holding, offering no comment at all.
Both Atlas and Jelo looked toward Ken with matching surprise. The tone he had used wasn't one either of them had heard from him before. It had an edge, something sharp and unfamiliar, nothing like the easygoing Ken they had been around all day.
"What?" Ken asked, noticing their looks. "What are you staring at me for?"
Atlas frowned slightly, choosing his words carefully. "Why were you so snappy at her?" he asked. His voice was curious rather than accusatory, though even he seemed unsure of how Ken would respond.
Ken shrugged, his expression unreadable, his posture closed off in a way that felt strangely deliberate. "I didn't know I was being snappy," he said, though the clipped rhythm of his words suggested he wasn't completely unaware of it.
A brief silence followed, the kind that felt heavy and awkward. Jelo didn't know what to say, and he doubted Atlas did either. Something about Ken was off, but pushing him now felt like it would only make things worse. Whether he was annoyed with Mira specifically or if something deeper was bothering him, Jelo couldn't tell. Whatever the reason, it was obvious Ken didn't want to talk about it.
Then Ken stood abruptly. The legs of his chair scraped harshly against the clinic floor, the sound cutting through the stillness. "I have to go now," he said. His tone had shifted again, closer to normal, but it still carried that distant edge.
He reached out, grabbed Atlas by the arm, and started pulling him toward the door. "Come on, Atlas. We should give Jelo some time to rest and recover."
Atlas stumbled for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden movement, but he didn't resist. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sure," he said, letting himself get dragged along.
Before stepping out, Ken paused long enough to look back at Jelo. "We'll come back later in the evening," he said. "Make sure you get some rest."
Atlas nodded in agreement. "Yeah, take it easy, Jelo. We'll check on you later."
And with that, they left, the door closing behind them with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
Jelo lay still for a moment, staring up at the plain clinic ceiling. Now that everything had quieted down, he could hear the soft rustling from Nurse Caldwell in the other room as she organized supplies, the faint hum of the medical equipment, and the steady rhythm of his own breathing. The quiet made the ache in his body feel sharper, and without the distraction of conversation, the thoughts he had been trying to keep at bay began to circle back in.
His mind drifted to Xino. To the beating. To the cold expression on those Class 2 students' faces, the way they had looked at him like he wasn't even a person. Like he was nothing more than something stuck to the bottom of their boots. His jaw tightened with the memory, a slow burn of anger spreading inside him.
He wasn't going to let it pass. He couldn't. Not if he wanted to survive here. Not if he wanted to grow strong enough to stand on his own. The system had given him a quest. A quest for revenge. A goal he couldn't ignore, not when it felt like the only path forward.
But the question lingered, stubborn and heavy.
How?
He considered his options. Whether he should handle it alone or bring Ken and Atlas into it. The idea of involving them settled uneasily in his mind. He weighed the thoughts carefully, turning them over again and again.
Ken's strength would be useful. He was powerful, easily more capable than most of the recruits around them, maybe even enough to take on Class 2 students without being overwhelmed. And Atlas, even if he wasn't strong, was smart. Clever in ways Jelo wasn't. Someone who could come up with plans, who could see angles Jelo might miss.
But there were problems.
Real ones.
Stealth would matter. Moving quietly mattered. With three people it would be harder to stay hidden. Harder to catch Xino off guard. Harder to strike at the right time without drawing unwanted attention.
Coordinating three people was far riskier than acting alone. He didn't know them well enough. He didn't trust them deeply enough to rely on them in something this serious. What if one hesitated? What if one made a mistake? What if either of them panicked? One wrong move could ruin everything. Could get them all pulled in. Could get them all punished.
And there was the last reason, the one that mattered most.
If things went well, the teachers would investigate. They would search for clues, ask questions, look for anything that pointed to who was responsible. One loose end, one person knowing the truth, was manageable. Three was too much. Too risky. Too many chances for something to slip.
If he acted alone, he could control the situation. Control the narrative. Hide everything that needed hiding. Cover every track.
No.
It had to be him alone.