Morning sunlight filtered through the trees, tracing gold lines over the damp forest floor. Dewdrops glimmered on leaves, and birds sang faintly in the distance. The air was peaceful—too peaceful.
Kyle Lunaris stood before his small wooden cabin, adjusting the strap of the worn leather sheath on his back. His crimson hair glowed faintly under the sun, swaying with the breeze. His yellow eyes reflected the forest like polished gold.He looked almost human, almost gentle.
Almost.
"Today's the day," he murmured, his tone calm yet distant. "Lyoner Academy... the place where nobles and prodigies play at being heroes."
He exhaled softly, a white mist escaping his lips despite the morning warmth.
For a moment, his gaze wandered to the distant mountains—the ones he'd split days ago during his training. The scar he had carved into them was still there, faint but unmistakable. A reminder of what he could do. Of what he was.
"It's been… how long since I talked to someone?" Kyle wondered aloud, adjusting his sword. "Feels weird. I've been alone since I woke up here. Alone and… comfortable."
He chuckled quietly to himself. It wasn't sadness he felt—it was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Nerves, maybe. He wasn't afraid of monsters, nor of dying. But meeting people again… that felt strange.
"Hah. I've killed gods in games," he muttered, brushing dust from his shoulder. "And yet, I'm nervous about introductions. What a joke."
He started walking along the forest trail, the sound of his boots crunching on the dirt echoing faintly. The path ahead twisted and narrowed, leading toward the place where a mana-powered airship would take him to Lyoner Academy.But the forest… it felt wrong.
The silence deepened. The birds had stopped singing.
Kyle stopped walking. His hand automatically moved to his sword hilt.
"...This feeling," he whispered. "I know it."
A faint rumble shook the ground beneath his feet. Then another. And another. Heavy footsteps. Several of them—slow, thunderous, and growing louder with each passing second.
"Tch," Kyle smirked, golden eyes narrowing. "Really? On my first day out?"
From behind the trees emerged figures—massive, brutish, and reeking of blood and rot. Their skin was grayish-green, muscles bulging beneath layers of filth. Ogres.Five of them. Each easily three times Kyle's size, wielding crude iron clubs that glistened with dried blood.
The stench of their breath made the air heavy. Flies buzzed around their faces as they growled in low, guttural tones.
"Ogres," Kyle said quietly, lowering his stance slightly. "You've got to be kidding me."
The largest one in the middle stomped forward, saliva dripping from its fanged mouth. Its voice was rough and deep, like grinding stones.
"Human... meat…"
Kyle sighed, brushing his fringe aside. Then he grinned.
"You picked the wrong meal."
He drew his sword slowly—the wooden blade, dulled from training, still humming faintly with red aura. The ogres looked confused, as if wondering why their prey smiled instead of screamed.
Then Kyle tilted his head slightly.And his smile widened into something unholy.
"Come on," he said softly, voice low and dangerous. "Show me if you can make me feel alive."
His laughter echoed through the silent forest, sharp and chilling.The ogres roared and charged.
The ground shook.
Kyle didn't move at first. His expression was almost disappointed.
"Too slow."
He vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared before the first ogre, sword raised low.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique—Crimson Slash!"
A red arc cut through the air.The ogre froze mid-swing. Its massive body split open from shoulder to waist, blood spraying in a crimson fountain.
Kyle spun gracefully, landing lightly on the dirt. The red mist painted his cheek. He smiled—too wide, too bright.
"Ah… this feeling. Yeah… it's been too long."
The remaining four ogres roared furiously, surrounding him. One swung its club down with bone-breaking force, shattering the ground where Kyle had been a heartbeat ago.
But he was already behind it.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Lunar Thrust!"
The sword shot forward like a streak of light, piercing through the ogre's thick hide. The wooden blade shouldn't have been able to do that—but Kyle's aura made it sharp as steel. The ogre's eyes widened before it collapsed.
"Two down," Kyle said calmly, twisting his wrist to flick off the blood. "Let's make this more interesting, shall we?"
The remaining three ogres roared louder, slamming their clubs into the earth, sending shockwaves of dirt and stone into the air. Kyle didn't flinch. The wind from their attacks whipped through his hair, the faint smell of blood thick in the air.
He inhaled deeply.
"This scent…" he whispered. "It reminds me why I love fighting."
And then he smiled.A cruel, delighted smile—the kind that could make even monsters hesitate.
The ogres did. Just for a second.That was all he needed.
Kyle's body flickered forward again, faster than the eye could follow.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Twilight Fang!"
His sword flashed upward, then twisted mid-swing, carving a diagonal slash across another ogre's torso. The creature barely had time to scream before it collapsed in two.
Three gone.
The last two howled in rage, their combined swings creating a thunderous shockwave. Kyle slid backward across the dirt, laughing under his breath.
"Yes. Yes! That's it! Try harder! Make me fight for real!"
His aura began to glow again, faint red tendrils coiling around his arms. His golden eyes gleamed brighter, the madness in them unmistakable now.
He steadied his stance, sword drawn to his side.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Scarlet Rain!"
He leapt into the air, descending in a flurry of crimson strikes.Each swing left trails of red energy in the air—slashing, cutting, slicing.The ogres roared in confusion as countless invisible blades tore through their flesh, leaving them riddled with deep crimson lines.
When Kyle landed, the two giants were already falling apart behind him.Blood splattered across the trees. The forest went silent once more.
Kyle straightened, wiping a drop of blood from his cheek with his thumb. His grin remained, softening just slightly.
"...Still too easy," he muttered. "Maybe Lyoner will offer something better."
He sheathed his sword and looked up through the canopy. Between the branches, the faint red hue of the morning sun painted the sky.
It looked like the moon he loved so much.
"Red… like me," he said quietly, a strange satisfaction in his voice.
The corpses of the ogres steamed faintly in the cool air. Kyle didn't even look back. He started walking again, boots splashing through the puddles of blood without hesitation.
"I guess the world of Eternal Nexus has no idea what's walking its soil now," he whispered."Kyle Lunaris—the Crimson Moon."
He smiled faintly. Not proud. Not afraid. Just… alive.
And somewhere deep inside him, something stirred. A faint echo. A whisper of a memory long sealed away.
The forest was quiet again. Too quiet.
The smell of blood lingered in the air — heavy, metallic, and strangely intoxicating. The corpses of the ogres still twitched occasionally, their flesh sizzling from the residual heat of Kyle's aura.
He exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the air.A small smile curled across his lips.
"Not bad for a warm-up."
He walked forward, the crunch of dirt and leaves beneath his boots echoing softly. Each step was unhurried — deliberate, calm. Yet the ground beneath his soles seemed to ripple faintly, responding to the mana leaking from him.
The faint crimson aura that had wrapped his body earlier began to thicken. It pulsed — alive, rhythmic, like a heartbeat.
Thump.Thump.Thump.
"It's funny," he murmured, eyes narrowing as he looked down at his bloodstained hands. "When I fight… it feels like something inside me wakes up. Like I'm not the one in control anymore."
His smile widened.
"And I don't hate it."
The forest rustled again.From deeper within the trees, a louder growl reverberated — deeper, heavier, and angrier than before. The air trembled.
Branches snapped like twigs.A massive shadow emerged.
This ogre was different — twice the size of the others, with crimson veins bulging under its gray skin. Its eyes burned with raw mana. The creature carried a jagged bone cleaver that radiated faint dark energy.
A Crimson Ogre, a mutated variant known to slaughter entire villages.
Kyle looked up at it, unbothered.He tilted his head slightly and chuckled.
"Oh? A big one, huh?""Perfect. Let's dance."
The monster roared, shaking the trees. Birds scattered from the canopy. The shockwave nearly toppled Kyle — but he didn't even blink.
He stepped forward, slowly, almost lazily, dragging his wooden sword against the dirt. The blade left a glowing red trail as mana bled from its edge.
The ogre swung first — its cleaver cleaving down like a falling mountain.Kyle dodged, the weapon slamming into the earth with an explosive crash, soil flying everywhere.
Kyle's eyes glinted.
"Too predictable."
He vanished — a blur of red light — and reappeared beside the ogre's knee, slashing horizontally. The strike barely cut through, leaving a thin glowing line across its thick skin.
"Huh. Tough hide. I like that."
The ogre swung again. Kyle ducked, feeling the rush of wind scrape past his hair. His laughter echoed through the trees.
"YES! That's it! COME ON!"
He kicked off the ground, leaping upward, his aura exploding around him.Crimson energy spiraled from his body like fire, swirling around the blade.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Blood Spiral!"
He spun in midair, slicing downward. The aura extended the reach of his strike, carving a burning spiral through the ogre's chest. Flesh split open, and a torrent of dark blood burst out.
The monster screamed — a guttural, ear-splitting sound.
Kyle landed gracefully, crouching low, eyes glowing bright gold.
"Oh, that's the sound I wanted."
He looked happy. No, ecstatic.The thrill of the fight consumed him.
The ogre's fury intensified. Its wounds glowed red as its regeneration kicked in, steam hissing from its flesh. It raised the cleaver again, charging with blinding speed for something so massive.
Kyle's grin sharpened.
"Show me more."
They clashed.Again and again.
Each impact shook the forest. The shockwaves shredded nearby trees. Dust and blood filled the air.
Kyle moved like a crimson phantom, weaving through attacks with impossible precision. His wooden blade met the cleaver with metallic clangs, red sparks bursting at every collision.
"Heh… wooden sword, my ass," Kyle muttered. "You're strong, but I'm stronger."
He ducked another swing, stepping inside the ogre's range. His aura flared so violently that the ground beneath his feet cracked.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Scarlet Devourer!"
His sword pierced through the ogre's abdomen, and crimson energy erupted outward — devouring the creature's mana from within. The ogre froze, its roar dying in its throat. Its flesh began to decay, its life force drained rapidly.
Kyle twisted the blade and whispered,
"Goodnight."
The explosion of red light was blinding. When it faded, the ogre's upper body was gone — vaporized. The rest of its corpse fell backward, crashing through trees with a thunderous boom.
Silence returned.
Kyle stood amid the carnage, breathing heavily. His aura slowly receded, returning to a faint red glow.
"Hah… still too easy," he murmured, brushing his hand through his messy hair. "At this rate, I'll get bored before I even reach the academy."
He looked at the destroyed clearing — the blood-stained trees, the scorched ground, the bodies of the fallen ogres — and smirked.
"Beautiful."
He turned and started walking again, following the faint mana trail toward the airship dock.
But as he walked, his thoughts wandered.
"They called me a monster once," he said softly. "Back when In the game.""Maybe they were right."
He chuckled faintly.There was no regret in his tone. Only acceptance.
He paused for a moment, looking up through the branches. The sky above had turned from gold to blue, the light of morning cutting through the mist.
"Lyoner Academy, huh?" he said, tightening the strap on his sheath. "Let's see what kind of world awaits me there."
As he walked away, the faint sound of his laughter echoed behind him — quiet, smooth, and unnervingly calm.
"If they call me a monster again… I'll just prove them right."
The scene faded with the rustle of leaves and the trail of crimson footprints that marked his path.
casting golden rays that danced on the misty ground. Each step Kyle took crushed damp leaves beneath his boots, the sound echoing faintly through the silence.
Too silent.
He slowed his pace and glanced around. The woods that had been crawling with monsters the day before were now eerily empty. No growls. No movement. Not even the flutter of wings.
Weird…
Kyle frowned. "Why aren't there any monsters around?" he muttered under his breath, his voice calm but laced with mild irritation. He stopped beside a fallen log and scanned the area again, fingers resting loosely on the wooden sword at his waist.
Nothing.
The stillness almost felt afraid.
If only he knew — deep within the forest, hidden eyes were watching him from a distance. Goblins, wolves, and other beasts that would normally attack a lone traveler simply stayed hidden, trembling in their dens. The scent of the slaughtered ogres still lingered in the air.
Every creature in the forest remembered the crimson-haired human who had single-handedly massacred a group of ogres and their leader — a feat so unnatural that even predators instinctively avoided him.
But Kyle didn't notice any of it.
He just sighed, brushing his hand through his short red hair.
"Well, whatever. It's not like I came here to hunt monsters anyway," he said with a shrug. "My goal is to enter Lyoner Academy. The sooner, the better."
He continued walking, hands tucked casually in his coat pockets. His expression was calm, but his mind was restless.
Lyoner Academy... the most prestigious institution in the kingdom. They say only nobles or exceptional talents can enter.
He smirked faintly.
Too bad I'm neither.
The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of steel and mana. Kyle's eyes lifted toward the faint silhouette of a tall spire visible in the distance. Somewhere beyond that spire, the airship dock awaited — the only way to reach the floating city of Lyoner.
"I wonder what kind of entrance test they'll make us take," he murmured. "If it's some written exam about mana theory, I'm screwed. I don't even have mana."
He laughed quietly at his own words, though there was no humor in his voice.
"And if they ask me to cast a spell… yeah, that'll be impossible."
The idea almost amused him. A swordsman with no mana entering an academy that practically worshiped magic — it sounded ridiculous.
"But still…" He lifted his gaze toward the sky. "Maybe I'll find something interesting there."
After an hour of walking, the trees began to thin. The faint hum of engines grew louder in the distance — a low, rhythmic thrum that vibrated in the air. Kyle's pace quickened slightly.
When he finally stepped out of the forest, the world opened before him.
A wide clearing stretched out, lined with mana-powered lamps that floated in the air. At its center stood a massive silver vessel hovering above the ground — the airship. Its sleek hull shimmered under the sunlight, engraved with glowing runes that pulsed softly with blue light.
So that's the mana airship…
Kyle's golden eyes reflected the ship's light. It was magnificent — elegant yet powerful, shaped like a great bird of steel and magic.
A small group of guards stood near the boarding platform, each wearing the emblem of Lyoner Academy on their uniforms — a silver crescent moon surrounded by seven stars.
As Kyle approached, one of them stepped forward. His expression was stern, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Stop right there," the guard ordered, his eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
Kyle paused, unfazed by the hostility. He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded parchment sealed with red wax.
"I'm here by recommendation," Kyle said calmly. "The letter says I've been invited to take the Lyoner Academy entrance exam. I was told an airship would be waiting here."
The guard took the parchment cautiously, breaking the seal and scanning the contents. His brows furrowed slightly as he verified the signature. It was authentic.
But his suspicion didn't fade.
He looked up again, this time eyeing Kyle from head to toe — the torn edges of his coat, the faint scratches on his arms, and most of all, the dark crimson stains splattered across his clothes.
His voice hardened."Then explain this — why are you covered in blood?"
Kyle glanced down at himself. He had almost forgotten about that. His coat and shirt were stiff with dried crimson.
"Ah… that."
He scratched his head awkwardly. "When I was on my way here, a group of ogres showed up. Five of them, and one… bigger than the rest."
The guard blinked. "You mean a Crimson Ogre?"
"Probably. I didn't bother asking its name," Kyle replied casually. "Anyway, they got in my way, so I killed them."
The man froze. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the airship's mana engines.
Then, slowly, the guard's expression shifted — from confusion, to disbelief, to something close to fear.
"You… killed five ogres and a Crimson Ogre?" he repeated.
Kyle tilted his head slightly. "Yes. Why?"
The guard stared at him as if he'd just confessed to slaying a god. Then his hand lowered from his sword.
"I… see. My apologies," the man said quickly, bowing slightly. "I thought you were an intruder. We've had incidents with bandits before."
"It's fine," Kyle said, waving it off. "If anything, I probably look suspicious anyway."
His tone was light, almost teasing, though his eyes remained cold.
The guard hesitated for a moment, still clearly unsettled, then cleared his throat. "Before you board, would you like to… clean yourself up? There's a Clean spell I can cast."
Kyle raised an eyebrow. "A cleaning spell?"
"Yes. It'll remove the blood and dirt. It's standard for travelers before boarding."
"Ah, that sounds convenient," Kyle said with a small smile. "Sure, go ahead."
The guard nodded and lifted his hand. A faint blue glow enveloped Kyle's body. The blood and grime evaporated instantly, leaving his clothes spotless and his hair shimmering like freshly polished ruby.
Kyle looked down at himself in quiet amazement.
"Incredible," he murmured. "Magic really is something else."
The guard smiled faintly. "You'll learn how to use it yourself soon enough. Once you're at Lyoner, even beginners can learn basic mana manipulation."
At that, Kyle's smile faded slightly. His golden eyes dimmed.
"...No," he said quietly. "That's not possible for me."
The guard blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I don't have mana."
The silence that followed was heavy.
The man stared at him, searching for some sign that Kyle was joking — but the young swordsman's expression was perfectly calm.
"No mana…? But that's impossible," the guard stammered. "Every living being possesses at least a minimal flow of mana — even animals! How did you even fight those ogres without it?"
Kyle shrugged. "I just used this."
He unsheathed the wooden sword from his waist, holding it up for the man to see.
The guard's face went pale.
"That… that's a training sword!"
"Mm-hmm." Kyle nodded. "Worked fine, though."
The guard opened his mouth, but no words came out. His expression twisted into a mixture of shock and absurd disbelief. Then, as if his brain simply couldn't handle the information, his eyes rolled back — and he fainted on the spot.
Kyle blinked, staring down at the unconscious man.
"...Huh." He scratched his head. "Guess I broke him."
A couple of other guards rushed over, alarmed. "Captain! Are you okay?!" one shouted, kneeling beside the fallen man. Then they turned toward Kyle, eyes wide.
One of them straightened up immediately and bowed deeply. "We're terribly sorry, sir! He must've been startled. Please, don't take offense."
Kyle blinked again. "Uh… I wasn't offended."
"Of course not! Please, the ship is ready to depart. You may board at once!" the guard said quickly, gesturing toward the ramp.
Kyle sighed softly. "Alright, alright. No need to be so tense."
He sheathed his wooden sword, adjusted his coat, and walked toward the platform. As he stepped onto the ramp, the faint vibration of the airship's mana core resonated beneath his feet.
The massive vessel loomed above him, humming with restrained power. Up close, he could feel the mana circuits pulsing through its hull — bright veins of blue energy flowing like liquid light.
This is… impressive.
He climbed the final steps and reached the deck. The air was different up here — cleaner, tinged with the scent of ozone and mana.
Crew members moved efficiently, checking the runic engines and adjusting the sails. The hum of the mana crystal core reverberated through the ship like a heartbeat.
Kyle leaned on the railing, looking down at the forest he had just crossed. From this height, it looked peaceful — no sign of the battle that had painted the woods in red.
So this is how it begins.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the wind brush through his crimson hair.
"Lyoner Academy…" he whispered. "Let's see what kind of world awaits me there."
For a moment, his golden eyes reflected the sky — bright and endless. But behind that light shimmered something darker, something that lurked deep within him — the echo of an ancient power, sealed and forgotten.
The airship's engines flared once more, ready to depart.
Kyle turned away from the railing and began walking toward the interior. His steps were calm and steady, but his expression — that faint, wicked smirk curving his lips — hinted at the storm that followed him wherever he went.
"It's been a while since I've been around people," he murmured softly. "Let's try not to scare them too much."
The red-haired swordsman disappeared through the doorway, and the deck grew quiet again — leaving only the hum of the mana engines and the faint whisper of the wind that carried his laughter away.
The hum of the mana engines blended with the soft whoosh of wind as the airship cut through the clouds. Golden sunlight spilled across the deck, glinting off polished railings and the smooth metallic hull. A faint scent of mana crystals lingered in the air—clean, cold, and bright.
Students filled the open deck, their laughter and chatter carried on the wind. Robes embroidered with family crests fluttered like banners; gems gleamed at throats and wrists. Every one of them carried an air of entitlement, of futures already written.
And yet, apart from the crowd, one figure stood alone near the edge—a young man with short crimson hair, his hands resting lightly on the railing, eyes fixed on the endless horizon.
Kyle Lunaris.
He said nothing, simply watching the sea of clouds drift beneath the ship. His golden eyes reflected the light of the sun—calm, distant, unreadable. To anyone who looked, he seemed detached from the noise around him, a stranger carried along by fate rather than choice.
But the others had noticed him.
"Hey, who's that?" whispered a girl in a silver-trimmed uniform, her voice soft yet sharp enough to reach the circle around her.
"I don't know. Never seen that crest before," another replied. "Maybe he's from a minor house?"
"Minor? Look at his clothes. That's not noble fabric."
Laughter rippled quietly. Words sharpened.
"Probably some commoner who sneaked aboard.""Can they even do that?""Well, Lyoner does take 'special recommendations' now and then… pity, really."
Kyle's ears caught every word, though his posture never changed. The corner of his mouth lifted, almost imperceptibly.
So noisy.
He turned his gaze back to the horizon. The clouds shimmered, painted gold and red by the morning sun. For a moment he forgot the world behind him.
But the whispers didn't stop.
"You can tell just by looking—no mana flow at all.""Maybe he failed the basic resonance test.""Then what's he doing here?"
Each remark was a needle meant to sting, yet none of it pierced him. Their voices blended into the hum of the engine, insignificant.
He exhaled slowly.
Words. That's all they have.
A sudden shift in tone swept through the deck. The chatter lowered, replaced by excited murmurs.
"Is that… Raven Arcane?"
Heads turned. From the center of the deck, a tall figure emerged—a young man with emerald-green hair that shimmered under the light, his uniform lined with black and gold. The insignia of the Arcane family, one of the most influential noble houses, gleamed on his chest.
Raven Arcane: prodigy of elemental magic, heir to a legacy of powerful sorcerers.Handsome, composed, confident.And yet—beneath the sharp eyes and perfect smile—there was something else. Something fragile. A flicker of fear so faint only someone like Kyle would notice.
Kyle's gaze shifted slightly, catching the faint tremor in Raven's fingers as he walked, the tightness in his shoulders disguised as poise.
Confidence worn like armor, Kyle thought. But the cracks show when you're this close.
Raven's steps slowed as he approached the railing where Kyle stood. The crowd hushed further; all eyes followed him. To speak to a stranger—especially one without a crest—was unexpected.
The emerald-haired noble stopped a few feet away.His tone was smooth, practiced."Quite the view, isn't it?"
Kyle didn't turn. "It is."
A pause. Raven seemed faintly surprised that the reply was so plain.
He studied Kyle more closely now. The crimson hair, the calm golden eyes, the faint aura of danger that clung to him like heat. There was no mana resonance, yet the space around him felt… heavy.
Raven cleared his throat."I haven't seen you before. May I ask your name?"
Kyle finally looked at him. His gaze was steady—too steady. The moment their eyes met, Raven's heart gave a small, involuntary tremor. It was like staring into the eyes of something that didn't quite belong to this world.
"Kyle Lunaris," he said simply.
The name carried no weight, no reputation. Just words.
Raven blinked."Lunaris… I've never heard of that house."
Kyle's reply came almost instantly, tone level and cold."That's because it's not a house."
The deck fell silent.
For a breath, no one spoke. The nobles who had been pretending not to eavesdrop now froze completely, their faces reflecting disbelief.
Raven tilted his head. "Not a house? Then you mean—"
"I'm a commoner," Kyle said. The words were flat, casual, as if announcing the weather.
Gasps broke out across the deck.
"What—?""A commoner?""He's joking, right?""There's no way they'd let—"
The whispers erupted like a spark in dry grass. Some laughed, others sneered. A few simply stared in disbelief.
Raven himself stood still, processing what he'd just heard. He had expected arrogance, excuses—anything but blunt honesty.
Kyle returned his gaze to the sky, unbothered. His voice carried easily through the murmurs."Relax. I'm not contagious."
That earned a few muffled laughs from the braver students, though most remained quiet, uncertain whether to laugh or stay silent.
Raven's lips twitched into a thin smile. "You're quite direct."
"I prefer truth over pretense," Kyle replied. "Less tiring."
The words struck deeper than they seemed. Around them, several nobles shifted uncomfortably. Raven himself felt something stir—a strange pressure that pressed against his chest.
It wasn't mana. It was presence.The kind born from countless battles, from someone who had looked at death and laughed.
He found himself asking before he could stop."If you're a commoner, how did you receive a recommendation to Lyoner? They don't just hand those out."
Kyle glanced at him, his golden eyes glinting faintly."Does it matter?"
Raven hesitated. "I'm just curious."
"Curiosity can be dangerous," Kyle said softly. "Especially when you don't want to know the answer."
That tone—quiet, controlled, edged like a blade—sent a chill down Raven's spine.He forced a chuckle, hiding the unease. "You speak like someone with secrets."
"We all do," Kyle said. "Some of us just carry heavier ones."
For a moment, neither spoke. The hum of the engines filled the silence.
Then Raven smiled again, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, Kyle Lunaris, I hope your… honesty doesn't cause you trouble at the academy."
Kyle gave a faint smirk. "If it does, then the academy will be the one in trouble."
Raven froze, uncertain whether it was arrogance or a joke.But the way Kyle said it—calmly, without a trace of boasting—made it sound like fact.
The other students exchanged glances. Some laughed nervously. Others whispered about insolence.But no one dared step closer.
Kyle turned away from Raven, resting an elbow on the railing again. "Enjoy the ride. The academy's still a few hours away."
Raven stood there for a few seconds longer, then nodded stiffly. "Right." He turned and walked back toward his group, the confident posture restored, though his mind was unsettled.
He couldn't shake the feeling that beneath that relaxed demeanor, the crimson-haired swordsman was something far more dangerous than he appeared.
Kyle watched him leave, then let out a quiet sigh.
Raven Arcane… one of the strongest characters in Eternal Nexus.He shouldn't even be near me right now.
He remembered the in-game version of Raven—the brilliant mage who commanded storms, whose magic could burn armies.But also the man who, when faced with true terror, froze. The one who hesitated at the edge of power.
Even now, he hides behind that mask of confidence.Fear doesn't vanish—it just learns to smile.
Kyle closed his eyes briefly. The wind brushed against his face, carrying the faint chatter of nobles behind him.
Different world. Same people.
He straightened, glancing down at his reflection in the polished railing—red hair, golden eyes, the faint curve of a smile that wasn't quite kind.
Let them talk. Let them judge.Words mean nothing when blood begins to fall.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, and the clouds drifted like oceans of white beneath the ship. The nobles resumed their chatter, though now their glances toward Kyle were tinged with wariness.
Raven remained with his peers, silent for most of the journey. Every now and then his eyes flicked toward the lone swordsman at the railing.
Kyle didn't look back. He simply stood there, watching the horizon stretch endlessly ahead, the faint reflection of the academy's floating spires beginning to shimmer far in the distance.
Lyoner Academy.The place where monsters learn to act like men.
His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his wooden sword.A faint smile curved his lips—calm, confident, dangerous.
"Let's see," he whispered to the wind,"how long their peace can last."
The sky answered with silence, and the airship sailed on, carrying nobles, heirs, and one crimson-haired commoner whose name none of them would forget.