Rasen's decision to join the Thirteen's Community as a protector marked the beginning of a trial-ridden chapter—one filled with tests, intrigues, and confrontations that would challenge both his body and soul.
That final night before accepting Steven's offer was tense. Steven was unusually grim, his usual arrogance dimmed by a heavy worry.
"There's no room for mistakes. Learn, adapt, and surpass the others."
His tone was sharp, like an order that left no room for argument.
He handed Rasen a bag with basic supplies, an ID under a new name, and a mission: prove his worth.
The boarding school, nestled in the heart of the desert, felt more like a prison than an academy. From day one, the air was thick with hostility.
"Ipse est loser."
Laughter echoed behind him. Rasen didn't need to understand Latin to recognize contempt in their voices.
"You're new, right?"
A relaxed voice snapped him from his thoughts. A sharp-faced boy with a confident smirk and eyes that glinted with mischief appeared.
"'Loser.' That's what they said. Creative, huh?"
"And who are you?" Rasen asked without flinching.
"This year's going to be fun. Hope we get to know each other personally."
The boy's smirk widened before he vanished into the crowd.
"Ignore them. Especially him."
Another voice—calmer, yet laced with warning. A subtly composed boy watched Rasen with an unreadable expression.
"Here, the weak don't survive."
His name was Elliot Kadosh. Rasen didn't trust him, but something in his demeanor kept him alert.
The first days were hell.
Training sessions were brutal, the instructors merciless. But every blow, every fall only fueled Rasen's resolve. Pain became routine. Endurance, his only shield.
But the real danger wasn't the training.It was Björn.
A son of a lesser house—but his presence was impossible to ignore. He was king of that territory, and everyone knew it.
Björn chose him.
"You're Omar, right?" Björn asked, his tone calculating as he leaned in."You interest me."
For weeks, he watched Rasen. Tested him. Tried to provoke him. But Rasen didn't give in. That only seemed to make him more appealing to Björn.
The night Björn appeared in Rasen's room, everything became clear.
"I could report you, but that'd be boring. I'd rather watch you struggle."
Björn traced invisible patterns on the wooden desk, his ring spinning with a slow, rhythmic click.
Rasen, tired of the games, tried to remain composed. But Björn's words were a mix of threat… and something else.
"I'm not your toy, Björn."
Björn tilted his head, the lamplight catching on his crooked grin.
"Not yet."
The tension could be cut with a knife. Then, Elliot burst into the room.
"Björn is dangerous," he said bluntly."If you want out, accept a mission. It's your only way out."
Rasen didn't trust Elliot. But he knew he was right.
He agreed to infiltrate the operations room. Anything to get away from Björn.
But Björn didn't take rejection well.
The punishment came at night.
The door slammed open.Rough hands dragged him from bed.Beatings.Tightly bound ropes.
Björn stood in the shadows, arms crossed, ring spinning.
"I told you, you don't leave without my permission."
Rasen's blood dripped onto the floor, his breath a ragged gasp.
"What the hell do you want from me?"
Björn leaned in, whispering:
"You."
Silence.
"I want to break you, Omar. But you're not easy to shatter… and I like that."
Before things escalated further, Adrian stormed into the room.
Björn's followers fell one by one.
Adrian reached Rasen, carefully undoing his injured wrists.
"Thanks, Adrian. I'll handle it now."
Björn didn't move. Just smirked, blocking the door.
"A hunter and his student. How touching."
With slow precision, he twisted Adrian's wrist.
CRACK.
The sound of bone breaking filled the room.
The window shattered—glass embedded into Adrian's palm.
"No!"
Rasen charged at Björn.
A direct headbutt made him stumble back.
In the chaos, Rasen drew a hidden dagger from his boot and pressed it to Björn's throat.
Silence.
The blade touched Björn's jugular.
But Björn didn't flinch.
His grin curved like a sickle…Then—His eyelid twitched.
The first crack in his mask.
"You think this changes anything?"His voice was a venomous whisper."Would you kill someone who knows you better than you know yourself?"
Outside, the wind howled.The click of a clock echoed like a gunshot.
Elliot appeared at the door, his shadow stretching across Björn like a noose.
"Put the knife down, Rasen."
He didn't raise his voice. But his presence was enough to drain the room of tension.
Björn clicked his tongue in irritation.
"He doesn't even know how to lie," he muttered, sneering at Rasen.
Elliot stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Rasen's medallion.
"Björn doesn't give gifts without hidden motives."
A letter on the floor glinted under the moonlight.
The world around Rasen blurred.Björn's twisted grin still lingered, the dagger's mark on his throat like a bruise.Elliot stood calm—but his gaze pierced through Rasen.
A dull thump echoed in Rasen's chest.Not his heartbeat.
Aisha's.
With trembling fingers, Rasen picked up the envelope.
The rough paper felt heavier than it should.
Björn chuckled.
"Open your gift, Omar," he said mockingly, twirling his ring."I don't like impatience."
Rasen slipped his finger under the seal and tore it open.
Inside, a photograph.
"Aisha."
Her dark hair dancing in the wind, her lunar pendant glinting in the sun.
But what froze his blood was the note beneath:
"Do you think her medallion protects her from us?"
A choked growl built in Rasen's throat.
Lionel Golmish of Rwanda.
That name, printed at the bottom of the document, anchored him to reality.
This wasn't a gift.
It was a warning.
Or worse… a sentence.
Elliot said nothing. But his gaze cut through Rasen with unsettling understanding.
Björn leaned in, his smile dark beneath the moonlight.
"Seems someone wants you out of here, Omar. And for a very interesting reason."
The wind howled through the ruins of the academy.
Rasen's blood dripped from his finger, staining the photo's edge. For a moment, Aisha's medallion shimmered with violet light. And Rasen swore he heard her whisper:
"Don't trust them."
A piece of the letter tore away in the wind, revealing a phrase in Latin beneath Lionel's name:
"Sanguis Sanathiel Vincit."
Whatever the truth behind this was, there was only one way to find out:
Take the job.And find Aisha.
Because if Lionel was after her…It meant she was in danger.
And if Rasen didn't reach her first—Someone else would.
"See you around, Björn," Rasen muttered, slipping the photo into his jacket.
But before he could leave, Björn's grin vanished.
"You don't get it, do you?"His voice, usually mocking, turned hoarse—like each word cost him more than he'd admit."You are what I could've been… before this place broke me."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Rasen turned slightly but didn't reply.
Björn clenched his fists, his twitching eyelid more violent than ever.
"If you keep going, Omar… you will break," he spat, the fury in his voice raw."And when you do, there'll be no one left to pick you up."
A chill ran down Rasen's spine.
But he had already made his choice.
Without looking back, he disappeared into the night.
Björn remained in the shadows, Elliot still watching him from the doorway.
When Björn finally spoke, his voice was hollow.
"That idiot…" he muttered, running a hand down his face."He'll either leave… or I'll kill him myself."
Elliot gave a faint smirk, tilting his head.
"Are you sure, Björn?" he whispered, tone cryptic."Because I get the feeling… if someone breaks him, it won't be you."
Björn's ring spun one last time before his hand dropped to his side.
And the night devoured them both.