The principal's silver eyes were fixed on the holographic screen floating before him, displaying a file that made his jaw clench like he'd bitten into something rotten.
Name: Keyos .Z. Leray
Specie: Djina.
Sex: Male.
Age: Sixteen.
Card name and rank: Thread Card—Unranked.
The principal's hand moved to his communicator with the deliberate slowness of someone savoring a moment of power. The device chirped once, twice, then connected with a satisfying beep.
"He's been administered into the school," the principal said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. Even his secretary—currently filing her nails and pretending not to eavesdrop—had to strain to hear him. "And he drew the card we suspected."
The pause on the other end stretched for a few seconds. Then came the voice—gravelly, harsh, like someone gargling broken glass mixed with disappointment.
"Perfect."
The principal felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck despite the office's chill. He'd dealt with this voice before, and it never meant anything good was coming.
"Why don't we just kill him now? Immediately?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I mean, wouldn't that be simpler? Cleaner? Less risk of—"
"Don't be foolish." The irritation in the voice could have frozen hellfire.
"The government knows what it's doing, even if you clearly don't. Killing him outright will spark resistance. That Djina is the first in centuries to show magic. He's precious to them now. A symbol of hope or some other nauseating sentiment."
The principal's knuckles went white around the communicator. His secretary glanced up from her nails, eyebrows raised in that 'oh shit, boss is about to get his ass chewed' expression.
"Sorry for questioning your judgment." The words tasted bitter in his mouth.
"Do it quick. Don't give him a chance to grow. If possible, today. But by dawn tomorrow, he should be dead. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir. Crystal clear. Wait for the good news."
A slow, creeping smile spread across the principal's face as the call ended—the kind of smile that would make children run crying to their mothers.
He placed the communicator down on his desk with the care of someone handling explosives, then pressed a button on its side. A microphone hummed to life with a soft electric whine.
"Attention, all students." His voice rolled through the academy's halls and hallways. "The dungeon test schedule has been moved up. You will be departing today. You have two hours to prepare."
He paused, letting the panic that was surely spreading through the halls marinate for a moment. "Consider this an exercise in adaptability. A soldier must always be ready for the unexpected."
His secretary—a human woman whose combat suit seemed painted on rather than worn—tilted her head like a curious cat. "Why bother avoiding a resistance? Crushing them would be easy. It wouldn't change anything in the long run."
The principal turned, his gaze colder than a winter grave. "Free labor is invaluable. Those slaves build everything—roads, government towers, even this academy where we sit in comfort. Imagine the cost if we had to use actual citizens. The budget alone would give the treasury officials heart attacks."
He smirked, the expression making his face look like a skull with skin stretched over it. "We'll follow orders. No mistakes. No loose ends. He shouldn't survive."
---
The infirmary's harsh white lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in that sickly hospital glow.
"Is he dead? Let's check the pulse." The nurse's voice was clinical, detached.
Her gloved fingers pressed against Keyos' wrist, then moved to his throat. The skin was warm, which was either good news or bad news depending on your perspective.
"No. Heartbeat's slow, but steady. No visible injuries." She frowned, her forehead creasing like crumpled paper. "Strange."
The doctor beside her—a thin man whose glasses kept sliding down his nose—scoffed like someone had told him a particularly stupid joke. "Should we even care that much? He's just a slave anyway."
The nurse hesitated, her training warring with her prejudice. "I suppose... let's leave him. If he wakes up, good. If not..." She shrugged. "Well. No difference to anyone important."
But just as she turned to leave, Keyos' fingers twitched. Once. Twice. Then—
He gasped, bolting upright so fast the nurses stumbled backward like he'd burst into flames.
His chest heaved as he scanned his body with frantic eyes. No wounds. No lingering pain. Just... normal.
"Oh crap, he's awake!" the doctor blurted,he was already clutching a syringe meant for corpses'body preservation. His face fell faster than a stone, all his hopes crushed in an instant.
Keyos looked at him—really looked, with eyes that seemed to see right through the man's skull—before swinging his legs off the cot and striding out without a word.
The door slammed behind him with a bang that made both medical professionals jump.
"Well," the nurse said after a moment, "that was unsettling."
"Tell me about it," the doctor muttered, still clutching his useless syringe. "I was really hoping he'd stay dead."
"Dr. Hendricks, we need to talk about your bedside manner."
"What bedside manner? He's a slave. They don't get bedside manner."
The nurse shook her head. "Even so, we took an oath. Do no harm and all that."
"That oath doesn't apply to property," the doctor said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Besides, did you see the way he looked at me? Like he was memorizing my face for later. That's not normal."
"Nothing about this is normal," the nurse replied, starting to clean up the medical equipment. "A Djina with magic? That's like finding a unicorn in your backyard. Impossible, but here we are."
"Yeah, well, impossible or not, I hope someone deals with him soon. He gives me the creeps."
---
Outside, the academy grounds looked like someone had kicked an anthill.
Students darted in every direction—some drilling last-minute spells with the desperation of people facing their doom, others frantically flipping through textbooks like the pages held the secrets of immortality.
A few just stood there, bewildered, looking like deer caught in headlights.
The air buzzed with nervous energy and half-formed spells. Someone's practice fireball went wide and singed a tree.
Another student's levitation spell sent his backpack floating toward the clouds until he panicked and dispelled it, sending books raining down on his classmates.
"What the hell is happening?" a girl with bright blue hair shouted over the chaos.
"Dungeon test got moved up!" someone else yelled back. "We're going today!"
"Today? But I haven't finished reading about defensive formations!"
"None of us have! That's the point!"
Keyos could've asked someone what was happening. Hell, he probably should have. But he already knew the answer with the bitter certainty of someone who'd learned to expect the worst.
No one would tell him. The ones who didn't outright flee at the sight of him would just stare with that special combination of disgust and fear reserved for things that didn't belong.
Their lips would seal tighter than a vault, and their eyes would look right through him like he was made of glass.
So he watched. Waited. Listened to the fragments of conversation that drifted his way on the wind.
"—heard it's a Level 5 dungeon—"
"—my sister barely survived a Level 3—"
"—they're sending us to die we were to prepare and go tomorrow —"
Then the robotic voice crackled through the courtyard speakers, cutting through the chaos like a knife through butter:
"All chosen candidates, report to the Z-Train immediately. Departure for the Dungeon of Maw will commence in ten minutes."
Keyos' stomach dropped like a stone thrown into a well. The Dungeon of Maw.
Today. It was supposed to be tomorrow. He'd counted on having time to figure out how to fight with this damned Thread Card, time to practice, time to maybe—just maybe—not die horribly on his first test.