The fist rocketed toward my face, a blur of motion that felt like it was happening in slow motion. Time stretched thin, each second dragging out like an eternity. My eyes squeezed shut, instinctively shielding me from the impending impact. Every muscle in my body locked in fearful stillness, bracing for what was to come. How long until it landed? Would it shatter my skull into a thousand pieces? Was this really how I was going to die?
"C-come on, man—I'm sorry! You flow users are too strong to be beating me like thi—"
My panicked words dissolved into the air as a burst of violet light exploded in my vision, crackling and blinding, a dazzling display that swallowed the world around me. And then—nothing. Darkness engulfed me.
Five hours later, warmth began to seep back into my consciousness.
Softness enveloped me, cradling me gently as if I'd collapsed onto a bed of down feathers. A dull throb pulsed at my temples, a constant reminder that I was still very much alive. My head rested against a plush pillow, its inviting comfort nearly seducing me back into oblivion—until the sharp pain returned, insistent and harsh.
Muffled sounds sifted through the haze: the deliberate clip-clop of boots echoing in the background, rapid keyboard taps that painted a picture of busy activity, and the scratch of pen on paper that felt oddly mundane in contrast to my situation. My fogged mind struggled to assemble the clues, piecing together the fragments of my reality like a jigsaw puzzle.
"…They sent me straight to the ER," I muttered, wincing as my eyelids fluttered open, revealing a stark white ceiling of sterile panels overhead. Pale curtains framed the edges—just enough to suggest there was a world beyond this clinical prison. I lay motionless, frustration swelling in my chest like a brewing storm.
"Flow users first… normal people second, huh?" A harsh laugh split my lips, bitter and laced with resentment. "What a load of shit." My fingers clenched the thin sheet, a futile attempt to anchor myself amidst the chaos. "I don't need flow to be happy."
"Hahaha… same boat, huh?" A voice danced through the curtain's slit, teasingly familiar. I turned toward it, my cheeks heating with embarrassment and anger.
"Ah—sorry. Just… venting," I replied, my tone barely above a whisper.
"No bother," he said, stepping into the bright light with an air of easy confidence. "Seriously though, how'd you end up here?" His tone was casual—no mockery, just genuine curiosity that seemed to draw me in.
I shifted, the ache in my body reddening with each movement. "Long story short… I talked trash to the muscle-head hightop group," I confessed, shame creeping into my voice.
He chuckled, a sound that felt surprisingly comforting. "Oh, those rookies from Shalu Academy? They've been causing trouble everywhere, haven't they?"
The curtain whispered closed behind him, and he leaned casually against the wall, his posture relaxed yet alert. "They'll either join a bigger crew or crash and burn when they realize they're not all that."
For the first time since waking, a sliver of relief eased my chest, a flicker of hope amidst my turmoil. "Good to know…"
I took a deep breath, savoring the moment, and looked at him properly: dark hair swept back in an effortless style, a relaxed posture that radiated confidence, and a warm, disarming smile that put me at ease. He was different—not threatening like the others I had encountered. A glittering badge from the Shalu Research Department pinned his coat, a symbol of authority and knowledge.
"You seem to know a lot about flow—and this academy," I said, my voice cautious, careful. "I'm from the Green Lands… so I don't know much about any of it. If you could… please explain."
He blinked, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "A Greenie, huh?" A grin spread across his face as he stepped closer, the warmth in his eyes inviting. "Alright. I can tell you everything I know…but only if you answer two questions for me afterward."
He held out his hand, an invitation and a challenge. "I'm Hadal."
I stared at him for a moment, feeling the weight of this new connection, before reaching out to grasp his hand. "Joseph."
Our palms met, and in that simple touch, I felt a spark—a jolt of electricity coursing between us, an unspoken promise that my life at this academy was about to get a lot more complicated