Chapter 5 005
The black beam tore through the air with a deafening shriek, tables exploding on either side as it carved a path straight toward Kael's chest.
Kael didn't move.
Not out of fear. Not out of arrogance. He simply wanted to see what his body could handle now.
The beam slammed into him.
The cafeteria windows shattered. Students screamed and dove behind overturned tables. When the dust settled, Kael was still standing in the same spot, uniform singed at the collar, a faint scorch mark on the floor around his feet.
He looked down at his chest, then back up at Matthew.
"That tickled," he said flatly.
Matthew's face went white.
"Impossible," he breathed. "That attack melted through a steel wall during training last week. You're just a—"
"Trash. I know." Kael started walking toward him. "You've said it about a hundred times. It's getting old, Matthew."
Matthew stumbled backward, his composure cracking for the first time anyone had ever seen. He clasped his palms again, feeding more energy into his core, the black light around his hands growing darker and more violent.
Kael closed the distance fast.
Before Matthew could release the second shot, Kael grabbed his wrist — the good one this time — and held it.
Matthew grunted, straining. "Let go—"
"Talent Drain."
He didn't shout it. He didn't even know if speaking it aloud was necessary. It simply came out, quiet and certain, like breathing.
Something happened under his palm. A pulling sensation, slow at first, like drawing water through a narrow straw. Then it intensified. Matthew's face contorted. His eyes went wide with genuine terror as he felt something fundamental leaving him — not just energy, not just strength, but something deeper. Something that had always been his.
The black light between his palms flickered. Dimmed. Went out.
"What are you doing to me?!" Matthew screamed. His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, shaking.
Kael released him.
Matthew stared at his own hands in disbelief, trying to summon his ability. Nothing came. Just two ordinary hands, trembling.
Ting!
[OPTIONAL QUEST COMPLETE]
Talent Drained: Shadow Cannon (Lv. 4)
User can compress dark energy into a concentrated beam capable of piercing reinforced materials.
REWARDS:
Level Up x2 → LEVEL 2
Attribute Points: +20
Talent Points fully restored: 10/10
Ting! Ting!
[NEW TALENT ACQUIRED]
Shadow Cannon (Lv. 1): Compressed dark energy beam. Power scales with user's Talent Points invested.
Kael read through the notifications quietly while the entire cafeteria watched in petrified silence. Then he looked down at Matthew, kneeling on the floor like a broken puppet, tears threatening the corners of his eyes.
Six months ago, this boy had made Kael's life a living nightmare. He had stolen food, broken bones, ground Kael's face into the dirt while everyone laughed. He had been the first to call him trash and the loudest to make sure everyone else agreed.
Now he couldn't even summon a spark.
Kael crouched down to eye level with him. His voice came out low and even, without heat.
"You're going to want to get that hand looked at," he said. "The left one. I think I felt something shift when I squeezed."
Matthew opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Kael stood, turned, and walked back toward Danny's table. The cafeteria parted for him like water. No one said a word. No one laughed. Even the teachers standing near the back wall hadn't moved, frozen between authority and something very close to fear.
Danny was still standing, gripping the edge of the table for balance since his crutch had been bent. His eyes were so wide his forehead had gone smooth.
"Bro," he whispered.
"I know," Kael said.
"You just—"
"I know, Danny."
"Matthew's hand—"
"Sit down before you fall over." Kael picked up the bent crutch from the floor, looked at it for a moment, then straightened it slowly with both hands until it was functional again. He handed it back.
Danny stared at the crutch, then at Kael, then at the wreckage of four unconscious Platinum-ranked students scattered across the cafeteria floor.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he asked quietly.
Kael picked up his breakfast tray — miraculously untouched through the whole fight — and took a bite of bread.
"Later," he said. "Eat first."
From across the cafeteria, Sonia Blake hadn't moved since the moment Kael caught Matthew's wrist. She sat perfectly still, her food untouched, watching as Kael calmly ate his breakfast amid the chaos he had just created.
"I told you he looked different," Areum murmured beside her.
Sonia said nothing.
She was thinking about six months ago. The way Kael had stood in front of her, nervous and genuine, and told her he liked her. The way she had laughed. The way she had told her friends, loudly, so everyone nearby could hear.
"Worthless trash confessing to me? How delusional."
She looked at him now — sitting straight, unhurried, unbothered — and felt something uncomfortable settle in her chest.
He didn't even glance at me this morning.
She wasn't sure why that bothered her as much as it did.
Three floors above the cafeteria, inside the academy's staff observation room, a lone figure stood at the one-way glass watching the aftermath below.
Director Alana Cross pressed two fingers to her lips, eyes sharp and unreadable.
She had watched the entire fight. The dodges. The broken hand. The way the Jobe boy's transformation hadn't even slowed Kael down. And then the drain.
She had only seen a talent drain once before, twenty years ago, performed by one of the Original Awakeners.
Her hand moved to the communication device on her desk. She paused before activating it.
"If I report this now, they'll want him brought in immediately. And if they get their hands on him before I understand what's actually happening…"
She pressed the button.
"This is Director Cross." Her voice was calm and professional. "I need a meeting with the Senior Council. Today. Mark it urgent, but don't specify the subject." She paused. "And pull Kael Voss's full file. Everything you have on him."
She released the button and looked back through the glass.
Below, Kael was finishing his breakfast.
