Chapter 464
Four aspects, one purpose, working in perfect harmony even in sleep, striving to ensure that Aldraya's essence endures amid a process that demands godlike patience and perseverance.
"You haven't even truly gotten through it. And it has already begun again."
The dismissal bell rang, its echo spreading throughout the Star Academy, a signal that the long day had come to an end, that the students were free to leave their classrooms and return to their respective places.
But for Ilux, the sound of that bell was not good news like it was for the other students who rushed out with laughter and chatter.
He walked slowly toward the main gate, his steps still heavy just as they had been when he left the cafeteria, his clothes already beginning to dry yet still bearing stubborn stains that would be difficult to remove.
His back was slightly hunched, his eyes stared straight ahead without truly seeing what lay before him, his ears caught the sounds around him but none of them truly entered his awareness.
He only wanted to go home, only wanted to reach a place where no one would throw food at him, no one would laugh at him, no one would hate him without a reason he could understand.
But when his foot crossed the boundary line of the gate, when one foot was already outside the Academy grounds and the other still inside, when he almost believed that the day would end without another incident after the chaos in the cafeteria, something else happened.
Small popping sounds suddenly erupted from various directions, followed by flashes of light shooting toward him at a speed that could not be ignored.
Ilux's reflexes acted before his consciousness could process what was happening.
Both of his arms lifted to cover his face, his palms facing outward to form an imperfect but sufficient emergency shield to protect his most vital parts.
His eyes shut tightly, his closed eyelids becoming the only protection for eyeballs that would never recover if struck directly.
Firecracker after firecracker exploded around him, against his raised arms, his shoulders, his back, his legs that were still halfway stepping out of the gate.
The loud bursts were accompanied by familiar giggles, the same laughter he had heard in the cafeteria hours earlier, laughter that declared that today was not finished punishing him, that someone still wished to continue the game that had begun since morning.
Behind the arms that faithfully shielded his face, Ilux could hear those voices, could count how many were involved in this sudden attack, could feel how small he was before a hatred that never tired of chasing him.
But for the first time since that morning, something else rose within him.
Not the patience he had tried to maintain in the cafeteria, nor the anger that had nearly exploded and destroyed everything, but something colder, more measured, more dangerous.
The arms that had merely served as a passive shield began to change, the structure of the cells within them vibrating, mutating, transforming into something entirely different.
On his right arm, a katana began to form from the tips of his fingers to his elbow, its long, sharp blade reflecting the fading afternoon light with a deadly gleam.
On his left arm, a sword of a slightly different shape emerged, shorter but broader, suitable for close-range cutting movements.
Structural Armament, the only ability remaining after the departure of Xavier XVII, worked with maximum efficiency, turning Ilux's limbs into lethal weapons that would leave him no chance to run.
And when the next firecracker shot toward him, Ilux no longer closed his eyes.
He slashed with the katana on his right arm, cutting the firecracker in two before it could explode near his body.
Another slash, and another, and another, each incoming firecracker cut with a precision that could only be achieved by someone who had trained relentlessly to master this remaining ability.
Between those slashes, Ilux moved forward, approaching the source of the still-unceasing laughter, approaching the group of children who were either too brave or too foolish to provoke him outside the Academy gate.
A brief fight broke out in the area between the gate and the road home.
The firecracker throwers who had been laughing loudly suddenly realized that their target was not the weak prey they had assumed.
They tried to fight back, tried to defend themselves with their respective abilities, but Ilux moved with a speed and precision they could not match.
The katana and sword in his hands danced in perfectly coordinated movements, every slash having a purpose, every cut carrying meaning.
He did not intend to injure them, at least not at first, only enough to make them retreat, enough to make them afraid, enough to make them think twice before disturbing him again.
But in the increasingly intense vortex of battle, in his sharpening focus on the targets before him, in the burning drive to repay everything he had endured throughout the day, Ilux almost lost control.
The katana in his right hand shot forward at full speed, aimed directly at the face of one of the boys who laughed the most, who threw the most firecrackers, who seemed to enjoy his suffering the most.
A fraction of a second before the blade struck its target, before the first blood was spilled on a day already filled with wounds, Ilux stopped.
The katana halted right in front of the boy's nose, no more than a centimeter away, close enough for the boy to feel the coldness of the blade ready to cut at any moment.
Ilux's eyes met the boy's, and for a moment, for several seconds that felt like eternity, nothing moved.
The laughter had ceased, the shouting had ended, all that remained was a suffocating silence between those still standing and those who had already fallen.
Ilux could see the fear in the boy's eyes, could feel how his body trembled under the threat of a katana that nearly split his face.
And at that moment, at the boundary between revenge and self-control, Ilux made the same decision he had made in the cafeteria.
He would not become the monster they claimed him to be.
He would not allow hatred to turn him into something worse than his tormentors.
With a swift yet calculated motion, he pulled the katana back, withdrawing it from a threat that had almost become reality, and spat.
Not an ordinary spit, but an outburst of frustration that had to be directed somewhere, because otherwise his anger would take over again, and this time, there might be nothing left to stop it.
The spit landed directly on the boy's face, an insult that might hurt more than a physical wound, a message that he could do worse but chose not to.
After that, Ilux turned around.
The katana and sword in his hands slowly returned to their original form, the mutated cells reverting to their normal structure, the arms that had been deadly weapons now nothing more than a pair of tired arms, slightly trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.
He did not look back, did not see how the children helped each other up, did not hear the whispers that began to spread among those watching from a distance.
To be continued…