As Professor Del led the group through the academy grounds, his voice carried effortlessly, calm and steady. He wore a constant, easygoing smile, the kind that made it seem like nothing in the world could rattle him.
"And make sure you start getting to know each other," he said with a cheerful tone. "After all, the people around you now? They're going to be your classmates from this point forward."
The moment he said that, chatter erupted across the group. Conversations sparked, laughs were exchanged, and the once-quiet students quickly began clustering together in casual pockets.
But Ken wasn't fooled.
He observed the shift, analyzing it for what it really was—positioning.
The Level 2s were the most eager, practically orbiting the Level 3s, trying to force themselves into conversations. The Level 3s, in turn, were angling for the attention of the Level 4s, clearly hoping to ride on their coattails.
It wasn't about friendship. It was strategy.
Ken glanced down at the glowing display on his digital wristwatch: 4.9
Almost a five.
He caught a glimpse of Vorden's and Erin's watches flashing a solid 5.0, gleaming like badges of status. It was subtle, but their presence was drawing attention—students were already trying to position themselves close to them, laughing a little too hard at their jokes, asking a few too many questions.
Ken said nothing.
A few steps behind, Quinn walked quietly with his hands in his pockets, his watch showing 1.0. Peter, another Level 1 was beside him, cracking dry jokes under his breath that only Quinn seemed to catch. Layla, a Level 2, lingered nearby, eyes constantly scanning the higher levels like she was calculating the safest bet.
Ken's eyes narrowed slightly.
So this is how it starts, he thought. Not in combat. But in conversation.
He folded his arms and kept walking, not interested in making alliances based on numbers.
Ken continued to walk in silence, keeping to the edge of the group as the tour continued. His arms were crossed, eyes scanning the architecture, exits.
But even without trying, he started to draw attention.
It started when a nearby student happened to glance at his wrist. The glow from Ken's digital watch caught their eye: **Level 4.9**.
"Whoa... is that a five?" someone whispered.
Another student leaned in, confirming. "Might as well be. That's basically a five, right?"
Word spread quickly. A few Level 2s began inching closer to him, trying to act casual.
"Hey, you did nice on the tests," one of them said with a forced grin.
Ken gave a small nod but said nothing.
Another piped up. "So what kind of ability do you have, anyway? You gotta be a powerhouse if you're pushing five."
Ken stayed silent for a moment, then replied coolly, "I'm just a level 4.9."
It was the truth. But it didn't matter.
To the others, that made him just shy of elite.
Close enough to Vorden and Erin to be grouped with them—but unlike them, Ken didn't flaunt it. That made him even more intriguing.
Soon, students began treating him like he was a Level 5—stepping aside slightly when he passed, listening a bit more intently when he spoke, even if it was brief.
Ken noticed the shift.
All it takes is a decimal.
He glanced at Vorden, who seemed to enjoy the attention of a few talkative admirers. Erin, meanwhile, kept her usual cold distance.
Ken let them talk. He wasn't interested in popularity.
But he couldn't help thinking: If they see me as a five, maybe I should start acting like one.
---
As the tour moved on, the attention around Ken only grew.
At first, it had been the glowing 4.9 on his wrist that caught eyes.
But now, more and more students were noticing him.
The stark white waves of his hair looked almost silver under the sun, falling just past his brows in a way that made him look effortlessly cool. His cyan eyes were sharp, almost luminous, like they could cut through lies and silence alike. And his face—flawless, symmetrical—looked more like it belonged in a film than an academy full of fighters.
He didn't speak much. He didn't need to.
"Hey, uh… you new here too?" a Level 2 girl asked, walking beside him a little too quickly to seem casual.
Ken gave her a sideways glance, and said nothing.
"I mean, duh," she laughed nervously, brushing her hair back. "Of course you are, we all are. I just meant—nevermind."
She fell quiet after that.
Others tried to approach him too—asking about his training, his background, even where he got his jacket. But Ken kept his answers brief, never rude, just enough to acknowledge them without giving anything away.
And that only made them more curious.
Vorden watched all this unfold with a grin. "Man, you've got the whole brooding cool guy thing down. You're gonna have a fan club before we hit dinner."
---
As they continued following Professor Del through the towering halls of the academy, the social current around Ken shifted into something unmistakable.
A center of gravity had formed—and Ken was at the core of it.
Wherever he walked, others subtly adjusted their pace to stay within range. Conversations started forming around him, not including him directly, but always just loud enough that he could chime in if he wanted to.
Some students whispered things like:
"I think he's from some hidden family or something. Look at that hair."
"Yeah, and his eyes… bet that's part of his ability."
Rumors were starting to sprout like weeds. Ken didn't correct any of them.
The Level 2s clung closer to him than ever, now entirely ignoring their previous targets. A few of the Level 3s—who had originally been treated like royalty—were clearly irritated by the sudden shift. They started speaking louder, bragging more openly, trying to reclaim some ground.
Vorden noticed too. He gave Ken a knowing smirk.
"You think that you're the main character or something," he said. "Careful, man—if you keep being mysterious and hot, I might fall for you myself."
Ken rolled his eyes but didn't respond.
Erin, as usual, said nothing—though her eyes lingered on Ken a little longer than before.
Even Layla, who had been standing closer to Quinn and Peter, now kept glancing toward Ken. Her brow furrowed slightly, like she couldn't decide if she wanted to approach him or not.
Quinn, meanwhile, observed everything in silence.
He saw how the students shifted their alliances.
They think they're gravitating toward strength, Quinn thought, but really, they're gravitating toward the illusion of it.
He glanced at his own level—1.0
Then looked at Ken again.
It didn't take long for the shift in attention to rub someone the wrong way.
Among the Level 4s walking in the group was a student named Reo who had a stocky build, dark red hair slicked back with gel, and a scowl that looked like it had been carved into his face since birth. His wrist displayed a Level 4, and up until now, he'd been one of the more respected figures among the new students.
But now?
All eyes were on Ken.
When Reo noticed a few students who'd previously been listening to him break off to trail behind Ken instead, something in his jaw tightened.
He stormed up to the edge of the group, matching Ken's stride.
"Yo," Reo said sharply, just loud enough for others to hear. "You really think you're something, huh?"
Ken glanced at him. "No."
Reo let out a short, humorless laugh. "Could've fooled me, the way you're soaking up attention like a damn sponge!"
Vorden, walking nearby, stopped mid-stride and raised an eyebrow.
"Relax," he said, still smiling. "No need to get jealous just 'cause someone's got better hair."
Some of the students around them chuckled, but Reo didn't.
"I'm not jealous," he snapped back. "I just don't like posers. Flashy hair and a half-step away from a five doesn't make you elite."
Ken didn't flinch.
"I never said I was."
Reo took a step closer. "Then prove it."
The air grew still. A few students instinctively backed up, the hum of conversation dying down around them.
Ken's cyan eyes locked onto Reo's. Calm and steady.
"I don't need to prove anything to you," he said flatly. "But if you really want to find out how strong I am, just wait till the time comes."
Reo's nostrils flared, but he didn't respond. After a few seconds of tension, he scoffed and turned away.
Behind him, Vorden let out a low whistle. "Damn, you might not be a five… but that was a solid ten on the intimidation scale."
More students were watching now. But not just out of curiosity.
Now, there was a mix of respect—and fear.
Even the ones who weren't sure about Ken before… now saw him differently.
After Reo stormed off and the group hesitantly started moving again, the air was noticeably different—heavier, like something unspoken was hanging over everyone's heads.
Ken said nothing, falling back into his usual silence.
A little farther back in the group, Quinn walked alongside Peter, hands still stuffed in his pockets, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Well," Peter said with a lopsided grin, "That was... intense."
Quinn didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Ken, who now walked with the quiet poise of someone who had nothing to prove—but everyone was watching anyway.
"You saw that too, right?" Quinn said finally.
"The part where that Reo guy confronted him?"
Quinn shook his head. "Not just the confrontation. The way everyone's acting. The way they're treating levels like currency."
Peter glanced around, and sure enough—conversations were still buzzing in hushed tones about Ken, about his level, his face, even his hair. No one was talking about Reo anymore.
"It's like a weird social stock market," Peter said. "Ken's price is shooting up. Everyone's trying to invest before it's too late."
Quinn didn't laugh. He kept watching.
"Ken never even said a word about being strong," he said. Peter tilted his head. "You think he's dangerous?"
"No," Quinn replied. "I think he's smart. Smart enough to know that saying less says more. He doesn't need to posture like the rest of them."
Peter scratched his head. "And what about you, detective? What do you think he's hiding?"
Quinn's lips pressed into a line.
"…I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."
He looked down at his own wrist: 1.0
Then up again at Ken, who hadn't said a word since the standoff—his cyan eyes fixed ahead, unreadable.
You're not just power, Quinn thought. You're something else. What happened to you to make you become that way.