Chapter 68: Summoner exposed

Chapter 68: Summoner exposed [mass release 2/6] Sergeant Silver exited the infirmary for her usual lunch break. She was tired—exhausted even—and the dark bags beneath her eyes were a clear indication that sleep had barely graced her in days. She had been endlessly tending to the wounded students, using up more than just her skills—her abilities drained her, slowly and consistently. But instead of heading toward the dining hall, like every other exhausted staff member would, Silver had a different plan for the day. She bypassed the staff’s cafeteria, grabbing her lunch—neatly wrapped—and made her way to the top of the building. She pushed open the heavy door that led to the roof, the creaking metal echoing faintly. The morning wind brushed against her face, sharp but refreshing. There, standing at the far end of the rooftop, was a single man. He stood tall and unmoving, the early rays of sunlight casting a striking silhouette around him. His silver-blonde hair danced in the breeze, and from a distance, he could have easily passed for a valiant warrior in a storybook. Silver, however, had no time for admiration. Her gaze barely lingered before she walked past him, heading to the edge of the rooftop. Without a word, she sat down cross-legged, placed her wrap on her lap, and began tearing through the paper like a ravenous beast. The moment the food met her hands, she devoured it—like a starving boar who hadn’t eaten in weeks. Sergeant Lloyd turned his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "It seems your abilities still take quite a toll on you," he remarked, walking over and settling beside her, not too close, but close enough to share the view of the academy below. "You haven’t been sleeping." He said this not as a question, but as a fact. He didn’t expect a reply—not immediately. Silver kept chewing, tearing through her meal with surprising aggression. Only after a few more bites did she finally pause. "I can’t. The students need me. You should understand that." Her voice was rough, almost mechanical. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was burden—the weight of caring too much. Lloyd nodded slowly, his fingers drumming against his thigh as if unsure how to proceed. "I wanted to talk to you about something... but seeing you like this, I don’t know if now is the right time." Silver turned to him, one eyebrow raised, clearly skeptical. "Are you insane? Don’t make me hit you. Not after dragging me all the way up here—speak." She was as commanding as ever. A hardened woman, no-nonsense, resilient to a fault. She intimidated most men without trying, which probably explained why she wasn’t married. Lloyd chuckled nervously, then took a slow breath. "What happened on Pascoloid... I think it was caused by the aliens—but the military base is taking it too lightly." Silver froze momentarily. His tone was cautious, but beneath that, she could sense the tremor in his words. He had chosen the rooftop deliberately. No cameras. No ears. Just sky and silence. "It’s almost like... the aliens weren’t involved. Like the military caused the outbreak on purpose." Silver blinked. ’He actually suspects the military,’ she thought, the air seeming heavier now. It was bold—no, dangerous—for Lloyd to say that out loud. She hadn’t considered it. She hadn’t had the time or mental clarity to. Her every waking second had been spent stitching wounds and steadying vitals. "You have no proof," she replied flatly. She wasn’t defending anyone—just protecting herself from being dragged into something that could end her. If Lloyd was to be punished for speaking so carelessly, he could probably survive it. She? Probably not. Then, wordlessly, Lloyd reached into the inside pocket of his coat. He pulled out something long and curved—a thick, bone-like object that resembled a finger with a blackened claw at the end. Even more alarming was the strange black smoke that curled from it, writhing like it was alive. "Please test this for me. I need to know the truth." Silver stared at the clawed bone, unease rising inside her. --- Meanwhile— Kairos and his group were already up. The academy had canceled classes again—too many students were still recovering from the hunt, and some wounds weren’t just physical. The three boys decided to head to the cafeteria for breakfast. Carlos led the way as usual, while Darnell chattered behind him with his boundless energy, reliving the moment he claimed to have taken down a Minotaur on his own. Kairos walked quietly between them, nodding occasionally at Darnell’s boasting but mostly lost in thought. Then he noticed it. Eyes. Too many. It wasn’t unusual to get stares once in a while. A student might glance your way, especially after a hunt. But this... this was different. As they walked, Kairos could feel it—every pair of eyes was on them. No, on him. ’What did we do? Why are they all staring? It has to be one of us,’ Kairos thought, his body tensing. [I smell fear... and curiosity,] the Shadow Wolf whispered in his mind for the first time since the hunt. Kairos’s eyes narrowed. So it really was him. Still, he kept his head straight and said nothing. There was no use reacting when he had no clue what was going on. ’If that Rivet spoke a word about me beating him, I swear I’ll kill him,’ he seethed internally. When they finally entered the cafeteria, the atmosphere grew even more suffocating. Whispers erupted the moment they stepped inside. Students turned their heads. Some pretended not to stare. Others didn’t bother hiding it. Carlos slowed down and leaned toward Kairos. "Something’s definitely wrong here. They’re looking at you, Kairos." Kairos nodded silently, already piecing things together. They grabbed their food quickly and went to sit at a distant, empty table. It didn’t help much—the whispers followed them there. [Ding!] [You have unread notifications.] [You are being watched... Many eyes are on you.] [Curiosity and fear are in their hearts.] The system’s voice was clear, mirroring what the Shadow Wolf had said earlier. And it didn’t stop there. The tension was building in Kairos’s chest. Then he noticed her—Mirel Caen—walking straight toward him with purpose in her step, her eyes lighting up beneath a mask of seriousness. "Hey Kairos! I saw the video—it was really awesome!" she said, her tone betraying a fan’s excitement. The three boys froze. "What video?" Kairos asked sharply. Mirel blinked, surprised. She fumbled with her phone and scrolled through it quickly. "You’re even greater than I thought. If you join my faction, you’ll secure a top spot for sure!" Kairos wasn’t listening anymore. His attention snapped back into place as Mirel turned the screen toward them. A video played. Their faces fell. Carlos and Darnell gasped audibly. Kairos’s breath caught. His eyes widened. Then his body moved. He stood up abruptly, reached out, and grabbed Mirel by the wrist with enough strength to draw a startled cry from her. "Where did you get that video?!" he snarled, his grip tightening unnaturally. Mirel whimpered under the force, nearly dropping her phone as her knees buckled. "I—I don’t know! It was on the platform—my wrist!" Kairos’s eyes flared. The system, the whispers, the stares—all of it made sense now. He let go. Mirel fell to the floor, rubbing her wrist, clearly in pain. Kairos didn’t apologize. He was already burning with rage. Only one name came to mind. One name that made his blood boil. "Rivet...!"