Chapter 88: The Psychology of The Mad summoner

Chapter 88: The Psychology of The Mad summoner Kairos’ boots echoed through the dim halls, each step filled with urgency as he rushed Mirel to the infirmary. With a burst of Integration flowing through his veins, his speed far surpassed that of any normal human. The halls blurred past him as he shouted out the names of corridors in his mind, making sharp turns with expert precision, holding her frail body close. He didn’t stop. Not until he reached the infirmary. And finally, he did. The metal doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a surprising sight. Nurse Silver—usually alert and unyielding—was asleep at her desk, her head resting lightly against her folded arms. She must have been exhausted. It was, after all, a long night. But there was no time to dwell on that. Kairos hurried over to one of the beds, gently but swiftly laying Mirel down. Her breathing was shallow, and blood still trickled from the gash across her side. His fingers trembled. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not now. He turned and rushed to Silver. He knew her well. She was a soldier—disciplined, iron-willed, and merciless when crossed. But she also held an unwavering devotion to her duties, especially when it came to saving lives. He approached cautiously, reaching out to touch her elbow—just enough pressure to stir her from sleep, but not enough to startle her. She jerked slightly, blinking away sleep as her silver eyes opened. "What—" she began, but her gaze fell upon him—then to his bloodstained hands. "Someone is dying," Kairos said. His voice was low, but the words held weight, like a hammer striking an anvil. Just enough to restart the engine of someone like her. Her demeanor shifted instantly. Eyes sharp now, she scanned the room, quickly locating Mirel’s still form on the sickbed. Without another word, Silver stood up straight, adjusting her white lab coat and grabbing a small metal case filled with equipment. Her movements were swift and sure, honed by experience. She made her way to Mirel’s side and immediately began checking her vitals, unsealing medical tools with practiced ease. "What happened to her?" Silver asked, already beginning her work. Kairos paused, collecting his thoughts, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t need to lie—but he couldn’t say too much either. "A man... in a weird mask. He attacked her. I arrived near the end and fought him off. He was already weakened, but still strong—an adult." Silver’s eyes widened at his words. An adult? A man? Attacking students? That wasn’t something she’d expected. Not tonight. She glanced at Kairos briefly, searching for deception. But she found none. Her expression darkened. This wasn’t just an accident. This wasn’t some internal fight between students. No, this was deeper. That man... he was an outsider. An enemy, not just of the academy—but of the military itself. Meanwhile— Ravin Elteth stepped into the white room, the sound of the door sealing behind him echoing in the silence. It was the end of his night shift, and as he entered, he pulled the Shinigami mask off his face. His lips curled into a crooked smile as he waved lazily at Mike, who sat silently in the middle of the room. Mike didn’t return the gesture. He only glared at Ravin, his eyes tracing the man from head to toe. "Why the disguise?" Mike asked finally. "Do you go to costume parties now?" Ravin exhaled through his nose, clearly disappointed. "I went outside to test a few theories," he said. "And... it checks out." Mike didn’t reply. He remained still, his mind clouded with one desire: to escape this place. To find his sister. To be free. "You don’t hate me," Ravin said suddenly. "You hate the system." With that, he peeled off his shirt. Beneath it was a body carved by battles. Deep scars ran across his chest and back—sword cuts, dagger wounds, burns, and other marks that couldn’t even be explained. Each scar held a story, and every story was soaked in blood. He sat beside Mike, now shirtless, his tone calm but heavy. "It all depends on how you look at things," he said. "It’s about angles." Mike narrowed his eyes, confused. Ravin noticed. So he continued. "What is a bad guy... and what is a villain?" He waited. Mike didn’t answer. His gaze burned with silent rage. "A bad guy," Ravin explained, "is someone seen by a group as being against their beliefs. A villain, on the other hand, is seen by the majority as being against those beliefs." He let those words settle in the air before going on. "To you, the military is built on bad people. That’s why you’re here. You make a fine test subject. But to others, to the students who haven’t seen this side of it, the military are saviors." He stood again, pacing. "You might think I’m crazy. That I just want to cut others open to see what makes them tick. But tell me—who else have you seen break this system and live on their own terms?" His voice grew more intense now. "Ever since you were born, Mike, haven’t they dictated your dreams?" "Awaken a powerful summon. Join Titanfang. Pledge yourself to a faction. Fight for them. Breed. Then have your children do the same thing." "There are no dreams in that cycle. No choice. Just repetition." Mike’s breath hitched. The words hit harder than he expected. Ravin leaned closer. "Now imagine," he said, "we got news this very moment... that the alien race—the Nyxaris—have been wiped out. People would rejoice. They’d believe things would get better." "But they won’t." "Without a common enemy, the fragile alliance between factions and the military would crumble. Humanity would turn on itself, ripping the world apart in a war for dominance." "Where is the peace in that? Where are the dreams?" Mike stared in silence. He had never considered it. No one ever did. The assumption was that if they won, peace would follow. But even now—with the aliens still out there—humanity was anything but united. "Tell me, Mike..." Ravin asked, lowering his voice, "do you want your sister to grow up in that world? A world where humans will kill each other to rule what’s left?" Mike slowly shook his head. No. He didn’t. It all made sense now. The ruthless competitions. The secrecy. The ever-growing hunger for power. The military and the factions—they weren’t preparing for victory over the Nyxaris. They were preparing for war against each other. "So what do you plan to do?" Mike asked, his voice steady, no longer the mindless anger he once had. "How do you plan to end it all?" Ravin smiled inwardly. ’Finally,’ he thought. ’He’s asking the right questions.’ "You’ve outlived your usefulness as a mere experiment," Ravin said. "But as a follower? As a student? There’s promise in that." "I have a plan. One that will destroy both the aliens and the factions that keep this world broken." Mike stared at him, remembering his earlier words. Villains... they were just misunderstood. Bad guys... they were enemies of belief, not always evil. It was a terrifying thought—to place faith in a man like Ravin—but for his sister? For a future where she could dream? "I’ll help you," Mike said. "But only to make a better world... for my sister." Ravin’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Everything was falling into place. After all, he already had a good idea who the Summon Thief was. And now? It was time to begin.