The sun had barely crested the skyline when Nox's eyes opened to the soft glow of dawn spilling in from the dorm room window. The dull buzz of the campus grounds below hummed through the glass like a rhythm he didn't care to memorize. He sat up soundlessly, bare feet planted on the floor, the room still steeped in the silence of his slumbering roommates. The bed he slept on was firm, his own sheets black and tightly tucked. His side of the room bore no warmth, no personality, only brutal precision.
He reached for the steel thermos, sipped the bitter, strong coffee brewed hours earlier, and dressed swiftly in black joggers and a high-neck compression shirt. He moved without disrupting the air, slipping out of the dorm like smoke. Up on the rooftop, the wind greeted him, sharp and biting. He dropped his bag, began the regimen: bodyweight calisthenics, agility drills, sharp combat movements — each executed with lethal grace. Punches, kicks, knife dodges, simulated takedowns. No sound but the scrape of sneakers and the sharp breath of control.
Once satisfied, drenched in sweat but calm, he descended, showered quickly in the shared bathroom before the others stirred. He covered his face again with the black mask and hoodie, violet cat-like eyes the only feature visible. He made his way to the first lecture of the day.
It was a shared class — art theory — and today the professor dropped a collaborative project. "Roman Mythology: Interpret through visual expression. Pairs or trios. Assigned randomly."
Fate or irony, Nox found himself paired with Leo and Ash.
"We'll meet tonight," Leo said, voice low and final.
Ash smiled, hopeful. "How about the rec room at 8?"
Nox gave a slow nod, eyes unreadable. That night, while others relaxed, they gathered at the designated table. Leo leaned back, arms crossed, aloof. Ash took notes quickly, eyes darting between them.
"I think we could do a piece around the fall of Icarus. Wings melting mid-flight — tragedy in ambition," Ash suggested.
Leo grunted. "Predictable."
"Then what?"
"Romulus and Remus," Nox interjected, voice a quiet blade.
Both boys looked at him.
"Twins. Brothers raised by a wolf. Blood, betrayal, the founding of a kingdom."
Ash blinked, then nodded slowly. "That could work. Symbolism, strong contrast."
"We'll need a sculptural centerpiece. I'll handle that," Nox added, already sketching on the tablet.
Ash, excited, jotted down more notes. Leo, silent, watched him for a beat before offering, "We can handle the backdrop. You take the wolf and twins."
As they spoke, Nox's eyes lingered not on their faces but the dynamic — the laughter, the small sarcasm from Ash, Leo's dry humor. The scene stirred something buried.
—
Years ago, in the ashen tunnels of her old world, Nyx had sat around a fire barrel, arms wrapped around her knees, watching her sister-in-arms — Rika — tease another teammate. Rika had laughed, light but strong, eyes alive even under the pressure.
"You're all shadows now, but someday, we'll be more than weapons. You'll see."
Nyx hadn't laughed, but her lips had almost curved.
Months later, she had killed Rika herself.
For protecting a runaway. For hiding a baby in the tunnels. Nyx had followed the orders. Watched the infant's smile dim as she silenced them both.
She'd walked back through the halls, blood up her arms, her commanding officer's cold nod waiting. She didn't cry. Her punishment was success.
—
Now, she blinked, her mask hiding the distant gaze.
Ash was still talking. Leo was scribbling some concepts.
"We meet again after class tomorrow," Leo concluded.
Nox nodded once and left.
—
That night, a black-cloaked figure moved through the alleys of the city. The mission had come through a closed channel: one shot. High-value target. One exit. No backup. An encrypted location.
In a building under construction near the harbor, Nox crouched on a scaffold beam, sniper rifle extended. Carbon-polymer alloy, silencer attached, custom scope with night-vision overlay. The wind was brutal, but his aim didn't waver.
Below, the mark — a trafficking ring boss — walked out, surrounded by muscle. Nox slowed his breath. Calculated. One shot. A heartbeat passed. The trigger whispered.
The boss fell.
Chaos erupted. But Nox was already moving. He ducked out through steel beams, slid down cables, into a sewer tunnel he'd mapped days ago. Three switchbacks, a climb through a broken hatch, and he was on the surface, melting into the crowd.
By the time sirens echoed, he was walking past the 24-hour convenience store, hoodie up, holding a bag of ramen and protein drinks.
—
Back in the dorm, Ash and Leo returned from dinner. Leo paused as he saw the sculpture Nox had left on the windowsill: half-carved marble of twin boys, one with a wolf's paw in his chest.
Ash tilted his head. "He's... intense."
"Precise," Leo muttered. "He watches more than he speaks."
"Yeah, I wonder what he's watching."
Outside, Nox stood on the rooftop again, smoke coiling from his lips, mask tugged just below his mouth. His eyes scanned the horizon. A single knifepoint cut bled along his forearm, from tonight's escape. He didn't flinch.
He stared into the skyline — a city of fiction, maybe. But the blood he spilled tonight was real.
Tomorrow, another class. Another sculpture.
Another death.
Nyx , Nox would endure.
He always did.
End of Chapter 18