Jael sat alone at his desk in the lecture hall of Saffron University, the morning sun glinting off the dusty windows as tension thickened the air. Today was supposed to mark a turning point—their final exams, the culmination of years of study. After months of stress, sleepless nights, and an unforgiving schedule imposed by lecturers who never gave them a break, this was the day everyone had been both dreading and anticipating.
But something wasn't right.
Zelpher's seat was empty.
It was always filled. Always.
Zelpher never missed a lecture, not even when he had the flu so bad he couldn't talk. Jael's brow furrowed, concern twisting in his gut like a tightening rope.
He reached for his phone and tapped in Zelpher's number.
It rang once.
Twice.
No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
Jael tried again—five times. Ten times. Twenty. Each time with a growing sense of dread clawing at his chest.
"God. Damn it! Why isn't he picking up?" Jael muttered, clenching the phone until his knuckles went white. "This is damn serious."
He stood up, the chair screeching across the floor as his classmates turned briefly to look. He didn't care. Something was wrong. He could feel it.
But then the door burst open with an intimidating crash.
Mr. Sez had arrived.
Everyone in the hall froze.
The legendary retired military officer strode in, boots heavy on the tile, eyes like razors scanning the room. He was notorious not just for his unforgiving standards, but for his military-styled approach to discipline. Even the most fearless students melted under his gaze.
Jael sat back down reluctantly, heart pounding. But his thoughts weren't on the exam. They were with Zelpher. Something was wrong, and if no one else was going to do anything, he would.
Zelpher's body lay motionless on the hospital bed, his skin bright, his breathing alive. The machines beside him beeped in steady rhythms. IV tubes fed into his arms, and bandages covered deep gashes across his chest and legs.
He had been found just before dawn, unconscious on the edge of Sector 5, barely alive.
The attack had left a crater in the concrete. The Demon as he was called had left brutal marks therein.
Somehow, he had survived. He wasn't so sick but in order not to cause growing inquisitive nerves he stayed knowing fully well that today was his first final papers.
The second batch of super military, who had detected abnormal power surges in the vicinity, responded late—but when they saw the destruction and found Zelpher among the debris, they knew something significant had occurred.
They transported him to the private military medical wing at Seran Hospital and covered all his medical bills. Their interest wasn't charity—it was curiosity. Who was this boy who had survived the Demon?
Why did his vitals show energy readings similar to a pure weak human? He was supposed to be dead and forgotten.
Jael burst into the hospital like a storm, his heart barely able to keep up with his feet.
He had left the exam without permission. Abandoned it, just like that. Once he saw on social media about Zelpher being a survivor of he attack by the Demon. He hadn't expected such. His heart throbbed heavily.
His mind didn't care about the consequences. About the degree. About the paper.
Zelpher was all that mattered. He rushed to the nearest nurse.
"How may we help you please?" the nurse inquired out of profession. Jael stared at her, his eyes burning with curiosity.
"The guy that survived the Demon's attack. Please I want to see him. I heard he is here." Jael said.
"Room 318," the nurse said, and Jael didn't wait for more. He rushed through the hall, using his eyes to scan through the rooms for the ward number '318'. Then he found it.
He found Zelpher lying still, weak but alive. Machines whispered beside him. The room was cold and sterile, a contrast to the wild thoughts in Jael's head.
He pulled a chair beside the bed, dropped into it, and gripped Zelpher's hand.
"You dumb bastard..." he whispered, tears stinging the edges of his eyes. "Why do you always try to handle everything on your own?" Zelpher turned away and stared through the window. He wondered what was wrong with himself. With that he slept unconsciously.
Hours passed. The evening turned to night. But Jael never left.
And then...
Zelpher stirred.
His eyes blinked open slowly, vision blurry, the sterile white ceiling above like heaven or something close to it.
He winced, pain dancing through his body but it seized eventually.
"J-Jael."
Jael stood, leaning in. "Zelpher! You're awake, thank God! Don't move, you're in a hospital."
"What... happened?"
"You were attacked. The demon. The military found you. You've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours."
Zelpher tried to sit up, but groaned and lay back down. "The serum... it did something."
"I don't care about that right now," Jael said firmly. "You're alive. That's what matters."
Zelpher's eyes widened, confused. "Wait... your exam—?"
"I didn't take it."
"What? Why? You idiot!"
Jael smiled sadly. "Because you're more important than a damn piece of paper. I'd rather lose a semester than lose you."
Zelpher swallowed hard. His throat was dry, his chest ached. But something in his heart felt warmer than any drug.
He gripped Jael's hand tightly.
"Thank you."
"No more disappearing acts, alright?"
"I promise."
And they sat there, two friends, the weight of their time together lingered
In that sterile hospital room, where machines hummed and the night wind whispered against the windows, a vow was made.
Whatever happened next...
They would face it together.
As brothers.
As friends.
As more than just survivors. Tears hung in Zelpher's eye's. Jael was his only family.