Azren's eyes opened, blank and silent.
No stretch. No sigh. Just movement — calm and immediate.
His hand reached across the bunk with mechanical precision, silencing the noise. Then he stood.
The sheets remained untouched. He never tossed in his sleep.
He slipped into his uniform, pulling each strap and buckle into place with robotic discipline.
Black tactical jacket. Combat trousers.
Boots laced tight enough to hurt — but he didn't feel pain.
His blue training katana clicked into its back sheath.
Outside, boots thundered in the hallway as students rushed past in chaos. Someone tripped. Another cursed.
Azren stepped out and turned with perfect posture, merging into the stream of cadets — yet completely alone within it.
---
By midday, the mess hall buzzed with the clatter of metal trays and the dull stink of nutrient paste.
Azren stood at the end of the food line. He didn't complain. He never did.
His tray was taken from him by a taller cadet.
> "Yo, you're good at balancing. Go get mine too," the guy said, smirking.
Azren obeyed.
Moments later, someone else waved at him from across the room. "Hey, robot! Wipe this table!"
He obeyed.
"Clean the floor."
He obeyed.
"Pick that up."
He obeyed.
No reaction. No resistance. His body moved, but his eyes stayed lifeless.
---
At a nearby table, three girls were eating together. Two laughed over some dumb joke.
The third — tall, ponytailed, sharp-eyed — was staring.
At him.
> "Who's that guy?" she asked, stabbing her protein cube with mild annoyance.
"Azren. Quiet type. Like... creepy quiet," her friend replied.
"He just does what people say. Doesn't talk. Doesn't blink. I think he's broken."
The girl frowned. "That's not funny. He's not a pet."
"Could've fooled me," the other muttered.
As Azren bent down to clean spilled broth near someone's boot, she sighed.
> "...Someone should slap those jerks."
---
When lunch ended, the cadets began heading toward their training blocks. Azren was walking down the corridor, carrying a crate of training blades and two helmets stacked precariously under one arm.
> "Stack those too, Robo-boy," someone joked from behind.
He obeyed.
The girl spotted him again. Still carrying everything. Still silent. Still being used.
She sighed, snatched her own gear off the rack, and followed.
---
The training grounds were damp from earlier drills. Mud caked the steel dummies. Instructors shouted in the distance.
Azren arrived without being told. He placed the gear down where it belonged and stood still, back straight, waiting.
> "Tie my boots, Robo."
He knelt.
> "Hold my sword."
He held it.
The girl dropped her gear and stormed over.
> "HEY!"
Heads turned.
> "Are you seriously treating him like a servant?!"
One of them scoffed. "Why not? He never complains."
She yanked the sword out of Azren's hands and shoved it back into the cadet's chest.
Azren looked at her. Blank.
> "You gave me an order," he said calmly.
Her mouth twitched. "I… that wasn't an order."
"Then I await one."
She blinked. "WHY ARE YOU STILL FOLLOWING ME?!"
"You didn't dismiss me."
She groaned and turned away. "You're like a tragic puppy… but haunted…"
---
The ground shook.
A sudden boom echoed across the field — like something massive had slammed into the academy's outer wall.
Everyone froze.
Another boom, louder, cracked through the air.
Then came the explosion — the north wall shattered inward, stone and steel raining down like shrapnel.
A hulking demon burst through, claws dripping, eyes glowing, wings folded against its back. Its body burned with black flame and twisted bone.
It landed on a cluster of cadets. The crunch of bones and screams followed instantly.
> "DEMON!!"
> "RUN!!"
Another cadet was snatched mid-sprint and torn apart like wet paper.
The girl spun, panic flooding her face.
She turned to run — and stopped.
Azren hadn't moved.
He was just standing there.
> "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
She ran back and grabbed his wrist. "MOVE, YOU BLUE-EYED LANTERNPOST!"
She yanked him into a sprint — dragging him down the path — but the demon landed in front of them like a meteor.
Too late.
---
The claw came down.
She threw herself between him and the strike, sword raised in a hopeless defense.
> "MOVE—!"
Time slowed.
Her body blurred in his vision.
Her voice changed.
She became someone else — Elyra — arms outstretched just like before.
> "Azren… my son…"
FWOOOM.
The air shifted.
---
He moved.
Not fast — just perfectly.
His katana burst from its sheath, cloaked in ethereal blue fire.
Steel met claw. Flesh split.
In one step, Azren severed the demon's arm.
In another, he sliced it in half — clean, effortless, beautiful.
Ash rained like snow.
The field fell silent.
Even the other cadets stopped breathing.
Azren stood in a gentle blaze of blue.
He walked toward the girl. Calm. Ghostlike.
She stared at him, heart thudding, face slowly turning red.
He reached for her hand.
She let him take it.
> "...Mom?"
Her jaw dropped.
"WH—WHAT?!"
He blinked once…
…and promptly collapsed into her arms.
> "AZREN?!"
She dropped to her knees. "Are you bleeding?! Are you dying?!"
She checked his chest.
Nothing.
Just… breathing.
> "You're sleeping?! SERIOUSLY?!"
Azren snored softly.
She stared at him, glowing, unconscious, perfectly at peace.
"…You flaming idiot."
---
End of Chapter 3