Xavier stepped out of the storeroom, still fixing the cuffs of his shirt, and walked out of the restaurant like nothing happened. The morning sun hit the glass panels, and the city below looked alive again — horns, drones, chatter, everything back to pretending the night hadn't just burned half of it down.

He took the elevator to the ground floor, helmet in hand, and stepped out of the building. His bike was right where he left it, sleek and dark, reflecting the city lights off its frame. He slipped the helmet on, started the engine, and the low hum filled the air.

For a few seconds, he just sat there, letting the engine idle while he checked the holo screen projected from his wrist. Dozens of messages, calls, and notifications flooded the feed — news outlets, unknown numbers, encrypted pings. Everyone was either panicking or digging.

Xavier scrolled past them all until he found one from Viola: "Done disposing the body parts at your given locations. What now?"

He smirked a little. 'Good.'

He replied, "Now you are free. Rest easy."

Then, without another word, he revved the bike and pulled into traffic.

The wind whipped against his faceplate as he rode through the lower districts, past flashing holograms and billboards of half-fake smiles and bright neon ads. Every corner reminded him how far the city had fallen, how fake everything looked now.

Xavier's bike sliced through the morning traffic like a black streak of thunder, the city's chaos reflecting off his visor. He drifted past the smog-choked skyline, neon lights still flickering weakly against the daylight. Billboards and holo-screens all over the streets screamed the same madness, each headline louder than the last.

"THE CITY IS BURNING."

"KANE MEDICAL TOWER UNDER ATTACK — MASSIVE DAMAGE REPORTED."

"JOHN KANE ARRESTED FOR ILLEGAL HUMAN TRIALS AND ORGAN TRADE NETWORK."

Every screen showed different footage — burning skyscrapers collapsing in slow motion, SWAT teams swarming the Kane Tower, reporters yelling into cameras as stretchers rolled by. Then came the darker one: body parts being pulled out of the debris in sealed transparent bags, cops gagging from the smell while drones hovered to get a better shot.

Xavier slowed his bike for a moment at a red light, his reflection flashing across a massive hologram displaying the newscaster's voice:

"Authorities have confirmed human body parts found across various districts belong to one body. The killer remains unidentified. Police say a chilling note was found alongside the remains—'Find all my parts to find out who I am.'"

He smirked behind the helmet, resting his hand lightly on the throttle. The hum of the engine matched the rhythm of the chaos he'd unleashed.

"Media owes me royalties," he muttered, just before the light turned green again.

The bike roared forward, the engine growling as Xavier leaned into the wind, cutting between cars and drones like he owned the damn road. The higher he went toward the upper levels, the cleaner everything looked — away from the flames and dust, into the glass towers and quiet order of the Academy District.

The gates of Astraeus Academy came into view — standing tall, untouched, like it existed in a different world entirely. Security drones scanned the area, and the giant AR banner at the entrance glowed with the day's greeting:

"WELCOME BACK, STUDENTS — MID-TERM WEEK COMMENCES."

Xavier slowed down, parked the bike in his usual spot, and pulled off his helmet. His hair was messy, and his face was calm as usual— like he hadn't just watched a city burn and he wasn't the one behind it.

He glanced up at the pristine campus building and exhaled through his nose.

"Back to school," he muttered, almost amused at how normal the words sounded after everything that happened.

As soon as Xavier stepped past the first inner gate, heads turned. Conversations paused, whispers spread like wildfire. Even the usual chatter in the courtyard quieted for a moment as people recognized him.

"Morning, Xavier!" one of the instructors greeted from the stairs, smiling way too wide. "Excellent work, once again. Truly remarkable."

Another one patted his shoulder as he walked by. "Again on the news, huh? Keep making the Academy proud."

Xavier blinked, brows slightly furrowed. "Uh… yeah," he muttered under his breath, offering a faint nod.

He noticed it wasn't just the instructors — even students he barely knew were smiling, congratulating, whispering things like 'He did it again' and 'No one's even close to his score.'

Xavier's confusion only grew as he entered the main hall. The entire atrium had been plastered with floating holograms showing the mid-term results. His name gleamed right at the top — Xavier— Rank #1.

Underneath, a few familiar names followed: Victoria Sterling, Benjamin Miller, Riley Thorne.

But that wasn't what caught his attention. At the far end of the hall, one giant digital banner displayed a collage of the top students — their portraits spinning slowly in a polished loop. And there he was, in the center. Smirking. Dressed in his academy coat, standing like a damn poster boy for academic excellence.

"The hell is this…" he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

Right then, Instructor Vale — the discipline head — approached, grinning ear to ear. "Ah, Xavier. Perfect timing. You'll be addressing the assembly today, so make sure you're in the auditorium in twenty minutes."

Xavier froze. "Wait, what?"

Vale chuckled. "Come on, Xavier. You've topped every exam again. The Board decided the top scorers should give a short speech to motivate the students. It's an honor."

"Yeah, sure… an honor," Xavier said, forcing a smile while his mind raced.

He knew who'd be behind this — Darius Vexley and Aldric Blackwood. The two pricks who always found new ways to dig under his skin without ever getting their hands dirty.

"Looks like they're still playing their little games," he murmured to himself, staring up at his own hologram. The perfect image of a model student. Exactly how they wanted him to look — before trying to humiliate him in front of everyone.

A slow grin crept onto his face. "Fine," he whispered. "Let's see who ends up embarrassed this time."

He turned and began walking toward the auditorium, hands in pockets, while the whispers followed him again — this time louder, heavier, full of curiosity about what Xavier would say on stage.

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