1.02.1 Kill the child?

The accident in the ward didn't go unnoticed. Dan's tortured cries startled the nurses on duty, echoing through the halls and even scaring off some students who had harmed themselves experimenting with their newfound abilities.

But Dan's health wasn't the main issue—it was his very existence.

"He blinded himself?" Principal Jalgan muttered, disbelief creeping into his voice as he scanned the report from the ward. His eyes narrowed, and his tone sharpened. "This boy... were there no nurses present?"

It was absurd. Something this extreme happening during such a sensitive time? If the matter leaked, the consequences wouldn't just fall on him—it would implicate the entire Academy and even drag the LOA officers, who were occupied elsewhere, into the scandal.

"He was under sedatives," one of the staff weakly explained. "He wasn't supposed to wake up."

Jalgan's lips tightened. It was a flimsy excuse, but there wasn't much that could be done now. Frustration mounted as he flipped through Dan's file. Then his expression shifted, lightening faintly.

"An orphan..." he murmured, his voice contemplative. "This is good. Hiding him won't be an issue."

As he read deeper into Dan's details, his mood eased further. 'A boy with mental development issues... no friends, no connections. It should be easier to keep this under wraps.'

Jalgan wasn't being entirely inhuman. The existence of the rejection phenomenon had to be kept secret at all costs. Its exposure could terrify ordinary students and destabilize the entire awakening process. Moreover, even after enduring rejection, Dan's body had somehow awakened an ability—albeit at a devastating cost.

Reports mentioned heightened brain activity right before Dan blinded himself. 'Does it correlate to his sight?' Jalgan wondered before shaking his head in irritation.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice.

"Are you insane? Bringing that calamity here?" Sarina Red, the head officer of the LOA, entered the room with an air of authority. She slammed her gloves onto Jalgan's desk, her piercing eyes fixed on him. "How could you even employ him to begin with?"

Sarina had just returned from dealing with hawks circling the Academy—opportunistic predators watching for potential runners to exploit. Thanks to the intervention of Returners, particularly the Calamity Knight, she had managed to neutralize the threat. But her delayed arrival left her fuming over the chaos she now faced.

"This fool dared to bring that monster into a school," she thought bitterly.

Jalgan barely registered her outburst, his mind still half-occupied with Dan's case. "Oh... about that," he started distractedly before turning to her. "I didn't go to him. He came to me, offering his support."

"And you allowed it? Knowing full well the nature of that man?" Sarina's voice rose, her disbelief palpable.

Jalgan blinked, the clarity of her accusation forcing him to reevaluate his decision. "Even the LOA falls for such rumors?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Sarina's jaw tightened. She couldn't respond openly.

The LOA had no official position on the Calamity Knight, but among those who had witnessed his actions firsthand, his reputation was undeniable. He was a monster who abandoned the Maker's Domain after reaching the sixth test—the highest point any human had ever achieved.

He hadn't left because of failure. Survivors who followed in his footsteps revealed the truth.

'So many have fallen because of him.'

The Calamity Knight didn't just bring disaster; he embodied it. Every task he undertook, every battle he joined, ended with him as the lone survivor, leaving behind ruin and corruption. His very presence was a plague. Sarina had witnessed this corruption personally—a man melting under the faintest exposure to Null's aura.

"Those rumors are based on truth," she said curtly.

"And yet, has he caused any problems since returning?" Jalgan countered. "All I see is him dealing with fractures and donating what he earns to orphanages and schools, including ours."

Jalgan's voice grew firm, his loyalty to the Calamity Knight clear. "I don't care what he did in that cursed domain. What matters to me is what he's doing now."

Sarina opened her mouth to retort but closed it again. She couldn't argue. LOA's hands were tied when it came to the Calamity Knight. As long as he avoided committing inhuman crimes, he was free to act.

"Then forget it," she muttered, brushing off the topic. There were things she couldn't reveal to Jalgan, a civilian, without risking even greater complications.

Jalgan sighed, relieved to drop the matter. Though he had faced significant pushback from the Academy's faculty about hiring Null, he had stood by his decision.

Sarina's gaze shifted to the papers Jalgan had been reading. "What's that?" she asked, gesturing toward them.

Jalgan hesitated before answering. "It's about the boy who suffered rejection."

Sarina's face darkened. "Offer him money to keep quiet, like always," she said bluntly. LOA already had systems in place for handling rejection cases—programs designed to ensure victims like Dan never spoke of their experiences.

Jalgan frowned. "That was the plan until reports came in from the ward, and I reviewed his background."

"What happened in the ward?" Sarina pressed.

"He... poked his eyes out," Jalgan said reluctantly.

Sarina raised an eyebrow. "Side effects of his awakening?"

"His ability overwhelmed his senses. In confusion, he... stabbed his thumbs into his eyes," Jalgan clarified grimly, his voice heavy.

Sarina scanned Dan's file, her interest piqued by its contents. "His mother shot him, then herself?"

It was a harrowing story. Dan's father had died in an accident, and his grief-stricken mother had attempted a double suicide, shooting her son before turning the gun on herself. Against all odds, Dan survived, even with half his brain destroyed. His mother hadn't been so fortunate.

"There's no one behind this boy?" Sarina asked, her eyes narrowing.

Jalgan shook his head. Dan was a temporary admission, allowed into the Academy solely for the awakening ceremony. Before that, he had been living in an orphanage.

"Then you know what needs to be done," Sarina said coldly.

Jalgan's expression twisted. "You're not suggesting—"

"Kill him?" Sarina interrupted. "That's crude. I prefer the term 'removing a burden.'"

She justified her stance with cold logic. Dan's talents were abysmal—0/0/1. He lacked any meaningful potential. Keeping him alive would only drain resources while prolonging his suffering.

A far cry from even the lowest of the awakeners, who at least have —1/1/1 in their potential,with at least 3 in any of the talent required if they hope for any growth in the future. 

"This is too cold, even for me," Jalgan said firmly, washing his hands of the matter. "He can live in a government hospital. Others have done so before."

"And who pays for that?" Sarina retorted. "He's not a boy anymore—he's becoming a man. A blind, brain-damaged man who will only burden the system."

Jalgan's heart rebelled against the practicality of her words. As an educator, he couldn't condone harming a child, no matter how serious the circumstances were.

"Then think of it this way," Sarina said, her voice low and dangerous. "If LOA denies the existence of rejection phenomena and its... side effects, the Academy will bear the blame. That means you and your staff will take the fall."

Jalgan clenched his fists, the weight of her threat suffocating.

The debate was interrupted by a logistics officer entering the room with a report.

"Jeremy? The one with the regenerative ability? He's asking questions about the boy."

Jalgan's expression shifted, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "So someone will ask questions if the boy disappears?" He smiled, the frustration of moments ago melting into relief.

Sarina's frown deepened, but Jalgan had already made up his mind.