Chapter 7: Seven Years and 212 Days

Chapter 7

From the bright midday sun to the evening sunset, the number of first-year students wandering around campus steadily dwindled. Eventually, the once-busy pathways became nearly deserted.

After all, they weren't elementary school kids brimming with excitement over campus exploration. The initial sense of novelty had already faded, and most students now preferred to return to their dorms early, preparing for the long semester ahead.

Another reason for the eerie emptiness was the sheer scale of the school. Despite having fewer than a thousand people—including faculty and staff—and only about 400 students, the academy sprawled across an area as vast as an entire town.

For reference, an average town in Japan has at least 5,000 residents. The stark contrast in population density made movement on campus incredibly convenient—especially for Kure Ragna.

After publicly humiliating the student council president on the unprecedented first day of school, he had spent the past five hours wandering the campus, from noon until evening. In that time, he had completed three tasks.

The first was purchasing a durable oil-based ballpoint pen from the school's supply store for a modest sum of points.

The second was printing an oversized, highly detailed map of the campus at a copy shop, ensuring he had a complete visual layout of the grounds.

And the third... was what he was doing now.

"Phase one, done~"

Marking the final key location on his large, folded map, Kure Ragna stretched his arms, his back to the fiery red sunset.

He felt like a scout sneaking through enemy territory, navigating Perico Island with meticulous precision.

However, even he had underestimated the sheer size and complexity of the school. At first glance, it seemed like he had completed nearly half the map in five hours, meaning another five would be enough to finish the rest.

But that wasn't the case.

The North Campus mainly housed large-scale equipment and facilities rather than residential buildings, making its layout relatively simple. Despite covering 40% of the school's total area, it had only three major buildings.

By contrast, the South Campus was a labyrinth of over a dozen buildings, including commercial centers and other facilities.

At best, he had mapped 30 to 40% of the entire school today—perhaps even less.

No matter. He had plenty of time.

"For now, I'll head back to the dorm, grab some dinner... and then..."

His gaze shifted toward the swimming pool.

---

7:00 PM

Night had fallen, and the sky was a vast canvas of stars, with the bright moon hanging high.

All the pool lights were off, and the sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air. The silence was almost absolute.

It wasn't surprising. Hardly anyone went swimming at night, especially with classes starting tomorrow.

However, there was one issue—the school pool was supposed to remain open until 10 PM. Even if no one showed up, the rules mandated that the lights stay on.

Someone had deliberately turned them off early.

Boom!

A faint yet thunderous noise shattered the silence.

The sound came from the diving pool.

Under the dim moonlight filtering through the high ventilation windows, a pair of sunglasses rested quietly beside the pool's edge.

At the same time, beneath the pitch-black waters—ten meters deep—Kure Ragna hovered in a fighting stance, eyes closed.

His black hair, untethered by gravity, floated around him as if moved by an unseen force. His muscles tensed, coiled like a spring, ready to explode at a moment's notice.

---

In terms of physique, Kure Ragna wasn't an oversized bodybuilder. He didn't pursue aesthetic muscle symmetry like an athlete sculpted for competitions.

Instead, his body was something far more extreme.

It was anti-Olympic—built for combat and killing. A terrifying balance of explosive power, endurance, flexibility, and defense.

Just looking at him evoked a sense of primal fear—a grotesque beauty in its purest form.

And then—he moved.

Bang!

A lightning-fast jab tore through the water.

The impact sent ripples surging across the pool, momentarily depressing the water's surface. His fist peak, wrapped in a terrifying force, stirred up violent currents, creating a vortex in his wake.

The moment his punch recoiled, he twisted his body to evade the imaginary counterattack.

With a fluid motion, he drove his elbow upward, then followed through with a spinning high kick, slicing through the water like a blade of light.

Each strike was a killing blow—enough to obliterate a grown man's skull in an instant.

The once-still waters now churned in a violent storm.

---

This wasn't just a random outburst.

This was a training method practiced across various martial arts—a solo air-strike regimen designed to simulate real combat.

Typically, boxing and Sanda practitioners used this method on land, where a 15 to 30-minute session could burn around 25 calories. It was a solid aerobic exercise, strengthening coordination and flexibility.

But Kure Ragna was doing it underwater.

Not only did this restrict his breathing rhythm, but it also amplified resistance against every part of his body during each strike.

Humans still didn't fully understand the physics of water, but anyone who had swum before knew one thing—the harder you moved, the more resistance you faced.

A simple hand-knife motion on land felt smooth and effortless.

Yet in the water?

Once the speed increased, a high-frequency vibration effect would ripple through the entire arm. To maintain precision, one had to exert five to ten times the normal force.

For Kure Ragna, every underwater attack was a supercharged resistance workout.

And in turn—the results would be just as extreme.

"Hah—"

With a final powerful strike, Kure Ragna surfaced, exhaling deeply.

Just as he prepared to take another breath and dive again—

Splash!

A sudden disturbance in the water.

Kure Ragna's instincts flared as he snapped his gaze to the source.

Under the moonlight, a silver-haired girl sat quietly at the edge of the pool.

She wore the school-issued uniform but had removed her white knee-length stockings, exposing slender, pale legs that gleamed like polished jade.

Her delicate feet playfully kicked at the water, sending gentle ripples across the surface.

Beside her, a pair of sunglasses rested on her neatly folded skirt.

For a moment, their eyes met.

A powerful yet deeply hidden emotion flickered through her violet irises.

Then—she smiled.

A soft, sincere smile—the kind she hadn't shown in seven years and 212 days.

"Finally, we meet again."