The Quiet Execution

Valeforth Academy – East Garden Balcony

8:07 PM – One Week Later

The moon hung above the capital like a silver noose.

Avalith stood alone on the upper balcony of the academy's east garden, her white lashes fluttering against the wind. The glass in her hand trembled slightly, the wine untouched.

They'd warned her.

They told her to report on Noven.

They told her loyalty had a cost.

She didn't listen.

Now, the cost had arrived.

She turned her head slightly, sensing movement behind the hedges—but too late. A shadow detached from the wall. Another followed. Royal armor. Familiar emblems.

Her own elite guards.

But something was wrong. Their eyes were glassy. Their movements robotic. Controlled.

"Stop," she said quietly, voice firm.

They didn't.

One of them lunged with a flash of violet aura—a spear aimed straight for her heart.

Her body moved on instinct, glyphs flaring across her back as her aura exploded outward, smashing the railing behind her. She ducked, spun, and elbowed the attacker in the throat. He didn't react—didn't flinch—as if pain no longer registered.

The second came from the side. She wasn't fast enough.

A flash of black intercepted him.

A hand—not hers—grabbed the attacker's face mid-swing.

Bones cracked.

Then silence.

Noven stood between them.

He dropped the unconscious attacker like trash and turned to the other. No expression. No aura. He twisted the man's arm without a flicker of tension—so violently that it snapped backward at the elbow.

Then the second dropped too.

Avalith didn't speak.

She couldn't.

"You're late," she finally whispered, shaking.

Noven turned toward her. His expression didn't change.

"I almost didn't come."

She blinked. "Then why did you?"

"I still need you."

A pause.

"…For what?"

"You're a piece on the board," he said flatly. "And the game isn't over."

Then he vanished into the night—leaving her with the corpses of her own protectors, and a single truth lodged in her chest:

She wasn't safe.

Not from others.

Not from herself.

And especially not from him.

⸻

Valeforth Academy – Central Courtyard

Same Night, 8:24 PM

Alyss was already mid-fight when it happened.

She ducked a spinning blade, hurling her own mana-laced bolt through the chest of the attacker. The woman didn't fall. Just kept charging, mouth slack, eyes hollow.

Another possessed.

Another member of Avalith's royal guard.

Noven dropped from the rooftops behind her without a word. His presence struck the battlefield like a silent blade.

In a blink, the attacker froze—lifted into the air by an invisible force. Her limbs bent backward. A pulse of air snapped her spine audibly before her body hit the floor, twitching once and then stilling.

Alyss spun toward him, panting.

"You again?" she spat.

"You're not allowed to die yet," he said coldly.

She opened her mouth to retort—but something in his eyes stopped her.

He wasn't here for her.

Not really.

This was calculation. Nothing more.

She clenched her fists. "You used me."

"Yes."

"And you're still using me."

"Yes."

Silence.

Her voice cracked when she whispered: "Then why did you save me?"

"Because your survival benefits my next move," he said, voice devoid of empathy. "I don't care if you hate me. But I'll decide when you're removed from the board. Not them."

Something broke inside her at those words.

But she didn't cry.

Not this time.

She turned away and left him standing there in the courtyard, the bodies of her attackers strewn around him like fallen pawns.

⸻

Royal Hall – Emergency Tribunal

The Next Morning, 11:00 AM

The courtroom buzzed with restrained panic.

A noblewoman whispered to her steward. An envoy from the royal defense council paced the edge. Guards stood stiff, blades drawn.

Avalith stood at the center, wrists bandaged. Alyss beside her, half-leaning on a cane.

But the one who drew all eyes—the one shackled in obsidian cuffs, surrounded by six royal enforcers—was Noven.

He said nothing.

He didn't flinch when they read the charges.

High treason.

Attempted assassination of Princess Avalith.

Manipulation and murder of royal guards.

Tampering with core-imbued technology.

Avalith stepped forward, voice sharp. "He saved me."

"Convenient," the high judge replied. "And yet, your two most loyal guards are dead."

Alyss stepped forward next. "He stopped the people attacking us. I saw it."

Another judge sneered. "That doesn't prove he wasn't the one who sent them in the first place."

They presented falsified documents. Encrypted messages. A fabricated trail—all leading back to Noven.

Even the butler had spoken once, days before, claiming Noven had been acting alone for months.

None of them knew.

None of them saw what really sat behind this.

Unit IX.

Watching. Controlling. Pulling strings like gods.

Noven's gaze flicked briefly toward the shadows high above the chamber.

Someone was there.

A silhouette.

Unmoving.

Watching.

"Any final words?" the judge asked.

Noven looked at him, eyes dull and cold.

"Break the core," he said. "If you can."

Gasps echoed.

Alyss's breath hitched.

Avalith's lips parted—but no words came.

The guards moved.

They dragged him forward, toward the execution chamber—the place where the aura core would be forcibly shattered.

Where his power would be stripped.

His identity erased.

His body broken.

And still—he showed nothing.

Not a flinch.

Not a protest.

Not a single plea for mercy.

Alyss trembled.

Avalith stared.

He didn't even look back.

He just walked into the darkness like it was home.

⸻

Somewhere Underground – Unknown Sector

Time Unknown

Darkness. Silence.

Then a voice from above the containment cell.

"He's in position. Awaiting further commands."

The butler's voice replied:

"Good. Let the world think he's dead."

The silhouette nodded.

"And then?"

The butler's tone sharpened.

"Then we begin the next phase."

Fade to black.