Novel Full Chapter 415: Homecoming [IV]
Chapter 415: Homecoming [IV]
The sub-vaults were detached from the main vault of the Academy, which only the Aces and Council Members had access to aside from TAs and Instructors.
These sub-vaults were adjacent chambers from where you could retrieve whatever Cards and artifacts the Academy had issued you for your specific mission.
After completion, the Cadets had the duty to immediately return those items to the sub-vaults so they could be cross-checked with the Mission’s Equipment and After Action Reports
Ivan had fulfilled his duty spotlessly, because he was such an honest and upright Cadet.
On the way back to his dorm, he took a long detour and didn’t realize when the orange of the morning rays had started bleeding into the dark hour of the night sky.
It felt... good to be back at the Academy.
He had been on that last mission for three weeks. They had to sneak through the borders of the Eastern Safe-Zone and stay in wait for days, before sanitizing and securing the extraction site.
After that, safely bringing the spy back to the Academy was the easy part.
Still, all that waiting and fighting had chipped away at his mental state. He was tired both physically and mentally.
His footsteps slowed down to a near halt as he stopped to see the sunrise. The cold morning air scraped against his lungs. He exhaled slowly through his nose, hands buried in the pockets of his tactical jacket.
"...I wonder if he’s even alive."
In truth, it was a question he must’ve wondered aloud hundreds of times. Obviously he was thinking about Samael.
In the last four months, that thought had been eating away at him.
He didn’t know if they were close enough to be called friends... or if Samael even considered him worth the effort.
After all, in that guy’s world, people were either assets, obstacles, or just background characters. And yet, Ivan found himself missing him.
He remembered how he first got the news, waking up in the Golden Sanctuary’s medical ward after the massacre.
"Tragedy strikes Apex Institute for the Awakened," read a news reporter. "Hundreds are dead, hundreds are injured, and many are still missing. It’s believed that a botched teleportation attempt to get the students away to safety, Instructor Selene Valkyrn ended up sending more than a dozen kids to their deaths in the Noctveil Wilds. Among those are the scions of two great noble houses, Alexia Von Zynx and Samael Kaizer Theosbane."
It wasn’t long after they were all presumed dead.
Ivan hadn’t believed it at first. Because... Samael couldn’t die, right? That guy seemed invincible! Surely he would find some way to survive a Death Zone... right?
It sounded so stupid but Ivan genuinely believed it, unable to accept the ridiculous situation.
But four months was a long time to keep a candle burning for a ghost. The Academy slowly moved on. The new transfers started walking the halls with a swagger that made his teeth ache. They all talked about claiming the Ace title, while the Cadet Council was pushing the agenda of new eras.
None of them knew the weight of the shadow they were standing in. He did. He was right there when Samael was fighting, saving the kids he had no obligation to save, practically leading from the front.
And then these newcomers barge in, acting like the history of Apex started the moment they unpacked their high-end suitcases. Like they were someone special.
It made Ivan’s blood boil. Every time he overheard a group of transfer Cadets debating which one of them was the true talent of the year, he felt a sharp, bitter urge to set them straight.
...He didn’t, though.
Because at the end of the day, the one person who disgusted him the most was actually himself.
Back then, on that horrifying night, all he could do was grit his teeth and run away to save his skin. He was weak, and that weakness felt like a lead weight in his stomach every time he looked at his own reflection.
So instead, he worked on himself.
He wasn’t a special case, since the massacre was a reality check for every Cadet who survived it. But Ivan made sure to be among one of those who took it the furthest.
He pushed himself to the brink of his breaking point, relentlessly training like a man possessed. He ascended soon, but didn’t just stop there.
Instead of dueling others to climb the ranks, he started taking on the dangerous missions, the ones with the high failure rates and the low survival odds, just to see if he could finally feel like he deserved the air in his lungs.
Eventually, the day came when he breached the barrier of the Top Twenty-five Cadet rankings.
Eventually, he could look at himself in the mirror without feeling sick to his stomach.
"But is it enough?" He looked down at his hands, sighing softly.
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the golden light of the new day fully claimed the Academy’s horizon.
Ivan turned away from the sunrise, his shadow stretching long and thin behind him. He began the walk toward the residential sector, his body moving on autopilot.
Once he reached Alron Street, he noticed that one of his favorite cafés had weirdly opened this early for some reason.
Ivan paused, his stomach giving a hollow growl. He hadn’t eaten anything since a few protein bars at the extraction site twelve hours ago. A coffee, black and strong enough to jumpstart his lethargic mind, sounded like heaven.
Nodding to himself, the young man pushed the door open and went inside.
...And inside, he witnessed a scene so bizarre that he really thought his sleep-deprived brain was malfunctioning.
The café was quiet, save for the screaming voice of a rich, entitled, angry customer.
"I am telling you, it’s a matter of basic human rights!"
Ivan froze. His hand, still resting on the door handle, tightened. His heart skipped a beat, then slammed against his ribs with the force of a freight train.
Standing at the counter was a tall, lean figure draped in a casual hoodie that looked far too expensive for the early hour. He was leaning over the marble top, gesticulating wildly with a finger pointed at a terrified-looking teenage barista.
"Your app said ’24/7 Delivery’!" the voice barked. It was far too arrogant. "I spent forty-five minutes last night trying to order the Triple-Berry Blast Crepe and a smoothie. Forty-five minutes! But no, your system rejected me. So now, I am here. I am hungry. And I want my sweets before I decide to buy this entire building just to fire your IT department!"
The barista stammered, "B-but lord Samael, the kitchen doesn’t officially open for another ten minutes—"
"How dare you defy me, you filthy commoner—"
"Actually, I-I’m a noble as well—"
"Are you courting death?!"
"...No, sir."
"So the kitchen opens when I say it opens!"
Ivan’s mind experienced a total system failure. He stood there, rooted to the spot, eyes wide and breath hitched.
He looked at the silhouette — the messy golden hair, the posture of a man who owned the air he breathed, the sheer, unadulterated audacity of the complaint.
His vision blurred. "...What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?! Samael!?"
Samael huffed a dramatic sigh without turning around. "If you’re here for the line, find another café. This one is currently under a blockade until I get my sugar fix."
Ivan scrunched his nose. "Wh-What? No, Samael! It’s me! Ivan!"
The figure stiffened, before slowly turning around. When his eyes met Ivan’s, there was a flicker of genuine, uncharacteristic surprise.
"...Ivan?" Samael blinked, his aggressive stance softening into something resembling confusion. "Whoa! What are you doing here? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backward. Wait, is that mud on your sleeve? Gross."
Ivan... couldn’t answer. He stood there frozen like a deer in headlights.
The four months of mourning, the guilt, the training, the missions — it all surged up his throat like a tidal wave.
"You’re... alive," Ivan choked out.
Samael paused, then rolled his eyes with a smile. "Of course I am. Don’t tell me you thought I was dead. Well... I was. But I didn’t like the afterlife. It was way too overhyped. Would not recommend dying—"
Before Samael could finish, Ivan moved.
He didn’t think about social standing. He didn’t think about whether they were even friends. He just lunged forward and threw his arms around the golden-haired in a crushing, desperate bear hug.
It was Samael’s turn to freeze this time. His arms stayed pinned to his sides for a moment. "Uh. Hey? What is— Why are you leaking on my hoodie? This is cashmere, dude."
Ivan didn’t let go. He buried his face in Samael’s shoulder, his frame shaking with a few silent sobs of relief he didn’t want to let out.
Samael stood there, looking like a cat that had been unexpectedly dunked in water. He looked at the barista, who was watching the scene with wide eyes, then back at the back of Ivan’s head.
Slowly, awkwardly, Samael sighed. He raised one hand, giving Ivan two very stiff, very uncomfortable pats on the back.
"There, there," Samael muttered, his voice losing its bite.
Finally, Ivan pulled back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and laughing breathlessly. "I thought... I’m sorry. I don’t know why..."
"It’s okay," Samael adjusted his hoodie, though his ears were a light shade of pink. "Come on, sit down, you idiot," he said, chuckling. "You’re making a scene."
•••
Ten minutes later, the two of them were tucked into a corner booth.
A massive, chocolate-drizzled crepe and two large smoothie cups sat between them, alongside a mountain of strawberry shortcake that Samael was voraciously devouring.
Ivan watched him eat, still feeling like the world was tilted on its axis. He told Samael about the Academy, and the transfers, and how much he’d grown.
Samael listened, nodding occasionally, though he seemed more interested in the quality of the whipped cream. "Top Twenty-five? Damn! Not gonna lie, I’m genuinely impressed. I suppose I’ve rubbed off on you."
"I just... didn’t want to be weak anymore," Ivan said softly.
Samael stopped his fork mid-air.
He looked at Ivan, only now noting the new scars and the hardness in his eyes. A small, sad smile played on Samael’s lips. "Hey, I’m glad you are alive too."
Then he leaned back, his expression shifting into something more calculated so sudden it was a little jarring. "And I’m also glad with your progress. Because this new era people are talking about... is about to have a very rude awakening."
He started tapping his fingers on the table, the playful atmosphere around him suddenly sharpening into something else.
"Actually, Ivan, it’s lucky I ran into you," Samael said, his voice dropping. "I was going to look for someone reliable, but you’ve clearly leveled up enough to handle a bit of... extra-curricular activity."
Ivan straightened his posture, his fatigue forgotten seeing those golden eyes of the boy sitting across from him gleam with a familiar, dangerous spark.
This felt like a déjà vu.
An amused smile bloomed on Ivan’s face. "What do you need?"