Cedric Vaughn had never been afraid of fists. He respected strength only when it stood in front of him, bleeding and broken. That was how the world worked for him. It always had.
And today would be no different. Or so he told himself.
Gary was still on the ground, panting, his sleeve torn, cheek bruised from the last blow Cedric's second had landed. Ingrid was barely upright, bloodied lip trembling with stubborn defiance. They had fought, sure—but against six bodies, sheer numbers would always prevail. And Celestial potential? None of them knew how to wield it yet. Not truly. They were just kids with blood and breath, caught in the posturing of something bigger than themselves.
Cedric reminded himself of that again as his boots crunched over broken branches and disturbed gravel, approaching the mouth of the Hollow.
"Primordial Academy has its own rules, Cedric. And you are blatantly violating them.," Gary had spat earlier, his voice sharp through the pain.
Cedric had only sneered. "The Academy isn't here, lord Amberson."
His five lackeys followed, shifty-eyed. They felt it too. Something... off. The air had grown heavy, not just quiet but dense, like sound itself had been warned to hush.
He lifted a rock, massive, jagged, and turned to throw it into the Hollow—whatever ritual was happening in there, he didn't need to understand it to know it could be disrupted.
But he never got the chance.
He froze.
A feeling colder than fear traced the back of his neck. It was that gaze. He hadn't even seen who it belonged to yet—but it pinned him like a beast's eyes just before the pounce.
Then, Dawn stepped out.
The rock fell from Cedric's hands, clattering to the stones. Even in the shifting light of the Hollow, Dawn was unmistakable. His presence had changed. His robe clung to a frame now infused with something... more. But it wasn't his posture or expression that set Cedric's instincts screaming.
It was his eyes.
Gray, with a flicker of amber. A storm on the verge of breaking.
Dawn didn't say a word.
"Get him!" Cedric barked, his voice breaking the tension like shattering glass.
His lackeys moved. Years of bullying had taught them how to corner, flank, pressure. One went for Dawn's legs. Another aimed at his side. Cedric himself barreled toward him head-on, fists raised like a charging ox.
But Dawn moved differently.
He didn't hesitate. Didn't brace.
He .....flowed.
A twist of his foot and one attacker went spinning into a tree, coughing hard as he collapsed.
An elbow into the jaw, a pivot to evade a sweeping kick—another went down. Dawn ducked under a punch, gripped a wrist, and slammed the attacker flat into the dirt.
Cedric halted.
This wasn't normal.
Dawn wasn't fast. He was precise. Surgical.
He fought like he'd already seen them move—like he'd lived this fight a dozen times in his head. And not just as a thought exercise. He moved like someone who had bled before. Not in a spar. In something far crueler. Far more real.
Behind a cluster of withered pines, Instructor Valeris watched, unseen. His eyes narrowed.
That movement. That control.
Not the product of Academy drills.
Not something taught.
It was something forged in war.
And in war, there was no honor in waiting your turn. There was only survival.
Dawn sidestepped a wild lunge, let his opponent overextend, and brought a knee into his ribs. The boy crumpled. Another came in from behind—Dawn turned, palm striking the boy's chest with enough force to send him tumbling back.
In seconds, Cedric's group was strewn across the clearing.
Groaning. Moaning. Unconscious.
And Cedric? He stood frozen.
He'd been in fights. Dozens. But never like this. Never where the opponent didn't just fight back—but made him feel like prey.
The air trembled.
Dawn approached. He didn't even look angry.
That was worse.
"You came here to interrupt what you couldn't understand," Dawn said quietly. "You thought this was just another game."
Cedric's mouth was dry.
Just as Dawn was stepping past him, Cedric mustered enough courage to attack, or wanted to. But before he could understand, a solid punch in the gut had rendered him breathless, collapsing on his knees.
Dawn proceeded to ignore him, moving toward Gary and Ingrid.
Gary groaned, pushing himself up. "I tried to stop them. I—"
Dawn knelt beside him. Checked his pulse. Then helped him sit up. Ingrid leaned weakly against a tree, pain flashing in her eyes but still conscious.
"You did enough," Dawn murmured.
Gary looked up at him, seeing the change fully now. It wasn't just the strength. It was the stillness. A terrifying, absolute calm.
Cedric staggered back to his feet. None of his group moved. Not even to help him. They were trembling in agony themselves. Dawn hit where it hurt most.
And then, Dawn finally turned to him.
"If you follow us again, I won't stop at restraint."
He didn't shout it. Didn't threaten it.
He just said it.
And that made Cedric believe it all the more.
Valeris, still hidden in shadow, let out a slow breath.
"So you've already been to war, haven't you?" he murmured to himself. "Or maybe… you were made for it. We have seriously underestimated the situation at hand."
The Hollow shimmered behind Dawn, still glowing faintly with the residue of his transformation.
And from this day onward, the name 'Dawn' would never again be spoken without a tremor of caution in the hearts of those who had once laughed. Because he hadn't just beaten them.
He had shown them a glimpse of something far worse.
Something....
Murderous
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End of chapter 40