The city was loud, but it never reached him.
Rudra walked through the streets like a ghost stitched into the fabric of normal life. Morning light washed the cracked buildings in dusty gold, and the muffled sounds of a thousand footsteps, hawker calls, and bicycle bells echoed through the crowded lanes.
The scent of fried dough and diesel smoke tangled in the air as students in uniforms moved like insects in a hive. Among them, Rudra walked — same uniform, same expressionless face, same worn black shoes slapping against the sun-scorched sidewalk.
No one stopped to look at him.
No one ever did.
And that was exactly how he wanted it.
To the world, he was just Rudra. A quiet boy. A little too smart, a little too strange, but never quite enough to raise suspicion. He had average grades, average looks, and average friends who barely remembered what he said after five minutes. Even teachers often forgot to call his name during roll call.
But behind the calm eyes and calculated silence, something old had been watching the world through his skin.
Something patient.
Something… waiting.
He could feel it every time he stared too long at the clouds and saw them twitch.
---
The school bell rang as he walked through the side gate, past rusting bicycle racks and paint-chipped boundary walls. Rudra's school had once been prestigious — back when kings still ruled this land and sorcerers lived in secret. Now it was a faded shell of itself, built like a fortress but hollowed out by time and routine.
A guard who never smiled nodded lazily as Rudra passed.
Inside, the hallways buzzed with routine: laughter, footsteps, slamming lockers, gossip whispered behind textbooks. Rudra ignored it all. His desk was in the last row, by the window. Always by the window. He liked the way the outside world framed itself there — too far to touch, too real to ignore.
He dropped his bag beside the chair and sat, arms folded over the desk, chin resting on his hand. Outside, a flock of birds scattered like shattered ink across the blue sky.
His class hadn't started yet.
But the moment he entered the room, something shifted.
It was subtle — a tension that only someone like Rudra would feel. Like the universe had taken a breath and was holding it.
He scanned the room.
Nothing new.
Same students.
Same broken fan.
Same blackboard, faintly stained with last week's chalk dust.
But something was… coming.
He could feel it in his bones.
---
The teacher arrived late, as usual — middle-aged, paunchy, with tired eyes and a fading sense of authority. He cleared his throat at the front of the class.
"We have a new student joining us today."
Half the room perked up. The other half continued pretending to care.
"She transferred in this morning. Please welcome Avni."
Rudra blinked slowly.
And then she walked in.
Her presence hit the room like a drop of ink in water — subtle, but impossible to ignore. She wasn't just pretty. She was… sculpted. Like someone had designed her to make others uncomfortable in the most beautiful way possible.
Her eyes were dark and deep-set, sharp like obsidian glass.
Her uniform was perfectly fitted, the blazer clinging just right to the curve of her waist, her skirt modest but tailored to highlight long, precise legs. Her shoes were spotless. Her braid swung as she moved, thick and silky, brushing the small of her back.
Rudra watched her walk.
The boys on the left side shifted.
The girls exchanged glances.
Even the teacher stammered when she smiled.
She scanned the classroom once — deliberately — as if looking for someone specific.
And then… her eyes landed on Rudra.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't look away.
Something ancient stirred in that moment, but not with sound or light.
With recognition.
Like something inside her already knew something inside him.
The teacher gestured to the empty seat next to him — the one that had remained unclaimed for weeks.
Avni walked toward it like it belonged to her.
And sat down.
---
For the next two periods, Rudra didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He didn't write.
But his eyes kept drifting toward her hands.
They were too still.
She didn't take notes.
Didn't fidget.
Didn't even glance at the board.
She just sat, perfectly still, breathing in rhythm with something beyond the classroom.
By the third period, he could feel it clearly.
Power.
Coiled like a serpent around her bones.
Waiting to strike.
It wasn't awakened energy — not the kind his father possessed. Not the kind ordinary combatants used in the world beyond. This was something older, something before categories.
She was a key.
To a lock he hadn't even known he was carrying.
And whatever she was here to do…
It had already begun.
---
During break, she turned to him.
They hadn't exchanged a single word yet.
But she leaned close, close enough that her breath touched his skin.
"You can feel it now, can't you?" she said, voice low, rich like velvet soaked in blood.
He said nothing.
"You've been walking like a corpse in a cage," she went on. "But you were always meant to be a sovereign. The core inside you… It's calling."
"What core?" Rudra asked, voice empty.
She smiled — and it wasn't kind.
"The Zix Core," she whispered. "Sealed before your birth. Buried inside your bloodline."
He stared at her.
She opened her palm.
Inside it was a black shard, no larger than a coin — etched with symbols that shimmered in a language that hurt to look at.
"Take it," she said.
Before he could refuse — she closed his fingers around it.
The heat was instant.
It sliced into his palm and sank into his skin like it had been waiting for this moment forever.
The pain made his vision flash white.
> [Zix Core Activation Initiated…]
[Designation: Rudra]
[Classification: Summoner-Prime | ACE CLASS]
[Avatar Realms: Locked 0/12]
[Summoning Rights: Pending Blood Baptism]
He gasped and jerked back.
But Avni was already gone.
Like she had never been there at all.
Only the warmth in his palm remained.
And something deep in his soul…
Was waking up.