There was a low, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps as the mysterious figure closed the distance between himself and the now unconscious and fallen Trux.
The figure, unmistakably and undoubtedly Athar, was wearing an expression of almost evil delight plastered on his face. He was smiling. Grinning.
In the dim light, Athar's eyes gleamed coldly. A dark glint was flickering in their depths as his gaze remained fixed on the sprawled and helpless body before him.
His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. He had put every ounce of his strength in his strike. Athar had not been willing to take any chances by making a half hearted attempt. He had put his full weight into the blow. If Trux had retained even a sliver of resistance, the consequences could have been disastrous.
"Give punishment to students who miss their quota submission?" Athar muttered darkly under his breath, pressing the end of the rod onto Trux's face, more specifically, onto his lips.
These were Trux's own words, the ones he had used to threaten Athar. And now, Athar was repaying that debt and with interest.
A cruel smirk spread across Athar's face as he raised the rod once more. With a swift and brutal motion, he brought it down onto Trux's jaw. A dull and sickening crunch echoed through the stairwell. It was the sound of the jawbone splintering and teeth shattering.
Trux's mouth was forced open by the impact, and blood mixed with fragments of shattered teeth poured out of the mouth. His face was now a mangled mess drenched in its own blood.
Athar had not used his full strength this time. He had held back. The temptation to crush Trux entirely had been strong. Two heavy blows from the rod could very well have snapped the life out of him, but that was not Athar's goal. At least, not yet.
He shot a final, lingering glare at Trux's bloodied and unconscious body. Athar's eyes were cold and emotionless.
He believed he had accomplished what he wanted. The message had been delivered, and he was satisfied with the retribution he had brought to the person who had dared to threaten him. Without a word, Athar let the rod fall onto the floor beside Trux's ruined face. The metallic clang echoed briefly which was swallowed soon after by the eerie silence.
Athar descended the stairs quickly, his footsteps fading into darkness, and within moments, he had vanished from the scene without a trace.
The silence that followed was heavier, almost oppressive, as if the shadows themselves were holding their breath. Then, without warning, the still air rippled.
A subtle disturbance shimmered in the darkness, and at the exact spot where Athar had stood moments ago, another figure appeared out of nowhere.
The figure was that of a woman. She was draped in a long, flowing shawl that was concealing nearly her entire form. Only her eyes were visible. They were glinting faintly in the darkness beneath the folds of the shawl. And they were sharp, cold, and calculating.
Her gaze remained fixed in the direction Athar had disappeared. She was silent and was making no movement.
She did not spare so much as a glance at the bleeding Trux at her feet.
"To think that behind your cowardice and fake nervousness there lies such viciousness," her cold voice cut through the stillness of the staircase. "Athar, you are becoming quite the fascinating individual."
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it was laced with a quiet authority. A faint glint of amusement flickered in her eyes, quickly swallowed by a shade of intrigue.
"Let us see," she mumbled. "How will you handle the next obstacles in your path?"
Her gaze finally flickered to Trux. It was no more than a fleeting glance, as if the bloodied boy was not even worth a second look. She neither thought of helping him nor of calling for aid.
With a faint, almost imperceptible ripple in the air, she vanished once more, swallowed by the darkness and leaving behind the heavy silence of the night.
Athar, meanwhile, had no idea that a certain individual had taken an interest in him and that he was being watched. The strength of the woman was far too great for Athar to pick up her presence.
As Athar made his way back toward his dormitory, he tried his best to maintain a neutral expression on his face. He was trying to keep his steps steady and his gaze unshaken. But inside him, an anxious storm was raging.
His heart was pounding against his ribcage with wild and erratic beats. His breath came in ragged bursts. The adrenaline of the moment was still coursing through his veins and it was making his hands tremble.
He had acted courageously, boldly, and brashly. He had taken a step that would have terrified the Athar of just a few weeks ago.
The raw rush of power, the surge of control over his own situation, the moment he had landed those two hits on Trux. All of it had been intoxicating. Yet now, as things settled, a creeping dread began to seep into his bones.
One mistake. A single misstep. If Trux had dodged that strike, or if he had managed to fight back, things could have spiralled out of control in an instant.
A scuffle breaking out in the stairwell would have drawn attention and raised questions. And if Athar's identity had been exposed in the heat of the moment, what would have happened? His stomach churned at the thought.
But the deed was done. Trux had been dealt with. As Athar walked, he forced himself to take slow and deep breaths. He was steadying the frantic drumbeat inside his chest.
He had never been a coward. At least, not in his heart. But the truth was, he had never been given the chance to fight back.
The strength had simply not been there before. For years, he had been forced to endure and had swallowed his anger. He had bowed his head under the weight of those stronger than him.
But not anymore. Now that he had power, real power, he would not bow his head.
He had finally snapped. He had severed the first hand that dared reach for his throat.
And this would not be the last. Every hand that tried to grip his neck, every force that tried to suppress him, he would slice it off. One by one, until there was no one left to stand in his way.
Athar's eyes darkened as he reached his dormitory door. His shoulders straightened. His posture once again began sharp and forceful. This was only the beginning.
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