Shattered Blade

Hwak lay motionless on the training field, his consciousness wavering between darkness and painful clarity. The rich students' laughter had faded with their departure, leaving him alone with his injuries and hollow victory of "acceptance." The academy grounds stretched silent around him, indifferent to his suffering.

Then, a shadow fell across his face.

"Hey, Mister. Are you okay?"

The voice penetrated his haze—melodic, concerned, yet somehow amused. Hwak struggled to focus on the figure standing over him. A girl with extraordinary features knelt beside him: eyes like polished rubies, hair a silvery blue that caught the light in impossible ways.

No strength remained in his limbs. When he tried to respond, only a weak groan escaped his lips. With surprising gentleness, the girl slipped one arm beneath his shoulders, positioning his arm around her neck. Despite her slender frame, she lifted him with minimal effort.

"Let's get you to the med-room," she said. "Those idiots don't know when to stop."

The academy's medical facilities, Hwak vaguely understood, contained treatment options far beyond anything available in the settlements. There were serums and regenerative chambers—technologies reserved for the elite who could afford to heal quickly from even catastrophic injuries.

The girl guided him through white corridors, eventually helping him into a cylindrical chamber. Glass sealed around him as she activated a control panel. Mist filled the space, cool against his skin, carrying a faint scent of something almost like rain.

"Two hours," she informed him through the intercom. "Try to relax."

Darkness claimed him then, not unconsciousness but something deeper—a healing sleep induced by whatever compounds permeated the mist.

When Hwak's eyes opened, exactly two hours had passed according to the digital display. His body felt renewed, pain vanished as though it had never existed. Even the chronic aches he'd carried from years of settlement life—the slight hunch in his shoulders, the old strain in his lower back—had disappeared.

He emerged from the chamber, mind still caught in the memory of the girl's face. Something about her features haunted him, as if she belonged to another realm entirely—an apparition or deity rather than a student.

"Oh, Mister. Looks like your body's fixed, but your mind still needs work if you're daydreaming like that."

The voice startled him. She stood leaning against the doorframe, those ruby eyes observing him with analytical precision. In proper lighting, her features were even more striking: skin pale as winter frost, hair a silver cascade with subtle green highlights that shifted with each movement.

She snapped her fingers, and Hwak jolted from his trance.

"I—I was just..." he stammered.

"No need for thanks or gratitude," she replied with mock formality, executing an exaggerated bow. "My, aren't you the ungrateful one? Forgetting the person who saved you. Perhaps I should have left you sprawled in the dirt."

Hwak's cheeks burned. "Thanks! I was just about to say—"

"Today's your first day, right? Didn't see you in class." Her interruption carried a playful accusation.

The realization hit Hwak like another ball to his stomach. "My martial arts class! I missed it!" Panic surged through him. "What will I tell my father? My first day, and I've already failed at the one thing I came here to do—to learn, to study."

The girl—still nameless to him—waved dismissively. "I went by there. I can tell you what you missed. The teacher won't even know."

"No," Hwak said firmly, surprising himself with his conviction. "I don't lie."

Something in his tone made her study him more carefully. "It's not really lying," she countered. "The point is to learn fighting skills, right? Whether you learn from a teacher or from me, the outcome is the same."

She straightened from her casual stance. "Let's see what your martial arts skills are like. Oh—I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Leena."

"Hwak," he replied, sudden shyness stealing over him.

"Hwak? That's actually pretty badass." Leena grinned. "Come on, the combat room's this way."

The training facility was empty at this hour. They faced each other on the padded floor, assuming fighting stances. Hwak tried to recall the proper form he'd seen in videos, but before he could settle into position, Leena moved.

Her attack came with such blinding speed that Hwak didn't even register the movement—just the impact as he found himself sprawled on the floor once again.

Leena's laughter rang through the room. "Let's make this interesting," she proposed. "A bet. If you can land even one attack on me, I'll go on a date with you tomorrow night."

Something shifted in Hwak's consciousness. The proposition triggered a transformation that manifested physically—his slouched posture straightened, the residual oil in his hair seemed to evaporate, and his too-long bangs now fell artfully over eyes that had gained a predatory focus.

His entire demeanor changed, as though a different person now inhabited his body. Where the old Hwak had been awkward and uncertain, this version exuded confidence. His voice deepened as he met Leena's challenge with a smooth, "Hey cutie, if I land even one hit, you're mine for the evening. The bet is on."

Leena took an involuntary step back, momentarily disoriented by the dramatic shift in his personality. Recovering quickly, she launched another attack.

This time, Hwak moved with fluid grace, sidestepping her strike with minimal motion. As she passed, he caught her wrist, redirecting her momentum in a perfect circular movement that resembled a dance step more than a combat technique. Each of her subsequent attacks met similar treatment—Hwak never attacking, merely redirecting, flowing around her aggression like water around stone.

For ten minutes, this strange combat-dance continued. Leena grew increasingly frustrated while Hwak maintained his calm, almost playful demeanor. He anticipated her movements with uncanny precision, transforming her martial prowess into an elegant, futile performance.

Finally, he caught both her wrists in a single fluid motion and drew her close enough that she could feel his breath. "See you tomorrow night, then," he murmured.

And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the confident persona vanished. Hwak's posture softened, his expression returning to its natural gentleness. He bowed respectfully, thanked her with genuine gratitude, and walked away—leaving Leena standing motionless in the training room.

"Wait," she called after him. "Where are we meeting?"

But Hwak had already disappeared through the doorway, seemingly unaware of his victory or its implications.

Leena remained in the empty combat room, confusion written across her features. "What just happened?" she muttered to herself. "How did I end up agreeing to date that... that nobody?"

She sighed, running fingers through her silver-blue hair. "Whatever. I'll play with him tomorrow."

What she didn't articulate, even to herself, was the question that truly troubled her: Had she glimpsed something in Hwak that the initial examination had missed? Something that might explain why Principal Vora had selected him despite his apparently average capabilities?

As Hwak made his way back to his assigned dormitory, he had no memory of his transformation or the date he had secured. He recalled only that Leena had been kind enough to help him practice some basic defensive movements—and that tomorrow would bring another chance to prove himself worthy of Neonspire Academy.

In the surveillance center deep beneath the Principal's office, a new notation appeared in Hwak's file