I am the Only Son of Nyx

Kai couldn’t believe his enemies went so low in order to trap him.

Attacking an innocent Angel and a mere servant to get to him was incredibly low.

And yet, it worked wonderfully.

Chester must be aware that he and Abigail already made up for what happened in the Blood Rite, and predicted that she would inform Kai about the first trap when, in reality, it was a fake trap, a diversion for the real trap.

Being aware of the first trap gave Kai and the others a false sense of security.

A sense of security that lowered their guards, allowing the real trap to most likely succeed.

Now, Kai was framed for a crime that he didn’t commit.

A crime for attempting to kill a fellow student and his own slave in a safe space.

Recalling that the dormitory was eerily empty, there shouldn’t be any witnesses that could help him. Chester and his Ichor Legion alone wouldn’t be able to organize the students to leave the dormitory, so he must’ve had help.

Ragnar wouldn’t be able to help him in this matter, as this needs manpower.

So, there must be another one.

And the only person that came to mind was none other than Barbara.

Both the Ichor Legion and the Auric Cabal combined could pressure the students to leave.

It was a flawless trap, and unfortunately, he was the victim of it.

Clang—!

Kai felt the stone first. It was cold. So cold it didn’t only touch his skin but seeped through it, past flesh and muscle, and into the marrow of his bones. The ground had been worn smooth by time or by the horror that it had witnessed throughout centuries.

It offered no comfort, only the unyielding indifference of ancient rock.

Beneath the cold, something else hummed.

A vibration so faint Kai almost thought he was hallucinating, but he was not. Mana. The floor had been infused, or rather—reinforced with it. Layers of energy pressed deep into the stone over years or decades or even centuries, making it harder than normal.

Even if he tried to break the ground, he would not be able to.

Instead, the ground would break him first.

Kai tasted freedom for a second, but then the chains came. Iron manacles clamped around his wrists, rough with rust and old suffering, and they were pulled so tight that the metal bit into his skin with every shallow breath.

His arms were wrenched downward, locked to the stone.

It was done at an angle that forced his spine to bow.

Kai could no longer stand. Could no longer straighten his back. He could not do anything but kneel in the dark and feel the slow creep of his own blood tracing paths down his hands, and then fingers.

As if that was not enough, the light was also a cruelty.

It came from above—a ring of barred, rectangular windows set high into the curved walls that encircled the chamber. Moonlight, a celestial pale grace that squeezed through the iron grates in thin, silver slats.

Each one stripped the floor in bands of cold white and absolute black.

And yet, none of it touched him.

Kai knelt in the shadow between the light.

It illuminated nothing of comfort, only reminded him how far the windows were, how thick the bars were, and how unreachable the world beyond. The air tasted of rust and damp. It clung to his tongue, thick and metallic, and beneath it lurked a fainter taste—copper.

Blood. Not his. At least not yet.

These scents had been here long before him, infused into the stone.

A permanent reminder that this chamber had known only pain before his arrival and would know it long after he was gone. Is this it? Is this how I will end? The academy now has a reason to drop me with the execution punishment, and they would certainly take that chance.

Kai looked around and saw almost nothing.

Even though he had perfect sight in darkness, this time, the darkness pressed against his eyes.

It filled the space between the pale slats of moonlight with complete blackness.

Like he was drowning to the ocean floor where light couldn’t reach.

Perhaps this was a sign that the Goddess was disappointed in him for falling into a trap—and being captured like this. Though his eyes betrayed him, his ears did not. The silence within this dark chamber wasn’t empty; it was full.

Full of the rhythmic hum of the mana in the stone.

Full of his own uneven breathing that echoed against the walls he could barely see.

I was so close... Once I win the tournament and become the Red Prince, I would’ve won.

Kai’s head hung low—and that was when his eyes caught them. Drains. Carved into the stone, identical to the ones he had seen across that cursed underground place where he had endured the Culling of Nonentity.

He was quite sure this place wasn’t that chamber.

But this also hinted that he was really going to die. He was really going to be executed.

Channels in the floor, worn smooth by use, sloped gently toward a dark hole in the center of the chamber. Right underneath him. The stone around them was stained darker than the rest. The drains were there for a reason, and he would find out about it soon.

And as his mind wandered about what was going on, his body involuntarily seized up.

Something invisible had gripped him tightly.

Kai strained to move his arms, to pull against the chains pinning him down on his knees, move his head, anything, but his body refused to obey. It was as though the connection between his mind and flesh had been severed, leaving his limbs with a will of their own.

Indifferent to his commands.

And then, footsteps.

Kai looked ahead—his eyes were the only part of him that still listened to his mind.

Someone emerged from the shadows ahead.

A figure emerged from the shadow—student uniform, eyes alight with a smoky silver gleam.

His chuckle echoed softly through the dark chamber as he stepped forward, stopping only ten paces away from Kai. Slowly, he tilted his head—peering down with something between pity and amusement.

"A dark, depressing chamber. It seems that’s where we were always fated to meet."

"High Angel Hensen..."

"Oh, you remember me? I’m flattered. We meet again, little cute killer."

Kai could instantly recognize this student from his inhuman eyes alone. A pair of eyeballs that looked at anyone around him as animals that he could toy with or kill. And coupled with his current situation, it was almost expected for High Angel Hensen to be here.

After all, he was the senior who oversaw the Culling of Nonentity.

A psychopath.

High Angel Hensen removed his blazer—and gloves with slow, deliberate care, draping them over a wooden rack to the side. He only left his breathing mask on. It was a clear white horned mask with draconic scales.

Though he had to turn and step away to reach the rack, his sharp gaze never once left Kai.

Like he was keeping his eyes on his prey.

"For someone who loved to kill people, you should learn more from me." High Angel Hensen walked a few steps closer and pushed out his chest with pride. "You can either be in a position where killing others is your duty, be so strong that punishments don’t work on you, or if you like the thrill... simply don’t get caught."

"I didn’t do it," Kai replied with restrained anger. "I didn’t harm Abigail and Talitha."

"Oh, come on... The entire academy believed you did, so might as well own it."

"Not everyone will believe it. Not everyone has a broken and shallow mind like you."

"Huh..." High Angel Hensen stepped even closer, then bent low, studying Kai’s bare face as though it were a mask—he might peel away. "Does this... act always work? Playing the hero-like, proper and upright persona, does it actually fool people?"

"What do you mean?"

"I’m asking whether acting like a naïve hero like this works in lowering your prey’s guard."

"Fuck you. I loathe everything about you."

"Your act is really convincing," High Angel Hensen nodded his head repeatedly—impressed by how Kai could really personify his good character act when he is also a killer deep down. "Maybe I can learn a thing or two from you.

"But unfortunately for you," He straightened again. "I’m also a serial killer. I can see through your act."

Just then, High Angel Hensen looked over his shoulder.

He felt another presence slip into the chamber.

And with it, the silent signal that playtime had come to an end.

Footsteps echoed through the chamber once more.

They were heavier than High Angel Hensen’s had been, yet there was no clumsiness or hurriedness about them. Their rhythm remained dignified, as though whoever approached had spent a year—or more perfecting the simple art of walking.

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Before the figure emerged, Kai had thought that it was Chester, but it wasn’t him.

It was another senior. He was tall and slender, with a narrow face. His uniform sat flawlessly upon him. Even in the cold gloom of the chamber, he carried himself with practiced elegance like someone who considered everyone around him beneath notice.

Ragnar.

Unlike High Angel Hensen, who stopped to savour the sight of Kai chained, Ragnar did not.

He offered no cruel smile or mocking remark.

He merely continued forward with the same measured steps, stopped directly before Kai, and remained silent for a moment. Standing towering before Kai, casting a long shadow across the Lesser Angel’s form.

Bam—!

Then, his fist struck.

The blow cracked against Kai’s jaw with brutal force. His head snapped sideways, and a tooth flew from his mouth, skittering across the stone floor. The metallic taste of blood flooded his tongue.

Before he could recover, a second punch smashed into the opposite side of his face.

Then came another one.

And then another.

Ragnar’s carefully cultivated composure shattered.

His fists rose and fell without mercy, pounding into Kai’s cheeks, mouth—and jaw. Each blow carried the fury he had concealed beneath that polished exterior. He grunted with every strike, wrenching the rage from somewhere deep within himself.

As though each impact might smother the fire consuming him.

Kai’s chains rattled violently.

Blood spattered the floor and stained Ragnar’s pristine sleeves, but still, he did not stop.

Only when his knuckles had split open did the assault finally end.

Kai sagged against his restraints, his face swollen and bloodied, barely recognizable beneath the ruin Ragnar had made of it.

Ignoring the sight, Ragnar straightened, rolled his shoulders, and adjusted his uniform with deliberate care. Then, he cleared his throat, restored the dignified mask, turned around, and went toward High Angel Hensen.

High Angel Hensen was already waiting, holding out a small towel.

Ragnar accepted it without a word and calmly wiped Kai’s blood from his knuckles.

"You’ve been a thorn in my side, Lesser Angel."