The tiny red dot reflected in Orced's pupils for the briefest second as he stared out the window, lost in thought. His sharp gaze cut through the night sky like a blade, locking onto that distant flicker without him even realizing it. The drone's camera caught the moment perfectly—his eyes narrowing just slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that wasn't quite a smile. It was gone in an instant, but it was there.
In the Hedonas command room, Jellal froze mid-sip of his coffee. "Did… did he just look right at the camera?"
Meha leaned closer to the screen, brows furrowed. "No way. That's impossible. The drone's at 4,000 meters altitude, stealth coating, no lights visible from below. He's just staring into the dark."
Jellal zoomed in on the frozen frame. Orced's face filled the monitor—white hair catching the moonlight, eyes clear and piercing. "Zoom more. Look at his pupils. They're focused. Like he saw something."
Darkas, who had been silent, finally spoke. "Coincidence. Or good instincts. Either way, keep the feed running. If he's that aware, we need to know why."
Meha exhaled slowly. "Guy's got eyes like a hawk. Let's hope it's just a coincidence."
Back on Sky Boys Island, Orced blinked and shook his head, turning away from the window. The moment passed. He hadn't consciously seen anything—just a feeling, like someone was watching. He shrugged it off and headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
The lights were low, only the string lights Ema had hung earlier glowing softly. Most of the group had already crashed in their rooms—Nix snoring loud enough to rattle the walls, Macker muttering in his sleep about ramen, Aftor probably sharpening knives in the dark like the weirdo he was. But Kruna was still up, leaning against the counter with a half-empty energy drink in his hand.
Orced paused in the doorway. "Thought you'd be the first one out. You usually crash early when we train this hard."
Kruna shrugged, taking a slow sip. "Can't sleep. Brain's still running. That curse was too easy. Makes me wonder what's next."
Orced grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the filtered jug. "Same. Felt like a warm-up. We need something bigger tomorrow."Kruna nodded toward the map Ema had left on the table. "That B-class on the coast. If it's absorbing smaller ones, it could hit A-class by next week. We should hit it before it grows."
Orced leaned against the counter opposite him, sipping his water. "Agreed. Dawn scout, afternoon strike. We'll drop in from above—use the island's height. Nix softens it up, Macker tanks, you and Aftor flank, Ema pins it with arrows, Sano finishes with the shield bash. I'll go for the core."
Kruna gave a small smirk. "You always go for the core. Showoff."
"It's efficient," Orced said with a grin. "Why waste time chipping away when you can end it in one hit?"
Kruna stared at his can for a moment. "You ever think about the classes? S, A, B, C… how messed up it is that we're already S-class?"
Orced raised an eyebrow. "We're not 'already' S-class. We're S-class because we have to be. The system doesn't care about age or experience. It measures raw power output, curse resistance, combat speed, adaptability. We cleared that bar months ago."
Kruna snorted. "Yeah, but it's weird. S-class curses are rare and very strong, only really intelligent curse class."
Orced chuckled. "Attitude problems are our secret weapon."
Kruna took another sip. "Seriously though. S-class means we're on the same level as things that wipe out cities. And we're just… us. Laughing, eating ramen, arguing about jackets. It doesn't feel real sometimes."
Orced set his glass down. "That's why we work. The other S-class curses didn't show them yet but I'm pretty sure they are there!. Alone but powerful and dangerous. They probably don't have friends to back them up. We do. That's our edge. S-class power plus actual teamwork. No curse can match that.
"Kruna looked at him for a long moment. "You sure about that, huh?"
Orced shrugged. "Yeah I'm like 99% sure. Look at today. Seven of us, done in minutes. If I'd been alone, maybe I'd have taken longer. Maybe I'd have gotten scratched. With you guys? Clean kill. That's not just power. That's synergy."
Kruna rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile. "You sound like a motivational poster."
"Motivational posters work," Orced shot back. "Especially when they're true."
Kruna finished his drink and crushed the can. "Fine. Synergy. Whatever. Just don't start giving us friendship speeches every morning. I'll puke."
Orced laughed quietly. "Deal. Only on special occasions. Like when we hit our first A-class."
Kruna pushed off the counter. "Speaking of which… tomorrow's plan. You sure we don't need more recon? That B-class is growing. If it hits A-class before we get there—"
"We'll handle it," Orced said, voice steady. "We're S-class. We adapt. That's what separates us from the mindless ones. They just destroy. We think. We plan. We win."
Kruna nodded slowly. "Yeah. You're right." He yawned, stretching. "Alright, I'm crashing. Don't stay up too late staring at the stars, boss. You need sleep too."
Orced waved him off. "Go. I'll be there in a minute."
Kruna headed toward the hallway, pausing at the door. "Orced."
"Yeah?"
Kruna looked back, expression serious for once. "Thanks. For believing in this. In us."
Orced's smile softened. "Always. Now get some sleep. We've got a curse to kill tomorrow."
Kruna disappeared down the hall.
Orced stood alone in the kitchen for a moment, the string lights casting soft shadows across his face. He walked back to the window, staring out into the night. The drone was still there—tiny red light blinking in the distance.
This time he saw it clearly.
His eyes narrowed again, sharper than before. He tilted his head slightly, like he was studying a puzzle. For a heartbeat, the red reflection in his pupils looked almost amused.
Then he turned away, flicked off the kitchen light, and headed to his room.
The drone kept watching
What the drone recorded were Orced's sharp gazes.