The academy slept.
Snow covered the stone pathways, the gardens, and the tall iron gates surrounding the campus. The guards patrolled lazily, unaware that tonight something far darker had already entered the grounds.
Inside the dormitory building, Artyom Vasiliev stood near his window.
The cold air slipped through the slightly open glass.
His silver eyes moved slowly across the courtyard below.
Still.
Too still.
Artyom had spent years surviving in places far more dangerous than a school. His instincts had been trained by fear, hunger, and betrayal.
And right now…
Every instinct inside him was screaming.
Someone was here.
He slowly closed the window and turned off the lights in his room.
Darkness filled the space.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
Click.
The door lock turned.
Artyom's body froze.
He hadn't opened the door.
Three shadows slipped silently into the room.
Professional.
Dressed in black tactical gear.
One of them whispered.
"Target confirmed."
Another replied quietly.
"Kill quickly. No noise."
Artyom stood in the darkness, leaning casually against the wall.
"Breaking into a student dorm…"
His calm voice suddenly filled the room.
"…that's pretty bold."
The assassins froze.
One of them turned his flashlight on.
The beam of light hit Artyom's face.
Cold silver eyes stared back.
The assassin immediately pulled out a knife.
"Kill him."
The first man lunged forward.
The attack was fast.
Deadly.
But Artyom moved faster.
His hand grabbed the assassin's wrist mid-strike.
CRACK.
The bone snapped instantly.
The man screamed.
Before the other two could react, Artyom twisted the knife out of his hand and slammed the assassin into the wall.
Hard.
The second assassin pulled out a gun.
But Artyom had already moved.
The knife flashed across the room.
THUD.
The blade buried itself in the attacker's shoulder.
The gun fired.
BANG.
The bullet grazed Artyom's arm, ripping through his sleeve.
Blood appeared.
But Artyom didn't even flinch.
His movements suddenly changed.
Faster.
Sharper.
Deadlier.
The third assassin whispered in shock.
"Morozov style…"
Artyom's eyes darkened.
He stepped forward slowly.
"You shouldn't have said that."
Within ten seconds—
The fight was over.
Two assassins unconscious.
One barely breathing on the floor.
Artyom stood in the center of the destroyed room, breathing steadily.
Blood dripped slowly from his arm.
He walked toward the last assassin and grabbed his collar.
"Who sent you?"
The man laughed weakly.
"You're already dead…"
Before Artyom could question him further—
The assassin suddenly bit down on something hidden in his mouth.
Foam appeared instantly.
Poison.
His body went still.
Artyom cursed quietly.
Professional assassins always carried suicide poison.
No answers.
Only silence.
Artyom stood there for a moment.
Then he suddenly sensed something.
Someone outside.
Watching.
He walked to the broken window and looked down.
Standing in the courtyard below—
Adrian Volkov.
Their eyes met.
For a few seconds neither of them moved.
Adrian had seen everything.
The speed.
The fighting style.
The ruthlessness.
He now knew one thing for certain.
This was no ordinary omega.
And Artyom realized something too.
The heir of the Volkov mafia family had just witnessed the secret he had spent years hiding.
The snow continued to fall between them.
Slow.
Silent.
Dangerous.
Finally Adrian spoke quietly.
"Morozov."
Artyom didn't answer.
Adrian's eyes darkened slightly.
"So it's true."
A faint smirk appeared on Artyom's lips.
"And what if it is?"
For the first time since they met—
Adrian smiled.
Not friendly.
Not warm.
But intrigued.
"Then," Adrian said calmly,
"this academy just became a lot more dangerous."