Supreme Mystic: Obsessed By The Strongest Alpha

The freezing metal floor stung Kieran's bare soles, which was actually quite refreshing. The sharp chill did wonders to clear his head, washing away the lingering, pathetic emotional residue of the body's previous owner.

"Kieran! Please, wait!"

A trembling, perfectly pitched sob echoed down the vaulted hallway. Kieran paused and sighed inwardly. Ah. Act Two of the soap opera.

He turned slowly, watching with detached, icy amusement as Cristofer ran toward him. The boy was a picture of tragic beauty—cheeks perfectly flushed, silver-blonde hair slightly tousled, and wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Gage hurried right behind him, instantly positioning his broad, muscular frame like a rabid guard dog between the "fragile" Cristofer and Kieran.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gage barked, his handsome face still mottled red with lingering humiliation from the infirmary. "Haven't you done enough?"

Cristofer reached out, tugging gently on Gage's sleeve to hold him back. He looked up at Kieran with a devastatingly innocent, pleading gaze.

"Gage, don't be mean to him," Cristofer whispered. His soft, melodic voice was pitched perfectly to carry into the dorm rooms lining the hall. He took a hesitant step forward, looking like a kicked puppy. "Kieran, I know you're devastated about the annulment with the Guerra family. That's why I really don't blame you for pushing me down those stairs. I forgive you. Just... please stop lashing out, okay?"

The performance worked flawlessly. Doors clicked open all along the corridor. Cadets stuck their heads out, their expressions twisting into open disdain as they glared at Kieran.

"Look at how incredibly kind Cristofer is," a senior cadet muttered loudly from a nearby doorway. "He gets shoved down a flight of stairs by that psycho, and he's still making excuses for him."

Kieran didn't feel angry. He actually felt a mild urge to applaud.

He took a single, deliberate step forward. The sudden, effortless shift in his posture made Cristofer instinctively stumble back, bumping hard against Gage's protective arm.

"You forgive me? That's beautiful, Cris. Truly touching," Kieran smiled, a bright, entirely relaxed expression that somehow made the temperature in the hallway drop ten degrees.

Before anyone could blink, Kieran's hand flashed out. His index finger lightly flicked the fabric of Cristofer's left shoulder.

Cristofer gasped, flinching violently as if he'd been burned.

"Just a heads-up," Kieran said casually, his voice smooth and carrying effortlessly through the dead-silent hall. "Maintenance painted the eastern stairwell this morning. Military-grade anti-corrosion sealant. Leaves a very distinct, glowing neon-green residue before it cures."

He paused, letting his golden eyes pin Cristofer in place. "And you, Cris, have a massive, glowing green smear right across the back of your left shoulder."

Gage frowned. His protective anger faltered as he instinctively glanced down at the back of Cristofer's jacket.

"Oh, wait. My mistake," Kieran corrected airily, snapping his fingers. "It was your right shoulder."

Panic overrode Cristofer's pristine acting. He whipped his head around, twisting his body and frantically slapping at the perfectly clean fabric of his right shoulder, desperately trying to wipe away evidence of his crime.

The corridor went dead silent. The whispers evaporated into thin air.

Kieran let out a soft, delighted chuckle.

"Just kidding," Kieran murmured, his eyes dancing with dark amusement. "There is no paint."

Cristofer froze, his hands still awkwardly clawing at his own back.

Every cadet in that hall was trained in basic tactical logic. The realization hit the crowd like a synchronized shockwave.

"Basic physics, Cris," Kieran explained patiently, like a professor speaking to a slow toddler. "If I shoved you face-to-face, as you claimed, you would have fallen backward into empty air. You wouldn't have scraped your back against the wall. The only reason you’d reflexively check your clothes for wall paint... is if you deliberately leaned against that wall and slid down it yourself."

Kieran sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, your choreography needs work."

Gage's face went completely slack. The righteous fury drained from his features, replaced by a sickening, world-shattering realization. He looked from Kieran's mocking smile down to Cristofer, who was now pale, trembling, and sweating profusely. Gage's brain practically short-circuited.

"Gage, no... he's tricking me..." Cristofer stammered, his angelic voice cracking under the crushing weight of his exposed lie.

Kieran didn't even wait for the pathetic excuse to finish. He was already incredibly bored.

"As for your precious elite squad," Kieran said brightly, looking at Gage's dumbfounded face. "Consider this my official resignation. I think I’ll go team up with the bottom-tier rejects of Class F. I hear they have significantly less drama and slightly higher IQs."

He turned on his heel and walked away, humming a tuneless melody, leaving Gage standing like a paralyzed idiot.

Behind him, Cristofer bit his bottom lip until it bled, his innocent eyes darkening with pure, unadulterated malice. The useless, desperate puppet he had manipulated for years was gone. In his place was a predator who treated them like entertaining toys.

Just as Kieran reached the end of the hall, the automated public address system chimed with a harsh, piercing electronic tone, interrupting the suffocating silence.

"Attention, all freshman cadets," the automated female voice announced cheerfully. "Field expedition squad assignments have been locked. Check your personal terminals immediately."