Awakening with two legendary Summons-Chapter 27: Summoners Situation at Hand

Kairos' breathing became erratic as the voice echoed through his mind. His vision blurred, refocused, then blurred again. His gaze finally settled—on Mike's body.

His mouth fell open, jaw slack as a sharp gasp escaped from his trembling lungs.

Mike lay still on the ground. His eyes, wide and glassy, were locked in an empty stare. Tear trails stained his cheeks, and though he showed no signs of bruises or blood, something about him seemed... hollow. As if the very essence of his being had been drained out. His body looked malnourished—starved of life itself.

But above all, one fact stood out like a roaring flame in Kairos' mind.

Mike was not—alive.

Kairos gulped hard, slowly extending a hand toward Mike, his fingers quivering in hesitation. But just as he reached out to touch him, a violent ache erupted in his head. It was like a storm of pain crashing through his skull. He gritted his teeth, clutching at his head with both hands as a scream tore from his throat.

"Gaah! What's going on!" he cried out, his voice hoarse and filled with panic.

His body convulsed. His heart pounded out of rhythm. His skin prickled, felt as though it were peeling from the bone, raw and aflame. His eyes went blind, and a piercing, endless shrill filled his ears. It was unbearable.

He reached for the black bag covering his head. It had become suffocating, searing against his skin. In a fit of desperation, Kairos ripped it off with both hands, tearing it down the middle.

The disorientation didn't fade immediately. His entire being shook, violently, like he had been plunged into cold water mid-heartbeat. But gradually, as if some invisible switch had been flipped, the chaos receded.

Sound returned first. Then sight. The migraine that had threatened to split his skull vanished as if it had never existed.

But something was off.

His senses—every single one—were sharpened to terrifying clarity.

Kairos could hear it all: the distant rustling of wind brushing against the walls of the military academy, the fluttering flags on distant towers, even the rhythmic thud of his own heart in his chest. The scent of the alley he stood in overwhelmed him: old blood, rotting food, metal... death.

And just like that, the wound he had suffered in his gut earlier was gone. Completely. Not even a scar remained.

He was healed.

But this wasn't a victory. Not to Kairos.

His stomach churned in disgust. The putrid stench around him was magnified to an unbearable degree. He winced, trying to block it out, but he couldn't.

Nonetheless, he felt strong. Alive. Renewed.

Kairos pushed himself up from the ground and, with heavy steps, made his way back to Mike. He knelt beside him and placed a trembling hand on the boy's chest. There was warmth—but no heartbeat.

Just as he had feared.

'I... I killed him—'

He staggered to his feet, suddenly light-headed. His mouth dried instantly as horrifying thoughts raced through his mind.

What would the academy say? What punishment awaited him for taking a life?

Was Mike affiliated with a powerful faction? Were there people who would come for revenge?

The thoughts were a storm, spiraling too fast for him to catch.

[Evolution complete! You have successfully fed your summon.]

The voice returned. Cold. Emotionless.

Kairos' blood boiled.

"What the hell did you do!" he yelled, louder than intended, the anger in his voice raw and unfiltered.

No reply.

Just silence.

His mind screamed at him to run. It was the only logical move. He couldn't be found here. Not now. Not like this.

He turned, preparing to bolt, but before his foot lifted from the ground, his sharpened hearing picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. His eyes darted behind him on reflex.

Carlos.

The boy held his mask in one hand, his expression unreadable as his eyes locked on Mike's lifeless body.

Kairos watched, heart thudding, as Carlos mouthed a word. So quiet it should've gone unheard. But Kairos caught it.

"Run."

---

The dormitory door slammed shut, the sound echoing down the corridor like a cannon.

Kairos collapsed against the wall, breath ragged, lungs burning. Carlos was close behind him, equally breathless but composed.

Kairos' mind reeled with anxiety. He didn't know how Carlos would react. He had been there too—part of the same mission. The academy could easily pin the blame on both of them. And if Carlos wanted to save himself...

He might try to silence him. Permanently.

"Was that the first time you killed someone?"

The question hit like a stone. Kairos blinked, stunned. Of all the things Carlos could say, that wasn't it.

He took his time before answering. His mind screamed to be careful. Carlos could be testing him—measuring his skill, weighing whether Kairos was a threat.

Kairos stood up slowly. Better to face this on his feet than risk being vulnerable.

"Yes."

Carlos chuckled. Just a small sound. But it was laced with something unsettling.

"It's something that happens often," he said. "But this is a military academy. This could turn into big trouble, so let's keep it secret. We were masked. It'll be hard to pin this on us."

His tone didn't falter. He was calm. Certain. As if this was all routine.

"As long as the academy doesn't find out, we're safe. Students beat each other all the time. No one bats an eye—unless he belonged to a faction... or had powerful parents. Let's hope that's not the case, shall we?"

Carlos stripped off his clothes without care, his voice completely detached.

Kairos found himself more unnerved than relieved. How many times had Carlos killed? To be this unaffected?

Then came another question.

"Oh yeah, why did you kill him?"

Kairos froze.

Should he say it was the dark smoke? That his summon had consumed Mike? Would Carlos believe that?

He stayed quiet, opting instead to walk to his bed, wordless. He could feel Carlos' eyes on him, but it didn't scare him—it focused him.

'If he tries anything, I'll make noise. Bring everyone down on him. And if he still pushes, I'll expose his secrets too...'

But then—unexpectedly—Carlos spoke.

"Well, we're friends. I know you have your reasons."

Just like that.

Kairos blinked in surprise. 'Friends? He wasn't thinking about killing me?'

The people here... they were nothing like those from his hometown.

A smirk tugged at Kairos' lips. He turned his head slightly, ready to respond.

"Thanks for—"

The door creaked open suddenly. Both boys turned.

Darnell entered, saying nothing. He shut the door behind him and made his way to his bed like a ghost. He collapsed face first onto the mattress, not even bothering to take off his shredded clothes.

His shirt was in tatters. His pants barely held together. Bandages covered most of his body, but even they couldn't conceal the bruises and wounds underneath.

He looked like he had been through hell.

Kairos' brows furrowed with concern. "Uhhh, Darnell... is anything wrong?"

No answer.

Darnell lay still.

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Kairos exhaled, smiling to himself. 'He's probably knocked out like a log again. Hehe... I really do have strange friends.'

He reclined onto his own bed, letting the familiar softness cradle him as sleep slowly dragged him under.

But across the room, Darnell shifted.

His bandaged face turned slightly. He stared at Kairos with tired eyes—and a small smile touched his lips.

"I'm sorry, friend."