THE TRANSMIGRATION BEFORE DEATH

"You killed his brother?" Henry's voice came sharp and incredulous, eyes narrowing as he turned toward Avin.

"What? No!" Avin scoffed instantly. "Do I look like a killer?"

Henry didn't answer. His gaze drifted back toward the alley, to the exact spot where Derrick had been sitting—bleeding, trembling, and begging before Avin had almost killed him. The image replayed in his mind, making his brow crease deeper. Then, slowly, he looked back at Avin, one eyebrow raised.

Avin caught that look immediately. "That's only because he tried to kill me many times before," he said quickly, words tripping over themselves as he gestured vaguely toward nowhere.

Henry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "If you didn't kill his brother, then who did?"

Avin sheathed his sword with a clean metallic click. "Not who," he said. "What."

Henry frowned. "What?"

"Yes," Avin replied, his tone completely serious. "What."

Henry blinked, confusion deepening. "What is this what you speak of?"

Avin crossed his arms. "He was killed by a giant centipede."

Henry stepped closer, his face scrunching up. "Giant centipede?"

"Yeah," Avin said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "It was, like, ten meters tall."

Henry stared at him for a full second. "There's no such thing as a giant centipede."

Avin gasped, as if Henry had just said something blasphemous. "What? You think I'm blind?"

"You might just be," Henry shot back, folding his arms. "Giant centipedes would be disastrous, you understand that, right?"

"It was disastrous," Avin replied flatly, eyebrows lifting.

Henry's disbelief only grew. "You said ten meters. That's the size of a normal centipede."

Avin's head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He stepped closer, bringing his thumb and index finger together to illustrate. "Normal centipedes are like this big, so obviously giant ones would be ten meters tall."

Henry dragged a hand down his face. "You do know I studied these creatures my whole life, right? I know more than you. And there are no records of mini centipedes or giant centipedes the size of the world serpent."

Avin sighed, his patience wearing thin, and turned away. "This is pointless."

He started walking out of the alleyway, shaking his head. The light outside had shifted—the sun dipping low, painting the market in a soft amber glow.

Henry hurried after him. "Pointless? You'll come tell me next that you found a huge rat or something—"

Avin stopped mid-step, turned slightly, and asked with a perfectly straight face, "How big is a normal rat?"

Henry froze, his expression flattening. "What? Have you not seen a rat before? Avin, they're small creatures, what do—" He caught himself and sighed. "You're making fun of me. I get it."

Avin smirked faintly and kept walking. "Yeah, let's drop this conversation."

Henry followed closely behind, muttering under his breath, "We'll continue later. We'll ask Sylas."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Avin mumbled back, waving him off.

They finally emerged from the narrow alleyway into the open marketplace. The once-bustling crowd had thinned considerably; the noise was softer now, fading into the low hum of people packing up for the evening. Stalls were half-closed, and the last flickers of daylight caught on the fading dust in the air.

It was as if the city had quietly acknowledged the chaos that had happened earlier—and decided to ignore it. The onlookers, the vendors, the guards—all seemed to have chosen the same response: don't ask questions, don't get involved.

Avin and Henry followed the main path back toward the academy. Their boots clicked against the cobbled streets, cutting through the sound of the remaining chatter. The warmth of the day was slipping away, replaced by the cool breeze that came before night.

By the time they reached the southern gate, the sun was just a sliver on the horizon. The sky bled orange and violet, and the distant towers of the academy shimmered faintly in the fading light.

They entered through the gate, the creak of metal echoing behind them. The academy loomed ahead, its tall spires catching the last edge of sunlight.

Avin glanced at the large gate behind them and murmured, "This place is very closely guarded."

Henry looked at him, then back at the path they were taking. "Well, yeah. You don't really ever see people try to get into the school. It's full of some of the strongest people in the Northern Lands."

"I see," Avin said, half to himself. "So they're lax."

"Yeah, I guess," Henry said with a shrug. "If that's how you interpret it with your pessimistic brain, then sure."

Avin smirked slightly but didn't reply.

They walked down the stone corridor toward their dormitory wing. The sounds of the outer world faded behind them, replaced by the calm quiet of the academy halls. It was almost eerie how peaceful it felt after what had just happened.

Finally, they reached their dorm door. Avin stretched an arm out, gripped the handle, and twisted. The faint creak of the hinge was the only sound for a moment—until a voice interrupted them.

"Yo! You all over there!"

They both turned.

A figure was walking toward them from down the hallway—tall, broad-shouldered, with a friendly, almost lazy expression. Avin and Henry exchanged a quick look as the guy approached, his steps slow but confident.

He stopped in front of them and extended a hand with a grin. "I'm Marcus. Me and my partners are in the dorm next to y'all."

Henry, a bit hesitant, took the handshake first. "Ah, right… nice to meet you."

Avin, however, didn't move at first. His eyes flicked to the side, where Marcus had come from. "You mean the one you came out of?"

A small silence hung between them. Then Marcus chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I guess that's obvious." He rubbed the back of his neck, still smiling. "You must be Avin Chrono."

"Null-Chrono," Avin corrected instantly.

Marcus blinked, then chuckled again, scratching the back of his head. "Right, right. I was trying to be respectful."

Avin's tone was flat. "Not saying my full name because you think it'll be offensive is disrespectful."

"Ah," Marcus said simply, his smile stiffening.

The air shifted just slightly. The kind of silence that suggested tension, faint but real. Avin couldn't quite explain it, but something about Marcus's presence felt… off. Familiar, in a way that made his gut tighten. Still, he forced himself to relax and extended his hand.

"I'm sorry," Avin said, tone more even now. "Someone made me angry earlier. Didn't mean to be rude. The name's Avin Nilla-Chrono."

Marcus shook his hand firmly. "I know."

Avin frowned a little. "You do?"

Marcus's grin widened. "Yeah, of course. You're famous. Plus…" His eyes shifted slightly upward, staring at Avin's head. "You've got some very unique qualities."

Avin's hand instinctively went to his head. He chuckled awkwardly. "I guess so."

Marcus nodded, chuckling as well. "Just came to greet, connect, and stuff."

"And stuff?" The faint whisper of Henry was heard through the hallway

Avin tilted his head slightly, eyeing him. "Yeah, okay. Uh, I'm tired—from training, you know. So… yeah."

He turned, opened the door, and stepped inside without waiting for a reply.

Henry lingered for a moment, giving Marcus a brief, polite smile. "I also have work. And… things to do. You know. Work." He ground his teeth, realizing how awkward that sounded, then nodded and slipped inside as well.

The door closed behind them with a solid click. Marcus stood there for a moment, staring at their door number. Then he shrugged, turned, and walked back toward his own dorm.

Inside, Henry sighed and looked over at Avin. "That was awkward."

"Yeah," Avin said, deadpan. "It was."

Avin stretched out his arm. "Give me one of the cleaning bubble things."

Henry rolled his eyes but went into his section of the dorm, rummaging for one. "You could've just taken one earlier," he muttered, but he returned and handed it to Avin.

Avin took it without a word and walked toward his own room.

"I have some deciphering to do," Henry said suddenly, stopping by his door.

"Ah," Avin replied casually. "How's that goin—"

Before he could finish, Henry's door slammed shut with a loud thud.

Avin sighed. "Right."

He turned away and entered his own room. The air inside was quiet and dim. He dropped his sword near the bedside, sat down heavily, he crushed the cleaning bubble in his hand, inhaling deeply as the comforting feeling of cleanliness overwhelmed him, he looked down at his hand and smiled,"If I liked to be sclean this much on earth, maybe mum would not talk so much" . He sighed then let himself fall backward onto the mattress. The softness swallowed him, the exhaustion from the day finally sinking in.

His eyes lingered on the ceiling for a long moment, mind replaying everything—the chase, the fight, Derrick's words, and that eerie hooded figure.

But he didn't linger on it.

Not tonight.