The Unvanquished: Child of Nihility-Chapter 80: Bleeding Thorn

Chapter 80: (Bleeding Thorn – Don’t pluck thorns while they’re still bleeding. See if they can be nurtured. See if they bloom)

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Third Floor – Cafeteria Pavilion

Above, still leaning against the tinted glass, the Apex Thorn cadet watched the scene unfold below.

The angle gave him a perfect view – not of the food, but the interaction. The quiet intensity. The presence that Morca carried even while doing nothing.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Emotionless. Controlled. Dangerous. That kid’s a strange one."

"Reporting already?" a voice asked from behind him.

He turned slightly to see another Apex Thorn cadet slide into the booth with a lazy smirk, a metal card flipping between his fingers. His badge gleamed faintly – same rank.

"They’re not just rumors then," the second cadet said, glancing down. "Especially that one. Third-ranked Unique cadet. Crimson eyes... abyssal gaze. Can’t believe he’s a first year. Clearly Saint Rank."

The watcher – codename Wyns – tapped his wrist device once.

"Send a note to Sub-Leader Leron Vance," he said coolly. "Target is within proximity. Observation confirmed."

A pause.

"Awaiting instructions."

---

Back below, Morca stirred the last of his broth with a spoon.

Something flickered in the back of his mind – a presence, a hum. But he didn’t look up. He didn’t need to.

He knew he was being watched by some unknown lurker above. Not that he cared. If they dared show up, he’d show them exactly who they were dealing with.

---

Third Floor – Exceptional Cadet Zone, which is separated by a thin, transparent soundproof glass, away from the general area of the third floor.

The scent of roasted meat and spirit liquor filled the refined air. Here, the tables were spaced far apart – not for comfort, but for silence. Only higher-ranked cadets dared linger. Their conversations were laced with power and quiet threats.

Near the edge of the crystal-railed balcony, a small private booth sat shadowed under rune-light. Within, a figure leaned back with his arm lazily draped across the backrest – legs crossed, eyes half-lidded beneath sharp bangs.

Leron Vance – a second-year cadet, sub-leader of the Apex Thorn Division. Ranked 11th in the exceptional class last semester and 181st in the Monument Tower ranking.

He took a casual sip of his dark-blue liquor, its surface swirling faintly with mana. A light tap on his comm-crystal earpiece stirred the air.

"Wyns reporting. The anomaly just entered the Pavilion. Third-ranked first year cadet. Confirmed observation."

Leron didn’t move for a moment. His eyes remained half-shut.

"He’s calm. Didn’t notice me, or he did and didn’t care. He’s with a female – Tyler Sherman. Southeast corner."

Silence.

Then Leron’s lips curled faintly – not a smile, but a calculating twitch. He lowered his cup onto the floating disc beside him with a soft clink.

"Apex Thorn Rule," he said softly, voice laced with venom. "We pluck thorns before they root too deep."

"Shall I engage?" Wyns asked over the line.

Leron’s eyes narrowed.

"Go. But make it a full move. One. Clean. Or you’ll be punished by the Pavilion for nothing."

He glanced over the edge of the balcony, his gaze pinpointing the quiet booth below. Morca didn’t look up. But Leron watched him like a man studying a riddle not meant to be solved – just broken.

"He walks like someone who knows secrets," he muttered.

"What method should I use? Direct... or subtle?"

Leron turned slightly, glancing toward the sealed booth door nearby, where a rune-mail pulsed – unread.

"Invite him first. But remind the others..."

His fingers brushed the hilt of the weapon sheathed across his back.

"Don’t pluck thorns while they’re still bleeding. See if they can be nurtured. See if they bloom."

He tapped the table once.

"And if they can’t be nurtured..."

A shadow crept into his voice.

"...we’ll burn the garden."

---

Step. step.

The hum of chatter and clinking cutlery softened for a brief moment as a subtle wave of presence rolled through the lower floor.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t wild. But it was heavy–like the tension in the air just before a storm breaks.

Though Morca could feel it, but he was too busy with his meal, that even looking up was a task itself. As for Tyler–she look to the approaching presence, to see–

Five figures–who had entered the cafeteria’s first floor. At the front was a broad-shouldered youth with a sharp jaw, violet eyes flickering with calculating intent. His EDA badge gleamed faintly beneath the soft glow, and the blood-red thorn insignia stitched into his collar spoke louder than any title: Apex Thorn Division. Wyns–a second-year cadet. Quick to strike, quicker to vanish.

And behind him? Were four more cadets...

The first, a lanky youth with thick silver brows and dark circles under his eyes. His aura wasn’t aggressive–it was slippery, like oil on water. This one was a tracker. A whisperer.

The second, a short, stocky figure with jagged armor plating sewn into his uniform sleeves. His knuckles were taped. Faint cracks in the air followed each of his steps–a brute with reinforcement arts, no doubt.

The third, a relaxed youth with one hand tucked casually into his coat and the other spinning a thin steel thread between his fingers. A sign of control. Precision. Maybe even a thread-based art.

And then–

The fourth, a girl. Slender. Snake-like in motion. Her hair jet black, cascading over one shoulder in segmented braids. And on her lips–a cold, sinister grin that didn’t match the softness of her youthful face. Her eyes gleamed with something unspoken–Cruelty.

As they approached Morca and Tyler’s quiet table, the seated eating cadets turn their way, as all eyes trail them.

Wyns didn’t slow. His eyes though calm but were locked on Morca’s.

---

Far above the tension, where the air was calm and isolated with energy crystal-glass soundsproof muffling the noise below, a green curly hair figure stood near the edge of the crystal-glass railing. She was graceful, cold, and composed. Her navy-blue pants and white-sleeved shirt were lined with obsidian-black embroidery–her EDA uniform precise, immaculate.

On her navy-blue trench coat shoulder, were Four golden stars. A signal to all who recognized power–She wasn’t just a third-year cadet. She was one of Eden Domineer Academy’s Top 10.

Xiao Maya–the Ice Queen–Ranked 7th on the Monument Tower leaderboard, and Leader of the Cold Ablaze Vermilion Team. And also the one who escort Morca through the physique trials...

Her green curly hair shifted slightly as the breeze stirred the upper pavilion air. Her round face bore no warmth–just a calculating expression as her eyes narrowed on the figures below.

She didn’t need introductions, she already knew who sat at that table. And more importantly... She knew who was walking toward him. A faint, almost amused smirk touched her lips.

"So," she muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing. "You want to play with fire?"

Her gaze flicked once to the twisted smile of the female Thorn Division member. "Then get ready to be burn. Because you don’t know the monster you’re about to provoke." She turned, and began descending the stairs.

---

The cafeteria’s atmosphere had grown still–not in silence, but in a thick, unseen tension that hovered over every eye watching the approaching Thorn Division members.

Wyns stepped forward, calm but firm, stopping just a few steps from the booth where Morca and Tyler sat.

With the four other figures behind him, he drew a folded envelope, embossed with a blood-red thorn insignia.

"You must be Morca, correct?" he said.

Morca didn’t even raise his head. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink–he simply continued eating, as if Wyns hadn’t spoken at all.

Wyns’ brow twitched, but he maintained composure. "You might not know yet, since you’re new, so I’ll brief you," he continued, voice steady. "The academy encourages cadets to join any of the established divisions for faster growth."

He extended the envelope, holding it out with a subtle flick of his wrist. "You are the first among this year’s intake we’re officially inviting. This," he said with pride, "is an invitation to the Apex Thorn Division."

Morca paused mid-bite, his spoon hovering over the bowl for a second longer than usual. His mind flickered. ’Tried to avoid diving into ponds so soon... but I guess some files still want trouble.’

His eyes lifted–not to meet theirs, but to glance at the envelope for a brief second.

Then, he resumed eating.

Tyler, who had already finished her meal, leaned back in her seat and looked at the exchange with growing amusement. Her eyes darted from Morca to the envelope... to the five standing across them.

"Interesting," she murmured. That was all she said.

But behind Wyns, one of the Thorn members–short-tempered, with a sharp jaw and burning pride–couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Hey, you arrogant fool, we intended to–"

Shuu–

The sound cut through the tension like a blade through silk.

Morca placed his spoon down and slowly turned his head–not toward Wyns, but toward the youth who had dared raise his voice.

His eyes gleamed, calm and unblinking. Crimson and abyssal.

"You’re too loud," he said flatly. "Stop barking."

A pause.

"Don’t you see I’m eating?" His tone sharpened–subtle, but unmistakable.

"Or perhaps..." His gaze narrowed. "...you weren’t taught table manners?"