Two days had passed since the capital exploration disaster.

Jax sat alone on a wooden bench in a small park, arms crossed, staring at nothing.

The day after his blowout with Seris, he'd been shipped off to Astryx Academy with her for the trial which will happen tomorrow. The entire carriage ride had been silent. Suffocatingly silent.

She didn't say a word. Neither did he.

'Stubborn bitch,' Jax thought. 'All I wanted was a few coins to help those needy women. Is that so wrong?'

His ego refused to let it go.

When they'd arrived at the academy's underground base—a massive cavern beneath the floating island—Seris had handled everything with the patrol guards. They searched both of them thoroughly, weapons confiscated temporarily, then led them to a glowing magic circle etched into the stone floor.

Seris stepped in first. Whoosh. She vanished in a flash of light.

Jax grinned. 'Nice. Instant teleportation tech.'

He stepped into the circle. Whoosh.

The world shifted, colors blurring, gravity twisting.

When his vision cleared, he was standing on solid ground. The sky looked normal—blue with drifting clouds. The air felt normal. Grass. Trees. Buildings in the distance.

If no one told him, he'd never know he was on a floating island thousands of feet in the sky.

Then Seris's voice cut through.

"This is where we part."

Jax turned.

She stood with her arms crossed, her expression cold and victorious. "Everything has been arranged for you. I've done what my mother asked. The guards will escort you to a guest house. You're restricted to a specific area—meaning you cannot roam freely or interact with the general population. Your necessities will be provided by the staff."

She smiled. A cruel, satisfied smile. "Enjoy your isolation."

And then she was gone, walking away with her head held high like she'd won some grand victory.

Jax glared at her back. 'Petty bitch.'

[Back to Present]

Jax sat on the bench, bored out of his mind.

The park was small. Quiet. And filled with children.

He wasn't even supposed to be here—his "guest house" restrictions explicitly forbade wandering. But he'd seen people through the window and slipped out anyway.

'Great. Just fucking great. I escaped confinement to look at these brats.'

He was about to leave when a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Mister. You're sitting in my spot."

Jax looked up.

A girl stood in front of him. Maybe six years old. White hair tied in a messy ponytail—unusual, almost ethereal. Sharp eyes that screamed trouble. Arms crossed like a tiny warlord demanding tribute.

Jax raised an eyebrow. "I sat here first. And there's plenty of space. Sit somewhere else."

"I don't care." Her voice was ice-cold. "I sit here every single day. That makes it mine."

Jax blinked. 'Is this kid serious?'

"So what?" he said. "You own the bench now? You got a deed? Property taxes paid up?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other. A battle of wills between a battle-hardened transmigrator and a seven-year-old tyrant.

Then Jax smirked and shifted slightly, giving her space. "Fine. You win, princess."

She sat down as if she'd conquered a kingdom.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Seven. And I'm not a kid."

"You're literally seven."

Jax laughed despite himself. 'This girl's got balls.'

He glanced at the other children playing nearby—tag, ball games, typical kid shit. "Why aren't you playing with them? Do they bully you?"

The girl laughed. A sharp, dismissive laugh. "Bully me? They're kids. I don't play with kids."

"They look your age. Some are even bigger than you."

No reply. Just a cold stare that said the conversation was over.

Before Jax could push further, a ball rolled toward them. A young boy maybe five ran over to grab it.

The girl stood up, snatched the ball mid-reach, and hurled it out of the park with surprising strength. It sailed over the fence and disappeared into the street beyond.

"Your ball entered Emily's territory," she said coldly, turning to the boy. "Don't let it happen again."

The boy's face went pale. He turned and ran.

Jax stared at her, something like pride swelling in his chest. 'Holy shit. I need a kid like her. She's a goddamn sociopath. I love it.'

"Emily, huh?" He grinned. "You're a little terror."

She sat back down, ignoring him completely.

Minutes later, a bigger boy appeared. Maybe fourteen years old. The same kid from before trailed behind him, pointing at Emily with a shaking finger.

"That's her, big brother! She threw my ball!"

The older boy cracked his knuckles, swaggering forward. "You got a problem, you little brat?"

Emily didn't flinch. But Jax saw the tension in her jaw, the way her small fists clenched. She knew she couldn't win a physical fight.

The older boy loomed over her. "You think you're tough? You're just a runt. A nobody. Even your parents probably regret having you."

Emily's eyes flashed with rage, but she said nothing.

The older boy grabbed the ball from the pathway behind Emily's bench—the one leading to the park exit—and walked away, laughing. "Stay in your place, freak."

His younger brother stuck his tongue out at Emily before scurrying after him.

Jax watched Emily's fists clench so hard her knuckles turned white. Rage burned in her eyes like a forest fire.

He leaned closer. "Want revenge?"

She didn't answer. But she didn't say no either.

"The boy brought his brother," Jax said. "Why don't you bring yours?"

"I don't have a brother," she muttered, voice tight.

Jax stood, grabbing his sword from where it rested against the bench. He spun it casually, letting the blade catch the sunlight.

"Then consider me recruited."

Emily's eyes went wide. "Are you insane?! You can't show weapons in public! You'll be arrested!"

"Relax. It's just for intimidation." Jax grinned. "And I'm not the one who's going to scare them. You are."

"What?"

"Listen carefully. I'm going to teach you some lines. Memorize them. Repeat them exactly as I say."

Emily tilted her head, confused but intrigued.

Jax leaned in and whispered. Long, brutal sentences. Words she didn't fully understand but that sounded powerful. Dangerous. Cool.

Her eyes widened. A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.

"Ready to show them hell, little sister?" Jax held out his hand.

Emily grabbed it, her grin matching his perfectly. "Let's go, big brother."

They found the older boy sitting alone on a swing, smugly watching his younger brother play.

As Jax and Emily approached, the boy stood, sneering. "What do you want now, you little—"

Jax stepped forward, unsheathing his sword with a slow, deliberate shing. He tilted his head, ran his tongue along the flat of the blade, eyes wild and manic like a lunatic escaped from an asylum.

The boy froze, face draining of color.

Other children noticed. A crowd began to form, sensing drama.

"Your turn's over," Jax said softly, voice dripping with menace. "Now it's my sister's turn."

He looked down at Emily and nodded. "Go ahead, little sister. Show him."

Emily stepped forward. Her small frame seemed to grow, presence expanding as she locked eyes with the older boy.

And then she spoke.

"You think you're tough because you're bigger?" Her voice was calm. Clinical. Terrifying. "Let me explain something to you, you walking abortion. You're not a person. You're a failed science experiment that somehow learned to walk."

The boy's face went red.

Emily continued, her voice rising with each word. "If I see you here again, I'll shove you so far back into your mother's womb that she'll have to give birth to you twice just to get rid of you properly. And the second time? She'll probably just flush you down the toilet where you belong."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Your parents looked at you and thought, 'We should've swallowed.' Your existence is proof that even the gods make mistakes. You're the reason your father drinks himself unconscious every night and your mother cries into her pillow wishing she'd been born sterile."

The boy's lip trembled. Tears welled in his eyes.

"You're not just stupid—you're aggressively, offensively dumb. If brains were dynamite, you wouldn't have enough to blow your nose. "

The crowd was dead silent.

"Your life is so pointless that when you die, the only people at your funeral will be there to make sure you're actually dead. They'll throw a party afterward. Your tombstone will say 'Finally.' And even hell will reject you because Satan doesn't want to deal with your bullshit."

The boy was openly crying now, shoulders shaking.

Emily ran out of Jax's lines. So she added her own, voice shifting back to childish innocence.

"And your breath smells like farts! And your face looks like a butt! And your brother's stupid too! And... and you're ugly!"

Jax bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, desperately trying not to laugh.

Emily was out of breath, panting, but absolutely triumphant.

Jax stepped forward, resting his sword casually on his shoulder. He leaned down, voice dropping to a whisper only the boy could hear.

"If I see you near her again, I'll make her insults look like compliments. I'll make you beg for the mercy of silence. Understand?"

The boy nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face, and ran. His younger brother scrambled after him, terrified.

The crowd scattered like leaves in the wind.

Emily stood there, chest heaving, eyes shining with pure, undiluted joy.

Jax patted her head, ruffling her white hair. "You're on the right track, kid. Keep that fire alive. Never let anyone make you small."

She looked up at him, grinning ear to ear. "Can you teach me more lines?"

"Absolutely." Jax smiled—a genuine one this time. "Stick with me, little sister. You're going places."

Emily's grin widened until her whole face lit up.

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