Dragon summoner

A tall boy stepped into the flickering light of the corridor. He was just sixteen, but there was something disturbingly unnatural about him. His frame was lean, his face once innocent—now shadowed by something far more sinister. His eyes held a cold fire, far too ancient for his age. Dressed like a street thug, it wasn't just a style—it was a warning. The demon inside him wore his body like a costume. His skin, though not fair, glowed with an eerie allure, as if darkness itself found beauty in him.

"Luice," the baddy hissed, his voice low and dangerous, "how many times must I remind you? He's mine. My friend. And when it's time to teach him a lesson... it will be by my hands."

He advanced toward Vishu, eyes burning with fury, shadows clinging to his every step.

"Ryan," Luice muttered, his tone laced with resentment, "I was only reminding him of reality. He keeps wishing we'd disappear… hoping we get transferred somewhere far away. He wants to erase us—like we don't exist."

"Shut up."

Luice froze mid-sentence, his words dying in his throat. Ryan's voice cut through the air like a blade—low, cold, and brimming with something not entirely human. A chill crept down his spine as his eyes met his. Without thinking, he stepped aside, fear tightening in his chest. Something in him had changed… something that didn't belong in a boy's body.

Ryan was clever—dangerously clever. From the very first day, he hated Vishu. There was no reason that made sense, just a quiet, burning loathing. Everyone seemed to care about Vishu, talk about him like he was some golden child—kind, innocent, pure.

But Ryan… Ryan had always been the king of the school. The halls echoed his name. Every conversation, every whisper, had once revolved around him. Until Vishu arrived.

His soft smile. His quiet charm. That unbearable innocence.

It chipped away at Ryan's pride, carved at his ego like a knife.

And something inside him—dark, festering—snapped.

Jealousy twisted into obsession. And the boy who once ruled became something cruel.

You know..." Ryan muttered, his voice like a whisper laced with poison, "I've always wanted to show you your real place."

He stepped closer, a twisted smirk curling on his lips as he slowly patted Vishu's head—mocking, almost tender.

"You're the good boy, aren't you? The sweet, perfect little favorite..."

He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with something unholy.

"Don't worry. I'll make you so good, Vishu, that every time someone walks past this school, they'll remember you forever... and they'll whisper your name with fear and praise."

His hand lingered on Vishu's head a moment too long—like a predator savoring the moment before the strike .

Vishu stood frozen. He could feel Ryan's hand pressing gently against his head—but it didn't feel like a gesture of affection. It felt like a warning. Like the calm before something terrible.

His throat tightened. The hallway around them seemed to shrink, the air growing colder, heavier. Ryan's eyes—those weren't the eyes of a sixteen-year-old boy anymore. There was something ancient lurking behind them. Something cruel… and patient.

"W-What do you mean…?" Vishu whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ryan chuckled. Not a loud laugh—something quieter, darker. It crawled under Vishu's skin.

"You'll see," he said, stepping back slowly, his gaze never leaving Vishu's trembling form. "In the end, they'll all remember the good boy. They'll never forget what I made of you."

Then he turned, the corridor swallowing his silhouette as he walked away—leaving Vishu in a silence more terrifying than any scream.

Smack!"

The sound echoed like a gunshot through the empty hallway. Vishu's head snapped to the side, pain exploding behind his eyes.

His vision blurred. A strange, burning blue began to bleed into his sight—like frost seeping into his pupils. His knees buckled.

"Am I… dying?"

The thought crawled into his mind, cold and slow. "Is this how it ends? Beaten to death by a thug possessed by something monstrous?"

His breath came in shallow gasps. The world around him tilted, shadows folding into each other. His limbs grew heavy, his heartbeat loud—then faint.

His eyes began to close, darkness pulling him under.

"I'm dead."

That was his last thought—soft, resigned—before everything went black.

Silence.

Not the silence of the school hallway, but something deeper… older.

Vishu felt like he was floating in nothingness. There was no pain now—just cold, and a crushing sense of emptiness.

Then… something shifted.

A warmth touched the edge of the void. It wasn't a sound or a voice, yet it spoke. Not with words—but with calm. With kindness. A presence unseen, yet powerful enough to hold back the darkness curling around his soul.

The pain in his chest eased. The fear that had gripped him began to loosen. His body was still broken, still weak, but something—someone—was holding him together.

It was like light without form… a gentle pulse of hope in a place that had none.

"You are not alone."

He didn't hear it with his ears, but the message landed deep inside him, like a hand resting on his heart.

"You are not finished yet."

The warmth wrapped around him like a shield. And then, slowly, he felt himself rising—not with strength of his own, but lifted, protected, guided.

Vishu's eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling above him was a dull, sterile white. The soft beeping of machines filled the silence, steady and calm. A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes, and his body felt like it had been hit by a storm.

He sat up slowly, confused. Where am I?

The last thing he remembered was pain… fear… something cold and violent—and then… something warm. Something safe. But it was gone now, like a half-remembered dream.

Outside the hospital room, chaos stirred.

"He has to pay for this!"

A woman's voice rang out—sharp, furious, and shaking with grief.

"He killed him! He was the only one who was present there.

The hallway was filled with footsteps, whispers, and someone sobbing. Vishu tried to stand, alarmed by the shouting. Every movement hurt, but something deeper—a quiet fear—drove him forward.

He reached for the door.

Suddenly—BANG!

The door swung open violently, making him flinch. He stumbled back instinctively.

A tall figure stood in the doorway, bathed in light from the hallway. For a heartbeat, Vishu froze—tense, breathless.

Then the figure stepped forward, and the tension melted.

"Dad..."