ZEKE's POV

"Are you sure about this?"

I glanced at Airam across the table as we sat in Cassy's family restaurant. We had headed here directly after dealing with the incident involving Jared and Hyra.

"You mean the money I gave to the elder to keep him quiet?" she nodded.

I sliced through my steak and transferred a piece to Airam's plate—she always enjoyed the steak here.

"Doesn't it seem like too much, and you plan to keep giving him money to keep quiet. We all know your balance is unlimited, but..."

"The money I gave the elder was Nathan's," I interrupted.

"What?!" Airam's reaction was exactly what I expected. Nathan was known for his stinginess; he wouldn't even let us leave his bar without paying for what we drank or broke.

"So, he does have a soft side after all, showing it when Hyra was in trouble," Airam chuckled.

"But no one else can know about this. Nathan threatened that if word got out, he'd never forgive me. He doesn't want others to know the money came from him, so he ordered me to pretend otherwise."

"In other words, he doesn't want Hyra to know he helped her?" Airam asked, to which I nodded.

"I wonder what other sides of Nathan we'll see whenever Hyra's involved," Airam mused.

–

It was Monday, and we were all gathered in the elite class. Everyone was engrossed in their own activities—Airam with Krystal and Megumi, discussing femininity as usual.

The class was about to begin, but Hyra hadn't arrived yet—she was the only one missing. I glanced at Nathan, who seemed unperturbed by his sister's absence. If anything, he seemed to prefer it, hoping it would avoid any further trouble.

I excused myself to use the bathroom. Just outside, I heard noises—odd, given it was class time. Why were there still students outside?

Curiosity getting the better of me, I followed the noise. It wasn't just one or two students; there were many, and their voices were escalating.

"Keep running, you idiot! When I catch you, you're dead!" a woman's voice echoed.

"Please, stop!"

"Ahhh! Help!"

"S-stop!"

"I'm sorry! We won't do it again!"

"Ugh!"

"AHHHHHH!"

"STOP! IT HURTS!"

Whimpers and cries filled the air. What was happening? Was someone being bullied?

"Hehehehehe," a devilish laugh cut through the chaos. "You deserve that. Tell your boss he'll never get the masks while I'm alive."

Masks? My mind raced with possibilities as I hurried towards the disturbance. It was in the most secluded part of the university—a place rarely visited.

"Wow, we have a visitor," a masked woman suddenly sprang away from the group, and the scene revealed itself. Blood, a lot of it, splattered the ground. Around ten men in black lay wounded.

"Could you be Cloud? One of the Thirteen Masks?" she asked, recognizing me.

I tensed. She knew about the masks? She couldn't be allowed to escape.

Acting swiftly, I lunged at her, delivering a powerful blow. But she effortlessly sidestepped, stepping back with a smirk.

"You're weak," she whispered, sending shivers down my spine.

"Are you Demon?" I asked, recalling descriptions of another mask—this had to be Demon.

"I'm pleased you recognize me," she replied, her unseen face clearly smirking.

"Then I won't let you escape."

I couldn't let her escape. I needed to stall until Master and the others found me. Once they noticed my absence, they'd search for me, and then Demon would have no escape. Who could escape from many against one?

I lowered myself, then charged at her, aiming a kick, but she deftly dodged. Undeterred, I pressed on, finally landing a blow to her stomach, weakening her momentarily.

"Are you trying to incapacitate me with a blow to the stomach?" she mocked. "Idiot, your intentions are too obvious."

A chill ran through me, and in an instant, she vanished before my eyes.

"Boo!" she taunted, appearing behind me. Before I could react, a sharp blow to the back of my head sent me crashing to my knees. She was faster than I anticipated.

"I know your plan—to prolong the fight until the other masks find you," she sneered. "But even if they all come, they can't handle me. You're weak, relying only on your wealth. How will you protect your district?"

She kicked my face into the ground, leaving me immobilized. So this was Demon—ruthless and arrogant.

"Hey, still thinking?" she taunted, looming over me. "Don't. It suits you better to look pathetic."

With that, she tossed me a white card, identical to the one Jared had received.

"Oh, and a word of advice—don't trust anyone, especially the new one."

–

"Mr. Rivarez, what happened? Why are you late?" Mr. Fonancier's voice broke through the haze.

All eyes turned to me as I entered the class, already in session. I was twenty-five minutes late—a first, eliciting a severe reaction from Mr. Fonancier.

"My apologies, I had stomach trouble and spent extra time in the bathroom," I muttered, grasping for an excuse. I couldn't tell them about Demon; they'd be concerned.

"Did you wash your hands thoroughly?"

"Yes!" I assured him.

"Very well, take your seat."

Mr. Fonancier's response perplexed me. Sometimes, I couldn't understand him at all.

"What happened?" Tres whispered as I sat beside him.

I didn't respond, simply showing him the white card. His gasp spoke volumes.

"Did you encounter Demon?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"You're lucky to be alive," he murmured.

"BBOGSHHHH!" The door burst open, and Hyra stormed in, a scowl etched on her face.

"Why are you all staring?" she demanded, scanning the room. She seemed unusually upset, and when her eyes met mine, a chill ran down my spine. Why did this feel so familiar?

"Excuse me, Miss Fukushima, I'm conducting a lesson. Please take your seat so we can continue," Mr. Fonancier said, smiling with a hint of unease this time.

Hyra glanced at him for a moment, then found her chair, shooting a pointed look at Nathan before settling down.

The tension between the siblings was palpable; they seemed like they could kill each other if left alone.

"Miss Fukushima, sit down," Mr. Fonancier instructed firmly.

Hyra complied without further protest, and the lesson resumed.

–

"Let's go taste the freshly baked cake in the cafeteria," Umber's enthusiastic voice reached me.

"Absolutely, my sweet tooth is craving something sweet," Airam chimed in. Before they left, Airam approached me.

"I'll eat with the girls. Let's meet up later," she suggested, to which I nodded, kissing her forehead.

"Get a room," Cyrus quipped, irritation evident in his voice.

"Hyra, would you like to join us?" Abby offered kindly.

"Of course not!" Hyra's immediate rejection was sharp and unwavering.

What was with her attitude? Abby was just being friendly.

"Hyra," I began, approaching her.

She straightened, crossing her legs and arms while arching an eyebrow at me.

"Abby was trying to be kind—"

"Did I ask her to be kind to me? Please, if you have nothing to say, get lost," Hyra cut me off sharply.

I clenched my fists. This woman was infuriating; it was no wonder she lived such a solitary life, pushing people away.

I didn't bother to continue the conversation. Gathering my things, I headed straight for the cafeteria. Maybe one day, she'd realize she couldn't go through life alone.

HYRA's POV

Ugh, so irritating. Who did he think he was?

*Cough! Cough!*

I managed to stifle a cough just as he approached.

"Let me help," he said softly, lifting my chin to gently wipe the blood from my mouth. We were alone in the classroom, so he could afford such gestures.

"You pushed yourself again, didn't you? He'll be furious when he finds out," he chided gently.

"Will you report me?" I asked defiantly.

He sighed deeply, focusing on wiping the blood from my palm.

"No, but please be more careful next time. If he finds out you've been hurt, he'll blow his top in an instant," he warned.

I grinned broadly. I could always count on Cris at times like this.

FLASHBACK - 12 YEARS OLD, ZEKE'S POV

"Son, put this on. We're going out," Dad instructed, handing me an ornate suit adorned with diamonds. It was beautiful—probably expensive.

"Where are we going? Why do I have to wear this fancy thing? Are we meeting the President again?" I asked, puzzled.

Dad seemed restless and excited. "No, son. This time, we're meeting someone even more important than the President."

"Huh? Someone more important?" I mused. Who could be more important than the President?

"But Dad, do I really have to wear this fancy suit? Isn't it a bit much?"

"The person we're meeting is highly respected and wants to see you for himself," Dad explained cryptically , urging me to get dressed.

"Why don't you put it on, my boy? We're almost there," Dad encouraged as I hesitantly donned the suit. It felt heavy with its intricate design and gems.

As our car pulled up to the grand mansion, I gazed in awe at its size and opulence. It was more than just a mansion—it resembled a palace.

"Mr. Rivarez, we've arrived," the driver announced.

Stepping out, I followed Dad towards the entrance, where a man stood waiting with arms outstretched.

"Lord Vladimir, you honor us by waiting," Dad bowed respectfully. This was the first time I'd seen him kneel before anyone.

"Why not? I've been eagerly anticipating meeting the young gentleman with you," Lord Vladimir replied warmly. Was he referring to me?

"Shall we go inside so we can talk properly?" he suggested, leading us into the vast mansion. Hundreds of servants lined the hall, heads bowed in reverence.

"I know you're a busy man, Rivarez, so let's not prolong this," Lord Vladimir said once we were seated in his study. He turned to me with keen interest. "Zeke, take this."

He handed me a mask from a box, and I looked at it in surprise.

"Why?" I asked, bewildered. Why would he give me a mask?

"Because this mask was worn by your mother, albeit briefly," Lord Vladimir explained, surprising me further. He knew about my mother? "Your mother was a formidable fighter, a leader in the Fifth District despite being a woman."

"Why are you telling me this?" I glanced at Dad, but he remained silent, his eyes urging me to accept whatever was to come.

"Like I said, lead the Fifth District as your mother did, and wear this mask," Lord Vladimir continued. "What do I gain from this?" I questioned, glancing at Dad, who wore a wide grin that showed his excitement.

" A lot"

–

We spent five years in the four corners of this large room. During those five years, it was not clear to me what I was getting from me.

–

Training within the confines of the Vixen Mafia's underground facility was rigorous and unyielding. Each day was a symphony of physical exertion and mental fortitude. We immersed ourselves in combat drills, tactical simulations, and academic pursuits under the tutelage of seasoned instructors. Our lives became a routine of discipline and dedication, with little room for distractions or personal indulgences.

As the years passed, bonds forged in the crucible of training grew stronger among the Masks. Jared's steadfast optimism and Joshua's infectious laughter helped lighten the weight of our arduous regime. Stanley's quiet determination and Brizon's strategic acumen complemented each other, while Sky's unwavering loyalty and Carl's technical expertise became indispensable assets.

Nathan, though often aloof and critical, commanded respect with his keen intellect and unwavering resolve. Ice, our enigmatic leader, balanced authority with a quiet wisdom that guided us through the most challenging moments. Amidst the intensity, friendships blossomed, each one a lifeline in the stark isolation of our underground existence.

–

One fateful day, Lord Vladimir introduced us to the Twelve Elders, bringing a rare opportunity to interact beyond our confines. The meeting was held in a secluded part of the Vixen Mafia's sprawling compound, away from prying eyes and ears. It was here that I first encountered the Elders.

The Elder leader exuded an aura of authority and confidence, his presence commanding respect among his peers.

"Welcome, Masks of the Vixen," the Elder leader greeted us with a nod, his voice carrying authority tempered with warmth. "It's a pleasure to finally meet all of you in person."

Master reciprocated with a nod of acknowledgment. "Likewise. Your leadership reputation precedes you."

As introductions ensued, I found myself drawn to the leader's calm demeanor and genuine interest in each Mask's background and aspirations. His questions went beyond the surface, delving into our motivations and visions for the future.

"You have a remarkable group here," the leader commented, his gaze sweeping over us with a hint of admiration. "To train as Masks requires more than skill; it demands unwavering dedication and a strong sense of purpose."

Throughout the meeting, the leader shared insights into his district's innovative projects and collaborative ventures with other factions. His commitment to forging alliances and fostering unity among the districts resonated deeply with me. It was clear that beyond our competitive dynamics, he envisioned a future where cooperation could lead to collective prosperity and security.

As the meeting concluded, the leader extended an unexpected invitation. "I propose a joint training exercise between our districts. It would be an opportunity to exchange tactics, strengthen our bonds, and prepare for future challenges together."

Master considered the offer thoughtfully before nodding in agreement. "A joint exercise could prove beneficial. It's settled then. We'll coordinate the details with your team."

–

In the midst of our preparations, a figure approached us with measured steps, his presence commanding attention despite his youthful appearance. Uno, the youngest Elder, had always intrigued us with his uncanny ability to navigate the intricate politics and alliances within the Vixen Mafia.

"It's good to see you preparing diligently for the upcoming exercise," Uno greeted me with a smile that belied the seriousness of his role. At just twenty years old, he held a position of significant influence among the Elders, his strategic insights and diplomatic finesse earning him respect even from senior members.

"Thank you, Uno," I replied, acknowledging his presence with a respectful nod. "Your guidance has been invaluable in refining our strategy."

Uno's gaze shifted to encompass the entire group of Masks, his expression thoughtful yet determined. "This joint exercise presents a unique opportunity for us to showcase our strengths and forge alliances beyond our district. It is imperative that we demonstrate unity and cohesion."

Nathan, ever the skeptic, voiced his concerns with a raised eyebrow. "And what if this alliance proves more burdensome than beneficial?"

"Trust, Nathan," Uno responded calmly, his tone carrying a quiet conviction. "Trust in our collective strength and the bonds we've cultivated over the years. Together, we are stronger."

As preparations continued, Uno's presence among us served as a reminder of the intricate web of alliances and rivalries that defined our world as Masks. His role extended beyond mere diplomacy; it encompassed a deep understanding of the political landscape and a commitment to securing our district's interests.

In the days leading up to the joint training exercise, Uno's strategic acumen guided us through the finer details of coordination and cooperation. His ability to anticipate challenges and navigate complex dynamics within the Vixen Mafia proved invaluable, ensuring that our preparations were meticulous and comprehensive.

As the appointed day for the exercise drew near, I found reassurance in Uno's unwavering confidence and quiet resolve. Together, we stood ready to embark on a new chapter of collaboration and competition, united under the banner of the Masks and guided by the vision of a future where alliances would shape our destiny.

–

Being a mask is not all about enjoyment. Each of us has a district and people to protect, we were chosen because of our talents.

Since then each of us has promised to be a good leader for our subjects.

Zeke Rivarez (Cloud)