Supreme Mystic: Obsessed By The Strongest Alpha

The pneumatic doors of the infirmary hissed open, the sharp mechanical screech slicing through the sterile quiet. Heavy combat boots struck the polished alloy floor in a rhythmic, aggressive stride.

A tall cadet in an immaculate academy uniform stormed into the room. His brow twisted in pure disgust as he stopped right beside the medical pod. Raising his gloved knuckles, he slammed them against the transparent acrylic lid.

Bang. Bang.

"How long are you going to pretend to be dead?" the young man sneered, his voice muffled by the partition. "Do you really think faking a collapse will save you from pushing Cristofer down the stairs?"

Inside the pod, Kieran Estes stared back with absolute calm. He looked at the intruder-Gage Norton, the arrogant eldest son of the Norton family-the way a scholar might examine an unremarkable, slightly loud insect pinned under glass.

Just moments before this violent intrusion, Kieran had opened his eyes to the blinding glare of surgical lights, awakening to a reality that was entirely alien. In a higher-dimensional parallel world, his original life had come to a definitive end. His supreme consciousness had crossed the boundaries of reality, descending into the body of his counterpart in this lower dimension.

He brought the supreme authorities of his past life bound to his soul: an absolute mastery over arcane arrays, alchemy, transcendent medicine, and mysticism. Dormant within his spirit flickered various heavenly flames, crowned by the ethereal "Starlight Holy Lotus." He was an entity who could pierce through the very laws of the world, summon departed spirits, and casually reverse the threads of destiny. The vast repository of his god-like knowledge and power remained completely intact.

As cheap, standard-grade nutrient fluid trickled through an IV tube into his bruised hand, foreign memories rushed into his skull like shards of shattered glass.

He quickly analyzed the pathetic truth of his new existence. This fragile vessel belonged to an F-class male-an abandoned heir swapped at birth and ultimately discarded by the Norton family. The original Kieran of this world had been incredibly weak and cowardly. Mocked by his peers and framed for malicious acts, the boy's fragile spirit had shattered, leading to a silent, miserable death right here in this very infirmary.

It is genuinely amusing, Kieran mused internally, a faint, mocking smirk touching his lips. To think that a version of 'me' in any universe could be this pathetically weak, allowing himself to be trampled and bullied to an early grave by such insignificant toddlers. What an absolute disgrace to our shared DNA.

Now, an apex predator occupied this fragile shell.

Enraged by the utter calm in Kieran's dark gold irises, Gage slapped the emergency override release on the console.

The canopy hissed, venting pressurized gas as it swung upward. The sharp stench of industrial disinfectant and burnt ozone flooded the air.

Stepping out from behind Gage's broad frame was a smaller, slender figure. This was Cristofer Rivers, the cherished adopted son who had taken Kieran's rightful place in the Norton family. Soft flaxen hair framed a pale face, and wide, hazel eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

"Gage, please protect him from the academy's anger," Cristofer whispered, his voice trembling with practiced vulnerability. "I'm sure Kieran lost his balance. It was my own fault for standing so close to the edge."

Kieran's gaze locked onto the small beauty mark under Cristofer's left eye. In the dead boy's memory, that exact face had worn a triumphant, mocking smirk a split second before Cristofer intentionally threw himself backward down the stone staircase.

Out in the corridor, several cadets gathered around the open doorway, whispering and pointing.

"What a pathetic loser," a voice drifted in from the hall. "He's just jealous of Cristofer's talent, so he resorts to dirty tricks."

Gage's chest puffed up at the murmurs of support. He leaned down, his gloved hand darting forward to seize Kieran by the collar and haul him out of the bed.

Maintaining a steady, unhurried rhythm, Kieran tilted his chin two inches to the left.

Gage's fingers clamped shut on empty air. The older brother froze, his eyes widening in shock that this timid coward had dared to evade him.

Moving with mechanical precision, Kieran pushed himself upright. His pale fingers closed around the plastic wing of the IV catheter embedded in his skin. He ripped the needle straight out of his vein.

A thin spray of crimson droplets speckled the pristine white sheet. Kieran tossed the bloody needle into the steel tray beside the bed, letting it land with a sharp metallic clatter.

"Are you insane?" Gage gasped, stumbling back half a step as a raw, predatory chill rolled off the younger man.

Kieran swung his bare feet over the edge, planting them on the freezing floor. His frame was thin and bruised, but his spine remained straight as an iron rod.

"Go to the family elders and beg for forgiveness, then withdraw from the academy," Gage snarled, trying to regain the upper hand through clenched teeth. "That is your only way out."

Kieran walked right up to Gage. A pleasant, entirely relaxed smile spread across his face, as if he had just heard a mildly amusing joke.

He raised his right hand, the one still dripping fresh blood, and patted Gage's rigid cheek in a slow, affectionate rhythm. Crimson smears stained the cadet's pristine skin.

"Beg? Gage, please, you're being dramatic," Kieran murmured cheerfully, his tone breezy but carrying a heavy, suffocating weight that made the hairs on Gage's neck stand up. "Though I must admit, it's genuinely fascinating watching you play the fiercely loyal guard dog for the very parasite bleeding your family dry. Ten out of ten for enthusiasm, zero for critical thinking."

He shifted his gaze to Cristofer. The adopted son's practiced vulnerability shattered instantly under that terrifyingly amused scrutiny.

"And Cris," Kieran sighed softly, like a disappointed teacher. "Next time you decide to throw yourself down a flight of stairs, do put a little back into it. Just a bruised shoulder? Really? If you're going to frame me, ask for my help next time. I'd be absolutely delighted to snap your spine in half. You know, just to make sure the medical report looks authentic."

Cristofer's face drained of all color. He took a frantic step backward, his breath hitching as an instinctual, primal terror gripped his chest. Kieran spoke with absolute, terrifying sincerity, offering to paralyze him with the casual politeness of someone pouring a cup of tea.

Kieran turned his attention back to Gage, using his bloody fingers to casually straighten the older brother's immaculate collar.

"So, here's the new arrangement," Kieran whispered, his dark gold eyes curved in a friendly, dead-eyed smile. "I'm officially resigning from my role as the Norton family punching bag. You all go back to treating me as completely invisible..."

He leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping to a soft, conversational purr. "...and in return, I promise to leave your fragile bodies completely intact. Sound fair?"

Gage's pupils constricted. His mouth fell open, his vocal cords paralyzed by the sheer, inhuman authority radiating from the boy in front of him.

Focusing solely on the path ahead, Kieran brushed his shoulder against Gage's arm. The casual impact sent the supposedly superior cadet stumbling awkwardly into a metal medical cart.

Humming a tuneless melody under his breath, Kieran walked out into the corridor. The watching crowd parted like water before a prow, staring at his retreating back in dead, terrified silence.

The freezing metal floor stung Kieran's bare soles, which was actually quite refreshing. The sharp chill did wonders to clear his head, washing away the lingering, pathetic emotional residue of the body's previous owner.

"Kieran! Please, wait!"

A trembling, perfectly pitched sob echoed down the vaulted hallway. Kieran paused and sighed inwardly. Ah. Act Two of the soap opera.

He turned slowly, watching with detached, icy amusement as Cristofer ran toward him. The boy was a picture of tragic beauty-cheeks perfectly flushed, silver-blonde hair slightly tousled, and wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Gage hurried right behind him, instantly positioning his broad, muscular frame like a rabid guard dog between the "fragile" Cristofer and Kieran.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Gage barked, his handsome face still mottled red with lingering humiliation from the infirmary. "Haven't you done enough?"

Cristofer reached out, tugging gently on Gage's sleeve to hold him back. He looked up at Kieran with a devastatingly innocent, pleading gaze.

"Gage, don't be mean to him," Cristofer whispered. His soft, melodic voice was pitched perfectly to carry into the dorm rooms lining the hall. He took a hesitant step forward, looking like a kicked puppy. "Kieran, I know you're devastated about the annulment with the Guerra family. That's why I really don't blame you for pushing me down those stairs. I forgive you. Just... please stop lashing out, okay?"

The performance worked flawlessly. Doors clicked open all along the corridor. Cadets stuck their heads out, their expressions twisting into open disdain as they glared at Kieran.

"Look at how incredibly kind Cristofer is," a senior cadet muttered loudly from a nearby doorway. "He gets shoved down a flight of stairs by that psycho, and he's still making excuses for him."

Kieran didn't feel angry. He actually felt a mild urge to applaud.

He took a single, deliberate step forward. The sudden, effortless shift in his posture made Cristofer instinctively stumble back, bumping hard against Gage's protective arm.

"You forgive me? That's beautiful, Cris. Truly touching," Kieran smiled, a bright, entirely relaxed expression that somehow made the temperature in the hallway drop ten degrees.

Before anyone could blink, Kieran's hand flashed out. His index finger lightly flicked the fabric of Cristofer's left shoulder.

Cristofer gasped, flinching violently as if he'd been burned.

"Just a heads-up," Kieran said casually, his voice smooth and carrying effortlessly through the dead-silent hall. "Maintenance painted the eastern stairwell this morning. Military-grade anti-corrosion sealant. Leaves a very distinct, glowing neon-green residue before it cures."

He paused, letting his golden eyes pin Cristofer in place. "And you, Cris, have a massive, glowing green smear right across the back of your left shoulder."

Gage frowned. His protective anger faltered as he instinctively glanced down at the back of Cristofer's jacket.

"Oh, wait. My mistake," Kieran corrected airily, snapping his fingers. "It was your right shoulder."

Panic overrode Cristofer's pristine acting. He whipped his head around, twisting his body and frantically slapping at the perfectly clean fabric of his right shoulder, desperately trying to wipe away evidence of his crime.

The corridor went dead silent. The whispers evaporated into thin air.

Kieran let out a soft, delighted chuckle.

"Just kidding," Kieran murmured, his eyes dancing with dark amusement. "There is no paint."

Cristofer froze, his hands still awkwardly clawing at his own back.

Every cadet in that hall was trained in basic tactical logic. The realization hit the crowd like a synchronized shockwave.

"Basic physics, Cris," Kieran explained patiently, like a professor speaking to a slow toddler. "If I shoved you face-to-face, as you claimed, you would have fallen backward into empty air. You wouldn't have scraped your back against the wall. The only reason you'd reflexively check your clothes for wall paint... is if you deliberately leaned against that wall and slid down it yourself."

Kieran sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, your choreography needs work."

Gage's face went completely slack. The righteous fury drained from his features, replaced by a sickening, world-shattering realization. He looked from Kieran's mocking smile down to Cristofer, who was now pale, trembling, and sweating profusely. Gage's brain practically short-circuited.

"Gage, no... he's tricking me..." Cristofer stammered, his angelic voice cracking under the crushing weight of his exposed lie.

Kieran didn't even wait for the pathetic excuse to finish. He was already incredibly bored.

"As for your precious elite squad," Kieran said brightly, looking at Gage's dumbfounded face. "Consider this my official resignation. I think I'll go team up with the bottom-tier rejects of Class F. I hear they have significantly less drama and slightly higher IQs."

He turned on his heel and walked away, humming a tuneless melody, leaving Gage standing like a paralyzed idiot.

Behind him, Cristofer bit his bottom lip until it bled, his innocent eyes darkening with pure, unadulterated malice. The useless, desperate puppet he had manipulated for years was gone. In his place was a predator who treated them like entertaining toys.

Just as Kieran reached the end of the hall, the automated public address system chimed with a harsh, piercing electronic tone, interrupting the suffocating silence.

"Attention, all freshman cadets," the automated female voice announced cheerfully. "Field expedition squad assignments have been locked. Check your personal terminals immediately."

The main concourse of the Imperial Starport was a roaring sea of noise and flashing light. Massive holographic billboards suspended from the vaulted ceiling replayed high-intensity combat footage from the previous Beast Tournament, bathing the crowds in pulses of neon blue and crimson.

Kieran stood near a transit pillar, glancing at the glowing screen on his wrist.

Squad B-1313. Assembly Point: F-7.

Because he had publicly rejected Gage and missed the standard open-draft window, the academy's automated system had officially dumped him into the lowest tier. The campus commonly called it the "Scrap Heap."

Fitting, Kieran mused cheerfully. I've survived millennia of cosmic void-storms, but navigating a terminal full of teenage hormones might actually be my greatest challenge.

He stepped into the surging stream of travelers. His heightened spatial awareness allowed him to slip effortlessly past two burly upperclassmen without brushing a single thread of their coats. As he glided past, the two men shivered, a sudden, inexplicable dread freezing them in place for a fraction of a second.

When he reached Sector F-7, a young man with messy blond hair was pacing back and forth, frantically chewing his thumbnail.

"Kieran! Over here!" Leo Foster yelled, waving both arms like a stranded castaway.

Kieran walked over, offering a slight, amused nod to his roommate.

"I thought you weren't going to show up," Leo blurted out, out of breath. "Word on the forum is that you absolutely destroyed Gage in the hallway! Man, that was insane!"

News travels fast when people have literally nothing better to do, Kieran thought, though he just offered a polite smile.

The deafening roar of a modified repulsor engine shattered their conversation. A sleek, fire-engine-red military hover-bike drifted violently across the polished tiles, stopping inches from their boots and kicking up an entirely unnecessary swirl of dust.

A tall young man with crimson hair swung his leg over the chassis. He wore custom combat leathers and a lazy, arrogant smirk.

"Lateness comes with a price, rookies," Mace Sterling said. He pulled off his tinted visor, pumping a faint ripple of third-rank intimidation into the air.

Kieran stood perfectly relaxed, his hands resting loosely in his pockets. His passive energy field devoured the hostile intent before it even touched his clothes.

Red hair, custom leather jacket, flashy bike, and completely unearned confidence, Kieran noted internally. Did he buy the 'Arrogant Squad Leader Starter Pack' off the holonet? What a walking cliché.

Mace scoffed at their lack of reaction and turned toward a heavy armored personnel carrier parked nearby. Leaning against the hull was a massive, dark-haired beastman nearly seven feet tall.

"Is this the trash Command dumped on us?" Kade Tucker's voice sounded like gravel grinding in a broken engine.

Kieran's gaze lingered on Kade. To his expanded perception, the giant's chest was transparent. A turbulent brown energy surged inside like magma trapped beneath thin rock. Three fractured energy pathways, Kieran analyzed in an instant. If he pushes past eighty percent output, his own heart will detonate like a cheap firecracker.

"Keep staring, F-rank," Kade growled, baring blunt canine teeth. "You're nothing but monster bait. The second you slow me down, I'll snap your legs and leave you for the iron-horned bulls."

"Oh." Kieran blinked.

The calm, utterly unimpressed single-syllable response made the vein on Kade's temple throb. He took a heavy, aggressive step forward, intending to grab the boy by the throat.

But suddenly, the giant gasped. His massive frame locked up completely. For a fleeting millisecond, Kieran let a microscopic sliver of his ancient aura slip. Kade's beast instincts screamed at him to drop to his knees, a cold sweat instantly breaking out across his thick neck.

Careful now, big guy, Kieran advised silently, his golden eyes flashing with quiet amusement. With those blocked arteries, you're three angry stomps away from a massive cardiac arrest. I don't even need to fight you; I just need to ask you to do jumping jacks.

The sharp click of high heels broke the tense silence.

A pair of silver-haired twins approached. The male walked with his shoulders hunched, while the female wore an immaculate, perfectly tailored field-medic uniform, her face twisted in a look of profound disgust.

"Mace, why are we breathing the same air as these gutter rats?" Talia Reynolds complained, waving a manicured hand in front of her nose. "It smells like cheap engine oil and failure."

I literally showered twenty minutes ago, but okay, Kieran sighed inwardly.

Her brother, Cillian, murmured a soft, pathetic plea for her to lower her voice.

Mace walked over to Talia, flashing a charming smile. "My apologies, my lady. Mandatory assignment. I had no say in it."

Talia lifted her chin, her eyes sweeping over Kieran. She took in his sharp bone structure and pale skin, her lips tightening with pure malice.

"So this is the famous reject," Talia sneered, her voice carrying clearly over the ambient noise of the concourse. "A genetic dead-end. No wonder your engagement was broken. You were thrown away like garbage-just a pathetic, broken toy. Honestly, you should have done us all a favor and jumped off the academy bridge instead of dragging our squad rating down."

The surrounding crowd quieted instantly. A few travelers waiting at nearby gates exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Damn, that's way out of line," a passing mercenary muttered to his partner.

"Right? Bringing up the broken engagement is one thing, but telling him to kill himself? These noble kids are psycho," a woman whispered back, casting a highly sympathetic look at Kieran.

Through the vicious verbal assault and the murmurs of the crowd, Kieran's expression remained entirely placid.

Wow. Going straight for the 'go kill yourself' monologue within fifteen seconds of introductions? Kieran mused, genuinely impressed by her audacity. Ten out of ten for aggressive pacing, but her dialogue writing is incredibly unoriginal.

Leo, however, didn't share Kieran's detached humor. His face flushed beet-red with anger, his fists clenching as he took a furious step toward the silver-haired girl.

Before Leo could speak, Kieran's palm came down firmly on his shoulder. His fingers tapped twice against the boy's collarbone, sending a microscopic pulse of absolute-zero energy into Leo's nervous system. It instantly neutralized the boy's adrenaline, forcing his tense muscles to relax.

Don't engage, Leo, Kieran thought, offering his friend a mild, calming smile. Toxic stupidity might be airborne.

To an ancient mystic who had crushed empires, the political posturing of these low-dimensional children was nothing more than the squirming of bacteria in a petri dish. It was actually quite entertaining.

"Everyone's here. Board the shuttle," Mace ordered, clapping his hands together and entirely ignoring Talia's outburst.

Kieran kept his hands buried lazily in his pockets, trailing behind the group at a leisurely pace. Kade threw a hesitant, profoundly fearful look over his shoulder before practically sprinting up the ramp to get away from the F-rank cadet.

Just as Kieran reached the gate, the automated starport announcer chimed again. Its cheerful tone was suddenly replaced by a blaring, urgent amber alert:

"Warning. Boarding for the fourth-tier hunting zones has commenced. Unstable spatial rifts and anomalous Grade-S energy signatures detected in Sector 4. Survival protocols are now in effect."

Kieran paused on the ramp. A sudden, suffocating spike in atmospheric pressure made his eyes narrow.

Just as Kieran reached the gate, a sudden, suffocating spike in atmospheric pressure made his eyes narrow. It wasn't just a shift in the crowd's movement drawing every eye toward the adjacent VIP corridor.