The world felt big.
And bright.
Like it was made of colors that didn't exist anywhere else.
There was grass everywhere — soft and cool under bare toes, tickling the skin. The stone paths shimmered in the sun, winding between hedges so tall they felt like walls. Somewhere far off, voices floated on the wind, too soft to catch, but nice enough to listen to anyway. The air smelled like cut grass and warm flowers.
Little shapes moved in the corners of vision. People. Grown-ups. Maids, dressed in black and white, carrying things, their steps light and careful. Their voices were like the breeze — always there, always soft. The whole place felt like a secret garden out of a storybook.
There was a table too. White, with little shining cups.
And there, sitting like a painting, a woman with hair the color of sunshine. It shimmered when the wind touched it. She wore a long white dress, and when she smiled, it made the whole place feel warmer.
Tiny bare feet padded across the grass, almost stumbling. A doll lay forgotten near a patch of clovers — one button eye missing, the other staring up like it knew a secret. The ground came up fast as little toes caught on something, the world tilting sideways.
A voice caught the fall before it happened.
"Claire, watch your step. You wouldn't want to fall down, would you?"
A soft, teasing voice — the kind that made everything feel safe.
A small figure glared up at the woman, cheeks puffed, the world still a little blurry around the edges.
"Mom, you don't have to baby me all the time…" the small voice piped up, high and uneven, caught between a pout and a whine.
The woman's laugh was warm, soft like the wind through leaves.
"Honey, I'd stop if you weren't so clumsy."
The little girl stomped a foot, flushed in that grumpy, innocent way only small kids managed. The grass tickled her ankles as she darted forward, straw hat clutched in one hand, white dress catching in the breeze.
The woman smiled down, eyes crinkling. Gentle fingers pinched at the girl's cheeks, ruffling soft yellow hair.
"Mom, stooop—ihhhh…" the little girl squealed, somewhere between annoyance and a giggle.
Another soft laugh, like sunlight through leaves.
"I'm just making sure you're okay, sweetheart. You'll always be my baby."
The little girl huffed, cheeks still squished, but her eyes shone with something warmer than irritation.
And though the warmth lingered, something flickered.
A ripple in the air. Too faint to name.
Not cold, not loud — just… there. Hiding past the hedges, at the edge of what the heart noticed but the eyes missed. But for now, the world stayed whole. Safe. A picture in a frame.
Claire swatted at her mother's hands with tiny palms, stepping back with a puffed-up pout. Her face flushed bright, arms crossing in mock defiance. She glared up like she meant it — but it only made her mother's smile soften, as if it had always been there and always would be.
The memory felt strange now. Distant.
Like a glass marble catching sunlight — colors that weren't there a moment ago.
Claire could almost catch the shape of that smile, but every time she tried to hold onto it, the edges slipped. The picture blurred. Lines smudged. A crack spidering through something too precious.
In the corner, behind the hedge, a small figure peeked through the leaves — Rose.
Tiny fingers clutching the greenery, half-hidden like a nervous rabbit. Her dress matched Claire's down to the ribbons, but her face wasn't bold. It was shy. Quiet. Watching, afraid to be seen.
Claire puffed her chest out like the heroes in her storybooks.
"Mom! I'm gonna be like you someday — with a sword and everything!"
She grabbed a wooden sword from a basket nearby and struck a pose.
"I'll fight all the bad guys! You'll see!"
Her swings were wild and wobbly, a complete mess — but her grin was bright, and her heart full.
When her tiny arms ached and her breath came in little huffs, she dropped the sword point into the grass, grinning like she'd conquered the world.
Claire's eyes lit up when she spotted Rose peeking from the hedge again. She waved both arms high over her head, grinning so hard it made her cheeks ache. Come on! she mouthed, though no words came out.
Rose hesitated, holding the leaves like they might hide her forever. But after a long moment, she shuffled out, her steps small and awkward. The wind blew again, kicking up little whirlpools of leaves and making Claire's hair tickle her face. She grabbed her hat, holding it down with both hands as it tried to fly away.
Rose wobbled when the wind hit her, and Claire giggled — not mean, just happy — because it felt like the wind was playing too. The maids nearby moved around them, their skirts brushing the grass with soft shh-shh sounds.
Then a hand touched her hair. Claire blinked and looked up to see her mother smiling down at her. The touch was gentle, like always, like it had always been there.
"Careful now," her mother murmured, fixing Claire's hat so it wasn't crooked. "Sometimes it's good to wait, you know. Watch, listen a little. The world likes to tell you things when you let it."
Claire scrunched her nose, not sure what that meant — but her mom was smiling, and it made her chest feel warm, so she just nodded.
Claire blinked up at her mother, innocent and curious.
"What do you mean?"
Her mother smiled, a knowing warmth in her voice.
"You'll understand soon."
The world shimmered again, edges softening as Rose finally stepped closer. She stayed quiet, offering small, hesitant smiles while Claire chattered on, her words bright and scattered. Different as they were, something easy and unspoken tied them together.
Claire's mom watched them from her seat, yellow eyes calm, a gentle pride in her gaze as she sipped her tea.
Then — the warmth slipped away. The scene blurred, fading like a half-remembered dream.
And Claire was running.
Branches clawed at her arms, the underbrush thick and wild. The Akumo's shadow swept overhead, the sky split by wings too wide, too dark. Her bow gripped tight, every breath sharp in her throat.
She couldn't see the others. But the weight was there — heavy in her chest, pulling her forward.
A whisper slipped out, soft but steady.
"Mom… I think I get it now. A little."
A small, breathless laugh followed.
"Heh… I don't even know why I said that — but hey, too late now!"
She grinned to herself, only to let out a startled, "Eep!" as a branch tumbled down. Ducking to the side, her heart pounding, she darted left, feet barely catching purchase on the uneven ground.
Meanwhile, up on the elevated hill, Isaac sat in quiet ease, eyes fixed on the transparent screen in his hand. His finger idly traced the rim of his teacup as flickering images of scattered students filled the display. Some fought Akumos head-on with reckless bravado. Others used simpler, cleaner tactics. The starfield had become a hunting ground.
Ann stood behind him, watching the same screen. Her brow furrowed as she spotted Claire's frantic figure weaving through the dense forest.
"Sir… she's—"
"She'll manage," Isaac murmured, taking a slow sip of tea.
In the forest, Claire's pulse thundered in her ears as the Akumo swept low. She flinched, diving to the side, landing hard against a tree trunk. Air whooshed from her lungs, but she pushed off and darted toward another.
"Close…" she mumbled, breath ragged.
Fumbling an arrow from her quiver, she notched and fired at the tree ahead. The shot wobbled, but it stuck just enough. She stepped on it mid-leap, propelling herself upward. Another dive from the Akumo, another desperate scramble. Her hands grabbed a low branch, swinging herself out of the way just in time.
"Okay… okay… focus, focus…" she hissed, more to keep herself moving than for any actual reassurance.
Another arrow. Another shot. It struck the Akumo — and snapped uselessly. Claire's stomach twisted. The creature's blood-red eyes locked onto her, glinting with something close to cruel amusement.
"Great. Perfect. Love that for me…" she muttered, her voice small and dry.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, movement. Liene — graceful, fast, weaving through the branches with ease, her kyoketsu-shoge slicing arcs through the air. She glanced back, a confident smirk tugging at her lips.
Claire managed a wobbly, crooked smile.
"Right… on…"
But her breath hitched as the Akumo dove again — faster this time, its eyes locked onto her. The world narrowed to the sound of wings tearing through the air and the pounding of her own heartbeat.
Her fingers fumbled at her belt, grabbing the small sparking device Takumi had tossed her earlier. Tiny flashes of gold danced at its tip. She held it out, her hand trembling as the creature's gaze snapped toward it.
"Oh no…" Claire squeaked, realizing too late that the sparks only made her the perfect target.
The Akumo shrieked, talons stretched, diving straight for her.
Claire's legs stuttered a step back. Her head spun.
"Okay, okay — here goes nothing…" she mumbled to herself, her voice dry and tight.
Then, with a desperate surge of adrenaline, she bolted. The wind from the Akumo's wings slammed against her as it closed in. Leaves and branches scattered in its wake.
Without thinking, Claire dove forward in a clumsy roll, letting the sparking device slip from her grip as she tumbled. It hit the ground, golden flashes bursting brighter.
The Akumo veered sharply, drawn to the light. It dove at the device, leaving Claire in its wake.
From the ground, breath ragged, Claire looked up as the sparkler flickered out. A small, unsteady grin tugged at her lips.
"Gotcha," she whispered.
Her legs wobbled, but for a fleeting second, pride rose in her chest — even with the fear still gnawing at her ribs.
The light had done its job. Overhead, the Akumo flinched and twisted as fine threads shimmered in the air. Liene's trap, an intricate web of wire-thin strings, tangled the creature's wings and beak mid-flight. It screeched, eyes narrowing, fighting against the snare.
"Do it!" Claire called, her voice rough but firm.
From a branch above, Liene yanked her kyoketsu-shoge taut. The strings constricted, forcing the Akumo lower, its massive wings slashing wildly through empty air.
Then—
"Go!" Takumi's voice cut through the wind.
He stepped out from behind the creature as Claire was already moving, unsheathing her sword in one swift motion. Takumi's scythe whirred, its curved blade gleaming.
Without hesitation, they struck together — Claire's Stellar Skill igniting mid-motion. Storm. Her blade blurred in rapid arcs, slashes cutting through air and feathers alike, gales of energy swirling from each strike. The Akumo shrieked, struggling helplessly in the tightening threads.
Flashes of memory flickered — her mother's voice, sunlit gardens, Rose's quiet cheers.
Claire leapt high, twisting midair, delivering a final sweeping slash before landing in a crouch, breath ragged, chest tight. The strike mirrored a move from long ago — muscle memory born from sunlit afternoons, now sharpened by necessity.
Takumi wasn't far behind. He launched upward, scythe spinning as he called out his Stellar Skill: Falling Crescent. The blade arced, momentum building before he plunged it down into the Akumo's back. The creature shrieked, wings thrashing violently.
But Takumi wasn't finished. Mid-fall, he slapped a small device onto the Akumo's feathers, flipping away as he pressed a button. A burst of flame erupted across the creature's form, swallowing it in a violent plume.
Takumi landed smoothly, smirking.
"Still standing?"
"Show off," Liene called from a nearby branch, casually twirling her kyoketsu-shoge, though her lips tugged into a grin.
He shrugged, never losing the grin. "What can I say? It's a talent."
But the smug moment died instantly.
The Akumo burst from the flames — its silhouette cutting through the blaze, dark wings unfurling wide. It rose, unburned, unbroken, an unnatural gleam in its crimson eyes. The sound it made wasn't just a cry — it was a scream of defiance that tore through the starfield, the force of it halting every nearby fight in its wake.
Even from the hill, Isaac's smile sharpened at the distant sound.
"Ah… now that's more like it."
Ann's grip tightened on her device, her expression darkening.
Back below, Claire's heart lurched.
"No way…" she breathed, voice cracking.
The Akumo hovered, shadow stretching long and wide, its aura thick as oil in the air. It locked eyes on them, the promise of ruin in its glare.
Claire's legs trembled. She wanted to run, to fire, to do something, but her body wouldn't listen. The creature surged upward, gathering its strength for one final dive.
Takumi's grip tightened around the scythe's handle, sweat sliding down his brow. No time left to second-guess.
"Damn it… enough standing around," he muttered, teeth gritted.
His gaze flicked to Claire and Liene. Then, without hesitation, he surged forward, muscles tensing as his scythe shifted in his hands, lengthening into a heavy broadsword mid-leap.
"Hahhh!" Takumi roared, swinging upward with all his strength. The blade connected with a brutal crack against the Akumo's head, forcing the creature back.
Claire's heart skipped, eyes wide. Liene flinched.
The recoil sent Takumi crashing to the ground, his body hitting hard.
"Takumi!" Claire cried, scrambling toward him, her hands trembling as she reached for his arm. "A-are you—?"
"Idiot," Liene muttered, voice unusually soft, kneeling beside him. "Try not to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that."
Takumi coughed, blood staining his lip, but still managed a crooked grin.
"Worked though, didn't it?"
Claire bit her lip, her worry plain on her face. She opened her mouth to speak—but then the sound came.
A low, furious screech.
The three of them looked up as the Akumo rose from the scorched clearing, its feathers smoldering but intact, crimson eyes burning with fury.
Takumi's grin faded.
"…Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."
Liene's grin faltered, her gaze locking onto the sky.
"Oh, perfect," she muttered, the usual lilt gone from her voice.
Claire's breath hitched, her stomach twisting as the Akumo's screech split the air.
"I-I don't… I don't think we can handle it this time…" Her words clung together, tight and shaking.
The thing dove. Shadows swallowed the clearing.
"Run," Claire whispered. Then louder, desperate. "Run!"
They snapped toward her, reading the terror on her face. The wind from the Akumo's wings battered the branches overhead.
"We're moving, now!" Claire's voice cracked, raw but sure.
Without a word, Liene grabbed Takumi's arm and dragged him up.
"On your feet, boy."
Takumi grunted, fumbling to retract his weapon.
"Yeah, yeah — no need to rip it off."
Claire rushed to his other side.
"C-come on — move!"
Takumi stumbled between them, gritting his teeth.
"Look at you two. Getting all clingy. Gotta say, I'm flattered."
"Keep talking and you'll be fertilizer," Liene shot back, her voice low, her words sharper than usual — not teasing, not now.
Another screech, closer.
"Seriously… leave me if you have to…" Takumi coughed, trying to shake them off.
"Not happening," Liene said, not sparing him a glance. Her grip didn't loosen. "Don't start with the noble sacrifice crap, boy."
Takumi smirked despite the sweat and blood.
"Heh… sounded cool in my head."
Claire shot him a worried glance but didn't break stride.
"Less cool if you keel over," she muttered, breathless. "S-so just… go!"
They pushed forward, the Akumo's screech ripping through the treetops, a sound sharp enough to make the air itself feel thinner.
Up on the hill, Isaac barely moved, eyes locked on the flickering display in his hands. His cup rested forgotten at his side. Behind him, Ann shifted her weight, her gaze flicking between the students on the screen and the sky overhead. Her grip on the device in her hand tightened. She said nothing — but she took a step forward.
As the group neared a plateau, Claire's pulse pounded in her ears. The ground leveled out ahead, but the trees thickened, a wall of roots and branches too dense to pass through cleanly. The Akumo's shadow swept over them again, the wind from its wings clawing at their hair and clothes.
They dropped low, lungs burning, every ragged breath scraping their throats.
"Leave me," Takumi muttered, his grip on Liene's arm squeezing tight for a second. "You're faster without me. Go."
Liene let out a sharp breath and knelt beside him.
"You think I'm gonna ditch you now, boy? Get real."
"Stupid's my specialty," Takumi rasped, smirking through the pain. "Figured you'd wanna save yourself the headache."
"Too late," she said, voice low. "I'm stuck with you."
Claire's throat tightened, watching them. Her fingers twitched uselessly at her sides, her chest tight. This wasn't some drill. No reset. No sparring match. The thing above them wasn't going to stop.
Her hand moved before she fully realized it, fingers brushing an arrow's shaft in her quiver. Cool to the touch, the familiar feel steadied her trembling just enough. She notched it, the bowstring biting against her fingertips.
The Akumo's crimson eye burned down on them, daring them to try.
Claire's hands shook.
But she raised the bow anyway.
Liene's gaze flicked toward her, brow furrowed. "Claire… what are you doing?" No teasing in her voice this time — just quiet surprise.
Claire swallowed hard, not taking her eyes off the Akumo.
"I… I don't know," she mumbled. "I just…" A breath. Shoulders tense, then steady. She drew the string back, voice soft but clearer now.
"I just know I gotta try… capisce?"
The creature shrieked, wind splitting around them as it dove.
"Claire, no!" Takumi barked, coughing through grit teeth. "You're not some damn hero! Don't be stupid!"
He moved to push up, but Liene's hand shot out, catching his shoulder — not rough, not harsh. Just enough.
"Wait."
Takumi shot her a glare. "The hell are you—"
"Look at her," Liene muttered, barely loud enough to hear. Not a speech, not a lecture. Just a simple truth between them. "I don't know her, and neither do you. But she's still standing."
Takumi froze, scowling but saying nothing.
Claire's grip tightened. The string hummed faintly, a flicker of Stellar Art building at her fingertips, barely holding together.
"I… I have to do this… capisce?" she breathed again, steadier now.
The Akumo's shriek tore through the air, its red eyes locking on.
Then — a rush of wind.
A shadow dropped from above.
Kazuki.
Her breath caught.
The arrow slipped from her fingers.
For a moment, the whole world stilled.
Even Takumi and Liene froze, the air between them heavy, tight.
Kazuki moved.
A blur — sudden, fast, and clean.
His sword flashed once. Then again.
Each strike precise, slicing through the Akumo's defenses as if they weren't there. No pause. No sound. Nothing wasted.
The Akumo shrieked, thrashing against air that had already betrayed it.
Claire's breath hitched, her chest aching. She didn't understand what she was seeing, only that everything about it felt… different. Detached. Sharp. Cold.
Kazuki leapt, his final strike splitting through the Akumo's chest. The massive form crashed to the ground, feathers scattering like dark petals.
The boy landed light, silent. His sword slid back into its sheath with a soft click. He didn't look at them. Didn't speak.
The forest seemed to forget how to make a sound.
Takumi let out a breathless, broken chuckle.
"Yeah… saw that coming," he muttered, wincing as he straightened.
Liene flicked him a glance, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "Show-off."
"Jealous?" he croaked, though there wasn't much heat in it.
Claire's legs gave out. She hit the ground hard, palms pressed against dirt, breath ragged. Her wide eyes stayed locked on Kazuki's back — waiting for something. A word. A glance. Anything.
Her hands trembled against the dirt. The words wouldn't come.
Her heart pounded, chest tight. It wasn't just disbelief — it was the sinking, cold certainty that this wasn't the end. Not even close.
And somewhere else in the Starfield…
A flash of pink hair darted between the trees.
"Trees, trees—Ow!" Rose hissed, swatting a branch that smacked her square in the face.
She glared at the offending twig like it had personally wronged her, then sighed, brushing leaves from her shoulder.
"Ugh, should've asked to room with Claire when I had the chance…" she grumbled under her breath.
The forest thickened around her, the ground soft with moss and old needles. She kept moving, the distant echoes of something unnatural breaking through the still air.
A burst.
Then laughter. Sharp, high, and wrong.
Rose froze.
She crouched instinctively, eyes narrowing as the sound carried through the trees. It prickled at her skin, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Curiosity warred with instinct, but Claire's face flickered in her mind — stubborn, cheerful, and reckless.
Rose grit her teeth.
Step by step, she crept forward, the thick brush snagging at her sleeves. The laughter grew clearer. She ducked low, peering through a gap in the bushes.
A lone figure stood in a clearing. Hood drawn up, head tilted, shoulders shaking with a jagged, gleeful laugh. Around him, students lay sprawled — some unconscious, some barely moving, the air thick with scorched leaves and the sting of magic.
Another blast of light erupted from his hand, striking one of the downed students without hesitation.
Rose's breath caught.
She didn't recognize his face, but she didn't need to.
The shape of him, the madness in his laugh — it was enough.
Rose's throat tightened.
Miss Ann's warnings about fatal magic flickered somewhere in the back of her mind — distant, like a voice underwater. But the clearing spoke louder.
A pile of bodies, motionless.
A lone figure standing amidst the wreckage, half-shrouded by mist and broken light.
She should run.
She should scream.
She should…
…stop him.
Right?
Her fingers brushed the hilt of her weapon. The cool metal steadied her for a heartbeat — just long enough to think something stupid.
Then she glanced up.
No drones.
A few broken ones hung from branches like dead insects, their screens flickering. Whatever this was, it wasn't part of the trial anymore.
A step back. A crack of a twig underfoot.
The figure in the clearing stilled.
His head didn't turn.
No sharp, theatrical pivot. No taunt.
Just a silence that felt too heavy for the space it occupied.
Rose's gut churned. She didn't know if it was fear, or shame, or that other, noiseless voice in her head again — the one that kept asking what do you even want to be?
No point standing here.
She stepped out from cover and hurled her magic, water whipping through the air in quick, panicked bursts. The spells struck, hissed… and vanished. Nothing. Not even a glance.
Then his hand lifted — casual, like brushing dust from a sleeve.
A flash of light struck her chest like a battering ram. She hit the ground hard, a cry tearing from her throat. The world tilted sideways, breath stolen.
Rose coughed, dragging herself up by sheer stubbornness. Her vision swam, and in that mess of color and sound, she thought she saw his hand again. Not raised in triumph. Not clenched in malice.
Just… moving. Unhurried. Controlled.
A flicker of darkness curled around his fingers.
The second blast came faster than her eyes could track, a sphere of light tearing through the air. She barely registered the impact before everything went black.
A figure moved between trees at the edge of the starfield — not running, not panicked, but watching.
Ann's eyes swept the shifting canopy, her device silent at her side. The trial's order had fractured. Pockets of battles still flared in the distance, but something was wrong. She felt it in the stillness between the leaves.
She moved, quietly now, unaware of what lay ahead in the clearing.
Not yet.