The arena had thinned into shattered remnants — just jagged platforms and fractured stone hanging in the air, held together by fading mana. Spectators leaned in close to their screens, watching the chaos narrow toward its end.
At the center stood Kazuki.
Nearby, Liene lay on one knee, shoulders trembling. Her fingers clawed into the stone as the teleport system flared beneath her, waiting to pull her out. She didn't move. Not yet.
A whisper of motion.
Steel arced toward Kazuki's neck — missed. The blade hissed through the air, catching nothing. Takumi landed behind him, scythe swinging again without pause.
A sharp ping rang out.
Kazuki shifted just enough to parry, sword clashing against the hooked edge. The next instant, Takumi was already stepping back, flicking two metallic spheres through the air.
"Little light show. Don't blink."
The explosions flared white, blooming across the platform like lightning trapped in smoke. When the wind cleared, Kazuki was already moving — feet gliding, sword down and angled. Sparks trailed behind each step he took.
Takumi dropped into a crouch as he landed. The smirk stayed. The rhythm didn't.
"Okay," he muttered, "that was cool."
They clashed again. For every swing Takumi threw, Kazuki responded with a cut sharper, closer, always from an angle just ahead of him. The impact never felt even. Kazuki's strikes came like punctuation — brief, final, clean.
Takumi spun wide, boots skidding along the broken edge of the floor. His scythe caught on a jagged pillar — redirected — sent back with new force. Kazuki sidestepped.
"Stingy with compliments, huh," Takumi said under his breath.
No reply. Not that he was expecting one.
Across the arena, Claire's breaths came shallow. Her body refused to respond — still locked down by Takumi's earlier trick. She watched through the flickering edges of mana blur, her heart pounding harder with every movement she couldn't mirror.
She had felt it. She had been there, blade in motion, steps instinctive. Until it ended.
Now, all she could do was follow the silhouettes moving faster than thought.
Takumi surged forward again, scythe spinning, every step loud, every move trying to bend the tempo. Kazuki met him mid-way — this time with a single upward flick that nearly took Takumi's stance out from under him.
Takumi stumbled, caught himself.
Paused.
Then grinned, shoulders rising in a half-laugh.
"…Guess I'll call that one a maybe."
He didn't step back.
Not yet.
Blades collided in a storm of momentum — steel against steel, rhythm against rhythm. Takumi's scythe spun with practiced chaos, arcs slicing close with whistling precision. He feinted low, then vaulted back, already drawing a triangular device from his pouch.
"Let's crank the drama," he muttered, tossing it with a flick of his wrist. The smirk didn't leave his face.
Kazuki's only answer was the faint slide of his boots as he shifted his stance — precise, unreadable.
The arena around them was nothing but splinters of broken platforms and dying magic. Through the monitors, spectators leaned in, breath held. The air itself hummed with aftershocks and fading echoes of combat.
Down below, Claire blinked at the sudden mention.
"T-that's not…" she began, but the words fell flat. Her eyes stayed locked on the sky above.
The device burst mid-air — a controlled detonation that launched Takumi like a comet. He twisted with the momentum, scythe raised overhead. The descending strike came fast, heavier than before, thunderous with force.
Kazuki met it without flinch or flourish. One gloved hand braced the back of his blade, catching the full weight of the impact. The stone beneath him cracked. He didn't move.
Takumi used the moment — turned the clash into a spin, slipping behind Kazuki in one fluid step. His scythe swept for center mass.
Steel met steel again — Kazuki's counter already waiting. The clash forced him into a low slide, one hand on the ground, eyes narrowing only slightly.
Then he vanished forward.
Before Takumi could reset, Kazuki burst upward, vaulting clean over him. Mid-air, he twisted, blade carving a sharp arc downward — catching Takumi clean across the back.
Takumi's mana flared, flickered.
He hissed, a flash of teeth, and then — the grin returned. "Knew you were hiding that."
He dropped low, revealing a larger sphere in his palm.
"Let's go widescreen."
The explosion roared — a bloom of light and smoke that swallowed half the arena. Fire climbed into the air, pillars of force cracking what platforms still held.
Through it all, Kazuki's silhouette didn't appear.
Takumi emerged first, breathing hard, scythe already spinning again.
Their weapons clashed in rapid succession, steel ringing sharp against steel. Kazuki slipped through Takumi's swings, the scythe shifting hands mid-strike, carving deep lines into the arena floor.
A breath later, Kazuki sprang back in a tight arc, boots scraping the stone before he drove forward again, blade catching the light. Takumi met it with a twist of his scythe, the hooked edge dragging their weapons down before a quick kick forced Kazuki off balance.
They broke apart in unison, reclaiming their footing with mirrored precision. Takumi let his weapon spin lazily in one hand before settling into a two-handed grip. Kazuki stayed low, sword poised, eyes fixed on him.
On the sidelines, Liene's earlier irritation had cooled into reluctant respect, while Claire's hands dug into the dirt, her gaze darting between them.
"Ready for the main event?" Takumi asked, his tone light but edged.
Kazuki answered with a single nod.
Mana surged. Edges flared with light. The air thickened, the arena trembling as they blurred toward each other—no wasted motion, no hesitation—closing the distance for the clash that would decide it.
Then everything stopped. Not slowed—stopped. As if time itself had frozen, leaving them mid-motion, only their eyes darting in confusion. Claire lay paralyzed on the ground, gaze flicking between the combatants. Kazuki's expression didn't change mid-sprint, while Takumi and Liene's faces were caught in shock.
A sharp beep cut through the silence.
Time's up.
Relief swept over Claire as the timer above blinked 00:00. In the next instant, the arena vanished beneath them, replaced by the bleachers and a wall of gasps.
The stadium broke into cheers, groans, and excited chatter. Claire straightened in her seat with a jolt, energy rushing back into her limbs. Her hands flew to the spots where pain had burned only moments ago—smooth skin. Around her, others were checking their own injuries, now gone.
"W-what just—?" she squeaked, eyes darting around.
The scarred battlefield crumbled into drifting gray particles, reassembling into its untouched form. Darui appeared at the center, microphone in hand. Conversations died down.
Takumi and Liene sat slouched despite their restored bodies, exchanging a brief, tired glance before looking away. A few seats over, Rose—absent since the fighting began—had her face buried in her hands, letting out a muffled groan.
Claire let out a small laugh, shaking her head before looking to Darui.
"Ahem, quite the show you all put on… Had me on the edge of my seat," he said, pride warming his voice. "Though I'll admit, that ending left me wanting more. But think of this as a taste of what's coming. These battles? Just the start. Brace yourselves—greater challenges are ahead. For now, class dismissed. Rest up, body and mind. I expect great things from each of you."
As Darui's words faded with his vanishing form, Claire sat frozen in thought while the rest of the students shuffled out. Movement caught her eye—Kazuki, silent as ever, already halfway to the door. Something in that unshaken, almost unreal calm pulled at her, the image of his earlier clashes with Liene and Takumi still sharp in her mind.
"If you're done staring, the rest of us have legs too," Takumi called, voice dripping with smug amusement.
"I-I wasn't—!" Claire's head snapped up, tugging her cloak tighter.
By the time she scrambled to her feet, Takumi was leaning casually on the railing at the top of the stairs. Rose stood beside him, practically glowing with a grin, and Liene lingered a few steps back, gaze elsewhere.
Claire's stomach flipped when they all started heading down without her. "W-wait up, capisce!" She hurried after them, nearly missing a step before catching herself.
"You could've… y'know… waited!" she panted when she finally caught up.
"But Claire," Rose said sweetly, eyes glittering with playful trouble, "you looked so enchanted with the view." She flicked her fingers and a tiny puff of stardust swirled over Claire's head, drifting down like shimmering snow.
Claire batted the motes away with a flustered huff. "Oh y-yeah? And where were you when all the fighting was going on, hm?"
Rose clasped her hands and swayed innocently. "Ahaha… wow, look at you—still on your feet after that mess. That's kinda impressive."
"You're just changing the subject, capisce!" Claire grinned, a spark of triumph slipping through despite herself.
Takumi leaned against the railing, idly running a hand through his mess of orange hair as he glanced over his shoulder. Liene stood a step behind, arms folded, gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the dissolving arena. He gave her a light nudge with his elbow.
She jolted, blinking back to the present. Takumi's smirk met her eyes, and with a small tilt of his head he gestured toward the scene below.
"Pretty quiet for you," he said. "You're letting Claire down there hog all the banter. Not your style."
"Oh? And what is my style?" Liene's smile slid back into place, perfectly shaped, if a touch too practiced.
He shrugged, eyes flicking back to her. "Normally? Three comebacks in under a minute. Today? Zero. You spacing out on me?"
"My, how very attentive you've become." Her voice still carried that lilting tease, but it didn't land as sharp as usual.
"Just noticing patterns," he said lightly. "And right now, yours is 'weirdly quiet.'"
She glanced away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mm. Maybe I'm just… letting someone else have the stage for once."
"Sure," Takumi said with an exaggerated nod. "Generosity. Got it." He leaned on the railing again. "Don't worry, I'll log this rare event for the history books."
Down below, Claire was in full interrogation mode while Rose squirmed in place, her usual sparkle dimming under the pressure.
"I-I was on the other side of the arena, okay?!" Rose said, throwing her arms up.
"Then why didn't anyone see you when the barrier closed in, capisce?" Claire shot back, almost proud of her sudden boldness.
Rose's lips curved mischievously. "Oh, I see what this is—you're mad I wasn't there to save you." She twirled a finger, and a harmless flurry of glowing petals burst around Claire's head.
"Hey—!" Claire batted them away, coughing through her laughter.
"Fine, fine," Rose relented, grinning. "I got hit once—once—and poof. Out. Satisfied?"
Claire giggled until Rose joined in, the tension melting into easy laughter. Above them, Liene's smile lingered just long enough before she turned away, hiding the faintest flicker in her expression.
The morning slipped away, the clock striking 11:30 as the lunch bell echoed through the halls. Students poured into the corridors, some diving into lockers, others gathering in noisy clusters, their chatter threaded with exhausted groans.
Claire and Rose stumbled out of History class, leaning on each other for balance.
"Don't forget to review today's material and complete the questions on page seventeen. I expect those papers tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch," Mr. Renji's voice drifted after them.
Twin groans escaped before either could stop themselves.
A shimmer of light flickered around the teacher, and with a soft whoosh he dissolved into wind, leaving only the rustle of papers on his desk.
"Talk about a mood killer after all that fighting," Rose muttered, slumping harder against Claire. "What's even the point of sitting through that?"
"I know..." Claire sighed, adjusting her shoulder under Rose's weight. "N-no disrespect to Mr. Renji, but..." she let out another heavy breath, "even the history of Stracia could be interesting if it wasn't delivered like a—like a bedtime story, capisce?!"
She slumped against her locker, the dull ache of boredom still clinging to her. Her notebook was a mess of wandering scribbles; she could still hear the steady drone about the Treaty of Unity, the Seven Celestial Territories, and trade routes that seemed to stretch on longer than the calendar years they were describing. Even the part about Chancellor Lothar's enchanted quill had slipped past her half-closed eyes.
"I think the only thing I actually remember is wanting it to end," Rose groaned, her voice pulling Claire back to the present.
Claire fumbled the locker key into place. Rose leaned against the one beside it with a theatrical sigh while
She was reaching for her last notebook when movement caught her eye—Takumi walking past with his usual measured stride, trailing Liene. The latter moved with a sharper purpose than usual, not so much as glancing back.
Rose's gaze lingered on them, her usual bounce tempered into something quieter. She turned toward Claire, her voice soft but edged with curiosity.
"Hey… about Liene—"
A discreet throat-clearing broke the moment as another student reached for the locker Rose was blocking.
"Ah! Sorry!" Rose stepped aside, a sheepish smile flickering across her face.
Claire glanced at her, catching the way Rose's eyes drifted again toward Liene's retreating figure. "...Yeah," Claire murmured, shutting her locker with a faint click. The words that followed felt heavier in her mouth. "It's… not quite the same, is it?"
Rose hugged her arms, gaze trailing down the hall. "Guess she's got a lot on her mind."
Claire didn't answer, though the thought lingered in her chest—an unspoken agreement neither seemed ready to put into full words.
Meanwhile, Takumi closed the gap to Liene with an easy stride, her blue hair catching the light as it shifted with her brisk pace. He fell in beside her, hands clasped behind his head, smirk in place.
Her eyes flicked his way, the warmth usually in them cooled to something sharper.
"Going somewhere?" he asked, head tilting just slightly.
"Nothing that concerns you. Mind not following me, boy?" The softness in her tone did little to hide the edge beneath.
"Sure—right after you stop walking like you're late to a fight." His smirk deepened. "What's with the storm cloud look? Secret errand?"
A stray shard of ice zipped past—some student's miscast spell—making them pause before continuing as if nothing happened.
"The only thing I'm avoiding is that oversized ego of yours," she said, voice lacking its usual lilt.
"Ouch." His brow ticked up. "Usually, you'd have me regretting life choices by now. Guess you're slipping."
She didn't answer, only quickened her stride. He matched it easily, his thoughts drifting back to their earlier history lesson. Normally she'd have been all over it—questions, commentary, the works. Now she seemed elsewhere, gaze fixed ahead, shoulders set.
An image flashed, unbidden—him at the foot of broad stairs, ornate surroundings blurring, something just beyond sight. The scene vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him with an odd sense of distance. He shook it off, eyes settling once more on her uncharacteristically rigid frame.
Meanwhile, Claire walked beside Rose toward the cafeteria, fidgeting with her uniform's sleeve.
"R-right, and then what happ—" Her voice trailed as her eyes caught a flicker of movement down an empty corridor—a black-clad figure disappearing around the corner. Something about the way she moved… precise, but almost too quiet. Claire's chest gave a small, curious flutter.
"And then I was like, what's even the point if he's gonna show off like that?" Rose laughed, waving her hands in the air. "Oh! Did I tell you about that time during practice when—"
"Uh-huh, that's really… um, interesting… capisce?" Claire mumbled, already sidestepping toward the corridor. She nearly walked into a pillar, then brushed her hand over the stone like she'd meant to inspect it.
"The next class should be—" Rose glanced at her, raising a brow. Claire nodded without really hearing.
"And seriously, if lunch is stew again…"
"Y-yeah, totally! Wait, what about stew?" Her feet had their own plan, weaving her through a cluster of students toward the corridor—until she slammed into someone.
The impact sent them both stumbling. Her pigtails whipped around her as she landed in a heap.
"O-ow… note to self: walking and thinking don't mix…"
"Might want to watch where you're going," came a casual voice.
Claire blinked up. Blue hair. That student from the arena. Her cheeks lit up like a signal flare. "I-I… you… that is… oh gosh…"
"I-I'm so sorry!" she squeaked, scrambling to her feet. "I was just—uh—checking the floor. It… looked suspicious." She gave a quick, nervous wave.
The blue-haired student tilted his head slightly, a small smile touching his lips. "Is that so? Well… I'm sure it's nothing worth worrying about."
Claire bobbed her head quickly and hurried off, nearly catching her sleeve on a door handle before ducking into the corridor. She pressed her back against the wall, heart still pounding, scanning to make sure no one had followed.
That glimpse of black fabric clung to her thoughts—like an itch she couldn't quite place.
Rose was mid-story, gesturing animatedly. "…so anyway, back at Starfield, there was this guy who—" She turned to where Claire had been standing, only to find empty space.
"Claire?" Rose's voice echoed faintly down the hall.
Around the corner, Claire pressed herself against the wall, fingers worrying at the hem of her sleeve. She hadn't meant to slip away in the middle of Rose's story—but she'd spotted someone ahead.
Kazuki moved down the corridor with deliberate, unhurried steps, his black cloak brushing quietly against his legs. Claire hesitated, her breath catching. There was something in the way he walked—like each step was weighed, chosen.
Before she could think twice, she was following him. A loose floorboard betrayed her with a sharp creak. She froze, heat rushing to her cheeks, though no one was looking.
Her eyes darted up. Kazuki had stopped.
She shrank back into a doorway, pulse drumming in her ears. When she peeked out, he was already moving again—no glance over his shoulder, no sign he'd noticed her at all.
He turned toward the administrative wing and stopped in front of the headmaster's office, his gaze fixed on the closed door.
What is he doing here?
The handle turned. The door opened a fraction.
"Ah, right on time," Mr. Isaac's voice came—calm, warm, as if greeting someone expected.
Kazuki stepped inside without a word.
Claire bit her lip, glancing back the way she'd come. She should return to Rose. She knew that.
But…
Moving on tiptoe, she approached the door and pressed her ear against it.
"Settled in well, I trust?" Mr. Isaac's voice carried through the wood. "Your performance at Starfield was impressive, even with minimal effort—"
"The agreement." Kazuki's tone was level, unyielding. "Spare me the rambling. I've done my part. Now it's yours… Sir." The honorific landed cold.
Claire's eyes widened. It was the most she'd ever heard him speak—and something in his tone made her skin prickle.
She held her breath, fingers white-knuckled against the doorframe. Each word that filtered through made her heart skip. The conversation felt heavy with meaning she couldn't grasp—like trying to catch smoke.
Her mind flashed, unbidden, to that night—the screech of tires, her own frozen terror, and then… Kazuki. The way he'd moved, precise and deadly, every strike calculated. So different from how she fumbled through life, yet in battle she somehow…
She shook her head, dragging herself back to the present. Isaac's voice carried that same unsettling calm she'd always noticed but never understood.
"You're eager, I see." A pause. "But rushing ahead won't bring you what you're looking for. The threads are still being woven."
Claire shifted her weight—and winced. The floorboard creaked. She froze, breath locked in her chest.
"No." Kazuki's voice was flat steel. "I'm not interested in the process. Do you ask how a painting is made, or simply see it when it's done? I've spent enough time on your terms. If you're going to stall, we're done."
A soft chuckle from Isaac made her skin crawl. She pressed closer to the door, even as her conscience screamed at her to leave.
"Tell me, Kazuki," Isaac's voice dripped like honey over glass, "if you had all the answers right now, what would you do with them? Would they bring you closer to what you seek… or only blur the path?"
Silence. Claire could almost see Kazuki's expressionless face—those eyes that seemed to see everything, and reveal nothing.
"Very well," he said finally, each word measured. "If you insist. The truth is rarely simple. So tell me—what difference would knowing my motives make to you?"
Claire's fingers trembled against the wood. There was something in his voice—something that brought to mind sheathed blades and gathering storms.
She held her breath as Isaac's words drifted through the door, the tone shifting—less casual now, almost reflective. A faint click marked the setting down of his cup.
"True," Isaac said, drawing out the word. "But let's say, for argument's sake, we remove me from the board. Forget everything else—just you, and your vendetta against them." A pause, deliberate. "If I laid every piece before you—every thread, every hidden truth—would you still keep to the part you've been given? Or would you… step past it?"
Claire leaned further into the shadow, pulse hammering in her ears.
"I know this much," Isaac went on, his words smooth, unhurried. "You've already dismantled most of their factions. Only the last splinter group remains… and the heart itself. But tell me—do you?"
"Yes."
The reply came without hesitation, and something in it sent a shiver through her. No edge, no flare—just a stillness that left no room for doubt.
The quiet that followed was sharp enough to cut.
A slow exhale came from Isaac's side, the ghost of a laugh without the warmth to carry it. Claire could almost see the faint curl of his lips, that same half-smile that promised far more than it revealed.
The door creaked open and Claire froze, her yellow hair stiff like startled antennae. Kazuki stepped out, expression as unreadable as ever—but there was the faintest hesitation in his stride, as if he hadn't expected to see her there.
Claire's cheeks puffed out. She stared at the floor, then the ceiling, then somewhere vaguely in the vicinity of his shoulder. Her fingers fidgeted with her sleeves, twisting the fabric until a tiny, traitorous "meep!" slipped out.
Kazuki's head snapped toward her, hand brushing the hilt at his side. For a fraction of a second, his mask cracked—brows lifting, eyes widening—before settling back into stillness.
The reaction, brief as it was, lit Claire up like a festival lantern. She bounced forward on her toes, leaning far enough into his personal space to make any reasonable person take a step back.
"Hmmm…" she hummed, circling him with an investigative squint, nearly tripping twice in the process. "Interesting."
Her inspection was part detective, part daydreamer—peering up at his face as though she might find hidden markings, tilting her head until her pigtails swayed like pendulums.
Kazuki remained still, only turning his gaze slightly to follow her movements.
Without warning, Claire popped up in front of him, close enough to count eyelashes. Her eyes narrowed with mock gravity… then she reached out and poked his cheek. "Boop."
Kazuki blinked once. Twice. Said nothing.
Claire grinned at the tiny victory, then balanced on one foot like a scholar deep in thought—except scholars didn't usually wobble this much.
Kazuki's only reply was a quiet exhale, somewhere between a sigh and surrender. Then he simply stepped around her and walked away.
Claire froze mid-pose, finger still on her chin. "…Worth it," she whispered to herself.
She watched him go, her hair falling forward like wilted petals. Then, as she tried to straighten up, her feet decided to have an argument about which direction to go. Her arms windmilled frantically as she fought gravity—and won, mostly. Once stable, she pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, replaying with painful clarity every single thing she'd just done.
"Did I just… boop him?" she whispered in horror. "I booped him. On the face. With my finger. Oh no..."
But even as embarrassment threatened to swallow her whole, something about that conversation she'd overheard earlier tugged at her thoughts, refusing to let go.
In his office, Isaac smiled knowingly, taking a sip from his cup. When he closed his eyes, his intrigued smile deepened—whether toward Kazuki or Claire, even he wasn't sure. Either way, he found potential in both.
Claire glanced at Kazuki's retreating figure, then at her own feet, then back again. With a determined nod, she tiptoed after him, trying (and adorably failing) to be stealthy. She bumped into a wall, whispered an apology to it, and continued her pursuit.