"We apologize for summoning you here on your day off from the academy," Headmaster Ben began, his voice carrying over the hushed auditorium. He stood at the central podium, flanked by the other Headmasters, all seated in a rigid line above us as we watched from below. "But today's announcement is one that must be delivered to every single one of you in person."
"Recently," he continued, the timbre of his voice turning grave, "one of the Emperor's Second-Class fleets stumbled upon the ashes of a previously undiscovered world."
A few students shifted in their seats, clearly disengaged. Many had only just returned from grueling missions, and this sounded—at first—like just another distant wartime report.
"I know what you're thinking—that such cases are common, especially with war looming over us. But this…" His gaze swept across the hall, and his tone dropped lower. "Within those ashes, after exhaustive scans for DNA and Resonance patterns, we found traces of life from across the galaxy."
The air thickened. Conversations broke out in quick, uneasy bursts, like sparks leaping from dry tinder. Terror rippled through the room as the question—how?—passed from one mind to the next.
"Although we have yet to confirm the final figures," Ben pressed on, "preliminary scans estimate at least 2.47 billion intelligent life-forms lived on that planet before its destruction—beings from every corner of the galaxy. Metahumans, Valerians, Mahoons, Cacti…" He paused, as if the next words carried a weight he could hardly lift. "And these calculations… they're still climbing. We have no idea who—or what—could erase a world so thoroughly… and so silently."
I kept my eyes fixed on the Headmaster's grim expression, saying nothing.
They're rattled. Understandably so. It isn't every day that you discover a mass abduction carried out right under your nose—right from this planet, no less.
Embarrassing, really. I thought I'd erased every thread, every footprint… and yet, here we are. If Dad ever finds out I left so much as a breadcrumb behind, well… let's just say his lectures have a way of feeling like executions.
"How did they even get the ashes?" Ryuk's voice cut into my thoughts. His head tilted, one crimson eye catching the light. "If something like that had been drifting through space for this long, you'd have been exposed far sooner."
True. This has Cooper's fingerprints all over it. I'll admit—it's not without flair. I didn't expect anything less from him. But here's the problem with grand spectacles: without proof, they're little more than fireworks. Bright, noisy… and gone before the smoke clears.
If he really wanted to hurt me, he wouldn't waste time with ashes. He'd go for reputation—the crown jewel of any downfall. A public undoing, now that would have been a performance worth watching.
Ryuk threw back his head and laughed, his beak pointed skyward. "Hahaha! Now that would have been fun to watch."
It might take them some time, but eventually this will all be buried—swept under the rug the moment they realize their investigations are going nowhere. I took… let's call them 'special steps' to ensure that. Steps even my own subordinates are blissfully unaware of.
"The reason we are sharing this classified information," Ben announced, his voice echoing off the steel walls, "is because, from this moment forward, all intergalactic travel will be temporarily suspended. In addition, a new force field will be established around every training planet." His tone was measured, but the words landed like cold iron. "Piloting lessons will continue, however, and combat instruction will be extended. We trust you will use this knowledge to advance quickly—especially knowing that you could be the next one taken."
Ryuk gave a soft, amused click of his beak. "Creating a sense of urgency for the first-year students, hm? Not a bad tactic."
Ben's gaze swept the audience one last time. "And, of course, we expect you to keep this information to yourselves. Should you choose otherwise…" A pause—too long to be casual. His voice dipped, almost intimate. "…the consequences may be far more… problematic than you imagine."
The last words hung in the air like the closing of a cell door.
"You think this has something to do with one of the Demon Barons?" Sylvia asked as we rose from our seats. Her voice was low, cautious, the kind one uses when speaking of things better left unspoken. "A mass abduction on that scale… the erasure of an entire planet without anyone knowing—it feels like the work of something meticulously planned."
"Possibly," I answered, adjusting my coat as we stepped out of the hall. "Only a Demon Baron—or someone even higher—could orchestrate an extermination like that. The troubling part is that no one even realized who had been taken until those ashes surfaced. Which suggests one thing: the selection was deliberate. Whoever did this chose targets carefully, people who wouldn't draw suspicion, people unlikely to be investigated by anyone with access to intergalactic travel."
I shook my head. "In the end, though, speculation won't get us anywhere. Even if we wanted to interfere, there's nothing we could do. Better to put that energy into advancing to the next stage than waste it chasing shadows."
"I suppose you're right…" Sylvia murmured, then glanced at me. "When's your next metamorphosis?"
"It'll take some time," I admitted. "I'm in the middle of an experiment, and I want that finished first. My metamorphosis isn't something I can rush—it advances all of my paths at once. The process takes… a lot out of me. I'll need to carve out some real free time before I begin."
"I'll probably attempt mine next Saturday," Sylvia said as we made our way toward the dorms.
"You two are awfully casual about your metamorphoses, aren't you?" came a voice from behind. We turned to find Tom, hands in his pockets, slipping into step with us. A faint grin tugged at his lips. "Cooked up this new technique while I was away on my mission. Neat, right?"
"Not just neat," I said, narrowing my eyes. "That was almost too effective. I didn't even sense you approach us. Tommy—are you planning to assassinate someone?"
"Not yet," he replied smoothly, striding ahead of us. His footsteps were soundless, as though the ground itself refused to acknowledge him. "I still need to polish it a bit more."
I watched him move, already considering how I might steal pieces of that technique for myself. Tom had a way of bending the Water Path to his will—taking its eight meager properties and shaping them into something entirely new. With talent like that, he might just outpace the so-called prodigies of the Five Major Families sooner than anyone expected.
"And I still have to get my revenge on that Tempest kid," Tom said, his tone quiet but edged like a blade.
Sylvia and I exchanged a glance, then both sighed softly — not because we doubted him, but because we knew he meant every word.
----------
Next Day
----------
Combat Training Class
----------
"We will be holding a joint combat exchange between the five schools," Sergeant Rex barked, his boots striking the floor with every step as he paced before us. His voice was gravel rough, each word carrying the weight of authority. "And no—none of you can refuse. Especially you, Allen. You already skipped one of my lessons. Use your ability if you have to, but I want to see you twice as tough before you walk out of this place. Forget about dinner. Forget about sleep. I want to see your muscles bleed."
"...I'm screwed," I muttered under my breath.
Aside from our brief exchange, training proceeded smoothly—or at least, as smoothly as one can expect under Sergeant Rex's idea of "conditioning." With the combat exchange looming, he decided to focus on resistance training. His method? Skewering us like slabs of meat, roasting our bodies over controlled flame as though we were marshmallows at some grotesque campfire.
The air was filled with pain. Some students screamed until their voices cracked, while others clenched their jaws and tried to look heroic—tough on the outside, though their twitching muscles betrayed them. The stench of scorched flesh hung in the air, sickly sweet, clinging to the back of the throat like smoke from a burning house.
I couldn't help but think—there's something almost… nostalgic about it. The way Rex paces between us, listening to our screams like a conductor reveling in his orchestra. It reminds me of those old campfire gatherings where people would sit around, roasting marshmallows, telling ghost stories. Only here, we are the marshmallows, and the ghost story is our life expectancy.
Sometimes, I truly wonder if he's training metahumans… or just indulging in a rather creative form of sadism disguised as pedagogy.
"The more you scream, the longer this lasts," Rex barked, pacing past us with a grotesquely oversized lamb leg in hand—freshly charred from the very flames licking at our bodies. He flipped us over one by one, like cuts of meat, as if the whole ordeal were just another round of dinner prep.
The firelight glinted against his face as he turned us over one by one, like a chef rotating skewers to ensure even cooking. The smell of scorched flesh and roasted meat mingled nauseatingly in the air, blurring the line between predator and prey.
"Aura users endure this kind of thing daily. Learn from them, will you?" he said between bites, tearing into the lamb leg with infuriating nonchalance.
Around me, no one dared to answer. Their faces said enough—sweat dripping down temples, jaws clenched so tightly it looked like their teeth might shatter. Each expression carried a silent curse.
Although I didn't feel much pain—Dad had put us through far worse during his training sessions—I forced a mask of agony onto my face. Blending in with the others meant sharing in their suffering, or at least appearing to.
That was the plan, anyway. Yet here I was, still roasting over open flames long past dinner. The clock had struck 9:30 p.m., and the rest of the class had been dismissed, but as Rex had promised, I remained.
"You're a tenacious one," Rex drawled, lowering himself into a chair across from me. He wore his trademark sunglasses, the firelight flickering across their mirrored surface. My flesh sizzled, split, and knitted itself back together again, my clothes smoldering as the flames licked higher with each twist of the fuel gauge.
"Why did you skip that class?" he asked, his tone casual, almost conversational, as if we weren't sitting in a torture chamber.
"Got stuck in the library, sir," I answered evenly, even as the flames gnawed at my face.
He grunted, chewing over my words. Then he gave a short nod. "Hm. Fine. Stay here until ten, then you're free to leave." Rising, Rex strode toward the exit, and for just a moment—a fleeting curve at the corner of his lips—I thought I saw him smile.
"Looks like you earned his respect," Ryuk remarked from the shadows, his voice carrying a note of wry amusement.
"That's not exactly a comfort," I muttered, as the fire sputtered and dimmed for lack of fuel.