Five days passed in the blink of an eye. The students had barely begun to grasp the scale of their new life in Etheria, and already the routine had settled in—one that pushed them to their limits. Each morning began before the twin suns had even crested the mountain range. Master Arven's voice echoed like thunder as he ordered them to run the circumference of the inner mountain valley. Muscles ached, lungs burned, and yet they persisted.
Under Miss Eira's guidance, the afternoons were dedicated to meditation—stilling the mind to feel the pulse of Etheria's magic. Slowly, sparks formed in the palms of their hands. Elements responded to their will: flames danced, wind howled in tiny gusts, and water shimmered at fingertips. The students were beginning to touch the essence of this world.
On the fifth evening, as the sky burned orange and violet, Master Arven stood before them.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we test if you are truly ready for the next training."
The First Real Combat Trial (Danger Strikes)
The next day, the students were called to the open arena carved deep into the mountain's heart. A circular stone battleground shimmered with enchantments. Miss Eira stood beside Master Arven, who remained silent as she explained.
"Each of you will face a summoned beast. These are low-tier creatures, but real. They can wound. They will fight back. You must stand alone—and survive."
Gasps and tension rippled through the group.
"I thought we weren't ready!" one student protested.
"No one is ever ready," Arven replied coldly. "But that has never stopped fate from testing us."
One by one, students were called forward. Some succeeded with courage and clean control. Others panicked—magic flickered, footing slipped, fear overcame technique. Still, none were severely hurt.
Kaito wasn't part of the group, but he sat quietly on a cliff nearby, watching. Haruto noticed him, but said nothing.
When a younger student froze mid-battle, the beast snarled and leapt. Before Master Arven could act, Kaito was already moving—he jumped in, shielding the student and tackling the beast with nothing but instinct and raw bravery.
A pause. Silence. Then Miss Eira cast a barrier spell to end the trial.
"You fool," Arven muttered, but something flickered behind his eyes. Respect, perhaps?
Kaito brushed off his clothes and helped the student up. "You okay?" he asked. The other boy nodded, eyes wide.
Kaito walked away, back to his perch. No applause. No thanks. But every student looked at him differently now.
Later that evening, Haruto found Kaito alone, watching the stars.
"You could've been hurt," Haruto said.
"I'm used to it," Kaito replied.
"That's not the point. Why are you always like this? Acting like it doesn't matter?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Then help me understand!"
Their voices rose. Others turned to listen. Finally, Haruto shouted, "Stop shutting everyone out, damn it!"
Kaito said nothing, then turned and walked away, his silence louder than any argument.
That night, during meditation training, each student sat quietly beneath the glowing stones of the training chamber, focusing inward. Miss Eira and Master Arven observed closely. When Master Arven's gaze settled on Kaito, he simply said, "You too, boy. Meditate."
Reluctantly, Kaito sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and let his thoughts flow. But what he saw was not peace—it was horror.
A vision surged into his mind: the battlefield strewn with bodies—his classmates, his friends. Yuna lay lifeless, her hand outstretched. Haruto, bloodied, unmoving. The screams, the carnage, the unbearable stillness afterward.
Kaito gasped and tore himself out of the trance, sweat dripping from his brow, his breathing heavy.
Master Arven appeared beside him in an instant. "What happened?"
"Nothing,"Kaito replied, his voice strained, eyes avoiding his.
He glanced across the chamber—at Yuna's focused face, at Haruto meditating calmly.
Without another word, Kaito stood and left, his footsteps echoing down the stone hall.
Far above, hidden on a cliff beneath the moonlight, Master Arven had watched him earlier—alone on the rock—before vanishing into the wind.
Yuna's own meditation brought forth disturbing images. She saw Akari—not the girl she once knew—but a version cloaked in shadow, whispering to unknown forces. It left Yuna shaken.
She started watching Akari closely. The girl smiled too easily. Spoke too sweetly. Something was wrong.
On the sixth night, near the training ground, a scroll was discovered—ancient, sealed with a strange emblem. Only Akari could read it. When questioned, she brushed it off.
"It's just poetry. Nothing important."
Yuna didn't believe her.
"Don't you trust me anymore?"Akari asked, with a wounded smile.
Yuna said nothing.
That same night, Kaito sat beside the river, alone again. His arm ached suddenly—burned. He pulled up his sleeve.
A mark had appeared. Not a bruise. Not a scar.
A rune. Glowing faintly in blue and black.
He covered it quickly, glancing around. No one saw.
He told no one.
That evening, the students gathered around a campfire. Talk shifted from training to Earth.
"I miss ramen," one said. "Real ramen."
"My dog," another whispered.
Haruto cracked a joke. Laughter followed. For a moment, it felt like home.
Miss Eira handed each student a small leather-bound book.
"A journal," she said. "To remember who you were. And who you'll become."
Kaito hesitated, then took his. He opened to the first page that night. Wrote one sentence:
"I don't know why I'm here, but I won't let them down."
Yuna sat beneath the stars, knees drawn to her chest.
"I just want to go home," she whispered.
Behind her, Akari watched.
Smiling.
End of Chapter 20