🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋
From the moment they stepped into the ring, I knew Claire wasn't fighting to impress.
She was dissecting him.
Every movement, every angle—measured. Wei never had a chance the moment he committed to brute force.
Then it happened.
The audience burst into shouts and applause. Some were confused—others caught on late. But I'd seen it from the beginning.
She never needed power. Just timing.
She used her armor as a decoy, a walking bluff. A golden angel drawing the eye while the real threat—Claire herself—slipped through the cracks.
Wei had bet on the bigger target.
And it cost him the match.
She turned and walked back toward us, her armor trailing behind like a divine guardian—seven feet tall, wings folded in, sword at its side.
Sol was visibly unimpressed.
"So you beat Wei with a gimmick," he scoffed.
In a flash, the angelic armor moved.
One moment it stood idle—
—the next, it was in front of Sol, its sword pressed to his throat, unmoving, blade humming faintly with Aether.
Sol's palm ignited with flame—an instinctual reaction.
But it was too late.
The edge was already cold against his skin.
"Careful, Sol," Claire said softly, her voice calm—almost gentle.
"Even angels have teeth and Don't you dare move. That thing doesn't understand friend or foe."
Sol clicked his tongue and stepped back, jaw tight with restrained frustration.
Across the room, Haru and Fujimori froze. Haru was already halfway out of his seat, hands tense, ready to leap in the moment things went south.
Claire's gaze never shifted. It remained locked on me.
Eyes unreadable.
Except—
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
She noticed.
She saw through it.
"I know you're strong too… hiding it away."
The words hit heavier than her tone let on.
Beneath their feet, a shimmer stirred—subtle, almost imperceptible.
A faint glow pulsed from below, outlining a large pentagram etched into the stone floor.
A teleportation seal—crafted ahead of time. Hidden. Measured.
And it had activated the exact moment her armor raised its blade.
A failsafe…
Not for them. For her.
She saw it. She recognized the trap for what it was. A warning wrapped in precision—
—that if this encounter turned violent, the armor would vanish before it ever landed a fatal blow.
A bluff dressed like a threat.
And she caught it. Every layer of it.
the golden armor would be standing alone in some empty chamber or far from the arena now,—removed from danger. From escalation. From consequence.
A kill-switch, buried beneath the tension.
Sol's eyes dropped to the fading circle. His jaw clenched.
He didn't say anything—but the tight set of his shoulders and the flicker in his crimson gaze said more than enough.
He knew too.
I just chuckled, shoulders relaxed as if nothing happened.
And gave a lazy shrug.
"Coincidence."
Claire opened her mouth to reply—but before she could, one of the judges approached. It was Instructor Kim, broad-shouldered, square-jawed, and wearing the permanent scowl of a man who'd spent too many years keeping hot-headed teenagers from killing each other.
"Everything's fine here?" he asked, his gravelly voice booming.
Claire turned, all smiles.
"Oh, perfectly fine, Instructor. Just… enjoying my win."
He gave a grunt, eyeing Sol's still-lit hands, and turned back toward the judges' table.
"Now send out your next rep."
Claire didn't miss a beat.
"Your turn, hothead. Lose this round—I want to see what storage boy can do."
Sol shot her a glare, but said nothing. He stomped toward the center of the field, gauntlets flaring to life.
"Representing Team Dragon—Solomon Salamander!" the announcer bellowed.
The crowd's cheers doubled. Sol was last year's MVP—his name still carried weight.
Across from him stood Mila Ainsworth, tall and poised, her long purple hair tied back. A tech-genius from Avalon, her Aether ability was Magnetic Flux—one of the most difficult zoning types to counter.
I narrowed my eyes.
She was already forming a zoning field, embedding subtle Aether pulses throughout the battlefield—like my own Tempestus Zone, but different. More mechanical. More refined.
She raised both hands. Every metal object—bolts, weapons, even the floor's panels—began to vibrate under her control.
I leaned forward. Learning moment.
Sol burst forward like a meteor, his fists flaming and body surging with heat. Halfway through the field—
BLAG!
His gauntlets were yanked downward mid-charge, locking against the floor. He stumbled, nearly falling flat. I could hear the crackling tension of the magnetic grip binding them in place.
Then the real attack began.
ZING—SHUNG—SHUNK!
Five training swords came hurtling from Mila's zone, aiming straight for Sol's exposed body.
The first three phased through him harmlessly—his Flame Embodiment in full effect. The crowd gasped.
The fourth sword, however, didn't pass.
Sol flared his fingers, twisting into a spin that generated a small vortex of fire. He batted it aside, deflecting both the fourth and fifth blades effortlessly.
But Mila wasn't done.
She unleashed another set of projectiles, and this time, a magnetic shield shimmered between her and Sol, pressing against him like an invisible wall.
He stopped. Didn't move.
Then… he smiled.
Sol raised his chin. Aether surged outward in waves from his body, flames licking the edges of the battlefield. The temperature skyrocketed.
Mila faltered.
She was brilliant, and her zoning was immaculate—but Sol's raw Aether overwhelmed it. The magnetic field buckled.
"You've got two choices," Sol said calmly. "Burn… or surrender."
She hesitated. Her eyes darted to the crowd, then back to him.
"I surrender!" she shouted.
"Winner: Solomon Salamander!" came the announcer's voice.
The crowd roared.
Sol walked back, his expression unreadable. But I caught the way his eyes flicked toward Claire—still bitter. Still annoyed.
I leaned back, arms folded.
No wonder they call him a genius.
And that was just the second match.
Claire narrowed her eyes and shot a glare back at Sol.
"I said lose this round."
Sol crossed his arms and huffed.
"Don't you hear? She surrendered."
The tension between them was palpable.
"Tsk, stop it already."
Haru raised both hands, stepping between them.
"Let's just focus on the fight, okay?"
Fujimori nodded in silent agreement, while I just remained quiet, watching the storm brew.
The announcer's voice rang out,
"Team Dragon's Haru Fenris versus Team Monkey's Riku Mori!"
Haru turned to us, rubbing the back of his head.
"I guess it's my turn."
He looked at Claire.
"So… do I need to lose this one too?"
Claire didn't even turn around.
"Not anymore interested," she muttered, walking away from the bench with her arms folded.
"Please win it," I said jokingly, waving lazily.
Haru chuckled and walked onto the field.
He stood at 5'8", his brown skin contrasting against his black battle uniform, his dark, messy hair catching the sunlight. His opponent, Riku Mori, shared his height. Her sharp orange pixie cut and fierce eyes gave her the look of someone who enjoyed chaos.
As they waited in the arena, a team of instructors approached Haru. Without ceremony, they clipped a restraint collar around his neck—a containment precaution in case he lost control.
Once the safety team stepped off the field, the announcer's voice boomed:
"Begin!"
Immediately, Haru's body began to change.
Fur rippled over his limbs. Bones cracked, reshaping. Muscles swelled. In seconds, he towered at 8 feet tall—a black-furred dire werewolf, holding a massive training maul in his clawed hands.
The crowd gasped.
Riku Mori reacted quickly.
"Clone Dash!" she shouted.
In a blink, a swarm of Riku clones appeared—over a hundred mirror images of her, each wielding a wooden training blade. They surrounded Haru like a wave of orange and steel, charging from every direction.
But Haru didn't flinch.
BOOM—CRACK—THUMP!
He smashed the first wave of clones, sending wooden splinters and dust flying. His movements were savage but calculated—each swing of the maul dispersed a dozen fakes. He roared, barreling through the false Mori army like a wrecking ball.
Then, he lunged.
In an instant, he closed the distance to the real Riku.
A single smash of his wooden maul—
WHAM!
—sent her flying across the field.
If that were a real maul, I thought, she'd be pizza.
The clones flickered and vanished.
"Winner—Team Dragon!" the announcer shouted, and the crowd erupted in applause.
With that final win, the scoreboard flashed:
Match 4 Winner: Team Dragon (3-0)
Advancing to Round 2—against Team Horse!
I leaned back and let out a breath of relief.
"Lucky…" I muttered, glancing sideways at Fujimori, who looked as shocked as the rest of us.
Sol was already off the bench, arms crossed, glaring into the distance. Haru—now returned to his normal form—walked back toward us, breathing hard but smiling.
"I made sure to win since you're lazy," he said, nudging me playfully.
"Thank you, thank you," I said with a grin, giving him a slow clap.
🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋
As the School time end a large screen flash the result:
Aether Clash – Day 1 Results Recap
Match 1:– Team Rat 🐀 vs Team Rooster 🐓
Winner: Team Rat (Score: 3–0)
Match 2:– Team Dog 🐶 vs Team Rabbit 🐇
Winner: Team Rabbit (Score: 3–1)
Match 3:– Team Goat 🐐 vs Team Horse 🐎
Winner: Team Horse (Score: 3–0)
Match 4:– Team Monkey 🐒 vs Team Dragon 🐉
Winner: Team Dragon (Score: 3–0)
Match 5:– Team Snake 🐍 vs Team Ox 🐂
Winner: Team Snake (Score: 3–0)
Match 6:– Team Pig 🐖 vs Team Tiger 🐯
Winner: Team Pig (Score: 3–0)
Aether Clash – 2nd Round
Match 7 – Winner of Match 1 vs Winner of Match 2
Team Rat 🐀 vs Team Rabbit 🐇
Match 8 – Winner of Match 3 vs Winner of Match 4
Team Horse 🐎 vsTeam Dragon 🐉
Match 9 – Winner of Match 5 vs Winner of Match 6
Team Snake 🐍 🐀 vs Team Pig 🐖
🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋
The sky was already dipped in orange, the wind soft against my face as I walked the usual road home—quiet, until the buzz came.
A soft chime echoed in the air beside me, and an Aether screen flickered to life with a crisp pulse of light.
Claire's face appeared, expression sharp, as always—silver-blonde hair tied back, armor barely visible beneath her uniform collar.
No hello. No small talk.
"Read the tactical insert I made for tomorrow,"she said flatly.
The screen shifted, briefly showing a scroll of names, stats, ability profiles—all perfectly formatted. It was Claire's style: precise, efficient, no wasted data.
"But the line won't change,"she added, voice calm, but there was an edge beneath it—iron wrapped in silk.
"First me, second Sol, Haru, Ryuji, and Fujimori."
So I'm fourth…
She's setting the tempo. Pressure front, speed middle, versatility back.
Typical Claire—she already has the whole board planned out.
Before I could reply, she locked eyes with the screen again. Not just looking—commanding.
"I don't want losing."
Her tone dropped just slightly, enough to freeze the air between us.
"So stick your A-game."
The screen snapped off.
─── Division IX Tournament Records : Tactical Insert ───
Team 4 – Horse
Codename: Ghost Gallop
Specialization: Ambush Tactics, Terrain Control, Disruption
A unit notorious for their elusive maneuvers and sudden reversals. They don't overwhelm—they unravel you, piece by piece, then disappear before the counterstrike. Approach with caution.
Felix Greenwood – "The Britannian Gale"
Nationality: Britannian
Ability: Wind Aether
Weapon: Recurve Bow
A tactician first, fighter second. Felix moves like vapor—impossible to pin down, always just out of reach. He rides microbursts of wind to shift momentum, set traps, and blind opponents mid-fight. His Aether-forged bow fires arrows that bend in mid-air, curving around defenses or striking from impossible angles. No wasted movement. No mercy once you're off-balance.
Yuki Amano – "Silver Hawk"
Nationality: Niponese
Ability: Gunslinger
Rank 2, Senior Class A
Aether-forged twin pistols. Reinforced vision. Reaction speeds off the chart. Yuki isn't flashy—just lethal. Her kill zone spans the full arena, and her precision is cold enough to stall any momentum. One shot to wound, two to shut you down.
Shawn Lee – "Rhythm Breaker"
Nationality: Lua'toan
Ability: Taichi Shots
Rhythm-based martial combat fused with Aether pulses. Each strike lands to the beat of a deeper tempo. He builds up energy through form, then releases it in controlled bursts. Every punch hums like a drumline before the kill drop. Disrupt his flow, or fall into it.
Camila Duarte – "The Meteor"
Amazonian | Meteor Ability | Rank 2, Senior Class B
She doesn't block. She replaces.
Each glowing rock becomes a meteor, each step a calculated drop point.
Not teleportation. Substitution.
Not brute force. Falling force.
Ibrahim Zayed – "Sand Mirage"
Nationality: Salahadinian
Ability: Desert Cloak
He's a mirage in motion. Master of battlefield illusions and terrain fading. Can shape the environment to deceive the senses—visual, spatial, and even auditory. If you're standing in sand, you're standing in his domain.
🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋