Kelly walked quietly through the gleaming hallway, her fists clenched, her teeth grinding. Behind her trailed a reserved old man in glasses, every step of his measured and proper. He was probably Ritrea's butler—she never went anywhere without him—but to Kelly, his presence was an irritating eyesore.
"Piss off," Kelly snapped over her shoulder.
The old man didn't leave. Instead, he tilted his head thoughtfully and snapped his fingers as if something had just clicked.
"Ah, I see it now, Miss! You're clearly in some strange delirium that must be treated at once. Good heavens, your health is in danger! Otherwise, why would you make the dreadful mistake of showing up in the halls in your pajamas? Your reputation has taken a thousand steps backward!"
"Shut up," Kelly shot back, heat rising in her cheeks. She caught sight of a few servants stealing glances at her, giggling behind their hands. That's when the embarrassment hit her full force.
And yet, underneath it all, she felt like she was losing her mind.
When she first agreed to this trial, she thought she could just fight her way through like always—charge in, crush obstacles, move on. But now it was obvious she'd been wrong. This wasn't about strength—she didn't have much of that to begin with. This trial was designed to poke, prod, and twist at her emotions until she broke.
It was painfully clear how this trial would end. She'd probably have to watch Lixy—Ritrea's sister—die, and endure the weight of Ritrea's affection all converging on that loss. Kelly hated to admit it, but Lixy's death would hurt her as much—or maybe even more—than if she'd had to kill twisted versions of her dad or brother.
Because Dad and her brother might've been imitated by monsters, but Lixy was much more… real. Alive. Original.
The old butler gasped at her words, clutching his chest like he was having a heart attack. Kelly stopped walking and turned toward him, eyebrows raised. As annoying as he was, it would be ridiculous if he keeled over now—just after she'd snapped at him.
"Hey… you're okay, right?" she asked.
Ero, the butler, lifted his head, eyes squeezed tight as if wounded. "You've never used such harsh words on poor Ero before. My old heart can't take it."
Kelly's lips curled into a smirk. "That's fascinating. If your old heart is beaten by just that, I guess you won't be around much longer."
"Poor Ero cannot understand you, Miss…"
With a soft scoff, Kelly turned back and resumed walking. The hallway was dotted with robotic guards, and the walls glowed like massive computer screens. From Ritrea's memories, Kelly understood that this world—Gervia—leaned heavily on technology. Stellaris, from here, had fully integrated laser and radiation tech into their Cosmic Dust, making them incredibly powerful in battle. It all stemmed from the brun bloodline—genius creators, unmatched in weapon mastery.
But there was one bonus Kelly had never accounted for.
Ritrea was an Astral Forger.
So, Dust Adepts could enhance their bodies with Cosmic Dust, Dust Wielders could manipulate it outward, shaping it on the fly—but Astral Forgers? They were on a whole different tier. At that level, they could forge their constructs from scratch.
Constructs were the cosmic embodiment of your true self. Things you were familiar with—spears, swords, rune guns, hammers—or even yourself. But constructs modeled after your own form were seen as superior, because they were smarter, more adaptable and roomier for evolution.
If Kelly remembered correctly, Ritrea's construct was a rune gun. Not a surprise—most constructs in Gervia were machine-like. Still, that didn't stop Kelly from feeling a spark of excitement. She'd performed feats at the Dust Initiate level that should've required Adept or Wielder mastery—but she'd never really known how to make a construct.
With an Astral Forger like Ritrea so close, maybe she'd finally get a clue. How hard could that be…? No, shut up—don't jinx it.
Kelly stepped out of the manor. Cold wind kissed her skin. Winter was almost here—a faint flurry of snow had begun, a soft white mist curling across the courtyard. It struck her as almost funny how something as simple as snow could transcend worlds, Earth or otherwise.
A short distance away, people her age sparred in duels, crowds gathering around to cheer them on.
Ritrea and Lixy were the only daughters of Duke Arvon, head of the Prin Dukedom. The Prin Dukedom teemed with genius—arguably more talented and powerful than even the Imperial clan. In its own subtle way, Duke Arvon wielded near-royal influence. Maybe that's why the King arranged for his crown prince to marry Lixy—an elegant way to keep the Prin Dukedom in check.
It was supposed to be Ritrea getting married, and that was because she wasn't just talented—she was legendary. In a thousand years of Prin household history, no one had ever measured up. Stellaris usually begin absorbing Cosmic Dust around age five, wrapping up the Dust Initiate Realm pretty quickly. Yet real talent is measured by how fast you can break through to the Dust Adept stage—when you become a true Stellari.
Ritrea did it in six months. Most people needed three years. The news spread across Gervia at the speed of light. The king immediately pushed to marry his son to her. But Ritrea was Duke Arvon's prized heir—letting her slip into another family would've been madness, even senile. So instead, the king had to settle for Lixy.
Kelly knew that kind of rejection bred resentment. If Lixy ended up dead—and all signs pointed that way—it wasn't a stretch to suspect royal involvement.
With a quiet sigh, Kelly turned away from the dueling teens and wandered into another section of the courtyard. The butler hurried after her, his voice quivering.
"Your Highness, your pajamas—"
Kelly looked down. She was wearing a soft, bunny-shaped pink pajama—Ritrea had definitely been behind that choice.
"One more word from you," she warned, voice low, "and you become my training dummy, you yappy old man!"
Kelly waited as the butler froze mid-step, clutching his chest—gripping his heart like he was having a seizure. Her eyebrow twitched. Really? She didn't have time for fainting old men.
Kelly shut her eyes, shutting out the world. She'd sifted through Ritrea's memories before—she knew the mechanics of summoning the construct. But knowing how and feeling how were two different things.
So she dove deeper. She hunted for that elusive thread in Ritrea's mind—the emotion that spelled into being the construct. That inner pulse.
That's when she felt it—a sliver of… something. A slender, shimmering cord that kept slipping through her fingers whenever she tried to grab it. So she stopped trying to seize it. Instead, she leaned in, whispering to it without words, letting it sense her intention.
As she aligned with the feeling, mere inches from grasp, it happened.
In the open field, a massive construct bloomed—a metallic behemoth that forced her to tilt her head back just to see its highest point. Cannon barrels stacked upon themselves, each muzzle wide enough to launch an Earth-missile-sized blast.
The thought alone made Kelly shiver. If Earth was ever stumbled upon by a Stellari at this level… she'd read enough novels to know the story wouldn't end well.
Her fingers wrapped around a handle-like bar at the base of the construct. With surprising ease, she lifted the massive machine skyward—something so colossal it dwarfed skyscrapers. It should've been impossible for someone her size, but that was the thing: as an Astral Forger, constructs weren't foreign objects. They were extensions of yourself. Lifting it felt no stranger than raising an arm or flexing a leg.
Kelly's heart soared. She felt like she was walking on clouds. The rush of strength—even if it wasn't truly hers—was intoxicating.
Now, time to test this baby out.
It was easier than summoning it. All it took was a mental switch, a thought turned inside out. And suddenly, it came—like a tidal wave. Cosmic Dust whipped into violent currents, rushing into the cannon in torrents of shimmering purple light.
Unlike rune weapons, which drained from exhaustible Star Crystals, constructs had no such limitation. They drew from the Dust itself—endless, inexhaustible. Meaning this cannon could fire at full force forever.
It all happened fast. Barely two seconds and the weapons were loaded, the construct humming with deadly energy. Kelly raised it higher, eyes wide, and fired.
Dozens of scarlet beams ripped through the sky, detonating into roaring heat and fire. The blast was so massive the entire mansion drowned in an orange glow, flames leaping upward, clawing into the clouds.
Kelly's eyes went wide at the destruction the construct unleashed. She'd seen it play out in Ritrea's memories before, but living it was a whole different story.
She glanced at the butler. His face had gone pale, his hands trembling. He probably thought she'd fired that monster just to back up her earlier threat about using him as a training dummy. Now that she thought about it… not the worst idea. He was already at the peak of the Dust Wielder stage—he could probably survive a round. Probably.
By now, a small crowd of kids her age had gathered, eyes sparkling with awe, their voices rising in chaotic cheers.
"Ritrea, that was insane! Do it again, do it again!"
"Hit the ground this time! Make the land go boom boom!"
"Ritrea, marry me!"
Kelly froze. Okay—that last one was way out of line. Her gaze landed on the culprit, and she sighed.
Thyro. Of course it was him.
He stood there with his eyes shining like stars, blowing kisses with that ridiculous grin plastered on his face. Since they were kids, he'd followed Ritrea around like a loyal puppy, proposing to her at least three times a day and doing all the cheesy things a playboy thought were charming. Ritrea had always kept him around because he was… well, funny. A funny idiot. Though Kelly couldn't shake the sense that Ritrea's feelings toward him weren't quite as shallow as she let on.
Kelly exhaled sharply and turned away. Whatever Ritrea's deal with Thyro was, it wasn't hers to untangle. She wasn't Ritrea, and she sure as hell wasn't interested in getting caught up in love drama. Not when staying alive was already hard enough.
The cheers faded into background noise. Kelly had learned how to tune out distractions, pulling her focus inward. Her hands brushed over the construct's surface as she traced the flow of energy, trying to sense how it had been born—how the Cosmic Dust had aligned itself to shape it into existence.
Astral Forgers could tap into something denser than ordinary Dust—a higher state known as Astral Matter. Condensed Cosmic Dust, raw and terrifying. Sure, it could be used offensively, but its real purpose was forging constructs.
The Brun bloodline gave the people of Gervia the genius to manipulate Cosmic Dust artificially, shaping it into towering, technology-based weapons. And because Kelly was in Ritrea's body, she could glimpse those insights too. The more she understood, the clearer it became how dangerous the people of Gervia could be—if they ever chose to unleash their full potential.
Weapons weren't even their only option. In theory, they could assimilate bloodlines. The draconian bloodline of the humans in Zathron, the Illusion bloodline of the tailed foxes… With their abilities, the Stellari could absorb traits from other races. Worse, they could combine them.
They had the power to forge bloodlines that had never existed before.
Luckily—or maybe unluckily—they were obsessed with technology. Their pride lay in weapons born from their own hands, not in bloodline experiments. Which was the only reason this terrifying potential had never been realized. Still, to Kelly, it was obvious: the Brun bloodline might not shine in direct combat, but it was the scariest she'd ever seen.
When she pushed deeper into the construct, she saw its true form: a labyrinth of channels, Cosmic Dust interwoven in a way that looked random, yet somehow ordered. Chaotic patterns dancing with impossible precision. Her head throbbed just trying to follow it. Even with Ritrea's insight, her mind couldn't keep up.
Her chest sank with a quiet certainty—her level was still too low. Making her first true construct wasn't happening anytime soon.
With a sigh, Kelly opened her eyes. The crowd had thinned—clusters of people still lingered, talking in hushed groups, but their attention had drifted elsewhere. Only her butler remained rigid, shrinking the moment her gaze brushed over him. The sight sparked a wicked urge to tease him—until, of course, that idiot decided to butt in.
"Ritrea, you didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Thyro asked with fake solemnity, scanning her up and down. Then, in the most dramatic display yet, he dropped to one knee, producing a multicolored flower with a flourish. "Because that performance absolutely damaged my heart. It's beating even faster for you!"
Kelly's composure cracked. This bastard wasn't just an idiot—he was a cheesy idiot.
Her annoyance spiked, and with a flick of her will she aimed the Construct at him. "Thyro, if you don't take the hint and leave, I swear I'll turn you into barbecue."
Instead of fear, his eyes gleamed with excitement. "Barbecue? Is that… like a couple's word? Wait—you finally made us a couple's word!" His voice shot up as he turned to the others. "Hey, everyone! Ritrea and I are official now—we're barbecue!"
Heads turned, but most people barely reacted. They'd seen his theatrics too many times.
Kelly stared at him, speechless. What kind of mental gymnastics did you have to perform to arrive at that conclusion? Honestly, she didn't want to know.
"And Ritrea, sweetie," he added with tenderness, "now that we're a couple, you really ought to put away your Construct. Not healthy for young love, you know."
Kelly's grip on her temper slipped—Cosmic Dust surged into the Construct without her realizing. One word away from blowing him to atoms, she was saved from a murder charge by two trembling girls.
"Ritrea, if you don't mind," one stammered, tugging Thyro by the arm, "we'd like to borrow him… for just a moment."
"Y-yeah," the other added, edging backward with a nervous smile. "Also, your Construct has a very wide range, and, um, we'd really rather not die with Thyro. Because of his… problems."
Kelly finally noticed the others. Most of the remaining spectators had bolted, scattering as though the end of the world had arrived.
"Oops." She released the Construct, watching as it unraveled into a storm of shimmering sparks before vanishing entirely.
Young Miss," the old butler's shivering voice broke the silence as he dismissed the hologram hovering before him. "Miss Lixy has locked her doors and still refuses to come out. Her…" he coughed delicately, "…unbefitting howls have left everyone uneasy. She won't let anyone in. Miss, only you can calm her."
Kelly didn't reply. Instead, her gaze drifted skyward.
From the moment she had woken, she'd armed herself with the most vicious words in her expansive vocabulary—deliberately choosing ones sharp enough to drive Lixy away. To push her into hating her. To keep her at a distance.
And yet, that choice gnawed at her chest like glass shards. Ritrea had loved her younger sister too much—so much it bordered on obsession. Kelly wasn't Ritrea, and she fought hard to shut out those foreign emotions. But the truth stabbed deeper with every breath: Lixy had a very real chance of dying.
"Miss," the butler tried again, hesitant now, "the Imperial Clan is about to arrive. Your sister isn't prepared. What are your orders?"
Kelly tilted her chin higher. From the clouds, massive silhouettes descended—spacecrafts of such scale they could house thousands. Their hulls bore the Royal insignia: an X with each arm bent outward like a four-pronged star.
Her fists clenched until her knuckles cracked. The ache in her chest surged, a tidal wave threatening to drown her composure. She hated that feeling. She hated it because it meant one thing: she detested the thought of Lixy dying.
An impossible thought sparked in her mind. What if it wasn't hopeless? What if the trial wasn't only meant to carve despair into her soul, but also gave her a chance—however slim—to protect the ones Ritrea had loved most?
Kelly turned sharply to the butler. "Tell my father I wish to meet him. Convince him it's urgent. As for my sister…"
She paused, a bitter smile curling her lips. She had been avoiding Lixy since she arrived, walling herself off from those dangerous feelings. But now, she would have to face her—if she wanted her plan to succeed.
"I'll handle her," Kelly finished, her voice steady. Then, lifting her arms toward the looming crafts, she whispered.
"Let them come."