Liberium International High School – 07:48 a.m.
The bell had rung.
Class 2-A was full.
Buzzing. Bright. Boring.
Except for one thing: Three empty seats.
And then,the door burst open.
"WE'RE NOT DEAD!"
Riven yelled dramatically as he stumbled in.
Behind him, Kenji dragged his bag like a corpse.
Asvara walked calmly, sipping jasmine tea from a very much not allowed ceramic cup.
All eyes turned.
Including the new teacher's.
She was tall.
Slender.
Sharp eyes that felt like they could read your karma.
Wearing sleek white, gold-rimmed glasses, and heels that didn't make a sound.
She radiated something that screamed, I've judged gods before breakfast.
She glanced at the late trio.
"Names. Now."
Kenji straightened his tie.
"Kenji Mori, future CEO, part-time priest, full-time troublemaker."
"Riven Takarashi," Riven said, fixing his collar. "Survivor of seventeen school systems and three mysterious blackouts."
Asvara simply raised a hand without turning his gaze from the tea.
"Asvara Regalia. I don't believe in being early to things I already know."
A few students chuckled.
She did not.
"And your reason for being late?"
Kenji jumped in.
"I had to perform a spiritual fumigation. There was... ghost mold in the dorm microwave."
"He microwaved durian," Riven added dryly. "I told him not to."
"It was a blessed durian!" Kenji insisted. "You don't just throw that away."
"My tea ceremony exploded," Asvara said flatly. "Don't ask."
The class stared at them and back to new teacher's face.
The teacher raised one eyebrow like she'd heard worse, and possibly done worse.
"Take your seats."
As they slid into their desks, Kenji whispered:
"Dude… did you feel that?"
"Yeah," Riven murmured. "She's not normal."
"Minerva Phallas Promachos," Asvara said under his breath when he looks at class blackboard. "Her name isn't just Roman... it's divine lineage. Phallas. Promachos. Those aren't surnames. Those are titles."
"So she's...?"
"Not from around here."
AIRA's soft voice chimed in Asvara's earpiece.
"Warning: Mana density from Subject Minerva is exceeding faculty norms. Classification: Possibly Extraplanar Entity."
Minerva began to write on the board.
"World History: The Cycles That Repeat."
Her handwriting wasn't chalk.
It shimmered slightly.
Like memory being engraved instead of words.
And at the bottom of the board, she added one quote:
"The world has always been burned by those who remember too much... and those who remember nothing at all."
Asvara narrowed his eyes.
"She knows."
Minerva's presence had changed the air in 2-A.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
The walls felt sharper.
The light more ancient.
Even the classroom clock ticked with a rhythm more... deliberate.
Lyra couldn't stop staring.
There was something about Minerva's posture, the way her eyes scanned the room like she already knew every student's fear, trauma, and favorite childhood meal.
"She doesn't blink enough to be normal," she whispered to herself.
From the back row, Kenji leaned to Riven.
"I bet she's the final boss of the semester."
"If she is," Riven replied, "we're failing gloriously."
Liberium Rooftop – Lunch Break
The wind on the rooftop carried the scent of grilled salmon, rice, and imported matcha cheesecake.
Kenji's butler clearly did not believe in humble lunches.
Asvara chewed calmly.
Riven sipped jasmine tea through a titanium straw.
Kenji unwrapped his wagyu steak like it was a sacred relic.
"So," Asvara began, "any thoughts on Miss Divine Intervention downstairs?"
"Definitely not human," Riven said. "Probably not legal either."
"She wrote the word 'empire' in Ancient Sumerian without blinking," Kenji muttered. "That's warlock behavior."
Lyra arrived quietly, standing by the rooftop door.
"She gives off the same feeling… like when the Gate opened."
"She's not from this timeline," Asvara said. "She walks like someone who's seen the world die. Twice."
LOUDSPEAKER CRACKLES
"Students Asvara Regalia, Kenji Mori, and Riven Takarashi — please report to Room 3-07. Immediately."
"That's her," Kenji sighed. "You guys ready?"
"Always," Asvara replied, standing with his coat fluttering like a shadow behind him.
Room 3-07 – Faculty Wing
They entered.
The lights were dim.
Curtains closed.
The air... static.
Minerva sat at her desk, arms folded. Behind her, a wall filled with maps.
Not of countries but of ley lines, spiritual fractures, and Gate signatures across the globe.
She didn't ask them to sit.
"So," she began, "how long were you planning to keep quiet about your activities?"
Riven opened his mouth.
"We have alibis, receipts, and a tragic ghost mold incident—"
"Spare me the jokes, Takarashi."
She stood, walked around the desk, heels silent.
"You're dealing with Isorropia and you barely understand the game you're playing."
"We know more than you think," Kenji said.
"You know pieces," Minerva corrected. "Fragments."
She flicked her fingers, and a floating hologram burst open in the air and a black chessboard with figures made of smoke.
"Isorropia has begun their next sequence."
"Their pawns are everywhere. But now, their Bishops are moving."
She tapped the largest piece on the board. It glowed violet.
"And their goal is no longer the Gates."
She turned to Asvara.
"Their goal... is you."
Silence.
"Why?" Riven asked.
Minerva looked straight into Asvara's eyes.
"Because of the god who cursed you."
Asvara flinched, almost imperceptibly.
"You know who it is," he said, not as a question.
Minerva nodded.
"Yes. And I also know why the curse was placed."
"Tell me."
"First," she said, "understand what you are."
She pulled out a golden disk from her coat, ancient, scarred, humming with ethereal runes.
"This is called a Sentinel Core. There are only seven in existence. They were created by the divine to observe and protect the balance of mortal timelines."
"Sentinels," Riven whispered. "I've heard of them. Thought they were a myth."
"Isorropia was formed to destroy the Sentinels. To force imbalance so they can be the only balance that exist. Because only in chaos can their god be revived."
"Which god?" Asvara asked.
Minerva took a breath. Closed her eyes.
"The one who cursed you."
"Katalysis.""The God of Eternal Disruption."
The room went ice cold.
AIRA's voice chimed into Asvara's earpiece.
"Keyword match found. Katalysis: Pre-Primordial Entity. Forbidden in five ancient pantheons. Creator of Anti-Time."
Minerva continued.
"You were cursed, not because you were dangerous — but because you were the only one who could contain him."
"The king who gave you up… he was manipulated."
"Katalysis needed a vessel that could suffer, remember, and never die."
"That vessel was you."
Asvara's fists tightened.
"And now… Isorropia wants to reverse the seal."
"They believe awakening your Core Memory will unleash the rest of Katalysis," Minerva said.
"If they succeed... every world, every era, every soul... will exist in fractured loops."
Silence gripped the room.
Then Asvara whispered:
"Then we'll break the chess board."
Silence still hung in the room like fog.
Minerva stood there, too poised, too rehearsed.
Asvara didn't blink.
She had just told him the name of his eternal tormentor.
Explained Isorropia's plot.
Laid everything out like a perfect chessboard.
And that's the problem.
It's too clean, Asvara thought.
Too tidy. Too… convenient.
As if someone wanted me to act.
He gave a polite nod. Almost a bow.
"Thank you for the insight, Miss Promachos."
Minerva smiled.
"I know this is a lot to process. But the world needs you now more than ever."
"Of course," he replied. "After all, I was cursed for this."
She didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
Because in that moment, he knew.
Riven's Dorm – Midnight
AIRA projected soft ambient light from the corner, while the trio gathered on bean bags and mismatched chairs.
Riven was pacing.
"I don't trust her."
"Understatement," Kenji said, rubbing his temples. "She literally looked at us like side characters."
"She dropped the name of the god who cursed me," Asvara said, staring out the window. "And she did it without hesitation. Without breathing."
"That's good intel," Kenji shrugged.
"No," Asvara said slowly, "that's good acting."
Lyra turned, confused.
"What do you mean?"
Asvara sipped his tea. Then, calmly:
"You don't just know the name of a Primordial."
"You don't casually mention a god banned in five pantheons without consequence."
"You don't just… give an immortal his answers after thousands of years of silence."
"Unless…"
Riven stopped pacing.
"…you want him to move."
Asvara nodded.
"She wants me to play. To act. To move a piece I didn't know I had."
Lyra clenched her fists.
"So you're saying she lied?"
"Not necessarily," Asvara said. "Lies are loud. Precision is quieter."
He tapped the table.
"She's not telling the full truth. And that… is more dangerous."
AIRA materialized beside the window, blue cloak flowing.
"I ran a linguistic pattern analysis on Minerva's speech. She used the phrase 'balance' seventeen times."
"But she never defined it."
"That's intentional," Asvara murmured. "Because she doesn't serve balance. She serves the idea of balance that replaces all others."
"Isorropia was formed to force imbalance," Riven recalled, "so they can be the only balance that exists."
"Exactly," Asvara said. "And that logic… applies to her too."
He turned to face them fully.
"Minerva might be a Sentinel, yes. But that doesn't mean she's neutral."
"She wants control of the game."
Lyra stepped forward.
"Then don't play. Walk away."
Asvara's expression softened, for a moment.
"I can't. If I refuse to act, someone else dies in my place. You saw what happened at Cikapundung."
"You're not a chess piece," she whispered.
"No," Asvara replied. "I'm the player pretending to be one."
Riven gritted his teeth.
"So what's the plan? You go along with her little world-saving script?"
Asvara's eyes burned with quiet fire.
"No. I make her think I am."
He snapped his fingers. AIRA projected a 3D map of leyline activity across Java.
"If she's right and a second Gate is opening then I'll need to be there."
"But if she's lying… I'll be there to catch her before it opens."
Kenji folded his arms.
"You sure about this?"
"I'm not even sure what day it is," Asvara said dryly. "But I've played this game for two millennia."
"And if Minerva is bluffing, then it's time she met someone who doesn't fold."
Riven cracked a grin.
"Guess we're back in the war room again."
Lyra just looked down, conflicted.
"I don't want to lose you again," she whispered.
Asvara turned to her.
"You won't."
"This time… I'm writing the script."