The Academy was alive with movement. Students practiced in the courtyards, their weapons dancing through the air like extensions of their bodies, chains arcing in glowing patterns that left afterimages. Shinjiru could barely keep up with his racing thoughts, each step echoing against the polished crystal floors. The hum of essence filled the air, resonating with his own pulse.
Masaru Jinkuro walked beside him, his gray aura steady and imposing. "This is your first lesson," he said. "Observation comes before action. Every Himen—no matter rank—watches and learns before striking. The rules of essence are unforgiving. You ignore them at your peril."
Shinjiru swallowed, nodding, though his throat was tight. "Yes, sir."
Masaru led him to a large training hall, walls arched high into the clouds, glowing with faint veins of energy. Dozens of students were paired off, their auras shining in different colors: emerald, gold, lavender. Each duel seemed a choreographed dance, lethal yet precise. Chains whipped, sickles gleamed, and the occasional spark of essence flared when strikes connected.
"Observe the duels, Arakami," Masaru instructed. "Notice how aura color, weapon choice, and positioning affect every exchange. Then, when your turn comes, remember: instinct without discipline will get you killed."
Shinjiru's gaze swept the room. One boy caught his attention immediately—tall, wiry, with emerald-green eyes and an aura that hummed like coiled energy. He moved with speed that made even the most skilled seem sluggish, chains snapping with precision, each strike calculated.
"Who's that?" Shinjiru whispered.
"That is Kaito Aokawa," Masaru replied. "Your rival. You will learn much from him, whether you like it or not. Keep your distance for now."
Distance. Shinjiru gritted his teeth. His pulse quickened at the thought of being compared, of standing behind someone so naturally skilled. And yet, there was something familiar in Kaito's aura—a challenge that whispered, I will test you, Arakami.
Soon, the dueling rings were cleared for new participants. Shinjiru was led to a circular platform at the center. Chains and weapons hovered before him, suspended by his own untrained essence. The moment he reached out, a flicker of power pulsed from his hands, and the chains wrapped around his wrists instinctively, as if sensing his intent.
Masaru's eyes narrowed. "Not bad. But control comes from understanding, not instinct. You will learn to refine it."
The first opponent was assigned: a student slightly older, with pale aquamarine aura, dual sickles in hand. Shinjiru's heart thudded. He tried to anticipate, but his first swing was clumsy. The opponent blocked effortlessly, spinning out of reach and countering with a chain strike that brushed his shoulder. Pain flared, but it was a warning, not a true hit.
"Your aura is… unusual," the opponent said, curiosity lacing their tone. "I've never felt anything like it."
Shinjiru's violet aura flared involuntarily, silver streaks shimmering along the edges. He staggered back, focusing. Each breath synchronized with the pulse in his chest. Slowly, the chains responded more accurately, the sickle arcs aligning with his intent. His movements became deliberate, precise.
Masaru's voice cut through the din. "Better. But a fight is more than strikes—it's observation, strategy, and the willingness to anticipate. Don't just react. Think, predict, and act before the strike comes."
Shinjiru's next encounter was with Kaito. The emerald aura student approached casually, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "So, you're the one they're talking about," Kaito said, voice steady, confident. "The hybrid."
Shinjiru stiffened. "I'm just… learning," he replied, though his chest burned with determination.
Kaito's grin widened. "Good. You'll need that if you want to keep up."
The duel began. Chains arced like lightning, sickles clashing, sparks of essence scattering across the hall. Kaito's movements were fluid, relentless, but Shinjiru began to understand the rhythm. Each strike from Kaito revealed openings, each feint a hidden intent. For the first time, Shinjiru didn't just react—he predicted.
Yet the final moment came too quickly. Kaito spun, chains wrapping around Shinjiru's legs, pulling him off balance. He fell hard, hitting the platform with a grunt. Pain flared, but pride burned brighter.
"You've improved," Kaito said, offering a hand. "Not enough yet, but… you'll make me sweat one day."
Shinjiru took it, gripping firmly. "I'll get stronger. I have to."
Masaru's gaze softened slightly. "You've seen the first truth of the Academy, Arakami. Rivalry will push you. Discipline will save you. And curiosity… curiosity will define you."
Later, Shinjiru sat alone on a balcony overlooking the floating courtyards. The sun—or something like it, filtered through the luminescent sky—glinted off the crystal walkways. His pulse was steady now, aura dim but present. Thoughts of his father, of Shinu's warning, and of the mysterious Krawler that had killed Haruto crowded his mind.
And yet, beneath all the fear and uncertainty, a spark of determination ignited. He would master this world. He would understand the rules, the essence, and his power. He would survive.
Because he had to.
Because one day, he would face the stage 3 Krawler that had ended his father's life.
And he would not fail.