—Aether—
There were no memories.
Only a name.
…Agumi.
It came without warning.
Not like a vision.
Not like a dream.
Just… a name that existed before he could question it.
—
Aether stood at the highest point of the mage tower.
The wind up here didn't just move—it whispered.
Below him, the academy stretched wide and orderly, as if the world itself had been arranged for people who weren't meant to question it.
Students walked in lines.
Clashes of training echoed faintly.
Magic flickered and vanished in controlled bursts.
Everything functioned.
Everything followed rules.
—
Aether looked down with quiet indifference.
They called him a prodigy.
A once-in-a-generation mage.
The kind of existence people whispered about, not because they understood him—but because they didn't.
The one who would reach the 10th Circle.
That title followed him everywhere.
But it meant nothing to him.
—
"…Agumi."
The name slipped out again.
This time, more carefully.
Like he was trying to understand it through sound alone.
—
It didn't belong to this world.
That much he was certain of.
He had studied languages. Ancient scripts. Forgotten tongues.
No record. No trace.
Nothing.
And yet—
it wasn't foreign.
—
Aether's fingers rested against the cold stone railing.
He didn't move for a long time.
—
In his life, everything had always been clear.
If something existed, it had a purpose.
If something followed rules, it could be understood.
If something could be broken, it could be surpassed.
—
But this?
This name…
It didn't follow any of that.
—
Aether's gaze shifted slightly, narrowing as he looked deeper into the academy grounds.
A group of students attempted a coordinated spell.
Too much focus on control.
Too little on understanding.
The spell collapsed midway.
—
"…inefficient."
He said it quietly.
Not as criticism.
As fact.
—
His mind worked like a system.
Observe.
Analyze.
Conclude.
That was how he had always moved forward.
—
So why—
why did this name sit there, untouched by logic?
—
"…Agumi."
This time, he didn't repeat it.
He simply let it exist.
—
And for the first time—
Aether felt something unfamiliar.
Not confusion.
Not curiosity.
Something closer to… absence.
—
Like something important was missing.
—
His eyes lowered slightly.
"…if you exist…"
The words came without force.
Not a promise.
Not a declaration.
Just a quiet decision.
—
"I'll find you."
—
Not because he was told to.
Not because it was expected.
But because something inside him had already accepted it as truth.
—
The wind moved past him.
Carrying the world forward.
—
And yet—
Aether did not move.
—
Something had started.
Even if no one else could see it.
—Agumi—
"Again."
The sound of steel echoed cleanly.
No hesitation.
No waste.
—
Agumi stepped forward, her movement light but precise.
Her blade followed naturally—like it already knew where it needed to be.
Her opponent reacted too late.
Clang.
—
The fight ended before it could begin.
—
"…I yield."
Her opponent lowered their weapon, breathing unevenly.
Agumi relaxed her stance immediately, rolling her shoulders once like it was nothing.
—
From the sidelines, murmurs followed.
"She's on another level…"
"At this rate, she'll surpass the instructors…"
—
Agumi didn't respond.
She wasn't listening.
—
Not because she didn't care.
But because she didn't need to.
—
Fighting was simple.
Not something to think about.
Not something to overanalyze.
—
You moved.
Or you didn't.
That was all.
—
She twirled her blade once before sheathing it.
A habit.
Nothing more.
—
"…huh?"
She paused.
Just for a moment.
—
A strange feeling brushed against her chest.
Light.
Subtle.
But impossible to ignore.
—
Not pain.
Not discomfort.
Just… a gap.
—
"…what was that?"
She glanced down at her hand.
Flexed her fingers once.
Nothing unusual.
Everything was normal.
—
And yet—
—
Why does it feel like something is missing?
—
Agumi frowned slightly.
That wasn't like her.
She didn't dwell on things she couldn't understand.
—
"Forget it."
She exhaled, shaking it off.
—
Whatever it was—
it didn't matter.
—
"I'll just get stronger."
That had always been her answer.
—
Strength meant certainty.
Strength meant no hesitation.
Strength meant moving forward without regret.
—
She turned her gaze toward the sky.
Clear.
Wide.
Empty.
—
But for a brief moment
it felt like someone was looking back.
—
Agumi blinked.
"…weird."
She gave a small, almost amused smile.
Then turned away.
—
She didn't notice the feeling lingering just a little longer than before.
—
And she didn't notice
that somewhere far above
someone had spoken her name.