Kyūsei woke before sunrise with cold sweat on his neck.
The dream clung to him longer than usual.
The white marble plain.
The endless sky of moving stars.
The god standing far away.
Silent.
Watching.
And for the first time since sending him to this world…
Concerned.
Kyūsei sat upright in bed and rubbed his face.
Great.
Even divine beings were giving him unsettling looks now.
Across the room, Kazuto was already awake.
Again.
He sat by the window polishing his sword while pale dawn light outlined his silhouette.
"Do you ever sleep?" Kyūsei asked.
Kazuto didn't look up.
"Twice a week."
"That explains a lot."
"It explains excellence."
Kyūsei threw a pillow at him.
Kazuto caught it one-handed.
"Improved aim."
Breakfast was less glorious than yesterday.
Kazuto claimed they needed "discipline," which apparently meant plain bread, boiled eggs, and tea so bitter it felt personal.
Kyūsei drank one sip and coughed.
"This tastes like regret."
"It builds character."
"It builds resentment."
"Same family."
After eating, Kazuto marched him through Valthorin's quieter morning streets.
Shops were just opening. Bakers set out fresh bread. Sweepers cleared alleyways. Crystal lamps dimmed one by one as sunlight strengthened.
They stopped in front of the bookstore Kyūsei had noticed last night.
Its sign read:
Eldrin & Sons – Books, Maps, Ledgers, Curiosities
Inside smelled of old paper, wood polish, and expensive knowledge.
An elderly man with thick brows looked up from behind the counter.
He stared at Kazuto.
"No."
Kazuto blinked.
"I haven't asked yet."
"No."
"You don't know what I—"
"You owe me money."
Kazuto placed a hand over his heart.
"Wounds reopen."
The old man pointed at the door.
"Out."
Kyūsei looked between them.
"Do you owe everyone money?"
Kazuto thought.
"Not everyone."
The old man's eyes shifted to Kyūsei.
Then softened.
"You're new."
"Yes, sir."
"Good manners. Rare disease these days."
He motioned Kyūsei closer.
"What do you need?"
Kazuto tried to answer.
The old man smacked his hand away with a ruler.
"Not you."
Kyūsei almost smiled.
"I want to learn reading… properly. History too."
The man studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Name's Master Eldrin. Come mornings if you're serious."
Kyūsei blinked.
"You'd teach me?"
"For coin."
"Oh."
"And because your friend is an idiot."
Kazuto bowed dramatically.
"My reputation travels faster than me."
"It crawls."
Master Eldrin stacked three books and handed them to Kyūsei.
Basic Script of the Central KingdomsFoundations of Mana TheoryA Child's History of Eryndor
Kazuto snorted at the last title.
"Perfect for you."
Kyūsei elbowed him.
The next two hours were brutal.
Kyūsei learned that reading conversational signs and truly understanding written grammar were very different battles.
Master Eldrin was patient only in legends.
"No, no, no. That mark changes the tense."
"Why are there six symbols for the same sound?"
"Because civilization made mistakes."
"What does this word mean?"
"Depends who insults you with it."
Kazuto lounged in a chair nearby pretending to nap.
Whenever Kyūsei struggled, he offered deeply unhelpful comments.
"That one means donkey."
"It does not," Eldrin snapped.
"It should."
At one point the ruler struck Kazuto again.
Kyūsei was beginning to enjoy lessons.
By midday they left with books tucked under Kyūsei's arm.
He felt oddly proud.
Tiny progress.
Still progress.
As they crossed a bridge lined with blue crystal rails, he opened the history book while walking.
"Don't read while moving," Kazuto said.
"Why?"
"You'll hit something expensive."
Kyūsei looked up just in time to avoid colliding with a young woman carrying baskets of flowers.
He stepped back fast.
"Sorry!"
She nearly dropped everything.
Long chestnut hair, green eyes, simple traveling clothes, and an expression caught halfway between startled and amused.
"It's fine," she said. "The bridge survives."
Kazuto coughed into his fist.
Kyūsei glared at him.
"I wasn't trying to—"
"I know," she said, smiling now. "That made it worse."
One flower had fallen from her basket.
Kyūsei picked it up and handed it back awkwardly.
She accepted it.
"Thank you… reckless reader."
"Kyūsei."
"Lyra."
She nodded once, then continued across the bridge.
Kazuto watched her go.
Then turned slowly toward Kyūsei.
"No."
"What?"
"No dramatic staring after strangers."
"I wasn't staring!"
"You were spiritually staring."
Kyūsei's ears burned.
The afternoon was training.
Kazuto took him to an open yard rented by adventurers.
Wooden dummies lined the walls. Sand circles marked sparring zones. Weapon racks held practice gear.
Today's focus was movement.
Which meant suffering.
"Lower stance."
"My legs hurt."
"Excellent. Means they exist."
"You stole that joke from yesterday."
"I improve proven material."
Kazuto made him repeat steps for an hour.
Forward.
Pivot.
Guard.
Retreat.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Then mana control.
Instead of explosive blasts, Kazuto forced him to light candles using only a thread of fire.
Kyūsei accidentally scorched three.
Then melted one.
Then set his own sleeve alight.
Kazuto applauded.
"Consistent chaos."
By sunset, Kyūsei could produce a small steady flame above one finger and a gentle gust strong enough to move hanging cloth without tearing it.
He grinned despite exhaustion.
Kazuto noticed.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The face of someone becoming dangerous."
Night came quietly.
They returned to the inn.
Dinner was stew, bread, and an argument downstairs between two merchants over whose goat was smarter.
Kyūsei carried his books upstairs afterward.
For the first time in his life, he had homework.
That thought alone nearly made him laugh.
He read by crystal lamp until his eyes drooped.
History of the Five Kingdoms.
Mana academies.
Ancient wars.
Then one passage caught him.
Before recorded ages, there existed those born without cores—beings who drew power not from mana, but from the Void Beyond Form. Such tales are dismissed by modern scholars.
Kyūsei went still.
He read it again.
And again.
Kazuto, lying on his bed, spoke without looking.
"What page?"
Kyūsei snapped the book shut.
"Nothing."
"That obvious, huh?"
"Very."
Kazuto sat up slowly.
His usual humor was absent.
"Show me."
Kyūsei handed over the book.
Kazuto read the line.
For once, he had no joke ready.
Only silence.
Then he closed it gently.
"Old myths," he said.
"You don't believe that."
"No."
"Then what do you believe?"
Kazuto met his eyes.
"I believe some stories survive because people were too afraid to erase them."
A chill passed through the room.
Kyūsei's voice lowered.
"You know something."
Kazuto stood and walked to the window.
Outside, Valthorin glowed blue beneath the stars.
"I know enough to tell you this," he said quietly.
"If anyone asks what happened in that chamber… you used fire and wind. Nothing else."
"Why?"
"Because fear spreads faster than truth."
Kyūsei stood too.
"And if I want truth?"
Kazuto's reflection in the glass looked older somehow.
"Then become strong enough to survive hearing it."
Before Kyūsei could answer, a scream rose from the street below.
Both of them moved instantly.
They rushed to the window.
People were running.
A market stall had been overturned.
At the center of the street stood a man convulsing on the stones.
Black veins crawled across his neck.
His eyes had gone completely dark.
He lifted his head—
And looked directly at their window.
Then smiled with someone else's mouth.