I let the laughter fade naturally. Didn't force the silence away when it came.
Rei had gone still again, fingers curled lightly at her side, eyes focused somewhere past me.
"...You know," I said softly, "you didn't have to hide it. Not from me."
She exhaled slowly, not looking up. "I didn't do it because I didn't trust you."
"Then why?"
A pause.
Then—quietly: "Because I didn't trust me."
My brows furrowed.
"I didn't know who I was supposed to be," she continued, voice measured. "Being near you—it gave me direction. Purpose. A way to belong without... explanation. If I told the truth, I thought it would make things complicated. Make me a burden."
"That's dumb," I said, but not unkindly.
"I know," she admitted.
I sat up fully now, wincing slightly as my ribs complained. "Rei… I would've accepted you either way. You know that, right?"
She hesitated—then nodded. "I do. Now."
"Then stop acting like I'm going to look at you differently."
"I'm not afraid of you looking at me differently," Rei said, glancing at me sideways. "I'm afraid you'll start treating me like I'm fragile."
I tilted my head. "But you are fragile. You skipped meals, got mana fatigue, and nearly passed out in a spar once because you refused to sit down."
"That was one time."
"It was three."
She gave me a tired look, but there was something warm in it now. Something vulnerable. Real.
"I didn't want you to think I wasn't capable," she said, quieter now. "You… you carry so much. And I wanted to be someone you could lean on. Not someone you'd have to carry."
"You idiot," I whispered.
She blinked.
I reached out and took her hand—not for drama, not for comfort. Just to connect.
"I never needed you to be perfect. Just honest."
Her shoulders dropped—like tension had finally gotten permission to leave.
"…I'll try," she said.
"Good." I squeezed her fingers. "Because I'm going to keep pushing."
She cracked a tired smile. "You always do."
"Someone has to," I said. "You'd hide the apocalypse in your jacket if it meant you didn't have to talk about it."
"And you'd try to solve it with stubbornness and sarcasm."
We stared at each other for a beat, then both laughed again—softer this time.
Just us.
No secrets.
No weight of bloodlines.
Just… friends.
Maybe even more than that.
The moment was cut short after we both heard knocking at the door.
The knock was too polite to be Levy.
But the door still slammed open half a second later like it owed her money.
"There you are!" Revy announced, half leaning into the room with her hands on her hips. "God Rei, I was starting to think you'd died in here from emotional constipation."
Rei jolted upright, her hand yanking away from mine so fast it might've burned her. I just blinked at Revy like she was a cold bucket of water tossed directly onto a campfire.
Behind her, Levy stepped in with the measured grace of someone entirely used to this chaos.
"Lady Tomaszewski," Levy said, inclining her head slightly. "We've finalized the travel preparations. Your provisions, charm tags, and identification scrolls have been secured."
"Also," Revy added, flopping dramatically into the seat by the desk, "your fancy silver-thread cloak? I may have added a minor weatherproof enchantment. You're welcome. And no, you don't get to ask what else I touched."
Chiori raised an eyebrow. "Is it going to explode?"
"Only if you betray the family," Revy said with a wink. "Which—fair warning—I would be slightly impressed by."
Rei groaned quietly. "Revy—"
"No, no," Revy waved her hand, smirking. "Don't ruin this. I live to catch you two having a Moment. And this one? Top tier."
I leaned forward just slightly. "We weren't having a moment."
"Sweetheart, the emotional vulnerability was radiating through the door," she said, tossing a pillow at me. "Next time, put up a sound ward. Or at least wait until you're not subconsciously saying 'Imma faint every single time I use magic.'"
She then looks at Rei. "And this one with finally saying her secret to her Master and being riddled with gay panic."
Rei turned scarlet. "I—I wasn't panicking—"
"Oh, you were," Revy cooed, then looked to me. "And you. Don't think I didn't notice the soft tone and hand-holding. You've got the romantic subtlety of a melodramatic sword saint."
"I am a sword saint in training."
"Exactly. Which means you're bad at feelings."
Levy, ever the unbothered shadow, cleared her throat delicately. "Lady Chiori, you leave at sunrise. Revy will accompany you to the gate. Lord Saegusa has asked for discretion."
"Which is rich," Revy muttered, "considering his dramatics yesterday could've been seen from orbit."
I gave them both a flat look, then stood, brushing off my sleeves. "Fine. I'll be ready."
Revy grinned. "I knew you would be. That's our little Star."
"I'm not your Star."
"You say that," she teased, already halfway out the door.
Rei just sank further into her seat, face half-covered by her hand. "Miss Levy, why do we let her speak?"
Levy gave the faintest smile. "Because she'd find a way anyway."
Rei stood once Revy and Levy were gone. She hesitated at the door.
"Get some sleep," she said softly. "You'll need it."
"I will if you will," I said, smirking.
She gave a tired half-bow. "No promises."
And then I was alone again—with my thoughts, my still-packed satchel... and the silence that always came before something important.
I didn't move right away. Just stared at the closed door for a moment longer, letting the weight of everything slow to a crawl.
I blinked.
"...Metatron?"
[Confirmed. Integration complete.]
A brief shimmer crossed my vision—barely visible, like mana condensation on glass. The voice had changed slightly since the upgrade. More refined. Less clinical than Great Sage, but with the same cold clarity threaded through a deeper resonance.
"You've been quiet."
[You told me to shut up.]
Ah…I did say that.
A pause. Then—
[Notice: Three skills have been activated post-integration.]
I sat up straighter, pulse kicking just a little faster.
"Go on."
[New Skill acquired. Extra Skill: Enhanced Spell Learning]
[Passive Effect: Reduces theoretical and structural analysis time of spell components by 42%. Increases the success rate of new spell creation attempts by 38%.]
I inhaled slowly. That... would be useful. Especially with the second Grimoire chapter in progress.
[New Skill acquired. Unique Skill: Predator]
My eyes narrowed.
"...What kind of name is that?"
[Predator allows the user to deconstruct, adapt, and reconfigure hostile or unknown spells, beings, items or materials. Any of these things encountered during combat or contact may be absorbed for study or repurposing.]
"That sounds—"
[Dangerous. Yes. But also rare.]
I paused. "Why now?"
[Your resonance threshold has shifted after successful dispatch of corruption. And your understanding of intent while wielding Yukihana has reached the requirements needed for 2 skills. The Unique Skill: Predator was a byproduct of eliminating corruption from subject Satoshi Hoshino.]
I swallowed, glancing at my hands.
"And the unlocked skill?"
[New Skill unlocked. Unique Skill – Celestial Foresight]
The room felt colder.
I didn't speak.
[This skill allows limited precognitive awareness based on environmental threat factors, mana flow irregularities, and high-risk decision pathways. Visions are fragmented and triggered by deliberation or opposing intention.]
My heart thudded once—too loud in the silence.
[Skill was locked until today. Unlocked upon emotional stabilization post-parasite purge.]
"...So cleansing him was the catalyst."
[Yes.]
I stared at the far wall. Let the shadows stretch a little longer across the edges of the mirror.
I leaned back on my elbows and exhaled.
"That's a lot of information."
[Yes]
I closed my eyes.
Just for a second.
But the second cracked open like glass under pressure.
—
I was standing on a battlefield I didn't recognize.
The sky above wasn't sky—it was memory. Flickering like flame, thick with static. Stars blinked in and out, but none of them felt familiar.
The ground beneath me pulsed with mana, veins of magic running like cracks through marble. Every step felt weighted, not by gravity, but by inevitability.
Ahead, a figure stood with their back to me.
Clad in robes of midnight and black, long hair trailing like a galaxy. They held no weapon, but the air around them sang like unsheathed steel.
My feet moved before I could think.
The closer I came, the more the edges of the world began to fracture. Voices—from the Chorus—from Yukihana—echoed through the mist.
"You were not born to inherit. You were born to remake."
"She bears the seal, but not the chains."
"The blade remembers the hand that first gave it purpose."
The figure turned.
Their eyes were like mine.
But older.
Sharper.
Sadder.
"You're not ready," they said, voice like the stillness before lightning. "But you're close."
"Who are you?" I asked.
They didn't answer.
Instead, they raised their hand and pointed behind me.
I turned.
The sky split.
A tower of obsidian rose from the distance—crumbling, reforming, then crumbling again. At its base: shadowed figures crawling like ants, devouring the light at its roots.
"That is what comes next," the figure said. "You will choose what stands when the ruin clears."
"Why me?" I whispered.
The figure vanished before the answer came.
The world collapsed inward.
And I woke up.
—
[Notice: Unique Skill – Celestial Foresight – fragment successfully retrieved. Symbolic correlation: 62%. Temporal alignment: unstable.]
My body was still upright.
My hand still rested lightly over my chest.
But the dream clung like frostbite.
"What… was that?"
[An echo of what may come. Not prophecy. Possibility.]
I stared at the window.
Dawn hadn't broken yet.
But I could already feel the weight of the day.
The silence in the room wasn't empty.
It was… expectant.
[You are thinking too loudly.]
A pause.
[You are anticipating conflict.]
"I'm anticipating being sent into something no one else volunteered for," I replied. "So yeah. Conflict."
A flicker of static brushed the edge of my consciousness.
[Then do what you were made to do. Learn. Adapt. Endure.]
"I was made?"
[You are still becoming.]
That gave me pause. Just for a second.
[Master—]
"Yes?"
[The moment you hesitate to survive for others… remember, you are allowed to survive for yourself.]
The silence returned—but not hollow.
It felt like something waiting to be stepped into.
A knock broke the moment—soft, familiar.
Rei.
I opened the door without a word.
She stood there holding a folded set of clothes, brow arched like she already knew I wasn't going to like this.
"Good morning," she said.
I squinted. "That depends. What's in your hands?"
Rei tilted the bundle toward me with an innocent expression that was 100% a lie. "An optional departure ensemble."
"Optional," I echoed, flat.
She stepped into the room and laid the outfit on the edge of the bed with ceremony far too serious for what I was looking at.
Black and silver. Tailored. Crisp lines. Regal enough to pass for House-issue… but wrong.
Too fitted. Too polished. Too—
"Is this an attendant uniform?"
Rei didn't flinch. "Yes."
"For me?"
"Yes."
I stared at her. "Why."
"I've always wondered what you'd look like in one," she said simply. "And I thought… since you've dragged me through seven years of diplomatic chaos, near-death training sessions, and at least one spiritual identity crisis, it was only fair."
I folded my arms. "You want me to cosplay as you before a ruin expedition?"
"Think of it as armor," she offered, almost sweetly. "But for emotional damage."
I groaned. "I'm not wearing that."
"You haven't even tried it on."
"I don't need to—"
"You let Revy throw mana-proof cloaks on you without a second thought but this is where you draw the line?"
"This is personal."
She gave me a look. "It's a uniform."
"It's your uniform."
"Exactly," she said, smug. "And you're always saying I should learn to share."
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her.
She dodged with ease.
"I'm not wearing it," I said again, but weaker now.
Rei just smiled, already victorious.
Then—quieter—she added, "I thought it might help."
I blinked. "Help what?"
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she looked at the outfit again—her fingers smoothing out a fold in the fabric like it was something precious.
"Sometimes, when I put mine on… it makes things easier. Like I don't have to be everything at once. Just… one role. One purpose. It's stupid, I know, but it helped me. Especially when I didn't know who I was."
I swallowed the lump in my throat before it could get ambitious.
Rei looked up again, meeting my eyes. "You've always been something more. Larger. Heavier. And I can't carry that for you, but… maybe, just once, you could borrow a piece of what made things bearable for me."
The silence between us shifted.
Still quiet.
But warm now.
I looked down at the uniform again.
Still not my style. Still wrong.
But maybe—just this once—I could wear someone else's armor.
Even if it was for her.
I reached out and picked it up.
"Fine," I muttered. "But if I trip over these sleeves, I'm hexing you."
She smiled, soft and relieved. "Deal."