It's been a week since I got here.
The NullFlux Bastion.
Sounds cool, right? Like some fortress straight out of a game.
And in a way, yeah—it is. Only I'm not here as a prisoner or some shady suspect anymore. Somehow, I'm more like… a helper? Or maybe like one of those "special guests" in RPGs who end up stuck doing fetch quests.
Anyway, today I was walking across the Engineering Zone again. That place is weird. Looks all dusty and hot like some factory back home, but the air? Clean. Cool. Almost fresh enough that you forget this place is built like a giant machine-city. The bridges stretch forever, connecting towers like arteries. And in the middle of it all stands the biggest one, the heart of the whole zone.
I went in. Toreth was there—Supreme Commander Toreth.
Yeah, the guy who's technically my boss here.
He's buried in papers like usual, scribbling stuff, stamping things. Sometimes I think he's less a "Supreme Commander" and more of a playboyish guy forced to be a bored office worker. But he's surprisingly decent. Doesn't overwork me, but also doesn't let me out.
A balanced jailor. I gave him a nod, he gave me one back, and that was that. Quiet respect or whatever. Then I left.
The ore room was my next stop.
Deltes Ore.
Now that's something worth talking about.
It looks like normal black stone, but with shiny orange lines running through it like veins. If you just glanced at it, you'd probably think, "cool rock," and move on. But nah—this thing's different. It resonates with the human body.
Like, literally syncs with your Vana flow. That's why it's used as anchors for AMI marks. Without it, normal people wouldn't be able to contain the vana in their bodies learning it comes ahead.
I picked one up today, small piece, fit in my palm. Felt it hum against me, almost like it was alive. I sat down, focused, and raised my free hand. Slowly, another ore started forming in my palm. Same shape, same shine. Except bigger—twice the size. When it was done, I tossed the original to the ground and studied mine.
Honestly? Pretty proud of myself.
I mean, a week ago, I was just making rocks for fun. Now I'm making functional ores. Real ones. Almost indistinguishable from the original.
Almost.
That's the catch. Mine resonate at only about 60%. Which is… not great. But not trash either. If I went from random stone to 60% functional Deltes Ore in a week? Yeah, I'll take that a win.
Still, it's missing something. Some kind of "spark" the real ones have. And I noticed something else while messing with them. They don't work with everyone.
Only certain people resonate with them. Like… maybe one in ten thousand. That's why so few people get AMI marks. And that's why even in the Obsidian Fang team, only 5% of them actually have marks. Makes sense now.
I left the ore room, back to my quarters. The place is huge, honestly. Too big for me. Almost feels wasted. Took off the standard brown uniform—plain but I kinda like it—and switched into regular clothes. More comfortable.
Then I sat at my desk. Pen, register, blank page.
Time for journaling.
Yeah, I've started journaling. Don't laugh. I don't do it because I'm trying to be some poet or wise monk. I just… like it. Helps me sort my head. Helps kill the time. If someone else ever found this, they'd probably think I'm some weirdo writing fanfiction about myself. But whatever.
So here's what I wrote, or something like it:
---
Journal, Week 1.
Still alive. Still here. Still not kicked out.
Made more progress with the ore today. 60% resonance. That's either really impressive or really disappointing depending on how you look at it. Toreth was dancing here and there shouting congratulations and how his eyes were right, but I bet he's keeping track. Guy notices everything.
Also realized only a handful of people can actually sync with this stuff. Explains the AMI situation. So basically, the world's RNG decides who gets to be "special." Love that.
Hede came by. Blonde kid, around my age. Met him on day one, and now we're friends. Don't ask me how it happened. We just… talked, laughed, and ended up as friends. He knocked today, asked me to join him for dinner. I said I'd come later. Haven't gone yet. Too busy writing this down. Priorities, right?
I've been thinking, though. This place is starting to grow on me. The routines, the air, the stupid towers. Made a few more friends too, not just Hede. Still, I miss the real ones. The family I chose. The ones who feel like home.
Guess I'm stuck here for now, so journaling will do. Better than nothing.
---
I put the pen down. Closed the register. Done for the day.
And yeah, that's basically it. A week in the NullFlux Bastion. Rocks, uniforms, paperwork bosses, new friends, and me trying not to lose my mind. Nothing exciting like some war or battle. Just… life. But maybe that's good.
Now I should probably go eat before Hede comes back knocking again.
End of entry.
---
Miwa strolled beside Jennie, their steps echoing faintly along the academy's stone corridor. She tilted her head, her hands tucked behind her back.
"I wonder how Minos is doing…" she said softly, her tone somewhere between curiosity and concern.
Jennie glanced at her with a small smile, though it carried a shadow of worry.
"I wish we could've called him. But almost all communications are disabled inside the NullFlux Bastion—except in a few controlled places."
Miwa let her arms fall to her sides with a sigh. "Why even do that? Cutting people off like that feels… unnecessary."
Jennie shook her head lightly, strands of hair brushing her cheek.
"Zazm told me it's for safety. Someone with sound-based powers could attack through open channels. If you think about it, it makes sense."
Miwa puffed out her cheeks, then exhaled. "Yeah… we can't rule that out. The bastion's design is… really clever. Kind of scary clever."
Jennie's eyes softened, her expression almost admiring. "It really is. Totally different from anything else."
Their quiet talk carried them toward the cafeteria doors. The hum of voices and clatter of plates spilled out before they even entered. But before they could step inside, a cheerful shout cut through the noise.
"Over here!"
Both turned. Ai was waving, her usual serious face relaxed for once with a small, inviting smile. Around her table sat Nova, Kiyomasa, Lisa, and Nirin, already halfway through their meals.
Jennie and Miwa made their way over. Nova, leaning back casually, gestured with his spoon.
"We secured seats in advance."
"Of course you did," Miwa teased as she slid into a chair. Jennie sat down beside her, folding her hands neatly on the table.
Ai, ever direct, spoke as soon as their trays hit the surface. "Eat up. Tomorrow is a big day."
Lisa nodded, her chopsticks tapping gently against her bowl. "The final exam… I wonder what's going to happen."
Nova chuckled, shrugging with a sly grin. "Expect the absolute unexpected."
Jennie tilted her head slightly. "But it'll be like how we practiced, right?"
Ai's lips pressed together, then curved in the smallest smile. "It can be. Or… it might not be. Depends on what they throw at us."
Nirin gave a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if in resignation. "Let's just eat quietly. We'll see tomorrow. No point overthinking."
Kiyomasa nodded firmly, flashing them all a reassuring grin. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. We've trained hard. We'll handle it."
The group fell into a calm rhythm, the soft chatter and the warmth of shared food grounding them—just for a moment. The storm of tomorrow still lay ahead.
---
Far from the cafeteria's light and laughter, Zazm walked along a shaded path lined with tall trees. His steps were slow, measured, his presence almost blending into the silence around him.
Then he stopped.
Against one tree leaned a figure, arms crossed, shadow stretching long in the dim light. On the branch above, another figure lounged lazily, legs dangling.
"Captain Neo," Zazm said, his voice even.
The man leaning on the trunk lifted his head, his sharp eyes catching what little light remained. "So, you're here."
A slight nod from Zazm.
The figure above dropped gracefully from the branch, landing with a laugh.
"Yoo, Zazm!" Asher grinned, brushing himself off.
Neo's tone soured instantly. "Asher. Be serious."
Asher waved him off, grin never fading. "Relax, relax. I am serious."
Neo stepped closer to Zazm, his expression unreadable. "Listen closely. Tomorrow… we're expecting an attack."
Zazm's gaze didn't shift. "An attack?"
Neo nodded once. "We caught spies wandering near the perimeter. It's no longer speculation."
"What's their purpose?" Zazm asked. His voice carried no worry, no hesitation—only a quiet inquiry.
Neo's jaw tightened. "Not to kill students. Not to destroy the kingdom." He paused, then pointed directly at Zazm. "It's you."
The silence that followed was heavy, almost unnatural. Zazm's expression didn't change. His eyes remained calm, inhumanly calm.
"Then let them come."
Neo shook his head slowly. "To put it bluntly… it's not just you. It's all of you."
Asher leaned forward, hands in his pockets, voice light but edged with seriousness. "Their targets are Miwa, Nova, Kiyomasa, Ai, and Jennie. Why? Self-explanatory, isn't it?"
Zazm gave a single nod. "They've seen my powers. Now they're afraid others might grow into the same level of threat."
"Exactly," Neo said. "The difference is, they know the others aren't half as strong as you yet. But they won't take chances. They'll strike early. And the only guards this academy really has are me… and the Clown."
"Who's the clown?" Asher asked, feigning offense, though his grin betrayed him.
Zazm's voice was level. "How did it get out?"
Asher chuckled bitterly. "Because there were more spies in the academy than we thought. Over fifty. And they weren't just watching you—they were watching everyone."
Zazm tilted his head slightly upward. "That might be a problem."
Neo's eyes narrowed. "Assume they know everything about us. Every power. Every weakness. We are not at an advantage."
"The situation isn't good," Zazm said calmly.
"Rhyes and reinforcements are already on their way," Neo continued. "They'll be here in time… hopefully."
Neo turned slightly, his boots crunching against the dirt. Asher spoke from behind him, still casual but sharper now.
"Be on guard. They may not attack tomorrow. Or they might. Either way, we'll stay on defense."
"What about the exam?" Zazm asked.
Neo's answer came without hesitation. "The exam goes forward as planned. It will help us identify them. Their movements. Their slip-ups. We'll be ready."
Zazm nodded once.
Asher gave a laugh as he walked. "Now imagine an Omega-class shows up, eh?" His tone was joking, but the words hung uncomfortably in the air.
Neo stopped in his tracks. His face darkened. "Then we all die."
The silence stretched, suffocating. Neo finally turned his head, his voice lower, heavier.
"Zazm. Everything will proceed as planned. But if the unexpected happens… if something we can't fight appears…" His gaze hardened. "Save the Catalysts. Escape. Just survive."
Even Asher blinked at that, his grin faltering. "Neo…"
Neo continued, his tone firm. "As much as I hate to admit it, they're our best chance. Unlike us… they can still grow stronger. They can surpass us."
He turned away fully and started walking. Asher let out a short whistle, then smirked, putting a hand on Zazm's shoulder.
"You know… I think you're the perfect guy for that. You wouldn't even feel guilty leaving everyone behind, as long as you saved yourself and your family."
Zazm looked at him, eyes unreadable, voice flat. "You're right."
Asher burst into laughter. "You're not even gonna fake empathy?"
"I'm no hypocrite," Zazm replied calmly.
Neo muttered without turning, "It's that damn look in his eyes. It never goes away."
Asher called after him, grinning. "You've really gotta stop judging people based on their eyes, Captain."
Their voices faded as the two men walked away, the tension of unspoken truths hanging in the air. And Zazm stood there for a moment longer—silent, unshaken, unreadable.
---
Nova's eyes snapped open—his chest seized as instinct screamed at him.
A shadow loomed above him. A figure—cloaked, faceless—pressed a knife down toward his throat. The dagger's edge grazed his skin, and before his brain could catch up, Nova's hand shot up, grabbing the attacker's wrist just as the blade scraped against his neck.
The cold sting burned.
What—?!
There was no time to think. No time to ask. His body moved before his mind. He twisted, throwing his leg up and kicking the cloaked man off the bed. The figure staggered back, crashing against the floorboards.
Nova surged forward, adrenaline surging like fire in his veins. He pounced, straddling the man's chest and raining fists into his hooded face. One—two—three brutal strikes. The sound of bone cracking echoed through the room.
The cloaked figure growled and swung the dagger again. Nova caught his wrist mid-swing, teeth gritted. He wrenched it from the attacker's grip, spun it in his own hand—aimed for the man's throat—
But a boot slammed into his ribs.
Air burst from his lungs as Nova was flung sideways. He crashed against the desk.
The attacker didn't hesitate—he grabbed the nearest thing at hand, a vase by the shattered window, and smashed it against Nova's skull.
Glass exploded. Blood spilled hot down his forehead, blinding one eye. His vision blurred crimson, hair plastered to his face as his ragged breaths shook the air.
Nova staggered back into a stance, dagger clutched tight. His bloodied reflection in the glass shards stared back at him. Across the room, the cloaked man pulled another blade from within his robes—two daggers now gleaming in the moonlight.
The room was in ruins. Every window shattered. The walls cracked, splintered as if explosions had torn through. Nova's mind screamed questions in rapid fire:
Where am I? What happened? Who the hell is this? Why is he trying to kill me? And—Kiyo… where's Kiyo?
The figure lunged.
Steel clashed. Nova blocked, parried, countered. Each strike came faster than the last, the narrow room filling with the sound of daggers scraping, the thud of boots against wood, the crash of overturned furniture.
Nova hurled his dagger high into the air, his hands snapping out to grab the man's wrists. He leapt, twisting mid-air, and slammed both boots into the attacker's chest. The impact rattled the floor as the man crashed back, coughing.
The blade spun in the air, Nova caught it mid-fall, driving it down toward the man's forehead.
The cloaked figure snarled, jerking his forearm up just in time. Steel tore through flesh. Blood spilled hot down his arm as he screamed through clenched teeth.
Nova's eyes widened—this man… he wasn't some illusion. He bled.
Pain fueled the attacker. He twisted, boot slamming into Nova's chest. Nova crossed his arms, blocking with his elbows, but the force still threw him across the room. His back struck the wall hard enough to rattle his bones.
The cloaked man turned to flee.
But Nova wasn't done.
He rushed after him, grabbing the back of his hood, and slammed the man headfirst into the washroom door. The door splintered as they stumbled inside, into a tighter space.
Nova's grip tightened, rage mixing with raw survival. He drove the man's skull into the mirror. Glass shattered, fragments embedding into flesh. Blood ran down the attacker's face—but his eyes still burned with murderous intent.
With a guttural shout, he slashed wildly, daggers flashing in the cramped bathroom. But here—he had no room to swing.
Nova let him stab—his arm. Pain tore through him, hot and sharp. He gritted his teeth, forcing the blade deeper into himself. Then he trapped the man's wrist, locking him in place.
His other hand gripped the man's hood. Nova's knee shot up, slamming into his face once—twice—until bone cracked.
With a savage roar, Nova shoved him down, slamming his head into the toilet. Porcelain cracked. The man thrashed, daggers slicing at the air, his muffled screams bubbling against water.
Nova's hand locked around his throat, squeezing tight.
The attacker clawed, kicked, convulsed. Nova pressed harder, drowning his screams beneath the water's surface. The fight dragged—seconds felt like hours. His muscles burned, his wounded arm throbbed, but he didn't let go.
Then… silence.
The man's arms went limp. His body stilled.
Nova staggered back, collapsing against the blood-stained wall. His chest heaved, his shirt torn open, crimson soaking into the fabric. His hair hung over his eyes, wet with blood and sweat. His hand trembled around the dagger's hilt.
He forced himself to look at the body.
The attacker's slack face stared up from the water. Dead. Truly dead.
Nova swallowed, breath ragged. "He was screaming....this isn't a simulation."
'But why can't I use my powers and where is Kiyo? Is everyone else alright?'
He dragged himself up, pressing his hand against the wound on his arm. Pain stabbed him at every movement. He tore his shirt, binding the injury tight with shaking hands. His neck still stung from the first strike in his sleep.
He looked at his bloodied hands. They shook uncontrollably. "I moved on instinct… not intent. And now… I killed him." His voice cracked. "But… why don't I feel guilt? Why don't I feel anything?"
The room was caged in rubble—doorways blocked, walls crumbling. The only path was back through the shattered bathroom wall, into the next room.
Nova slipped through. His bare feet crunched over broken glass. The stench of blood hit him instantly.
His eyes adjusted—then widened in absolute horror.
A student—someone he recognized—was pinned to the wall, a thick metal pipe rammed straight through his chest. His head hung lifelessly to the side, blood soaking the stone.
Two more bodies lay crumpled across the floor, faces pale, eyes empty.
Nova froze, his chest tight, his voice trembling.
"…What the hell…" His pupils shrank. "Who… who did this—"
His voice broke into a broken laugh.
"I was wrong....I do feel something and it's anger, if they had touched Jennie, kiyo, Miwa or anyone, I'll wipe out their entire bloodlines."
The silence that followed was heavier than any answer.
Nova stumbled out of the narrow doorway into the hall and the world collapsed into red.
The corridor was a corridor of corpses. Limbs tangled in curtains, faces caked in ash and blood, clothing shredded into bloody rags. The air was thick and metallic, heavy with the sour reek of iron and the copper tang of fresh blood. He covered his nose with the back of his hand out of pure reflex, but the smell still crawled down his throat. The first dry heave hit him like a punch; bile rose and he dropped to his knees, retching onto the fractured marble. He spat and gagged, bile burning bitter in his mouth, and then he threw up again — the second heave worse, a tremor ripping through his core.
When he finally pushed himself up, his chest heaving, there was a new, terrible clarity. Every step down that corridor was a ledger: snapped ribs, gouged eyes, burns that had bubbled flesh into black lace. The place looked like someone had tried to unmake life and left the pieces in the open.
Anger flared next to the shock, sudden and volcanic. His jaw clenched until teeth ground. The veins along his temple throbbed, a staccato that matched the pounding in his chest. He felt absurd — sick, hollow, raw — and beneath it, a hot, bright thing: fury.
He rounded a corner and froze. Voices — low, cruel, too calm in a place like this. Nova pressed himself against a shattered column and peeked out.
Five men stood grouped beneath a cracked candelabrum. Their clothes were spattered with gore; one had a ragged burn across his forearm, another a jagged tear across his cheek. They carried swords and a lazy, casual malice. A student — barely older than some of them — was on his knees, hair caught in one thug's fist. Flames licked the air from the man's palm; the student's screams were already gurgling and stuttering as flesh blistered.
Nova's stomach contracted. The world narrowed to the scene in front of him. He blinked and a humorless, broken laugh slipped out — a brittle sound that had no business here, no business in the throat of a child anymore. So these are remnants, he thought, and the contempt that had been sitting in his bones became visible heat.
Then syntax of motion snapped into place. He did not think long; there was no luxury for thought. He moved.
He stepped from shadow to shadow and then exploded forward.
Nova's first step was a lightning strike. The thug holding the student's hair didn't see him until a boot slammed into his ribs and shoved him forward.
Nova's hand closed on the man's wrist that held the burning globe and twisted; the flame sputtered, and the student's head slumped free.
The attacker stumbled, and Nova shoved him into the nearest pillar. The sword came up sluggishly. Nova didn't wait.
He drove his dagger in—hard—through the man's throat. The blade punched through windpipe and vertebrae in a wet, sick crunch. The student slumped. The other four turned, shock and rage carved into their faces.
The second man jumped and swinged his sword Nova ducked under the swing; the blade whistled over his hair.
He slammed his shoulder into the attacker's chest, felt ribs compress, and with a twist he ripped the man's balance away.
The sword skittered over marble and Nova snatched it. He parried a backward slash with the attacker's own momentum and stepped inside, blade under the drunkard's ribs.
The man convulsed as the steel found lung. Nova spun and levered the sword in a small arc; it took a breath and didn't give another. The body crumpled, all hatched pain and surprise bleeding out into the floor.
One of the men waited with a heavier blade, a two-handed cleaver-like sword that swept in a wide arc meant to fell.
He screamed a battle-cry, a ragged sound that filled the hall like announcing an execution. Nova moved like water.
He sidestepped the heavy arc, slipped inside the limb's line, and closed. He planted his dagger at the man's glute and used the momentum of the swing to vault up and wrap his legs around the brute's torso.
Hands locked into the shoulders, he slammed his knee under the man's chin. The brute's head snapped back; he choked on his own blood.
Nova's fists hammered at eyes and cheeks until the man went limp, a broken, soundless heap.
---
Nova stood amid five bodies and the scattered wreckage of their arrogance. He didn't scream. He didn't shout. He only stood, chest heaving, fingers tight around the sword's hilt. The hall smelled of copper and smoke and the thin, metallic taste of death. He breathed like a man surfacing from deep water, lungs burning.
"Do not—" he said into the quiet, voice low and raw, not because anyone would answer but because the sound needed to leave his mouth.
"Do not fuck with me, I may have a crystalline organ in my head but I'm nothing like these assholes."
He slid the sword back into his hand's groove and surveyed the damage he'd wrought: ragged holes where swords had bitten, a smear of blood that led back toward a student who had been burned.
He gave the student one last look before moving forward.
---
Kiyo's feet slammed against the broken floor as he ran. Behind him, voices shouted and boots pounded. The glow of his twin energy swords cut the darkness with a faint blue shine.
This is bad… he thought, ducking low as a blade came from behind, barely missing his head. He pushed forward, breath burning in his lungs, his grip tight on the swords.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from the side and yanked him into a narrow crack between two shattered walls. He almost swung his sword, but before he could, another hand pressed tightly over his mouth.
"Kiyo—!"
He froze. His eyes widened as he turned his head slightly. "...Ai?" he whispered, muffled against her palm.
Both of them were breathing hard, chest to chest, pressed together in the cramped space. Ai's arm was around his stomach, holding him back so he wouldn't make a sound. The men chasing him thundered past, their footsteps fading. Only when silence fell did Ai pull her hand away slowly.
"Thank god… at least you're safe," Ai whispered.
Kiyomasa couldn't look at her properly; the space was too tight. His head leaned slightly against the wall, his eyes darting outside. "How did you get here?" he whispered back.
"I came to the basement," Ai answered, still catching her breath. "I wanted to pick up gear… swords, anything."
Kiyomasa nodded lightly. "Same. I managed to get these…" he lifted his blades slightly, "…but the rest was locked. Too many of them guarding the armory."
Ai's face twitched. She didn't hide the exhaustion in her voice. "Do you… do you know anything about Nova?"
Kiyomasa's throat went dry. He shook his head, eyes dark. "No. I was thrown out a window. I barely survived the fall. Didn't have time to check on anyone—I just ran here."
Ai's voice cracked. "The condition is bad everywhere… Every hall, every floor… just dead bodies. Rubble. Blood."
Kiyomasa froze. His face went pale. His lips moved but only one broken word came out. "...What?"
Ai nodded faintly, her eyes heavy. "It's good you didn't see it. I can barely contain myself after what I saw."
Her voice trembled, but her expression stayed calm—too calm.
Kiyomasa turned slightly toward her, his eyes shaking. "Ai… how are you—"
She let out a weak, broken laugh. "My power, I think. I adapted to the situation. To the emotions. My body just… numbed me."
Her voice was flat, her tone steady. But Kiyomasa could see her hands shaking. And in the dark crack of the wall, he saw her cheeks glisten—silent tears streaming down even as she smiled.
"I saw several people I knew die," Ai whispered. "And I don't even feel sad. I don't even know if I can cry the way I should."
Kiyomasa's heart sank. His fists trembled at his sides. For once, he couldn't force words out.
Miwa… Jennie… his mind screamed.
Ai broke the silence. "Miwa wasn't in her room. And Jennie… I don't know where she is."
Kiyomasa's breath caught. His eyes widened. Horror swallowed him whole. "No…" His voice cracked. "No, we—we need to go. To the armory. Now."
Ai wiped her face quickly and nodded. "Let's go."
They slipped out of the crack and broke into a sprint together, silent but desperate. Their footsteps echoed against the broken tiles as they rushed toward the armory.
The training room, when they finally entered it, was the only place untouched. No blood. No bodies. It was unsettling, like the eye of a storm.
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
Nova dragged his body down another corridor. Blood stained his shirt, his skin, his blade. His wounds screamed with every step, but he refused to stop. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning, but his sword remained tight in his hand.
He stopped by a cracked, dusty window and caught his own reflection. His hair matted with blood, face bruised, his body a wreck. His lips curved into a tired smirk.
"I guess… people with Vana… have stronger bodies after all," he muttered.
He kept walking, his voice rough. "The more Vana in you, the tougher you get. A three-star threat could jump from the tenth floor and still survive. And me… even at one-star, I've been stabbed and beaten this much, and I'm still standing."
He coughed, blood dripping down his chin, but he kept moving.
If he were a normal human, he'd already be dead.
Suddenly, movement below caught his eye. He stopped, squinting through the blood blurring his vision. Several cloaked figures dragged a girl down the rubble-strewn street as she fought back desperately. Nova tried to focus.
Purple hair. Small frame. He blinked hard.
"...Miwa."
His body moved before his mind did. He leapt out of the window.
Seven floors down.
The wind screamed in his ears, his jaw clenched tight. His legs screamed in pain as he landed, but he jammed his sword into the ground, using it as a crutch to keep himself from collapsing.
His legs trembled, his bones groaning. His hands slipped from the hilt and he fell to one knee.
"Damn it…" His voice was shaky. "Seven floors… my legs aren't broken, but they're close… Everything hurts. Where the hell are Neo and Asher? Where's security?!"
But he forced himself up. His teeth clenched, his eyes blazing despite the blur. Adrenaline carried him forward.
Miwa had broken free, kicking a man before bolting into an alley, only to corner herself against a crumbling wall. She turned, her back against the bricks. Her breathing was wild. She whispered, almost laughing, "So this is the end, huh…"
A cloaked man rushed her, sword raised. She closed her eyes. It's over.
CLANG.
She flinched. But the blade didn't hit.
Her eyes snapped open. Nova stood in front of her, his sword pressed against the man's. His arm shook from the impact, blood dripping from his chest, but he held.
With his other hand, he shoved Miwa back, then jumped toward her, pushing them both to the ground. Nova's body shielded hers.
Using his sword as support, he dragged himself up again, swaying. His face was pale, his breaths ragged.
"Nova…" Miwa whispered. But when her eyes met his, her heart broke. His whole body was soaked in blood. His face… barely looked alive.
Tears spilled down her cheeks instantly. Her lips trembled but no sound came out.
Nova forced a faint smile. "I'm fine… don't worry." But his voice was slurred, his words broken. Even saying that much looked painful.
He turned back to the men. They're all at least two-stars… I can't win like this.
Behind him, Miwa curled up, pulling her hair, panic overwhelming her. "This can't be happening… this can't be real…"
Nova's voice was hoarse but firm. "Miwa. Get up. This isn't the first time."
She shook her head, shouting back at him. "But this isn't a simulation! This is real!"
"That's it." Nova cut her off, sharp, his tone final. "If we die, we die. But we're stronger than this."
He shoved his dagger into her hand. His grip was firm despite shaking fingers. "Use your other hand. Don't think about it—just survive."
Miwa's tears fell harder, but she nodded. Her body trembled, but she raised the dagger.
The men rushed them.
Swords clashed. Nova cut down one, his body shaking with every swing. Miwa stabbed another in the arm, her movements sloppy, desperate. But they were weak.
A kick sent Miwa flying back, her back cracking against the wall. Before she could react, a sword slashed across her chest. She gasped, blood spilling as she collapsed, vision fading. The dagger fell from her hand.
"Miwa!" Nova's scream tore from his throat. His eyes went wide in horror. He rushed, rage carrying his body further than his wounds should allow. He cut the attacker's arm clean off with a wild slash.
But the victory cost him. Another man drove a sword straight through Nova's chest. His body jerked, blood pouring from his mouth.
He didn't stop. He turned, roaring, and decapitated the man in one strike.
The others grabbed the sword in his chest and twisted it. Pain exploded. He choked, blood bursting from his lips. They yanked it out, and he fell to his knees.
Still, he crawled. Still, he dragged himself forward. His hand reached for Miwa, trembling, and he found her wrist.
Her pulse. Faint, but there.
"She's alive…" he whispered.
With everything left in him, he pulled himself over her, covering her body with his own. His back was exposed. His chest pressed to hers. He felt the warmth of her fading pulse under his hand.
The last sword pierced through both of them.
Nova coughed blood, his eyes trembling. He looked down at Miwa's face, pale and still, and whispered, voice breaking, "At least… you can live…"
As the world darkened, an old memory surfaced.
"...What about our safety?" Minos had asked once, his voice sharp.
Nova had laughed. "What safety?"
Minos had glared. "You're dragging us into your bullshit. Can you at least promise something about our lives?"
Nova had smirked back. "If it's about your safety, yeah. I can promise that."
"So you'd throw your life away for Myeong-hwa? Or me?" Minos asked, serious.
Nova shook his head. "You're not that precious to me. But… as my vice leader, I'll do it."
The memory faded.
A tired smile spread across Nova's bloodied lips. And then… nothing.
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