the wind howled across the rooftop of Shōryū High like it was mourning him.
Amine Toku stood alone at the edge, his hands trembling against the steel railing. Below, the city pulsed with uncaring life—cars humming, students laughing, birds scattering like thoughts. The sun was warm, but it felt like a lie. His body shivered beneath the school blazer, soaked with invisible scars.
"Do it already."
The voice wasn't real, but it lived in his head rent-free. It had been there since the beatings started, since the laughter followed him into silence, since the teachers turned away.
Nobody was coming.
They never did.
Amine closed his eyes. The rooftop smelled like rust and summer. His hands loosened from the railing, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined a version of himself that fought back, screamed, lived.
But it wasn't real.
And neither was he, not anymore.
He stepped forward.
The wind tore the breath from his lungs as gravity took hold. The world blurred, the sky above shrinking into nothing. The scream never came. There was no fear, only—
Darkness.
But not the kind he expected.
He awoke to light. Blinding, unnatural light—like a thousand moons fighting over the sky.
Amine gasped, choking on air that felt too clean. He sat up, coughing. Grass? Dirt? A tree towered nearby, its leaves black and translucent like obsidian glass. The sky above was split—three suns rotated slowly around one another, casting warped shadows on the land.
This wasn't Tokyo.
He looked at his hands—pale, shaking, real.
His uniform was gone, replaced by rough cloth wraps and torn boots. A thick bandage was tied around his neck.
"What...?"
Something moved nearby—an animal? A person?
He scrambled backward, heart hammering. From the foliage, a large beast appeared. No, not a beast—a dragon.
But not like the kind from fairy tales.
This one had legs like a spider's, a jagged stone crest, and eyes that swirled like black holes. Its skin rippled with shifting galaxies.
Amine's breath caught. It was watching him. Studying him.
Then—
Boom.
An explosion echoed across the forest. Screams followed—human ones.
The dragon turned and launched itself into the trees, disappearing with a crack of displaced air.
Amine staggered to his feet. He had to move. Had to find someone. Anyone.
He ran.
He didn't make it far.
A clearing opened ahead, revealing chaos.
A caravan of people—soldiers?—was under attack. A massive dragon, this one red-scaled and winged, scorched the ground with molten breath. Magic spells burst in the air like fireworks. A woman floated above the carnage, her hands glowing with golden energy. Amine watched her conjure a lance of light and hurl it into the dragon's chest. It shrieked but didn't fall.
He collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed.
What was this place?
A scream near him. A child, no older than ten, stumbled into the clearing, alone.
The dragon's eyes shifted.
It opened its jaws.
Amine didn't think. He moved.
He threw himself between the dragon and the child. He didn't know why—reflex? Guilt? Maybe he just didn't want someone else to die the way he had.
The world slowed.
Time cracked.
Suddenly, the space around him shimmered—like something inside him broke free.
From the ground, flames erupted.
No, not flames—a creature.
A wolf, massive and skeletal, emerged from shadow. Its ribs glowed with inner fire. Chains clung to its neck, dragging behind like echoes.
The dragon stopped.
So did everyone.
The wolf turned its burning eyes toward Amine.
And bowed.
He passed out.
The last thing he heard was the child whispering:
"Did he summon that…? Is he a Mage?"
Darkness returned.
But this time, it carried the heat of something ancient.