Many years later, when the people of the Lands Between looked up at the sky, they still remembered that night when the stars fell.
Yes—the Lands Between had once seen a meteor shower.
Long ago, when the Eternal City was destroyed, it was the stars that came crashing down. They fell from the heavens bearing boundless malice and terror, shattering the Nox civilization—once one of the most glorious in the Lands Between, yet also one that had dared to touch the forbidden Darkness—into nothing but scattered ruins.
After that, no such catastrophe ever occurred again. Yet the malevolent gaze from beyond the Lands Between never truly ceased.
Even during the Shattering, when chaos consumed the realm, there were still many beings who sought to reach in and take hold of it.
In the end, it was Radahn who saw the danger. Through the "Starscourge" battle, he not only made his name known to all, but even in his madness, he continued to hold back the stars—maintaining their seal through sheer will.
Yet whether it was the destruction of the Eternal City, the Starscourge battle, or any other recorded moment in the long history of starwatching across the Lands Between—none had ever seen, nor even heard of, the stars in the sky moving in such a way.
"Have you ever seen a tsunami?"
"The kind that rises upon the sea—wave after wave, vast enough to swallow the world whole."
"But understand this: what I'm describing isn't just a wave. The truly terrifying part was that the stars themselves… had become an ocean."
"One after another, stars ignited. One after another, ancient beings awakened. From one edge of the heavens to the other—and beyond what the eye could see—everything began to stir."
"Stars were everywhere. Everything was burning."
"The sky had turned into a sea of stars—roiling, flowing, and churning endlessly—reflected above as if ready to crash down at any moment."
Everyone was terrified. Some claimed it was an illusion. Others believed it was the wrath of the gods, come to destroy the Lands Between. Some fell to their knees, praying, convinced it was the end of the world.
But in truth, it was neither an illusion nor an apocalypse. It was the aftermath—the residual shock—of a battle between two beings.
"Hard to imagine, isn't it?"
"Of course it is. For people like you and me, even the stars themselves are beyond reach—let alone the 'aftershocks' of their war."
"Yet, one of those combatants… walks among us. You even saw him not long ago."
"The master of the Duel Classroom—the very creator of the Duel System. You attended his lecture last week, didn't you? Even kept one of his signed cards. Forgotten already?"
The student gave him a skeptical look, as if to say, 'Old man, do you really expect me to believe that?'
The old professor simply chuckled and said no more.
He understood the doubt well. After all, when he'd first heard that same story long ago, he'd reacted no differently. Only after many years—and many revelations—had he come to realize that his old teacher hadn't been mad, nor lying.
Now, the wheel had turned once again.
After sending off the doubtful student, the professor sighed softly about the nature of cycles and returned to his work.
But he didn't get far before running into a problem. Closing his book, he decided to step outside for help.
The moment he stepped through the door, he saw him.
The master of the Duel Classroom—one of the very figures at the heart of the War of the Stars—was leaning quietly against the corridor wall, head lowered, lost in thought.
..."Good afternoon, Lord Lloyd."
The old professor looked at the man before him, surprise flickering across his face.
"What brings you here?"
Though they weren't well acquainted, the old professor knew this man was always busy. Normally, when he came to the academy, he'd teach a class in the Duel Hall, play a few rounds of cards, and leave right after—rarely staying any longer than necessary.
But now, not only had he stopped to linger, he stood there lost in thought...
In the professor's memory, the last time something like this had happened was back when the Academy of Sorcery had nearly blown up the entire Lands Between with one of its "grand experiments."
Back then, this same man had stood quietly by the corridor, just like now. The professor's own teacher had struck up a conversation with him, learned he was searching for something, and introduced his student to him.
That had been the start of their acquaintance.
"Oh, it's you."
Lloyd looked up from his thoughts. Seeing a familiar face, he didn't bother with pretense and spoke directly.
"I've received word that the Blood Therapy faction and the Prayer Recovery Institute have been conducting some rather dangerous experiments. There's a major safety concern, so I intend to check it out myself."
He paused, then added matter-of-factly, "But you know I'm not exactly the best with theoretical work, and I'm not familiar with the area either. I was hoping to find a guide to show me around. Do you have the time?"
"I wish I did."
The professor gave a weary chuckle, showing Lloyd the thick stack of papers and reports he still had to process before sighing.
"Truth be told, even if I had the time, these old bones wouldn't survive an adventure with you."
"Hmm. Fair enough."
Lloyd nodded. After chatting a bit longer, the professor suddenly seemed to remember something.
"Oh, right. I can't guide you myself, but I have a student. He's taking Blood Therapy as an elective, and his lover's in the Prayer Academy—supposedly from the Witchcraft Department. If you're not in a hurry, I can ask him for you."
"That'll do."
Lloyd nodded again.
The professor then sought out his student and explained the situation. The young man listened, eyebrows furrowed in doubt.
It sounded absurd. Lloyd had only recently been talking about all those "mad theories," and knowing the professor's reputation for mischief, the whole thing smelled like a setup. Still, out of respect for his mentor, the student hesitated for a moment before agreeing.
"But if this turns out to be one of your pranks again, next time you and the missus want an excuse to go fishing, I'm not covering for you."
And with that, the matter was settled.
Relieved, the professor let out a small breath. After a bit more conversation with Lloyd, another thought crossed his mind.
"Oh, there's something about your past I've always been curious about. If you don't mind, may I ask?"
Lloyd wasn't surprised. He nodded, signaling for him to go on.
"It's about the Battle of the Stars."
Realizing this wasn't a forbidden subject, the professor relaxed slightly.
"I just wanted to know—how did it end?"
He hesitated, then quickly added, "Of course, if that's something I shouldn't know, pretend I never asked."
"No."
Lloyd shook his head.
"There's nothing off-limits about it. The only reason I rarely talk about it is because... there really isn't much to say."
"Nothing to say? That can't be right..."
The professor looked genuinely surprised. The Battle of the Stars—its impact still lingered across ages. Scholars and historians still dissected every record, line by line, trying to reconstruct what had happened, how the heavens had shifted, and what it all meant.
Even now, both the process and the outcome remained fiercely debated. It was considered the defining battle that decided the fate of the world—not just the Lands Between, but the countless races and beings among the stars themselves.
And yet, the very man who fought in it was telling him there was nothing worth saying.
Even knowing Lloyd's power, even accepting that it might indeed be insignificant to him, the professor couldn't help but protest.
"The Battle of the Stars wasn't meaningless. It determined the direction of the world, the fate of—"
"Yeah, yeah. I know, I know."
Lloyd cut him off, not irritated, just matter-of-fact.
After all, as everyone knew, even an author would probably fail a comprehension test on their own work.
Question: Why is the curtain blue?
Standard answer: It symbolizes the author's melancholy and spiritual despair.
Actual answer: Because the curtain was blue.
So Lloyd understood the professor's reaction.
But understanding was one thing; agreement was another.
He didn't deny the battle had changed many things—but not nearly to the extent people liked to claim.
"Truth is, before it even started, the two of us had already agreed that no matter how it ended, the general direction of the future wouldn't change much."
Leaning against the balcony, Lloyd lifted his gaze through the clouds, toward the starry sky above.
"As for the details—it was simply a matter of whether He would take the lead, or I would."
"...That sounds pretty significant to me."
"In theory, sure," Lloyd said. "But in practice, we both had areas we were good at and things we weren't. So no matter who took the lead, we each just handled our part. Neither of us bothered telling the other how to do theirs."
He chuckled quietly at the memory.
"So really, even without that battle, things would've ended up more or less the same as they are now."
The differences were mostly... positional. Whether he was on top—or Alice was.
And though they occasionally fought for the upper hand, when it came to actually managing things, the two of them were almost eager to shove the responsibility onto each other.
After all, the higher you stand, the heavier the burden—the more work, and the more trouble.
As for who won that battle...
That wasn't a question worth asking.
"Because that battle," Lloyd said quietly, "still isn't over. Even now."