Lyrrise POV
By the time I made it back to the Academy, my whole body felt like lead. The adrenaline from facing the Original Riftborn was gone, leaving behind an ache in muscles I didn't even know I had.
I limped into the cafeteria, finally realizing why—my left foot throbbed with every step. I must've twisted it when I dodged one of the Riftborn's attacks. I had been too focused on the fight to even notice.
I sat at one of the far tables, slipping off my boot under the table to massage my ankle. "Great… this is just what I needed."
Mathilda Appears
"Well, well, well."
I groaned, looking up. Mathilda. Arms crossed, scythe strapped to her back, expression somewhere between a scowl and a smirk.
"Look at the mighty Mythical," she said sharply, walking closer. "Can't even keep her footing, huh? Guess those glowing eyes don't make you invincible."
I sighed. "Can you not, Mathilda? I'm not in the mood."
She tilted her head mockingly. "Oh? You mean you're not in the mood after scaring the hell out of everyone yesterday? After making a Riftborn walk away like it just saw its ex?"
I glared up at her. "You done?"
For a second, I thought she'd keep going. But instead, she reached into her bag, pulled out an ice patch, and tossed it onto the table.
I blinked. "What's this?"
She shrugged, turning to leave. "For your foot. Don't get the wrong idea—just because I don't want you dead yet doesn't mean I want to drag your limping butt through training tomorrow."
I stared as she walked away, her voice still dripping with pride but… softer, somehow.
"Thanks… I guess," I muttered under my breath, applying the patch. The cold bit into my sore ankle, easing the pain slightly.
For a moment, I wondered if maybe—maybe—Mathilda didn't hate me as much as she wanted to pretend she did.
The cafeteria had mostly emptied by the time I finished icing my ankle. I set the patch aside, rubbing my foot gently. It still hurt, but at least I could stand without wincing now.
That's when a tray slid onto the table in front of me.
I looked up. Mathilda stood there, arms crossed, face set in her usual scowl. The tray had a plate of food and a drink.
I raised an eyebrow. "Uh… what's this?"
"Don't make it weird," she said, looking off to the side. "You didn't eat anything, and you're already limping like a rookie. Last thing I need is you fainting during training and making me look bad."
I blinked, trying not to laugh. "You know, for someone who says she hates me, you're doing a terrible job of proving it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Shut up and eat before I take it back." And with that, she turned and walked away, her pace a little too fast to be casual.
Cyril's Observation
A chair scraped beside me as Cyril sat down, one elbow resting on the table. He watched Mathilda leave, then glanced at me with a faint smirk. "Huh. That's new."
"Yeah," I said, still staring at the food. "Did… Mathilda just give me dinner?"
"Looks like it." Cyril leaned back slightly. "Maybe that's her way of saying thanks. You did save her life out there, after all."
I snorted. "She has a funny way of saying thank you."
"Some people aren't good at words," Cyril said casually, sipping from his own drink. "Actions are easier."
I picked up the fork, hesitating for a second before eating. "…Maybe."
But deep inside, I couldn't shake the feeling that something between Mathilda and me had shifted—just slightly.
The cafeteria was quieter now, most students gone for the night. I was halfway through the food Mathilda had dropped off when I heard footsteps approach again.
I looked up, expecting Cyril—but it was Mathilda.
She stood there, scythe slung on her back, her expression somewhere between annoyed and… unsure. "Uh…" she started, then crossed her arms quickly like she regretted speaking. "How's your foot?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me about my foot?"
Her face flushed slightly. "Don't make it weird. I just don't want to carry your weight tomorrow if you can't walk."
I smirked. "Sure… whatever you say."
She shifted awkwardly, looking like she wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. "Anyway… good job back there. With the… thing. And thanks. For, you know… saving me."
I blinked. "Did Mathilda just say thanks?"
Before I could tease her, she turned on her heel. "Don't get used to it!" she shouted over her shoulder, leaving the cafeteria entirely.
Cyril's Curiosity
Cyril finally joined me, dropping into the seat across from mine. "Wow," he said, his smirk wider than usual. "Mathilda talking nicely to you? The world really is ending."
"She wasn't that nice," I said, though I couldn't hide the tiny smile tugging at my lips.
"Maybe," Cyril said, leaning forward slightly, "that's her version of gratitude. She's not the kind to say 'thank you' outright. Giving you food, checking on your foot… that's her way of saying you earned some respect."
I shook my head. "It still feels weird."
He studied me for a moment, his green eyes sharp. "What doesn't feel weird is you, Lyrrise. Those eyes of yours back there… glowing like the Dris sky. That Riftborn stopped when it saw you. Like it knew you."
I looked away. "I… don't know what that was."
"You sure about that?" Cyril asked, voice quieter now. "Because it looked like you weren't afraid. You were excited."
I didn't answer, because he wasn't wrong.
The cafeteria speakers crackled, breaking the tension:
"Lyrrise Marcilles, report to Commander Edric's office immediately."
I groaned. "Great… I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
Cyril grinned. "Probably."
Edric's Office
Edric's office was a mix of old and new—ancient wood furniture paired with glowing holo-screens showing Riftborn movement maps. He stood near the window, hands behind his back, golden eyes reflecting the crimson sky outside.
"Sit," he said simply.
I sat. "This about the Riftborn?"
He turned, face unreadable. "You faced an Original Riftborn and lived. More than that… it walked away. That has never happened before. Do you know why?"
I hesitated. "No. It just… looked at me and left."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "When it looked at you… how did you feel?"
I gripped my knees. "Excited," I admitted quietly. "Like I wanted to fight it. Like I knew I could."
Edric's gaze lingered on me, heavy and assessing. "We will need to test you further. Starting tomorrow, your training changes. Mythical rank is one thing… but whatever made that Riftborn hesitate is something else entirely."
He turned back to the window, voice low. "You might be more than Mythical, Lyrrise."
I walked out of the office, Cyril waiting outside leaning on the wall. "Well?" he asked.
"They're changing my training," I said.
He smirked. "Figures." Then his expression softened. "Lyrrise… whatever's inside you, you need to figure it out before someone else does."
I looked at him, unsettled. "What are you saying?"
He gave that same faint smile he always did when hiding something. "Just… be ready."
The next morning, I was up earlier than usual, thanks to Edric's new training orders. The Academy felt different now—quieter when I walked past groups of students, more stares following me than before. Some whispered, some simply stepped aside. Mythical rank had turned me into a spectacle whether I liked it or not.
Edric's New Regime
Edric and Kaelen were waiting for me at the main training arena, both standing like statues. Edric's golden eyes locked on me as soon as I arrived.
"From today onward," Edric said, "you will undergo a personalized training program. Kaelen and I will supervise directly."
Kaelen spoke next, his voice as sharp as the mask he wore. "This program is designed to push your limits physically, mentally, and… instinctively. If you fail, you will break. If you succeed…" He paused. "You may finally understand why that Riftborn hesitated."
I tightened my grip on my katana, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine—but it wasn't fear. "I'm ready."
Awkward Respect
Before the training started, Mathilda walked in, scythe on her back, lips pressed thin. "Of course," she muttered, "I have to be here too."
Kaelen's lens gleamed. "You are part of Team Veil. Your training will match hers."
Mathilda sighed dramatically, then looked at me. "Don't get any ideas, Mythical. I'm still better than you with this thing." She patted her scythe handle—then paused. "But… thanks, I guess. For… you know, not letting me die out there."
I blinked, then smirked. "Was that a thank you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."
The Session
We began with extreme mobility drills—dodging live drones programmed to attack, scaling vertical walls, and countering unpredictable Riftborn holograms. The program wasn't just difficult—it was brutal.
Mathilda and I clashed once during a team maneuver, our weapons nearly tangling. "Watch your swing!" she barked.
"Maybe don't stand in my blind spot!" I shot back.
Yet, despite the bickering, we finished every drill in record time. Kaelen noted our scores, then simply said, "Acceptable."
For him, that was high praise.
Cyril Watching
From the observation deck, Cyril leaned on the rail, watching silently as we trained. His green eyes tracked every one of my movements. When Kaelen dismissed us for a short break, Cyril finally approached.
"You're changing," he said softly.
I grabbed my water bottle. "Everyone changes when training like this."
He shook his head slightly. "No. Your instincts… they're not normal. You move like you've been fighting for years."
I shrugged, trying to laugh it off. "Maybe I'm a fast learner."
Cyril didn't laugh. "Or maybe you're remembering something you didn't even know you forgot." He gave me a faint, unreadable smile. "Be careful, Lyrrise. Sometimes remembering hurts more than forgetting."
I stood there for a moment, gripping my katana tighter, watching Cyril walk away. What does he know that I don't?
Training for the day had ended, leaving my arms heavy and my legs sore. The rest of Team Veil had already dispersed—Mathilda muttering something about "needing food before she dies"—but Cyril lingered, leaning against the wall near the equipment racks.
He was polishing his twin blades, his usual calm expression firmly in place.
I walked up, crossing my arms. "Okay, enough."
He raised an eyebrow. "Enough what?"
"You keep saying things like you know something about me. 'You're remembering things you didn't know you forgot.' 'Be careful, Lyrrise.' 'Sometimes remembering hurts.'" I stepped closer. "What's your deal, Cyril? You're definitely hiding something from me."
For once, his calm slipped just slightly. His green eyes studied me, searching my face. "You really want to know?"
I folded my arms tighter. "I wouldn't be asking if I didn't."
He sighed, sliding one blade back into its sheath. "It's not that I'm hiding something from you," he said quietly. "It's that I'm hiding something about me."
"That's not an answer."
"Maybe it's the only one I can give right now." His voice was steady, but there was a strange heaviness in it, like he'd been carrying this weight a long time.
I narrowed my eyes. "So what? You've fought Riftborn before? You've seen someone like me before? Because you look at me like you already know how this ends."
Cyril's lips curved into a faint smile, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was sad. "Let's just say… I've seen people like you before. People who change everything. People who scare monsters."
That last part made my stomach twist. "Scare… monsters?"
He nodded slightly. "Like that Original Riftborn. That wasn't hesitation—it was recognition. And if I'm right…" He trailed off, looking away. "You're going to need answers that I can't give. Not yet."
I stepped forward. "Cyril, if you know something, you need to tell me. This isn't a game—"
He met my gaze again, voice soft but sharp. "I will. When you're ready to hear it."
The Tension
For a moment, neither of us spoke. My fists clenched at my sides, frustrated and confused. He knew something—maybe everything about why my body fought like it remembered a war I'd never lived.
"Fine," I muttered finally, stepping back. "But when you do decide I'm ready, you'd better start talking."
Cyril smiled faintly again, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Deal."
Training had taken over my life.
Edric's new regimen wasn't normal—it was brutal. From dawn until night, I was climbing vertical walls under live fire drones, deflecting projectiles, running obstacle courses meant for elite assassins, and clashing against multiple Riftborn simulators at once.
And every time, my score was perfect.
"Another perfect run," Kaelen announced, his masked voice lacking any inflection. Even Mathilda, watching from the side, raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously, Mythical? You're making the rest of us look bad," she muttered.
But I couldn't stop. Something inside me needed to keep going. I was stronger, faster, more precise—like my body wasn't just learning, it was remembering.
Until finally… I collapsed.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the training hall.
The room around me was crimson red—walls glowing faintly, the floor like molten glass beneath my feet. My chest tightened. Where… am I?
And then I saw him.
A man stood across the room, cloaked in a crimson red mantle that rippled as if alive. His hair was as red as blood, his eyes glowing the same shade—but his face was covered by a mask, smooth and featureless.
When he spoke, his voice was deep, steady, and somehow… familiar.
"You've grown, quite a lot… Lyrrise."
I froze, gripping at nothing. "Who… are you?"
He tilted his head slightly, as if studying me. "Soon, you'll understand."
The room flickered, and everything went black.
I shot upright, panting, sweat dripping down my face. My chest heaved like I'd run ten miles.
"Whoa, easy."
I turned—Mathilda sat at my bedside, arms crossed but eyes unusually concerned. "You were thrashing in your sleep. Looked like a nightmare."
I wiped my face with trembling hands. "Y-Yeah… I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," she said bluntly, then added softer, "You… called out for someone."
My heart sank. "I did?"
"Yeah." She frowned slightly. "Who's Aralin?"
I froze. "…Aralin?"
She nodded. "That's what you said. Twice."
I looked away, my thoughts spinning. Aralin… who the hell is that?
I couldn't stop thinking about the name. Aralin. It repeated in my head like an echo I couldn't silence.
The next morning, I approached Edric directly after training. He stood near the weapons lockers, reviewing data on a holo-screen.
"Commander," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "have you ever heard the name Aralin?"
He paused, slowly looking up. "Aralin?"
"Yeah. I… I think I saw him in a dream. Red hair, red eyes, crimson cloak. He said my name, like he knew me."
Edric frowned slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. "I've worked with this Academy and the Crimson Veil Agency for decades. I've studied every Riftborn general, every war hero, every dissident who's ever touched this world." He shook his head slowly. "I've never heard of an Aralin."
My stomach sank. "So… it's just a dream then?"
Edric's expression hardened, though not unkindly. "Dreams don't scare me, Lyrrise. You do, because I've seen what happens when people with power start seeing things they don't understand."
That didn't help my nerves at all.
Later, in the dorm, I sat on my bed, staring at the floor. Cyril leaned against the doorway, watching me quietly.
"You look like someone stole your katana," he said lightly.
"I asked Edric about Aralin," I muttered.
His relaxed expression faltered for half a second. "Aralin?"
"Yeah… you've heard it before?" I asked quickly.
He shook his head almost too fast. "No. Never." Then he crossed his arms. "So… it's just a dream then."
"That's what Edric said," I murmured.
But the way Cyril said it—too quick, too practiced—made me suspicious.
On my way out of the dorm, I caught Mathilda leaning casually against the wall. "Still obsessing over that name, huh?"
I sighed. "You were eavesdropping again?"
She smirked slightly. "Only a little. Look, I checked some public archives. No Aralin. No one like that ever registered in Agency files or Academy records."
"So it's just my head playing games with me."
Mathilda shrugged. "Or it's your head remembering something it shouldn't. Either way, stop looking so freaked out—you're making the rest of us nervous."
I walked away, still unsettled. No one knows who Aralin is. Maybe it was just a dream… but why did it feel so real? And why did he know my name?
"I'll solve this mystery, first, I gotta do my training..."