In the HILOXY dorm living room, tension was high. Not from training, not from exams—
but from the most dangerous game of all… chess.
Riiki yawned, barely looking at the board as he slid his knight into place. "Checkmate."
Haruki froze. His eyes widened like he'd just been stabbed. Then—
"WHAAAAT?! AGAIN?! CHECKMATE?!"
He shot up from the sofa so violently the chessboard nearly flipped. Riiki leaned back, resting an arm over the sofa, his tone flatter than a textbook. "Maybe you're just too dumb to play. Honestly, even a pig could play smarter than you."
Haruki slammed both hands on the table, rattling the pieces. "OH YEAH?! I'll show you! This time I'll open my hidden 1000 IQ mode! Brace yourself!"
Riiki raised an eyebrow. "Hidden? You mean imaginary."
Haruki jabbed a finger at him. "SILENCE! Witness the rise of the Chess King, Haruki the Magnificent!"
From the corner, a couple of students peeked in, whispering like sports commentators.
"Isn't this, like, their fifteenth match?"
"Sixteenth. He's lost all of them."
"At this point, Haruki's playing 4D Tic-Tac-Toe instead of chess."
Haruki reset the board dramatically, placing each piece down like a war general. "This is it. The final battle. My redemption arc starts now."
Riiki rolled his eyes but leaned forward. "Fine. Just don't cry again."
Haruki squinted. "That one time was because dust got in my eye, okay?!"
The students in the corner all sighed in unison. "Yeah… sure."
And thus, the legendary "Chess Saga" between Haruki and Riiki continued, more intense than any demon battle.
Outside the living room, Furuha heard a loud, familiar voice echoing through the hall. She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Why is it so loud? Do they think this is a festival? …I'd better check."
She pushed open the door.
Inside, chaos froze instantly. Every Hiloxy student in the room stiffened like statues, whispering under their breath.
"Oh no… she's here."
"They're dead men walking."
"I hope she doesn't kick both their asses into orbit."
Meanwhile, Haruki and Riiki were so locked in their match they didn't even notice death itself standing just 20 cm away.
Haruki slammed the table, veins popping.
"Arghhh! If I move here, it's checkmate! If I move there, you win too! THIS IS RIGGED!!"
Riiki sighed, shaking his head.
"You're hopeless."
He finally glanced up, spotted Furuha, and froze. His face drained of color. He snapped his eyes back down to the board like a soldier pretending nothing was wrong. Sweat dripped down his forehead.
Furuha crossed her arms, tilting her head with that terrifying calmness.
"Move your rook to the right, three squares. Your king will be safe. That way, he can't take it."
Haruki, still clueless, brightened.
"OH! You're right! Haha! Genius advice!"
He grabbed the rook, slid it across the board, and grinned proudly.
"Thanks—"
Then he finally looked up.
His grin shattered. His eyes bulged. He almost toppled backward off his chair.
"AAAAAAAAHHHH—?! F-F-F-FURUHA?!"
The whole room collectively exhaled in dread. One student whispered, "Rest in peace, Haruki."
Another muttered, "Should we prepare flowers for his funeral?"
Furuha's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, her shadow swallowing the board.
"…So. You're this loud… over chess?"
Haruki's soul practically left his body.
Haruki gulped, his hands twitching above the board.
"…I… guess?"
Furuha stared at him like he'd just stolen and eaten her breakfast. Deadly calm. Unblinking.
Then, without moving a muscle, she said flatly:
"Keep going. Let's see how your brain actually works."
Haruki froze. Riiki froze. Both of them exchanged a desperate glance, like prisoners trapped in a torture chamber. Slowly, Riiki moved his knight across the board, trying to act casual.
Silence.
Every student in the room held their breath. Some leaned in, wide-eyed. Others quietly shuffled toward the door, muttering.
"No way… she's actually watching them play."
"This is scarier than the training grounds."
"What's she planning? If she doesn't like the move, will she… kill them?"
Haruki's forehead glistened with sweat as he hovered his hand over his rook. He couldn't even think straight under Furuha's gaze. His mind screamed: If I move wrong, I'll die. If I move right… I'll still die.
Furuha's eyes narrowed, sharp as blades."…And then?"
The room shivered at those two words.
Haruki squeaked like a cornered mouse, staring at the board, then at Riiki, then back at Furuha."Uhh… what if… I, uh… flip the board and we call it a draw?"
The whole room whisper.
"He's insane!"
"That's suicide!"
"Rest in peace, Haruki 2.0."
Furuha's lips twitched—not a smile, but a warning.
"Flip the board?" she repeated, voice low and sharp. "Do you think I'll let amateurs like you touch my chess set? Or would you prefer I flip your head?"
Haruki froze mid-air, rook in hand.
"N-no! I didn't mean—"
Before he could finish, Furuha leaned down, eyes boring into him like lasers. In one smooth motion she snatched the rook from his fingers and placed it… perfectly, crushing his so‑called brilliant strategy.
"Your king is in check," she said. "And I haven't even started."
Riiki blinked. Slowly.
"…She just… moved it herself?"
Haruki's jaw dropped.
"…WHAT?!"
Furuha glanced at him, unimpressed.
"You think yelling or panicking will help? Watch and learn."
In less than thirty seconds she had Riiki's pieces pinned, Haruki's king trapped, and both of them staring at the board in disbelief.
"Checkmate," she said calmly.
The room erupted. Some students clutched their chairs. Others leaned against the walls as if trying to recover. Even the furniture seemed to creak in fear.
Haruki slumped in his seat, muttering,
"…I've been defeated by a genius… in under a minute… and I'm still breathing."
Riiki, pale as a ghost, groaned,
"I… I'm reconsidering all my life choices."
Furuha straightened, brushing her hands off as if nothing had happened.
"Next time, maybe think before you move your pieces."
Haruki peeked up at her, wide-eyed.
"…I'm not sure if I want a rematch… or to cry."
Students outside whispered among themselves:
"She's terrifying…"
"That's… chess terror level S-rank…"
"I suddenly respect homework more than this."
Furuha turned cold eyes on them. "Can you all stop whispering? Or would you like me to be the one whispering in your dreams?"
Furuha gave them one last piercing glare, then turned around and walked out of the living room. Her footsteps echoed faintly, leaving an almost eerie calm behind her.
Haruki blinked at the empty space where she had just stood, slowly sinking into his chair."…She's gone… I think I survived… maybe…"
Riiki pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily.
"You call that surviving? Your ego is still intact, but your dignity is in shambles."
Haruki waved a hand dramatically.
"Dignity? Pfft. Who needs dignity when I have… uh… charm?"
Riiki glared.
"Charm? You got annihilated in under a minute, Haruki. Under a minute. The only thing charming about you right now is your ability to make a fool of yourself so efficiently."
Haruki frowned, pretending to ponder deeply.
"Hmm… maybe… maybe I can use this as strategy. You know, psychological warfare. Make enemies underestimate me."
Riiki groaned.
"Your enemies already are underestimating you… for pity's sake, stop trying to justify this."
Haruki leaned back, smirking despite his defeat.
"Well… at least I didn't get yelled at or have my head chopped off. That's a win, right?"
Riiki muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
"You're impossible."
Haruki grabbed his rook and raised it like a trophy.
"Next time, I'll take her down. One day… one day I will be the master of chess and… uh… everything else!"
Riiki stared at him blankly.
"You might want to start with surviving first, genius."
Outside the living room, some students peeked in nervously, whispering to each other.
"But the way she just stared…"
"I'm never playing chess again."
Haruki noticed and puffed his chest out.
"See? Respect is growing already. I'm basically a legend now!"
Riiki just rolled his eyes and muttered,
"Legend… in your own fantasy world."
And with that, the living room settled into an uneasy calm—Haruki dreaming of chess conquest, Riiki quietly plotting how to survive another day, and Furuha's shadow lingering in the minds of everyone who witnessed her S-rank intimidation.
Riiki stood up straight and stretched. "Anyway, I'm tired. I'm gonna rest for a bit. My brain is melting now" He walked off, opened the door, and closed it behind him with a quiet click.
Haruki sighed and got up too, ready to leave the living room—
Until a voice suddenly came from right behind him.
"Haruki."
Haruki jumped so hard he nearly left his soul behind.
"OH MY NEIGHBOUR!!" he yelled, spinning around—only to slip and fall flat on his butt. "Ow! Damn it, my butt's on fire!"
Standing above him was Yoruto, cloaked in black, holding a katana like a scene straight out of a horror movie."Stand up," Yoruto said, his tone calm but sharp. "Hurry."
Haruki raised both hands, eyes wide. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, sensei! Don't kill me! I didn't break anything this time!"
Yoruto blinked. "…Kill you? I'm just holding my katana. What's wrong with that?"
Haruki awkwardly waved his hand. "Nope! Nothing wrong at all! Totally normal for a teacher to appear at midnight holding a sword!"
Yoruto exhaled and rubbed his temple. "Enough nonsense. Come with me. We're training—now. The training field inside Hiloxy."
Haruki froze. "…Training? Now?" He pointed at the clock. "Sensei, it's literally midnight! Even ghosts are asleep!"
Yoruto narrowed his eyes. "Then you'll train with the ghosts too."
Haruki groaned. "Oh, come on… Can't I just dream about training instead?"
Yoruto turned away, ignoring him completely. "Move. Before I drag you there myself."
Haruki slumped, muttering under his breath, "Why does every time I try to rest, someone appears like a final boss"
He followed Yoruto out, dragging his feet dramatically. "Goodbye, sweet bed. I'll miss you"
Haruki followed behind Yoruto, yawning as they walked through the quiet halls of Hiloxy. The moonlight leaked through the windows, casting long shadows on the floor.
"Haruki," Yoruto began without looking back, "have you ever trained in martial arts back in your world?"
Haruki scratched his cheek. "Well… yeah, kinda. I trained for like, two years. Then I had to quit 'cause—uh—money doesn't grow on trees."
Yoruto glanced over his shoulder. "What kind of martial art?"
"Wushu style," Haruki said proudly, puffing his chest a bit.
Yoruto nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm. Similar to kung fu, but with a different approach."
Haruki grinned. "Yep. You know your stuff, sensei."
A faint smirk tugged at Yoruto's lips. "Of course I do. I've fought people who practiced Wushu before."
"And they won?" Haruki asked.
"They didn't, ain't no way they could fight the Legend Hero Group like me or Sayoko" Yoruto replied calmly.
Haruki's grin froze. "Oh. Cool. Totally reassuring."
A few minutes later, they arrived at the Hiloxy training field. The lights flickered on automatically, revealing rows of dummies, sandbags, and weapon racks.
Yoruto stepped forward, resting his hand on the katana by his waist.
"Don't worry," he said, glancing at Haruki. "I won't use my real blade tonight."
Haruki exhaled in relief. "Oh, good. For a second I thought you were gonna slice me in half for bad posture."
Yoruto ignored the joke. "I'll train you however I want—until you make it. Push-ups, punching drills, running laps… whatever it takes. Later, I'll even spar with you myself."
Haruki blinked. "Wait—whatever you want? That sounds dangerous."
Yoruto's expression didn't change. "Then you better survive."
Haruki groaned, already regretting everything. "Oh great, I signed up for a death wish with extra steps."
Haruki stretched his arms lazily. "So, where do I start? Push-ups? Meditation? Maybe a nap?"
Yoruto didn't even blink. "Push-ups. Two hundred."
Haruki froze. "T-Two hundred?! Bro, even my ancestors would give up halfway!"
Yoruto crossed his arms. "Then start digging their graves too."
"Wha—?!" Haruki dropped to the ground, grumbling as he began. "One… two… three… ah, my soul already left my body…"
By the time Haruki reached thirty, his arms were trembling like wet noodles.
Yoruto stood above him, unimpressed. "You're slower than a turtle doing yoga."
"Then maybe let me rest, Sensei Turtle Killer!" Haruki gasped, collapsing flat on the ground.
Without warning, Yoruto kicked the dirt beside Haruki's head, missing by a hair. "You rest when I say you rest. Now—run ten laps."
Haruki rolled over, staring at the night sky. "Ten?! Bro, do I look like a track athlete?!"
Yoruto unsheathed his training katana just slightly, the blade glinting. "Eleven."
Haruki shot up immediately. "Ahaha, ten laps is fine! Exercise is good for health, right?!"
After the tenth lap, Haruki was drenched in sweat, barely standing.
"Can I die now?" he panted.
Yoruto looked at him seriously. "Not yet. You haven't learned anything."
Haruki's face fell. "Wait, what do you mean 'not yet'? You planned for me to die later?!"
Yoruto tossed him a wooden sword. "Next — sparring."
Haruki's eyes widened. "No way! I'm not ready! My arms feel like jelly, and my soul's lagging behind!"
Yoruto smirked. "Then fight with your spirit. Not your body."
Haruki groaned, gripping the sword. "Yeah, sure… my spirit's already halfway to the afterlife."
They squared off.
Yoruto barely moved — his stance calm, unreadable.
Haruki took the first swing, and in an instant, Yoruto parried it and tapped Haruki's forehead with the wooden blade.
Ponk!
"Gah! Hey! That's cheating! You didn't even move!" Haruki shouted.
Yoruto tilted his head. "I moved faster than your brain."
"…Ouch. That hurt more than the hit."
The night air was cold, and the training field echoed with the sharp clack! of wooden blades colliding.
Haruki dashed forward first, shouting, "Haaaaa!" as he swung his sword in a wide arc. Yoruto tilted his head slightly — the attack missed by a hair.
"Too slow," Yoruto said calmly, his blade already countering from below.
THWACK!
"OW! My ribs!" Haruki stumbled back, clutching his side. "You call that training? That's murder with a tutorial!"
Yoruto's expression stayed perfectly blank. "If this were murder, you'd be fertilizer by now."
"Wow. Comforting, sensei."
Haruki gritted his teeth and dashed in again, switching stances like he'd seen in martial arts movies. He spun low, tried to fake right, then aimed high for Yoruto's shoulder.
But Yoruto's blade flicked up effortlessly, catching Haruki's mid-swing. CLANG! Sparks flew from the impact — though Yoruto barely seemed to move.
"Your body moves, but your eyes don't," Yoruto said. "You attack without reading."
"I'm trying to read your moves!" Haruki yelled, backing off. "But you're like a walking Wi-Fi signal — invisible and everywhere!"
Haruki lunged again, faster this time — his blade whooshed past Yoruto's cloak, missing by centimeters.
"Ha! Almost got you!"
Yoruto spun smoothly, the back of his wooden katana landing on Haruki's stomach.
THUMP!
"Ughhh—okay, okay, maybe you got me instead…" Haruki wheezed, kneeling on the floor.
Yoruto didn't stop. He struck again, forcing Haruki to roll aside, mud splattering across his uniform.
"Get up, Haruki. You'll never win if you keep thinking like a child."
Haruki groaned, pushing himself up with shaky arms. "Easy for you to say—you're built like a legend! I'm built like expired bread!"
Yoruto exhaled, calm as ever. "Then rise, expired bread. Prove your worth before you mold."
"...Did you just insult me philosophically"
For the next five minutes, the field was chaos — Haruki's wild swings and Yoruto's flawless defense.
Each clash echoed through the night like thunder: CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!
Finally, Yoruto parried one more desperate swing and twisted his wrist — Haruki's sword went flying into the air before landing point-first in the ground beside him.
Haruki froze, blinking. "…So that's it, huh?"
Yoruto stepped forward, pressing his blade gently against Haruki's shoulder — a silent signal of victory.
"That's it," Yoruto said quietly. "You lasted longer this time."
Haruki sighed, shoulders slumping. "So… what did I learn today?"
Yoruto sheathed his katana. "That your mouth moves faster than your sword."
Haruki groaned. "You didn't have to confirm that!"
Haruki dropped onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, gasping for air.
"Yoruto… I can't feel my arms… or my soul…"
Yoruto stood a few meters away, his cloak fluttering slightly in the night breeze. "That's because you're weak."
"Thanks… that really helps." Haruki groaned, flopping onto his back, staring at the night sky. "Do I at least get… a medal for suffering?"
"No," Yoruto said flatly. "You get knowledge."
"…Oh, great. My favorite thing. Knowledge and pain."
Yoruto stepped closer, his eyes cold but sharp. "Haruki. That mark on your chest — the one shaped like a half moon. Do you know what it means?"
Haruki blinked. "Uh… a birthmark? Maybe my body's just stylish by nature?"
Yoruto ignored the sarcasm. "That mark isn't normal. It's an Eclipse Seal — a rare power only a few are born with."
Haruki blinked, his exhaustion fading just a little. "…Wait, wait. You mean this little thing has power? I thought it was just a weird mole!"
"It's not," Yoruto said, kneeling beside him. His tone was low, calm, but carried weight. "That mark connects to an ancient energy — a force called Eclipse. Those who awaken it can bend their physical and spiritual limits beyond the natural order."
Haruki tilted his head, half intrigued, half horrified. "So… I'm basically a walking power battery?"
"In a sense," Yoruto said. "But the Eclipse only reveals itself under extreme emotion or danger. You haven't awakened it yet — only dormant energy sleeps beneath your skin."
Haruki turned his head slightly, staring at his arm. "...So, how many people have this thing?"
Yoruto's expression darkened. "Not many. Well, for me I've unlocked three stages myself."
Haruki's eyes widened. "THREE?! You're telling me I've been fighting a superhuman this whole time?!"
Yoruto gave a small, rare smirk. "And losing badly, yes."
Haruki groaned. "Man, can you not flex while I'm dying here?"
Yoruto ignored him again. "The first stage is called Eclipse: Awakening. When activated, your body becomes wrapped in a black-blue aura. Your speed increases tenfold. Your energy strikes can cut through metal."
Haruki blinked. "...That sounds awesome."
Yoruto continued, "Your signature will be Moon Fang, a crescent-shaped energy slash born from your aura."
Haruki sat up slightly, despite his fatigue. "Moon Fang…? That sounds kinda cool. Wait, how do you even know that's my attack?"
Yoruto looked at him. "Because the Eclipse chooses its user long before they understand it. Your fate was sealed the moment you were born with that mark."
For once, Haruki went quiet. His hand brushed his chest — the faint crescent mark barely visible through his shirt. "So this thing… isn't just a mark."
Yoruto stood, his katana's edge glinting under the moonlight. "Train harder, Haruki. When your Eclipse awakens, the real test begins."
Haruki managed a weak grin. "…Can my real test include a nap first?"
Yoruto didn't answer. He turned and walked away, cloak swaying behind him.
As his footsteps faded, Haruki lay back on the floor, staring up at the moon.
"Eclipse, huh…?" he muttered softly. "Guess I really am stuck in something big again. But....this birthmark didn't even active at my own world. Weird."
Haruki quickly pushed himself up, still wobbly from training.
"Wait—Yoruto! Don't just leave after dropping life-changing information like that!"
He jogged after him, half-tripping over his own foot. "Hey, at least give me a lore manual or something! You can't just say 'Eclipse is rare and dangerous' and walk off dramatically like some anime boss!"
Yoruto didn't turn. "I just did."
"Wow. Rude and mysterious. What a combo." Haruki grumbled, catching up beside him. "So, uh… this world—Hiloxy, the heroes, demons, all of that—how long has it been like this? You guys talk like it's normal."
Yoruto kept walking, hands tucked inside his cloak. "Longer than you think. This world's been divided between light and shadow for centuries. Heroes exist to maintain that balance. We're not born special; we're chosen because something inside us matches the flow of this world."
Haruki blinked. "So… we're like human USBs. Plugged in to keep the world from crashing."
Yoruto glanced sideways. "…Your metaphors are… unique."
"I call it creative," Haruki said proudly, brushing the dirt off his clothes. "But… doesn't it get tiring? Fighting every day, knowing more demons keep showing up?"
For a moment, Yoruto didn't answer. The only sound was the soft crunch of their footsteps. Finally, he said, "It does. But purpose keeps us moving. Even when everything feels endless."
Haruki looked at him curiously. "You sound like someone who's been through… a lot."
Yoruto's expression barely changed, but his tone softened slightly. "Maybe someday I'll tell you about it. For now, focus on surviving."
Haruki grinned. "That's my favorite thing to fail at."
Yoruto exhaled through his nose—almost a sigh, almost a laugh. "You talk too much."
"Yeah, but admit it—you'd miss me if I stopped."
"I'd get twice as much peace."
Haruki mock-gasped. "Sensei, that's emotional damage!"
Yoruto stopped at the door to the dormitory. "Go rest, Haruki. Tomorrow, we start again."
Haruki groaned, stretching his sore arms. "Tomorrow again? You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"
Yoruto turned slightly, his cloak catching the faint moonlight. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be gone."
Haruki froze, blinking. "…Comforting as always."
Yoruto walked off into the corridor's shadow, his voice low and calm. "Rest while you can, Eclipse-born. The next storm is coming soon."
Haruki stood there for a few seconds, staring after him, then sighed.
"…He really needs to work on his bedtime stories."
He rubbed his aching shoulder and headed back to his room, muttering under his breath,
"Tomorrow again, huh… Guess I'll need ten more lives for this world."
Haruki's room, moonlight spilling through the window. Everyone else was asleep—except one idiot.
Haruki, the clumsy reborn boy.
He lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling for a second before suddenly blurting,
"Like hell I'm sleeping after that!"
He hopped up, stretching his sore arms with a dramatic groan.
"Yoruto can fight like a god, huh? Fine! I'll be his new hero kid fighter or whatever!"
Then, with zero rhythm and full confidence, he started shadowboxing in the middle of the room.
"Hyah! Take this! And this! And this—ow my shoulder—"
He paused, rubbing his arm, then burst into laughter. "Heh… damn it, Yoruto. You really made me wanna work harder."
He tried copying Yoruto's movements from training—smooth, fast, like slicing through air. Except Haruki's version looked more like a confused chicken trying martial arts.
Still, he kept going. Step by step, punch by punch.
"Alright, let's go! Moon Fang practice!" he shouted, swinging an imaginary sword.
The motion was off, the energy clumsy—but the determination burned real.
Finally, he collapsed onto his bed, breathing hard but smiling.
"Someday, I'll catch up to you, Sensei. Just wait…"
He turned his head toward the window, where the moonlight brushed against his cheek.
For a second—just a second—his birthmark faintly shimmered blue and black, like a quiet promise.
Haruki chuckled, half-asleep now. "Tch… if Yoruto's a god, then I'll be his stupid disciple who never gives up."
His eyelids drooped, voice fading into the dark.
"Just… don't leave me behind, okay, old man…"
The night swallowed his last words. Outside, the moon hung silently—watching over the boy who refused to stop fighting.