Inside the weight room, the air was saturated with the scent of sweat and exertion. In a corner of the hall where the clanging of metal echoed, Atsuri was battling heavy weights; his muscles were taut like bowstrings, and his breath came in a steady, rhythmic rasp. The questions in his mind were heavier than the iron he lifted: Will I be among the chosen? Has my strength reached the level required to survive?
The image of Amani in her last match flickered in his memory—how she had lost intentionally, a move that baffled him. He couldn't grasp her logic, but that manufactured failure had ignited a fire of defiance in his chest; a desperate urge to prove that weakness is not a destiny.
His train of thought was broken by Yuya's calm, confident strides:
"Good morning, Atsuri... still indulging in your hobby of muscle torture?"
Atsuri replied, dropping the weights to the floor and gasping for air:
"Good morning... Iron doesn't lie, Yuya. It always tells you the truth about yourself."
Yuya asked curiously:
"Haven't you gone to the Headmistress's office to inquire about the expedition?"
"Amani sent me the details. We'll be split into teams of five under teacher supervision. But I'm... I'm not sure I'm ready yet."
Yuya sighed, his gaze losing its usual sharp edge:
"You're not alone. I feel like we're all standing on the edge of an unknown we haven't prepared for enough."
Atsuri looked at him firmly:
"No matter the scale of the danger, if there are humans in Valdoris fighting to stay alive, I will go. It's the duty I chose the moment I stepped foot into this Academy."
Yuya offered a faint smile:
"You're being unusually serious... where did the playful Atsuri go?"
Atsuri laughed:
"And it's strange that you aren't being arrogant today... has the great Yuya finally found humility?"
They shared a laugh for a few seconds before Yuya added gravely:
"Perhaps because my encounter with 'Shaltra' forced me to rearrange my priorities."
Atsuri nodded in understanding:
"I know the feeling... my battle with 'Dafron' did the same to me; it made me realize that the power I have is but a drop in the ocean of true strength."
Atsuri shoved a heavy dumbbell toward Yuya:
"Stop talking and train. We need to go back there not as victims, but as avengers. Right?"
Yuya gripped the metal tightly, his eyes flashing with a sharp spark:
"Right... exactly."
The sun climbed the sky in purple streaks, and a cold breeze caressed the courtyard, which was empty save for a few students. Rion sat on a stone bench, with Mira beside him, watching the horizon in a contemplative silence, as if reading their future in the color of the clouds.
Suddenly, the peace was shattered by the appearance of Trangen; she was running frantically, her black leather jacket fluttering like raven wings. Her modern attire reflected a rebellious spirit and a troubled heart. As soon as she reached them, she threw herself into Rion's arms, sobbing:
"Rion! Are they really going to throw us into that hell? They say the teams will separate us! I don't want to be anywhere you aren't!"
Rion patted her shoulder with his usual calm, his voice like a breeze soothing the waves:
"Trangen... don't get ahead of yourself. No one knows the final distribution yet. All I know is that I'm going because it's my destiny and the Headmistress's decision."
She whispered tremulously:
"Don't leave me... what if you don't come back? What if death steals you away from us?"
Before he could comfort her, Kairen appeared with her resolute presence, pulling Trangen away by her arm with the sternness of an older sister:
"Trangen! Stop this breakdown in front of everyone! Where is your pride?"
Trangen lowered her head in shame and whispered an apology, while Kairen sat beside Rion, a reassuring smile brightening her face:
"Good morning, Rion... or what's left of it."
He replied quietly:
"Good morning, Kairen."
Kairen said, looking deep into his eyes:
"I know your mind is boiling with thoughts, but anxiety is a slow poison. Rest a little; tomorrow will reveal its cards soon enough."
Rion nodded, then turned to Mira and asked in a low voice tinged with suspicion:
"Mira... those old stories about monsters coming from the depths of the sea... do you think they hold a shred of truth?"
Mira looked at him with surprise and bewilderment:
"Stories? I've never heard of any record or historian mentioning such a thing. I think they're just myths people trade in moments of panic."
Rion fell silent, his eyes wandering into the purple clouds that began to swallow the light. He muttered:
"I see... just imagination. Regardless, Valdoris is close, and there we will find out if imagination is the only reality."
In a district of "Valdoris" whose beauty had been drowned under the mud of chaos, a man was running frantically, as if death were at his heels. He clutched a small bag of food, gasping violently, his sweat mixing with the grime of the muddy streets. His heart hammered like war drums nearing their end; every fiber of his being screamed to reach his two children waiting for him in that dilapidated building.
But hope in Valdoris is a counterfeit currency. Just as he neared his doorstep, the silence of the night was split by a terrifying sound—a hiss that turned the blood to ice. The man turned in terror only to see a massive, serpentine monster. It lunged at him in a heartbeat, swallowing the man, his dreams, and his bag of food into its dark maw.
Before the dust of the tragedy could settle, a creature emerged from the shadows that was unlike the other monsters. He embodied a terrifying "Hybrid"; a body covered in a dull golden muscular armor that showcased brutal power, his features human but scarred by stories of violence. His red eyes glowed like burning embers beneath locks of dark hair. His left arm was a sharp blade fused into the forearm, breathing murder.
The hybrid monster growled, his raspy voice piercing the silence:
"Hey you! Who gave you permission to enter my territory and hunt here?"
The serpentine creature, which had thought itself a predator, was suddenly the prey:
"Lord Ogon... I didn't mean... I thought it was..."
The scream was never finished; with a lightning strike from Ogon's blade, the creature was split into two identical halves, falling to the ground as a heap of dead meat. Ogon wiped his blade coldly and said:
"No one encroaches on my borders and keeps breathing."
At that moment, a girl of sharp, cruel beauty entered the blood-stained arena. she wore a black tactical suit that clung to her athletic body like a second skin. Her long blonde hair cascaded behind her like a silk waterfall, while her red eyes radiated a desire for dominance. Her black claws glinted under the pale moonlight.
She spoke in a calm voice carrying a tone of forced respect:
"Lord Ogon... how are you today?"
Ogon stretched lazily like a lion in its den:
"Well, Nivera... but I am hungry, and hunger makes me impatient. I want food."
Nivera glanced at the scattered corpses—the human and the monster—and said with biting irony:
"We have two items on the menu... tender human and fatty monster. How do you prefer them?"
He answered without blinking:
"It makes no difference to me. Prepare them both... I want a feast worthy of my hunger."
She bowed submissively:
"Your will is my command, my lord."
After Ogon left, Nivera stepped toward the bodies, but her sharp ears caught a faint whimpering coming from inside the building. She walked in with measured steps to find two little girls trembling in a corner, tears tracing paths of terror on their faces.
Nivera offered a twisted smile and whispered to herself:
(It seems I've found a special extra meal...)
Suddenly, a creature with gray scales and a poisonous scorpion tail appeared, saying mockingly:
"Hello, Nivera... what a beautiful dramatic scene!"
She replied with deadly coldness:
"What do you want, Askorven?"
He laughed wickedly, eyeing the two girls:
"Seems you're in luck today with a tender meal."
She said in a voice as sharp as a knife:
"I'm not in the mood for your nonsense. Leave now, or I'll turn that tail of yours into a memory."
He raised his hands in mock innocence and left the place, cackling.
Nivera returned her focus to the girls, but the air vibrated behind her with a strange energy. She turned to find a young boy in gray clothes and a hood hiding his face, showing nothing but yellow eyes like a cat's.
"Edi? What brings you here?"
The boy said with a childishly wicked smile:
"Your master wants to see you, Nivera. Don't ask me why, I'm just the messenger."
Nivera grew annoyed and muttered:
"It must have to do with the disappearance of Shaltra, Dafron, and Ismeld... they've been gone too long."
Edi laughed with demonic mirth, then turned toward the girls with fake innocence:
"I'll take one with me... you don't mind, right?"
Nivera smiled coldly:
"Of course... take her and get out of my sight."
In the blink of an eye, Edi vanished in a black aura, taking one of the girls, while the other let out a heart-wrenching scream:
"No! My sister!"
Nivera stepped toward the remaining girl, lifted her by her small shoulders, and sank her fangs into her neck. The girl's voice faded gradually until she became a pale, soulless body. Nivera wiped the blood from her mouth, saying:
"The taste of innocence... a pleasure one never tires of."
Nivera then headed to the headquarters, a massive building reeking of death and majesty. She walked down the long corridor until she reached the Great Hall, where "The Master" sat upon his dark throne. Nivera bowed so low she nearly touched the floor.
"Nivera." The Master said in a magnificent voice that shook her very being.
"Yes, my lord."
"Any news of the expeditions? Has anyone returned?"
She lowered her head anxiously:
"Unfortunately, my lord... no word from Shaltra or the others."
A suffocating silence followed before the Master growled with suppressed rage:
"I am counting on you this time... do not repeat your previous failure. My patience has its limits."
She replied with absolute submission:
"Your command, my lord. I will send an army of insect monsters to comb the area and find them... I will not fail."
As Nivera left the hall with steps heavy with menace, "The Master" remained lurking in the shadows of his throne, watching her silhouette disappear with eyes shining with a dark light that did not belong to this world. He took a deep breath, as if inhaling the scent of fear beginning to waft from the distant Academy, and then whispered in a resonant voice like the creaking of ancient doors:
"Let them prepare... for in Valdoris, death is not the worst thing. It is what awaits you after you die."