Izan bolted upright in bed. "I'm gonna go eat breakfast and then head to my homeroom. Thanks for all the tips, Drex." He bowed respectfully.
Drex simply nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Good luck."
Izan returned the nod before rushing out. In the nearly empty cafeteria, he grabbed a simple bowl of oatmeal and a cup of milk, eating as fast as he could. At this hour, no one else was awake yet.
Finishing, he hurried toward his homeroom. There, Kaito was already preparing materials for a new lesson. "KAITO!" Izan called, excitement bright in his voice.
Kaito sighed, shaking his head. "You're starting to act like Yara…"
Izan chuckled. "Could you teach me more about history? Drex gave me a hint about the battle between the God of Justice and the God of War over the Black Sea. He said their Force of Will was so immense, so concentrated, that it tore through reality itself—creating a black hole. Even the Water God and the Peace God had to intervene to stop them. Drex also said the damage was so catastrophic that the ocean couldn't recover, leaving part of the seafloor exposed for anyone to walk on."
Kaito tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "That's true… but the more history you learn, the more horrifying it gets. You won't learn most of history until you're in high school."
Izan's mood dropped instantly. "Why not?"
"Because," Kaito explained, "pre-schoolers shouldn't be learning the harsh truths of history yet. You're on the basics for now. One day, you'll understand it all."
Izan pouted, crossing his arms. "That's so dumb."
"Don't blame me," Kaito said with a heavy sigh. "Blame the system." He took a deep breath, shaking his head.
Suddenly, Izan's cat appeared out of nowhere, carrying the check that Valeria had given him and Daiki. "Crap! I forgot…" Izan muttered. "I need to get this to the bank." He dashed out.
Kaito watched him leave, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. If he learns the true history, I wonder how it will change the way he sees the world…
Izan raced through the school halls, the cat perched on his shoulder. At the bank, he exchanged the check, receiving gold in return. One coin was worth 1,000 each, and the last two were valued at 300 apiece. Originally, the total was 6,560 gold, but Valeria had left him a 40-gold tip, bringing it to a neat 6,600.
"Thanks," he muttered, nodding politely.
He returned to class, plopping down and studying math and English before lessons officially began. Rin and Sayaka were already up; Sayaka quietly helped Rin with her materials.
Far to the north, night had fallen over the War Country, shrouding the battlefield in darkness. Yara moved like a whirlwind of lethal precision, her eyes fixed on the old man wielding the Anti-Magic Sword. Every step she took was measured, every strike calculated. She didn't glance at the chaos behind her—she knew a massive skeleton fought fiercely to hold back the soldiers, keeping them from interfering with her duel.
The old man's Anti-Magic Sword hummed with suppressive energy, radiating a cold aura that made the air around it almost vibrate. He swung it in a wide arc, and Yara ducked, rolling under the blade. Sparks flew where the metal threatened to connect with her, and the ground beneath her cracked under the sheer force of the shockwaves.
Yara retaliated instantly, her fists striking with precision that made the old man stagger. Bones and flesh bore the brunt of her assault as her blows landed with brutal efficiency. One punch shattered his forearm; a spinning kick sent him skidding back across the dirt, his sword leaving deep grooves in the ground.
"Not bad… for your age," the old man muttered through gritted teeth, swinging his blade again. Yara dodged, her reflexes lightning-quick. She delivered a series of strikes, each faster than the last, forcing him to defend constantly. Every impact she landed sent shockwaves through the battlefield, small stones and dust exploding from the force.
Meanwhile, Jack the skeleton fought through a massive army of soldiers, moving with terrifying precision. His enormous limbs swung with unstoppable force, crushing shields and snapping weapons like twigs. With each motion, he unleashed elemental magic in rapid succession—walls of fire erupted to block advancing soldiers, shards of ice shot from his hands to freeze enemies in place, jagged wooden spikes erupted from the ground, and gusts of wind hurled soldiers backward into piles of debris.
Soldiers fell in waves, screaming and staggering under the relentless assault. His magic and sheer strength combined to create a deadly zone around Yara, ensuring she could focus entirely on her fight with the old man. The battlefield around him became a chaotic storm of fire, ice, wood, and wind, with shattered armor, blood, and the cries of the fallen scattered across the ground.
With a sudden burst of speed, Yara closed the distance. The old man swung his Anti-Magic Sword in desperation, but she twisted midair, her fist crashing into his stomach with unstoppable force. Her hand punched straight through, tearing through flesh, bone, and armor. Blood erupted violently from both the front and back as her fist extended through his entire body, her fingers pressing against the outside of his back. The old man gasped in shock and agony, eyes wide, as the life drained from him in an instant.
The old man's grip faltered, and the Anti-Magic Sword slid from his hands, clattering onto the blood-soaked ground. Yara withdrew her hand from his body, the wound gaping and fatal. With a swift motion, she grasped the sword, lifting it from the earth with effortless authority, the hum of its suppressive magic now hers.
Jack finished off the last soldiers nearby, his elemental attacks carving a path of destruction. Without hesitation, He swung his massive skeletal arms around Yara, lifting her with care. In a heartbeat, they vanished from the battlefield—but not before a massive, jagged slice tore through the ground beneath them. The earth split apart, sending chunks of soil and stone flying. A fragment of Jack's enormous cloak whipped violently in the wind, shredded by the sheer force of the strike.
The serious boy slid his sword back into its sheath, muttering, "Damn it," his expression tight with frustration. Behind him, two others followed—one looking sad, the other seething with anger. The old man lay broken and helpless.
"Slaughter… the Water Country…" he whispered softly, his voice long and weak. His eyes remained open as he passed.
The serious boy nodded sharply. "Yes, Father." He reached down and closed the old man's eyes, marking his passing.
The angry-looking son slammed his foot into the ground, causing a small earthquake that rattled the earth beneath them. "I'll turn that damn whore into a slave!" he growled, his voice dripping with rage.
Behind him, the sad son sank to his knees, overcome with grief, and cried over his father.
The serious son scanned the battlefield with cold calculation. Thousands of soldiers lay dead, the ground soaked in blood. Broken weapons and shattered armor littered the field, enclosed by Jack's twisted wood barrier—a nightmarish cage of gore.
His eyes swept over the carnage, expression grim. "This… war will come soon," he said quietly. "And when we strike, we'll slaughter them far worse than this."
Above the battlefield, Jack's massive form took to the sky, carrying Yara effortlessly on his back. She smirked, one hand gripping his broad shoulder for balance, the other holding the Anti-Magic Sword firmly in her grasp.
"Go," she instructed her parrot messenger, her voice calm but commanding. "Let everyone else know."
The parrot nodded sharply, spreading its wings and flying off into the night, carrying her orders as Jack and Yara disappeared into the darkness above the ruined battlefield.
On the other side of the War Country, in the Country of Justice… a pale full moon bathed the city in silver light. Two girls moved silently across the rooftops, dressed in black ninja uniforms.
The older, taller one led the way, sharp-eyed and calculating. The younger followed closely, her movements swift and intense.
Reaching a massive mansion on the outskirts, they vanished in a blur, reappearing atop the walls. Bats scattered into the night as they landed.
The older girl struck the outer guards with lethal precision, her blades moving like shadows. The younger moved inside, eliminating sentries before alarms could sound. Blood streaked the walls and floors, though few guards realized they were dead until moments later.
By sunrise, the two girls met on the roof, blood staining their faces. The younger held out a diary, opened to a specific, bloody page, and the older girl leaned in to read it quickly. Her eyes scanned the note, taking in the shocking message: the Country of Justice planned to ally with the War Country to invade the Water Country, dismantle the academy, and divide the land—offering gold and slaves as rewards.
They removed their masks, revealing gothic features and determined expressions, their gazes hard with resolve.
"Good job, little sis," the older whispered. "Let's take this to Valeria. Hopefully the others are alright." She looked toward the rising sun, resolve shining in her eyes.
A crow messenger swooped down, taking the bloody diary page from the older girl's hands. At the same time, a bat appeared out of nowhere at the younger girl's side. She focused, sending a telepathic message through it, and the bat flew off to inform the others of what had happened.
Far to the east lay the Peace Country—a land of order and diplomacy. In its capital, a young boy with glasses sat at a polished desk, dressed in a sharp, professional outfit that gave him an air of authority beyond his years. Papers and maps were neatly arranged around him, evidence of his meticulous nature.
A message arrived through his telepathic raccoon companion. "Yara and Jack killed a man who was part of the government in the War Country," it said. "Morgan and Ivy assassinated a man who was part of the government in the Justice Country inside the mansion."
Ken's eyes widened at the news.
He exhaled sharply. "It's my turn," he muttered, determination settling in his chest. He strode into the nation's mansion, the walls lined with guards who flinched at his confidence. Inside, eight masters sat in a circle, all masked with white cloth bearing small emblems. Their voices were chillingly identical as they spoke: "Let's get started."
Ken explained the threat posed by War and Justice Countries and pleaded for their support. He offered the Peace Country's rewards—land, wealth, and privileges—for anyone who would join them to defeat War and Justice Countries
The masters laughed, voices cold and cruel, echoing through the chamber. "Water Country is one of the weakest," one said, a note of disdain in their tone. "We don't care about the Water Country." He paused, letting the words hang in the air, before continuing with a sneer, "No potential enemies can get past our barrier unless we allow it—it has never been broken."
Another leaned forward slightly. "By the way… what's your name?"
Ken swallowed nervously, adjusting his glasses. "My name is Ken. I'm twenty."
The master chuckled first, a low, cruel sound that echoed through the room. Then, with a mocking smile, he added, "Ken… perhaps you'll join the ranks of our slaves if your country falls."
The other masters laughed in agreement, their voices cold and harsh, filling the chamber with a sense of menace. Ken's eyes narrowed, a flash of anger and determination igniting within him as he clenched his fists.
Leaving the mansion, Ken's throat felt tight. His vision blurred as he looked across the city, seeing the wealth, power, and injustice. Tears pricked at his eyes, a mix of anger and sorrow churning inside him—so mad at what had become of his nation, yet painfully aware he could do nothing. This isn't the nation I admired as a child… The God of Peace would be furious at what this land has become. He exhaled slowly and muttered, "Hopefully Sylvia can secure her alliance…"
Under the Peace Country lay the Land of Mothers. Sylvia sat stiffly in her hotel room, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea she hadn't drunk. Her long, pointed elf ears peeked out from beneath her hair, twitching slightly as the tension in the room prickled her senses. An ant crawled across the floor, sending a message directly into her fox companion's mind. The fox carried it swiftly, placing it at her feet. Sylvia's eyes widened as she read the contents. Her heart thudded against her chest.
I'm the last hope… I can't fail, she thought, swallowing her fear. She rose, straightening her back like steel, and left the room. At the palace gates, guards meticulously verified her identity through double-checking protocols. Sylvia handed over her weapons, crossing the bridge spanning the flowing waters beneath, each step echoing against the marble.
Inside the throne room, seven figures sat in rigid form, each marked with a sigil representing one of the Seven Deadly Sins. The Queen of Pride's sharp voice cut the silence.
"Speak. Don't waste our time," the Queen of Pride commanded.
Seven figures sat in chairs, each marked with a symbol of one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Sylvia's gaze flicked over their faces, noting the faint glow of each sin over their left eye and the corresponding number above their right. She studied them carefully, reading the expressions, the subtle movements, and the weight of their presence in the room.
At the center sat Pride (1). Golden eyes gleamed with authority, calm and unwavering. She was the only one sitting properly, posture straight, expression composed — the only one who looked entirely mature.
To her left sat the queens whose numbers were closest to one:
Lust (2): A soft pink glow filled her eyes as she lazily flipped through a magazine. Whenever she found something she liked, she would draw small hearts over the page with a playful smile.
Sloth (3): Purple eyes barely visible beneath lowered lids, she lay sideways across her chair, head tilted downward as if half asleep. She barely moved.
Wrath (4): Red eyes burned quietly. Her nails tapped against the arm of her chair — and each time they did, tiny sparks of fire flickered at her fingertips, vanishing just as quickly.
To Pride's right sat the remaining queens:
Greed (5): Yellow eyes shimmered sharply as she flipped a gold coin between her fingers, the metal catching the light with each spin.
Gluttony (6): Orange eyes glowed softly while she casually gnawed on a chicken wing, watching the room as if it were entertainment.
Envy (7): Dark blue eyes peeked out from beneath the fabric partially covering her face. She stayed hidden, watching from behind her veil, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
Even masked, the symbols and numbers over their eyes—paired with their stances—spoke volumes about their power, personalities, and intentions.
Elsewhere, in her office, Valeria sat upright, her posture rigid as the evening sun cast long shadows across the room. Her massive tiger companion stood beside her, eyes gleaming with intelligence.
"Message from the Shadow Council," the tiger spoke in her mind, her voice calm but urgent.
Valeria's eyes narrowed as she absorbed the information. Her spine stiffened, and she leaned slightly forward in her chair. "They did well… but it seems we may need to move to Plan B—or even C," she said seriously, the weight of responsibility heavy in her tone.
She focused on the tiger, her hand brushing against its fur. "Deliver this to all the teachers. And make sure no one else knows about it… only Sayaka, Rin, Izan, and the commanding students."
The tiger nodded, her mind echoing the command, and silently departed, leaving the room eerily quiet.
Valeria exhaled, a sense of unease settling over her. Knowing how slim their chances had become, the future of their country felt more uncertain than ever.