Lucius paused on the desk, his golden eyes sweeping across the room, taking in each student with an unnervingly intelligent gaze. He flicked his tail sharply, the chains around his paws clinking softly as the light caught them.
"Let’s start with introductions, shall we? As I told you all before, I am Lucius, your counselor, or 'homeroom teacher', so to speak. Some of you may already know me as the wise, charming, and all-around handsome legend of this institution." His voice oozed with exaggerated self-confidence, and it was impossible to tell how much of it was sarcasm. "For those of you unworthy enough to have not heard of me, consider this your lucky day. You’ll have the privilege of learning under the best."
Jean leaned toward Arc with a whisper. “He’s a talking cat with chains and a hat. Are we sure he is qualified?”
Arc tilted her head ever so slightly, her eyes still closed. “Master Jean, he is a cat of great refinement. You should take notes.”
Lucius cleared his throat loudly, cutting through the chatter, and grinned—at least as much as a cat could. "And, of course, there’s her."
Before anyone could ask, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and an eerie, mist-like energy began to swirl into existence beside Lucius. It coiled and shifted like a living entity, gradually forming a tall, ethereal shape. What emerged was an imposing Avatar—a feminine figure wreathed in tendrils of thick, purple mist that rolled and flowed like smoke. Her silhouette was sharp and striking, with ornate, armor-like features and glowing violet cracks that pulsed like veins of energy. Long, jagged horns curved out from her head, and her face was a void of swirling mist with no features except for two piercing purple eyes that burned with faint amusement.
The class collectively tensed as the presence of the avatar filled the room, the purple haze curling menacingly near the desks as though testing its audience.
Lucius gestured dramatically to her with one paw. “This is my Gift—Mistress Nyx.”
"How flattering," the Avatar purred, her voice smooth and resonant, echoing as though it came from far away. The mist that made up her body coiled upward like tendrils of smoke before reforming again. Her glowing eyes narrowed slightly in what seemed like mild amusement.
Lucius ignored her sarcasm, leaping gracefully from the desk and landing neatly on the floor below. “We have… an understanding, Mistress Nyx and I,” he said with a proud air, straightening the oversized witch hat on his head. "You see, unlike most Gifts, she is special. She is a living, breathing extension of my will. And, of course, she’s madly in love with me.”
Nyx’s mist swirled violently in response, a shadowy claw forming from her arm and swiping through the air above him. Lucius leapt back just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike. "I’ll incinerate your stupid hat," Nyx threatened, though there was an unmistakable teasing lilt to her words.
"Now, now!" Lucius said quickly, feigning offense as he tipped the brim of his hat lower. "Violence is not the answer, my dear. At least not until I need to use you as a weapon."
The mist swirled again, and Nyx seemed to loom taller, the light in her eyes darkening. "Please stop talking."
Before anyone could process her words, Nyx’s form collapsed inward, the swirling purple mist shrinking and condensing with frightening speed. In the blink of an eye, she reshaped into a long, wicked-looking scythe, with the shaft forged of dark, smoke-like metal and the blade a gleaming crescent of solidified violet energy. The weapon hovered in the air for a moment before dropping directly into Lucius’s waiting jaws.
He caught it effortlessly, the scythe looking oddly fitting in the mouth of a small black cat. The room was so quiet you could hear the faint buzz of the blade’s energy vibrating in the air.
Lucius turned his head, tilting the scythe ever so slightly as the glowing blade cast a ripple of violet light across the floor. “See?” he said, the words muffled slightly by the handle in his mouth. “Perfect harmony.”
Ajal stared, wide-eyed. "Did that cat just… flirt with his own weapon?"
Jean leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “This school gets weirder by the minute.”
Lucius casually dropped the scythe, and in a swirl of mist, Nyx reformed beside him. Her arms were crossed now, and though her face was featureless, her entire posture radiated irritation. "You’re lucky I tolerate you," she muttered.
“And you’re lucky I’m charming,” Lucius countered smugly, before turning back to the class. “Any questions?"
Lucius surveyed the room with a smug grin, his tail flicking lazily behind him as he waited for any brave souls to speak up. A hesitant hand shot into the air—Yumiko’s.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, her head tilting slightly. “Why… are you a talking cat?”
The class murmured in agreement, several students nodding. Even Ezekiel raised an eyebrow, clearly curious.
Lucius let out an exaggerated sigh, his witch hat dipping slightly as he shook his head. “Ah, the eternal question. Why, Lucius, are you a feline of unparalleled intellect and unmatched charisma?” He glanced at Nyx, who rolled her glowing eyes. “Alas, it’s a tale for another time, one filled with intrigue, betrayal, and—”
“Unbearable narcissism,” Nyx interrupted dryly, her mist-like body rippling with mock exasperation.
“Quiet, you.” Lucius huffed, then straightened his hat. “Anyway, as much as I’d love to regale you with my tragic backstory, I have a very important meeting to attend. Places to be, people to dazzle.”
The students exchanged skeptical glances as Lucius leapt gracefully onto the desk. “Before I go, two quick things: First, the due date for your initial payments is at the end of the month. Don’t be late.”
“Payments?” Ajal’s voice rose in alarm.
“Yes, yes, payments,” Lucius replied, waving a paw dismissively. “Surely you didn’t think this institution runs on goodwill and sunshine? We have facilities to maintain, and my hat doesn’t fluff itself, you know.”
Before anyone could protest further, he continued. “Second—and this one’s far more entertaining for me—you’ll have to solve a small test before you’re allowed to leave this room. Consider it a bonding exercise.”
The air grew tense as the students glanced at one another, unsure of what was coming.
Lucius smirked, his golden eyes glinting mischievously. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing too taxing—unless, of course, you refuse to communicate. Good luck!” With a final, dramatic flick of his tail, he and Nyx vanished in a swirl of violet mist.
The door to the classroom clicked audibly, and the sound of a heavy lock engaging echoed through the room.
“What the hell?” Ezekiel muttered, immediately walking over to the door and jiggling the handle. “Yep. We’re locked in.”
Before anyone could panic, the sleek screens embedded in their desks flickered to life, displaying a form. The title at the top read “Gift Roster Test”, followed by rows of names and corresponding Gifts. Some rows were partially filled out, with names but no Gifts or Gifts but no names.
“What is this?” Yumiko asked, leaning closer to her screen.
“It’s a roster,” Jean said, scrolling through the form on his desk. “Looks like we have to match each person to their Gift. Some of the info’s already filled in, but a lot of it isn’t.”
“And some of it’s wrong,” Ajal pointed out, squinting at his screen. “I don’t even see my name on here.”
Yumiko frowned. “Mine’s here, but it just says ‘Transformation’ under Gift. That’s so vague!”
Jean sighed, tapping his chin. “This is obviously some kind of teamwork exercise. We’re supposed to figure out everyone’s Gifts by talking to each other.”
Rayven, from her seat near the middle, propped her head on her hand and smirked. “Oh, great. A forced social activity. My favorite.”
“Wonderful,” Ezekiel said dryly, returning to his seat. “Let’s hope nobody lies just to mess with us.”
Ajal leaned back in his chair, letting out a sigh as he scanned the room. “Well, we’re not getting out of here until we finish this thing. Might as well start talking. My name’s Ajal, and my Gift is this scarf around my neck.” He tugged at the fabric slightly for emphasis. “It turns into a scythe and lets me, uh, harness the power of death or something like that.”
The room went silent, and Ajal blinked at the sea of blank stares directed his way.
“Did I… say something wrong?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.
Yumiko snorted before covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. “No, you’re fine. It’s just, uh… everyone already knows that.” She grinned. “Inheritors are kinda a big deal. You’re basically famous, y’know?”
Ajal’s face twitched in mild embarrassment. “Well, great,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair again. “That’s good to know.”
Yumiko hopped to her feet, her energy instantly shifting the atmosphere. “But hey, you starting us off is better than nothing!” She grinned brightly, striking a playful pose. “My turn! Name’s Yumiko, and my Gift lets me transform into a cat-person hybrid. When I’m shifted, I can run way faster, think faster, and, oh yeah, I’m way stronger, too.” She flexed her arm dramatically for emphasis before plopping back into her chair, clearly pleased with herself.
Jean leaned forward, his voice picking up energy as he spoke. "Guess I'll continue the trend of Team Z going first. I'm Jean," he said with a casual wave before gesturing dramatically toward Arc. "And this is Arc, my Avatar. She’s got inhuman strength, speed, and—"
He leaned in further, his voice rising with enthusiasm. "—and unparalleled beauty! She's a force of nature, an unstoppable—"
"Master Jean," Arc interrupted sharply, her calm voice cutting through his building excitement. Her expression remained composed, but her closed eyes somehow radiated disapproval. "That is enough."
Jean froze mid-gesture, realizing he had gotten carried away. He cleared his throat awkwardly, straightened his posture, and gave a sheepish grin. "Sure, my bad. I got a little ahead of myself," he admitted, settling back in his chair. Turning to Ezekiel, he gestured with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Your turn now."
Ezekiel sat slouched in his seat, the front two legs of his chair dangling in the air as he leaned back casually. His arms were crossed, and his expression was one of utter disinterest. Under his breath, he muttered, "Are all Avatar masters weirdos obsessed with their Avatars?"
Arc’s gaze flicked toward him momentarily, but she didn’t respond, maintaining her dignified silence.
For a long moment, Ezekiel seemed content to ignore the group entirely, but then he let out an exasperated sigh, finally giving in. "Ezekiel," he said, his tone flat and unbothered. Adjusting the square black-framed glasses on his nose, he added, "These glasses turn into a pair of handguns."
Beside him, Zee had her head resting on her arms, her face turned toward Ezekiel with a sly grin. "C’mon, Zeke, there’s gotta be more to it," she teased, her voice lilting with amusement.
"If there is," Ezekiel replied without even glancing at her, "there isn’t a reason for you to know."
Zee let out a soft laugh, closing her eyes as her grin widened. "Whatever you say," she said, her tone light and teasing.
There was a small pause before the next person spoke. Vail stood up from his chair, his movements smooth and deliberate, and gave a courteous bow to the rest of the class. "Vail Noct," he introduced himself, his voice calm but commanding. He raised the small vial of red liquid hanging from his neck. "Like Yumiko, I'm a transformation type. When I take a sip from this vial of blood, I turn into a vampire. Outside the usual physical enhancements—speed, strength, agility—I can manipulate my blood. I can turn it into projectile weapons or simple tools. However, its greatest benefit is its healing factor. Using it, I can heal any wound, and there's no need to worry about blood types—it seems to automatically detect and adapt to whoever it’s entering." He paused briefly, his expression neutral. "I can also grow big bat wings, but I try not to."
With a nod, Vail returned to his seat and waited patiently for the next student to speak.
"Alright, let’s do this," Rayven said, springing to her feet with a dramatic flair and brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes sparkled with confidence, and a smirk tugged at her lips as she surveyed the room. "Name’s Rayven," she began casually, hoisting a large, menacing pink chainsaw from behind her chair. She rested it effortlessly on her shoulder, the weight seemingly insignificant to her. "My Gift is this bad girl right here. I call it Pink Death. It works like a normal chainsaw, but the more I rev it, the more powerful my next attack becomes. Downside is, I can’t move all that much while revving, so that’s where my buddy Kiera comes in to cover me!"
"Don’t call me ‘buddy,’ Rayven," Kiera said sharply, rolling her eyes. She shrugged off her jacket, revealing a karate belt tied tightly around her right arm. Sliding it off, she held it up for everyone to see. "This is my Gift. Whenever I tighten it, I can detect the weak spots in anyone I’m looking at."
Jean raised an eyebrow from his seat. "Why was it on your arm and under your jacket?"
Kiera shot him an unimpressed look. "To hide it, obviously. It’s stupid to just let the enemy see your Gifts." She turned her attention to Zee, who was still slouched over her desk, her head resting on her arms. "Wake the hell up—it’s your turn."
Zee let out a soft laugh, the sound muffled by her arm. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms above her head before pulling a small whistle from her pocket. "Yeah, yeah," she said, her voice drawn out and lazy. "Whenever I blow this, I can kind of control the wind a bit."
"A bit? That’s it?" Ezekiel asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.
Zee smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "If there’s more, there isn’t a reason for you to know."
Ezekiel clicked his tongue in irritation and leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath. "This class is unbelievably annoying."
The room fell silent again as the remaining students glanced at each other, silently deciding who would go next. Finally, Sosira broke the silence, her voice flat and no-nonsense. "Name’s Sosira. I control these wraps around my body." She gestured vaguely at the cloth wrapped around her arms. "I can make them longer, tighten them around stuff—whatever I want. Nothing fancy."
Cassian stood up next, his movements hesitant as his eyes darted nervously around the room. "Uh, hey. I’m Cassian. I’m… not great with people," he admitted with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head. "My Gift is this." He tugged down his sleeve, revealing a sleek bracelet. "It lets me control gravity. I’m, uh, not very strong or skilled with it yet, but I hope I can be useful to everyone here."
He quickly sat back down, his face slightly flushed. Next to him, Molly’s fist tightened, her knuckles white with tension.
"Molly…" Cassian said softly, glancing at her with concern.
"I know," she snapped, cutting him off.
Molly stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her gaze locked onto Ajal with an intensity that made him look away.
Without breaking her glare, she spoke through gritted teeth. "I’m Molly. My Gift…" She hesitated, the words sticking in her throat. Her hand drifted to the lifeless doll strapped to her waist. "My Gift was an Avatar named Jolly." She took a deep breath before continuing. "She let me copy the Gifts of anyone she or I touched." Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, but she quickly composed herself, sitting back down with a stony expression.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
Finally, Cassian spoke again, his tone lighter as he pointed toward the last member of Team A. "Oh yeah! That’s Jing."
Jing gave a small wave, his expression calm.
Cassian scratched his chin, looking thoughtful. "He can’t speak, but from what I’ve gathered, his Gift is, uh…"
Ezekiel cut in with a sigh, not bothering to hide his impatience. "His bow lets him shoot arrows that can manipulate sound. He can make things quiet or make noises seem like they’re coming from somewhere else. That sound about right, mute?"
Jing nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
The room was silent as the students finished filling out their forms, each hitting the glowing "Submit" button on their screens. A soft click echoed through the classroom as the door’s lock disengaged, followed by a slow creak as the door swung inward.
"I guess class is over?" Yumiko said, tilting her head, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and disappointment.
Vail, standing near the window, tapped his foot rapidly against the stone floor, irritation evident in his expression. "I flew everyone up here for our first day, and it’s this short? What a joke."
The students began gathering their belongings, chairs scraping against the floor as they rose. Ajal slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the door but stopped as he passed Molly.
“Molly, I—”
"Go. Away," she interrupted bluntly, her voice sharp and cold. Before he could say another word, she grabbed Cassian by the arm, dragging him out of the room. Cassian stumbled along awkwardly, his bag partially unzipped as papers and small items tumbled out behind him. He scrambled to collect his things while trying to keep up with Molly’s determined pace.
Ajal sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Just keep trying," Sosira said from her seat, her tone unusually soft. She stood and gave him a sidelong glance. "We’ll try to help on our end."
Ajal gave a small nod, appreciating her words despite the lingering frustration. He turned toward the door where Yumiko was waiting, waving him over with a bright smile. The rest of Team Z stood behind her, ready to leave. He fell into step with them as they made their way out into the hallway.
As they walked through the long corridor, the light from the tall windows casting shifting patterns on the floor, Ajal broke the silence. "So, what’s with the whole payment thing? I mean, do we really have to pay just to be here?"
Jean let out a heavy sigh, his usual dramatic flair subdued. "My fears, realized," he said, his voice laden with exaggerated despair.
"What do you mean by that?" Ajal asked, glancing at him.
"There was a note when we first showed up to the dorm," Yumiko explained. "It mentioned monthly dorm fees and that 'additional charges' would apply."
“Additional?” Ajal raised an eyebrow, not liking the sound of that.
“Yeah,” Jean answered, sounding increasingly glum. "Things like meals, supplies, and transportation—like those Drakes we just rode. All of it adds up."
"That’s what you’re worried about?" Ajal asked, a little surprised.
Jean threw his hands into the air dramatically. "Of course! I was hoping they’d go easy on us since we’re just starting out, but nooo. We’re already drowning in fees!"
"It doesn’t matter," Ezekiel said bluntly, walking a few paces ahead of the group. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his tone cool and indifferent. "We’ll figure it out back at the dorms. Split four ways, it shouldn’t be too bad."
“Although,” Yumiko added thoughtfully, “we’ll probably have to get part-time jobs down in Campus City to cover everything.”
At that, the four of them groaned in unison, their collective dismay filling the hallway.
Arc, walking silently beside Jean, allowed herself the faintest of smiles. It wasn’t much, but it was clear she found their despair over the prospect of working just a little amusing.
⁂
The grand council chamber of Arkphis Institute was as intimidating as it was magnificent. Towering arched windows lined the circular room, casting long beams of multi-colored light across the polished black marble floor. The walls were inscribed with ancient runes that shimmered faintly, a testament to the magic woven into the very foundation of the building. At the center of the chamber stood a massive circular table, similar in shape to an enormous ring. Its dark, polished wood gleamed under the ambient light, with inlaid obsidian accents engraved with the symbols of every Gift known to humankind. Principal Culpa and the rest of the teachers were seated in the chairs that surrounded the table.
Inside the hollow center of the table sat a woman in a simple chair, but her presence was anything but simple.
Her skin, the color of deep, rich mahogany, caught the light from the stained glass windows, giving her an almost ethereal glow. Long, jet-black hair spilled over her shoulders in smooth, glossy waves that framed her angular face, and her sharp, almond-shaped eyes seemed to gleam with a mix of amusement and defiance. Her full lips were curved in a slight, knowing smile that dared anyone to challenge her.
She wore a pale pink dress that clung to her figure, the soft, delicate fabric a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding steel of the handcuffs encasing her wrists. The restraints, forged from gleaming Lumithril, shimmered faintly with a bluish hue, the intricate runes engraved on their surface pulsing steadily as they drained the divine energy from her body. Chains attached to the cuffs extended to the chair’s armrests, anchoring her in place, but they shifted subtly, almost serpentine, as if alive.
Despite the weight of the restraints, the woman sat with her legs crossed and her chin tilted ever so slightly upward, exuding an air of effortless confidence. Her posture screamed control, even in captivity.
Lucius leapt onto his seat with a casual flick of his tail, his golden eyes landing on her. Nyx hovered beside him, the violet mist of her form coiling faintly around the edge of the table.
"Aisha, was it?" Principal Culpa asked calmly, but with authority. She sat opposite her at the table, her hands clasped loosely as she surveyed her.
"You already know my name, what's the point in asking?" Aisha replied, her tone casual and playful.
"You might be in chains, but you are still our guest," the principal replied, her tone even. "We have manners here."
Aisha laughed, a light and melodic sound that belied the tension in the room. "Guest? You really believe you're treating me like a guest?" She glanced pointedly at her restraints, then raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember your guests getting shackled."
"What does The Cult want?" Fil asked bluntly, his sharp gaze drilling into Aisha. "And don’t play dumb. We have access to a recording of the exam."
Aisha didn’t flinch under his glare. Instead, she let out a light, melodic laugh that echoed through the chamber. Her amusement seemed almost genuine, which only made it more unsettling.
"You seem to have a new air of confidence, Aisha," Lucius interjected, his tail swishing lazily as he perched on the edge of his chair. His golden eyes glinted with a sharpness that betrayed his casual demeanor. "Quite different from when Ezekiel had you cornered."
At the mention of Ezekiel’s name, Aisha’s confident mask faltered for a split second. Her fingers twitched, a reflexive motion that did not go unnoticed by the room’s keen observers. The fear that flashed across her eyes was brief but unmistakable, and Lucius’s grin widened ever so slightly.
"My, my," he drawled, his tone laced with mock sympathy. "Touchy subject, is it? Ezekiel really left an impression, didn’t he?"
Aisha’s smirk returned, though now it seemed forced. "Cute," she said, her tone tight. "Is this where you try to rattle me? Good luck with that, kitty."
Principal Culpa raised a hand, silencing the room. Her calm, measured gaze fixed on Aisha. "Enough," she said firmly. "Aisha, this could go one of two ways. You can tell us what we want to know now, or we can escalate this to measures you won’t enjoy."
Aisha rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair as far as her restraints would allow. "Oh, I’m trembling," she said dryly, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.
Principal Culpa’s expression remained serene, but there was an edge to her tone as she spoke the next words. "Nagi."
The room grew heavy, the air thickening with an almost tangible pressure. The light filtering through the stained glass windows seemed to dim, and a deep red mist began to seep from the floor in the center of the room. The mist coiled and twisted, gathering until it solidified into a figure.
Nagi emerged with unnerving silence, their presence commanding and otherworldly. The figure was adorned in a striking black and red kimono, its flowing fabric alive with intricate floral patterns that seemed to shift and ripple as if responding to their every move. Two crimson horns jutted from their disheveled black hair, which framed a pale face that was both haunting and elegant.
But it was the mask they held in one hand that drew immediate attention. The demon-like mask, painted in deep red with fierce white fangs and intricate carvings, exuded a foreboding energy. The mist clinging to Nagi’s form curled around the mask as though it were an extension of their very being, its tendrils licking the air with slow, deliberate menace.
Aisha’s earlier bravado crumbled ever so slightly as her gaze locked onto Nagi. Her fingers gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles whitening against the dark metal.
"What… what the hell is that?" Aisha asked, her voice trembling with uncharacteristic fear as her eyes darted toward Nagi.
Nagi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he shifted his gaze to meet hers directly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the ominous mask.
Aisha froze, a shudder coursing through her body as if her very soul had been gripped by an unseen force.
“I apologize for bringing you here so abruptly,” Principal Culpa said, her tone calm but authoritative.
Nagi inclined his head slightly in a graceful bow. "No apologies are necessary, Principal. As the leader of the Spectral Choir, it is my duty and honor to serve both you and Arkph—"
“Okay, we get it, Nagi,” Fil interjected, his tone dripping with irritation. He leaned back in his chair, waving a hand dismissively. “Do you really need to go through your whole speech every single time?”
Nagi’s glowing eyes flicked toward Fil, his expression obscured by the mask but the intensity of his gaze unmistakable. Fil stared back, his lips curling into a defiant smirk as a tangible tension began to fill the room. The oppressive atmosphere thickened, like the precursor to a storm.
Clap.
The sharp sound broke through the moment, pulling everyone's attention. It was Miki, her hands still together from the single clap.
“Alright, you two,” she said, her voice firm yet playful. “Let’s not turn this into a staring contest. Fil, try not to be so angry all the time, and Nagi…” She raised an eyebrow at the masked man. “I hate to admit it, but Fil has a point. Maybe we don’t need the speech every time?”
“Tch,” Fil muttered, rolling his eyes. “Who the hell made you boss?”
Nagi, however, gave a courteous bow toward Miki, his voice calm and measured. “Of course, Lady Miki. And, as always, it is a pleasure to see you.”
Miki smiled faintly, clearly used to his theatrics.
Garth, who had been silent the entire time, propped his head up on one hand, his fingers drumming against his cheek. His gaze shifted lazily toward Principal Culpa, who watched the exchange with an amused smile.
“Principal?” Garth asked, his tone dry but urging.
“You’re right, we should move on,” Principal Culpa replied, clasping her hands on the table as she turned her attention back to Nagi. “Nagi, who was responsible for overseeing that area during the entrance exam?”
Nagi straightened, his posture impeccably composed. “Myself and Ueda, Principal,” he said. “If you are referring to this girl specifically…” His crimson eyes flicked toward Aisha, who shrank slightly under his gaze, though she masked it with a smirk. “…it was Ueda who witnessed her fight. I was instructed to focus on the Inheritor.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, visible just below the mask. “Although, it seems he noticed my presence during the exam. A sharp one, that boy.”
“Yes, being around Kaito will certainly help with that,” Principal Culpa agreed, her tone thoughtful. “Now, where is Ueda? I would prefer to have a witness to the battle present for full transparency.”
Aisha, still visibly struggling to keep her composure under Nagi's oppressive presence, managed to speak up, though her voice wavered slightly. “Why not just play the recording? Do we really need to drag someone else into this?”
Nagi didn’t so much as glance at her, his attention solely focused on Principal Culpa. “Ueda is away at the moment,” he replied, his voice calm and measured. “I believe he is still escorting Ethan and Evelyn to their home.”
A subtle but audible sigh of annoyance escaped Culpa as she leaned back in her chair. “Fine. We have no choice. My apologies in advance, Garth.”
Garth stood up with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I signed up for it, so not much room to complain, is there?” His attempt at humor earned only a few faint smirks around the table, though it didn’t seem to faze him.
Without any wasted movements, Garth’s eyes began to glow a vivid cyan. One by one, the same eerie glow overtook everyone else’s eyes in the room.
The scene before them faded away, replaced by a third-person playback of the fight between Ezekiel and Aisha. The recording felt visceral, the events playing out with a clarity that made it feel like they were standing right there on the battlefield.
They watched as Aisha made her initial move, utilizing her ghostly Avatar to possess and manipulate the massive tree, its roots ripping through the ground with terrifying speed and force. They saw her offer Ezekiel an alliance, her words dripping with calculated charm. And then, the tide of the battle turned—they saw Ezekiel’s precise, unrelenting counterattacks, his sharp wit, and unyielding determination.
Finally, the playback showed Aisha’s defeat. Her ghost Avatar retreated in failure, leaving her vulnerable, and the fight ended with Ezekiel picking up the mysterious card she had dropped.
The vision ended abruptly, the cyan glow fading from everyone’s eyes as they returned to the council chamber. Garth sat back down heavily, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead from the exertion.
Aisha was slumped in the chair, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Sweat beaded down her face, mixing with a faint trickle of blood escaping her nose. Her wide, trembling eyes darted around the room, the residual shock from the playback etched into her expression. "What... the hell was that?" she muttered under her breath.
“Oh dear,” Miki said softly, tilting her head with mild concern. “It seems her mind couldn’t handle having her senses overridden like that.”
Fil, however, showed no such sympathy. “That was a view from one of the drones,” he stated bluntly, leaning back in his chair with a cold edge to his voice.
Aisha turned her head toward him slowly, as if her body were fighting every movement. Despite her weakened state, she managed a faint, mocking laugh. "You still won’t get anything out of me with that," she said, her voice a rasp. "For all I know, that recording’s edited."
Principal Culpa’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Yes, you could very easily make that assumption, which is why I would have preferred Ueda to be here. If we could tap directly into his memories, you’d have no choice but to face the truth. Garth can’t edit human perception. But let me ask you this: What reason would we have to fabricate any of this?”
Aisha’s desperation bubbled over, her voice rising as she snapped back, “How the hell am I supposed to know?! Everyone who goes to this school is a damn monster! You people probably do this for fun!”
Her chains rattled loudly as she writhed in frustration, struggling against the restraints. With sheer desperation, she managed to lift herself partially out of the chair, but her movement was halted as Nagi suddenly appeared in front of her, his presence immediate and suffocating.
Their eyes met, and Aisha froze. Her voice faltered, the words she had intended to shout dying in her throat. All that escaped her lips was a barely audible sound, more a whimper than a word. Her entire body went still, trembling as she stared into his unreadable gaze. There was something about Nagi that struck a deep, primal fear in her—a fear of the unknown, the unfathomable. Whatever composed him, it was beyond her understanding.
Aisha sank back into the chair, her strength fading as the shackles clinked softly against the metal frame.
“Just cooperate,” Nagi said quietly, kneeling to her level. His voice, calm yet commanding, carried a weight that lingered in the air. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I promise you, I won’t let The Cult hurt you.”
Her head lowered, her hair casting shadows over her face as silence filled the room.
Principal Culpa cleared her throat, breaking the tension. “The main reason we showed you that recording,” she began, her tone deliberate, “was to find answers to two critical questions. First: What does The Cult want with Ajal and the Inheritors? And second: What was the card Ezekiel picked up? Is he in danger? If you answer these questions, I can guarantee your safety here at Arkphis. The Cult will not touch you.”
“That’s three questions, Principal,” Lucius quipped with a sly grin, earning a weary sigh from Nyx, who hovered nearby, her mist curling lazily in the air.
An uneasy silence followed, thick with tension.
Fil groaned, his patience clearly fraying. “Look, we’re trying to be nice to you here. If you won’t cooperate, then—”
“Okay.” Aisha’s voice was quiet but firm, cutting Fil off.
Miki, Nagi, and Garth let out audible sighs of relief, while Principal Culpa smiled faintly, the tension in her posture easing.
“Nagi, release her chains,” Culpa ordered calmly.
Aisha’s head shot up, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice sharp with skepticism. “You’ve seen my Gift. I could possess this whole building.”
Nagi let out a low chuckle as he began undoing the shackles, his movements precise and unhurried. “These cuffs siphoned a significant amount of Divinity from you. You won’t be fighting anyone for at least three days. Besides,” he added, his tone dipping into something darker, “there isn’t a soul in the world who could take on all the teachers of Arkphis—not even the Grand Church.”
The sound of the final shackle unlocking echoed in the chamber. Aisha rubbed her wrists, her expression a mixture of defiance and caution as she glanced around the room.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she muttered, though her tone carried a note of resignation.
“And you’ve just begun yours,” Culpa replied smoothly, her smile unwavering.
Aisha inhaled sharply, like she was about to scream, but instead, a torrent of words tumbled out of her mouth in a rushed, incoherent mess. "Listen! You were wrong from the start! I’m not a member of the Cult—"
“Whoa, slow down, kid!” Lucius interrupted, his tail twitching as he leapt up on the table.
“Aisha, calm yourself,” Culpa said, her voice steady but firm, though her fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly.
“I can’t calm down!” Aisha shot back, her words trembling with panic. “My time is up—I felt it start as soon as that recording ended.”
“What started?” Fil demanded, his voice sharp as he leaned forward in his chair, his hand already curling into a fist.
Aisha’s breathing quickened, her voice cracking as tears welled up in her eyes. “Please, believe me when I tell you this: They sent three of us into that exam.”
The room fell deathly silent, every teacher’s eyes widening at her words.
“One of them,” she continued, her voice growing more desperate, “was the dead examinee that I possessed with my Avatar. But I never met the third one. All I know is…” She paused, her breath catching in her throat. “They passed your exam.”
“What?!” Fil’s fist slammed against the table with a deafening thud, the force reverberating through the room.
Garth’s cyan-lit eyes flared as he frantically scanned for answers, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.
“We need more information, Aisha,” Culpa urged, her calm voice cracking ever so slightly. Beads of sweat trickled down her temples, betraying her outward composure. “Anything else you can tell us?”
“I’m sorry,” Aisha whispered, her voice barely audible as tears streaked her face. “There isn’t time.” Her gaze shifted to Nagi, and for the first time, there was no fear in her eyes—only raw desperation. Her expression silently screamed, Help me.
“Hey,” she said, her voice trembling as she clung to her last shreds of hope. “You said no one could beat you guys, right?”
Nagi’s reply was immediate, his voice unwavering. “Yes. On my honor, you’ll be safe. Whoever’s doing this to you will pay.”
Her tears flowed harder, but a faint, almost peaceful smile formed on her lips. “That’s enough for me then,” she said quietly.
A moment later, her body convulsed. Blood poured from her eyes, turning her tears into crimson streaks. Her nose became a fountain, and blood seeped from the corners of her mouth and ears, staining her dress and pooling on the polished floor. She dropped to her knees, the sound of her body hitting the marble echoing softly through the chamber as she fell.
“Aisha!” Miki screamed, rushing toward her.
The teachers leapt from their chairs, converging around her in the center of the room.
Aisha’s body trembled, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She looked up at them one last time, her expression haunting yet resolute. “Please,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread. “Don’t let him win.”
With those final words, her body went limp, collapsing forward. She remained on her knees, her lifeless frame frozen in a hauntingly upright position.
The room descended into an unbearable silence, the weight of her words and the tragedy that had just unfolded pressing down on everyone. Even the usually unflappable Fil was at a loss for words, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.
Principal Culpa closed her eyes briefly, her composure slipping just enough to reveal the anguish etched on her face. The sound of dripping blood filled the chamber, each drop a grim reminder of the scene before them.
“She was… scared,” Miki finally said, her voice shaking as she knelt beside Aisha’s still form. “She wasn’t lying. She was terrified.”
Lucius’s tail swished slowly, his golden eyes narrowed as Nyx hovered silently beside him. “Whoever ‘he’ is,” he murmured, his voice low and venomous, “we’ll find him. And he’ll regret this.”
The teachers stood frozen, the magnitude of what had just transpired settling into the air like a heavy, suffocating fog. None of them spoke, but the unspoken vow was clear: Aisha’s death would not be in vain.