The transport hummed quietly as it moved through the neon-lit streets of Shackleton Crater, bound for the aristocratic heart of the Lunar Imperial Empire, where the political and social elite resided. Tonight was the Soirée Gala, a grand event that served as the unofficial prelude to the Opening Ceremonies. Scar sat in the backseat, staring out the window, his mind elsewhere as the city lights blurred into a distant glow. His thoughts drifted to Star, his missing sister—the one constant driving him forward. The real reason he was here. He barely registered Nerae speaking beside him.

“They’ll be watching you tonight,” she said, adjusting the folds of her dress with practiced elegance. Her voice was calm, yet it held a faint edge. “Especially Aisolon and Elyon Valis. They’re the ones to watch.”

Scar didn’t turn, his gaze fixed on the city beyond the glass. Soirée Gala? A gathering of those who believed themselves at the top of the universe. “Why should I bother? I just have to win, right? Pageantry won’t change the results.”

Nerae sighed, glancing at him with an expression that mixed amusement and mild exasperation. She understood his disdain for grandeur and power games; in a way, she felt the same. But she needed him to grasp the importance of tonight. “Look, I get it. You’re here for your sister, not the politics. But whether you like it or not, you’re stepping into a world where appearances matter. Aisolon and Elyon—they command attention. How they respond to your... little challenge tonight will set the tone for everything.”

Scar kept his focus on the city, the cold, distant glow of its neon lights mirroring his own sense of detachment. Saturn’s constant struggles, the relentless demands to survive in a place where power was more than a luxury—it was life or death. He could feel an old, unnerving pressure creeping back into his mind, a reminder of why he was here. Not for the Soirée Gala or the superficial games of power, but for Star. That was all.

A faint smile touched Nerae’s lips, though Scar noticed a tension in her posture. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her studying him. “You’ve got a lot of intel for someone who hasn’t stepped foot into the gala yet.”

She smirked, this time with a sharper, more deliberate edge. “Knowing things is my job, Scar. Just like finding your sister is yours.” But doubt lingered in her mind, questions she hadn’t voiced. Is he truly the key—the one who can help me? She had been told he was, but now, sitting beside him, she wondered if he understood what lay ahead, or if the promises made to her had been hollow.

Scar glanced her way, a flicker of something passing between them—curiosity, perhaps, or a mutual recognition neither wanted to name. He returned his gaze to the cold, mechanical precision of the cityscape, but the moment hung in the air, lingering like an unspoken promise.

Nerae shifted in her seat, her tone softening, revealing a crack in her usual composure. “Here’s something else you probably didn’t know—a first-year has never, in the history of the academy, challenged an upperclassman at Opening Ceremonies. And you didn’t just challenge an upperclassman; you challenged the top cadet, possibly the most decorated in HawkSight’s history.”

Scar’s expression remained unchanged, though his jaw tightened slightly. How much longer can I ignore this? The academy’s politics, its traditions—they stretched his convictions thin, pulling him tighter with each decision, each compromise, until something would have to give. How long before I’m forced to play their game? He glanced at Nerae again, briefly wondering if she thrived on these power games or felt just as detached as he did.

He wasn’t here for prestige or recognition. His mission was the only thing that mattered. And yet, the disconnect between him and the world he was about to step into felt brittle, like cracking metal under strain with each passing moment—a world of titles, rivalries, and games of power. Games he had no interest in playing.

As they entered, the scene inside the gala was exactly as Nerae had described. The grandeur was overwhelming—opulent chandeliers cast a soft glow over noble students draped in silks as lustrous as polished marble, each flaunting their status effortlessly. Beneath the pleasantries, fierce social warfare played out in subtle gestures and polite smiles.

Scar stepped into the room with Nerae at his side, and a hush rippled through the crowd—the effect of their planned late arrival. Every gaze seemed to latch onto them, and Scar caught fragments of whispers, feeling the prick of hostility without needing to use his Sixth. Displeasure spread through the room like a weighted blanket, but his stride never faltered. Nerae, however, thrived under the scrutiny, moving with a slight smile and relaxed posture. She leaned in as they moved deeper into the room.

“See? Everyone’s talking about you already,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Though I think some of them are just jealous you’re here with me.”

Scar’s eyes swept over the crowd, offering little acknowledgment. “Doesn’t matter—let them talk.” He smirked faintly, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Jealous of me, or you?”

Nerae smiled but didn’t answer, allowing his words to linger. Her gaze softened briefly as she observed him. He’s living up to my expectations, she thought. But there’s more to him—something deeper. Across the room, the Valis brothers stood surrounded by admirers, and she couldn’t wait to see Aisolon’s reaction to his first real challenger.

Aisolon and Elyon Valis commanded attention, the elder brother exuding calm authority. Aisolon’s half-lidded gaze held a faint, knowing smile, his deliberate movements radiating poised confidence. Beside him, Elyon mirrored the same regal bearing, though with a quieter, unreadable presence, his expression tinged with subtle conflict.

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The crowd’s attention gravitated toward the Valis brothers naturally, mingling admiration with quiet hostility that only seemed to enhance their grace and arrogance. But Scar’s Sixth sensed none of the awe others carried for them. In his eyes, they were merely well-dressed soldiers—commanders, perhaps, but nothing more.

His attention shifted as Hakhan Veritas entered with his entourage, an unmistakable air of rebellion surrounding him. Unlike the polished nobles, Hakhan radiated a rough charisma, his expression wolfish, his movements marked by a dangerous edge that set him apart. Scar’s Sixth picked up on Hakhan’s energy immediately—it felt like a challenge.

Hakhan’s eyes met Scar’s, as if cueing him to take center stage. “Well, well,” Hakhan drawled, loud enough for the crowd to hear, “a first-year challenging the top cadet? Bold move. Almost like he’s challenging all of Luna.”

He gestured toward Scar with a sweeping arm, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Care to tell us why, or are you just here to see how much trouble you can stir up?”

Scar met Hakhan’s gaze without hesitation. With Nerae at his side, he raised a hand, his voice unwavering. “I was sent here by the ‘Blue Jewel’ on a promise that conquering this academy will give me my answers.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, murmurs of “Blue Jewel?” echoing. But Hakhan’s grin only widened. With a sudden, thunderous clap, he commanded the room’s attention, his voice taking on a pointed edge. “Well, a proposal, then—since you’ll have to settle for the younger Valis, why not let the other first-years join him?”

Scar didn’t miss a beat. “If that’s what must happen to conquer this academy, then I accept.”

The words hung in the air, sharp and veiled. The crowd tensed, waiting for the response.

Aisolon Valis finally spoke, his voice smooth and controlled, commanding silence. “Your behavior is unheard of, especially for a first-year,” he said, his gaze slipping from a detached haze to focus on Scar and Hakhan. “But if it entertains you and these new recruits, I’ll allow it.” His tone carried a hint of amusement, dismissing the challenge as though it were beneath him.

The tension broke as Aisolon moved toward the exit, the crowd murmuring in surprise. Hakhan watched him go, a smirk tugging at his lips. One Valis may have dodged a bullet tonight, he thought, but will the other be as lucky in tomorrow’s festivities?

Hakhan turned to leave with his entourage, clearly relishing the disruption. “Interesting,” he chuckled. “I’ll have the best seat in the arena for this splendid spectacle—a fight for Luna’s future, is it?”

Scar sensed that Hakhan saw him as either a potential ally or simply a tool to stir chaos. Either way, his calm acceptance of the challenge had thrown the night off balance, leaving the crowd buzzing with anticipation for what was to come.

Nerae moved quickly, slipping her arm through Scar’s, pulling him close with a brush of urgency. In a low, urgent tone, she murmured, “This is our cue to go. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

She guided him toward the exit, the crowd parting as they walked. Scar let himself be led, staying composed, though he noticed the glances from what were likely first-years, eager to seize on tonight's drama for their own gain.

Once they were clear of the main hall, Nerae glanced up at him, her earlier amusement replaced by a serious gleam. “You know,” she began, her tone layered with meaning, “after that little scene with Aisolon, I think it’s safe to say everyone’s jealous of you now.”

Scar tilted his head, giving her a sidelong look. “Is this really the best time for your jokes?” Despite himself, a hint of approval flickered across his face. “Besides, pettiness is probably frowned upon in these high circles, isn’t it?”

Nerae shrugged, satisfaction in her expression. “Oh, Scar, I thought you knew me better by now. Being a little unpredictable is half the fun.” She nudged him playfully. “Don’t tell me you actually enjoyed all that formality.”

He smirked, letting out a short breath. “Well, I didn’t, and since most of the chaos was thanks to your encouragement, I think it’s only fair you buy me lotus-shaped, bacon-wrapped lunar potatoes.”

With a final, playful tug, she pulled him toward the transport, leaving the grandeur of the Soirée behind. As they stepped into the cool lunar night, her smile held a trace of mischief and anticipation for what was still to come.

Later that night, as the tension from the earlier exchange began to settle, Nerae pulled Scar aside into a quiet corner. Her usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced by an intensity that surprised him.

“If you can’t back up what you just said,” she began, her voice low, “you’ll be out of the academy before your first day.”

Scar raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “I’ll be fine.”

Nerae’s eyes narrowed, clearly dissatisfied with his nonchalance. “This is serious, Scar. You’ve challenged Aisolon Valis, the top cadet—the one everyone looks up to, the one who doesn’t lose. Elyon isn’t just his shadow; he’s calculated, precise, and far more dangerous in his subtlety than you realize. And then there’s Hakhan—he thrives on chaos, and if you slip, he’ll make sure you fall hard.”

Scar’s confident expression didn’t falter, but Nerae caught a flicker in his eyes—a hint of concern, perhaps. She pressed on.

“This duel isn’t just about proving yourself anymore—it’s about your future here. If you fail, you could be expelled. And if that happens… you’ll never find your sister.”

That caught his attention. Scar’s expression tightened, the calm mask slipping momentarily before he regained control.

“You think I’m afraid of a duel?”

Nerae shook her head. “No, but I think you’re underestimating what’s at stake. This isn’t just some fight. Aisolon is known for his absolute dominance, and Elyon’s skill is unmatched in strategy. Even Hakhan, with his reckless bravado, is a threat. This duel will decide who your allies and enemies are, and it’s going to determine how far you get in your search. Fail here, and you’ll have bigger problems than a fight with the Valis brothers.”

Scar’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. His mind was already racing, processing what Nerae had said, realizing he’d almost forgotten why he’d come in the first place. Finding Star was all that mattered. And if a duel was what stood in his way, he would win it. Whatever it took.

Seeing his determination, Nerae’s expression softened, her intensity easing as her lips curved into a sly smile. “Alright, then,” she said, her tone shifting back to its usual playful lilt. “Since you’re causing all this trouble, I think you owe me.”

Scar raised an eyebrow, brow furrowing slightly. “Owe you? For what?”

Nerae’s eyes sparkled with mischief, her tone light and teasing. “For all the trouble you’re dragging me into, obviously. I think it’s only fair you take me to get some lotus-shaped, bacon-wrapped lunar potatoes after this. Consider it payment for me keeping you out of too much trouble.”

Scar shook his head, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Lotus-shaped potatoes?”

Nerae nodded, leaning in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Trust me, they’re worth it. Besides,” she added, her eyes meeting his, “after tonight, everyone’s definitely jealous of you. You might as well make it worth their envy.”

Scar let out a quiet chuckle, the tension between them easing. “Fine, but don’t expect me to go easy on them for you.”

Nerae winked. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”