Chapter 8

Experiment Shooting Star

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2011

"So, let me get this straight — you want to make a live-action series about me?" – My words hung in the air, each syllable sharpened by the simmering tension in my chest. I could feel the pressure twisting like a coiled spring, teetering dangerously close to snapping. Around me, the entire marketing team sat in silence, their faces a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness, as though they were acolytes presenting a sacrilegious offering to their deity.

The audacity.

I leaned forward, my voice slicing through the room like a whip. – “As if some mere actress could possibly replace me.” – I spat the word actress like venom, letting it linger in the air as a reminder of my disdain.

One of them, a middle-aged woman whose name I couldn’t bother to remember, hesitated before speaking, her tone overly careful. – “We know how much you loved the animated series—”

“Oh, yes. The same animated series you began making without consulting me.” – I interrupted, my words now glacial. – “The one I had to rewrite halfway through because it was unacceptable. I still remember the days I spent in that cramped recording booth, redoing every single line after you all decided a voice actress could speak for me. Truly, an inspiring display of foresight.”

A younger man, his enthusiasm untouched by my anger, dared to interject. – “But the animated series was a success! People loved it!”

I let out a bitter laugh. – “Because of me. I gutted the original concept and rebuilt it from the ground up. Do you think your sanitized version of my life was what captured hearts? Or maybe it was the fact I had to strip away every ‘gritty and scandalous’ detail, as you so delicately put it, to make it remotely palatable to the masses?”

For instance, take my first fight — my grand debut as the First Star — against the Livyatan. It was a battle that should have been a testament to both my strength and my flaws. Yet, the marketing team wanted to erase the most pivotal part of the story: the moment I accidentally burned away part of the city in the chaos. They wanted to portray me as some infallible, perfect figure — a flawless Mary Sue.

But I fought back. I made sure the truth was preserved. That moment wasn’t just a mistake; it was a turning point. It showed my struggles, my raw, untamed power, and the steep learning curve I had to climb. It was a testament to my growth. I adapted, learning to control my abilities and rigorously training to ensure such devastation would never happen again.

Since that day, no civilian has ever died — not by the hands of the beasts, and certainly not by mine. That victory, hard-won and imperfect, became the foundation of the trust people have in me now.

The team shifted uneasily, their earlier excitement fading under the weight of my glare. My life, my battles, my triumphs — reduced to some glossy reimagining, and now they wanted to push it even further.

“Why a live-action series? Why waste resources retelling a story that’s already been told?” – I leaned back, letting the question dangle, though I wasn’t really interested in their answers. I already knew their reasons — more money, broader audiences, more toys to sell.

One of them, braver than the rest, mumbled something about reaching an “older, bigger group” and expanding the appeal of my image. It made my skin crawl.

I said, my voice low but laced with finality. – “Shelve the project, or better yet, erase every file, every document, every scrap of footage, burn it all. Continue making toys, posters, and music about me if you must. But putting some actor in my place? It makes me want to vomit."

Another bold soul, perhaps desperate to salvage the meeting, piped up. – “Then, Arstria, would you consider acting in it yourself?”

I stared at him for a long moment, incredulous. – “Acting?” – I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. – “Do you think I have time to rehearse the same scene a hundred times? My days are spent exterminating beasts and closing rifts, not playing pretend. Relax — my life is ongoing. You’ll have plenty of material for Season 3 soon enough. In fact, I’ll throw you a bone — this time, it’ll even have romance!”

I stormed out, slamming the door shut with a force that sent splinters flying. The echo reverberated through the hall, a fitting punctuation mark to my exit.

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The city was almost unrecognizable from the one I had known half a decade ago. STR wasn’t just a name — it was a lifeline, a network of specialized teams, each with its own vital role in the unending war against the beasts. The Marketing Division, the one I’d just stormed away from, focused entirely on propaganda. Their job was to craft and sustain my image — a larger-than-life symbol of peace, someone the people could believe in. Their efforts weren’t just for show, either. Faith, as intangible as it might seem, was a weapon. The stronger the belief in my ability to protect the city, the fewer feathers materialized within the barrier. It was a strange, almost mystical relationship, but the correlation was undeniable: fewer feathers meant fewer beasts, and that meant less resources lost.

Then there was the Military Division, the backbone of STR. Sirius’s ingenuity had led to the development of advanced weaponry capable of taking down even the most formidable beasts. Though their weapons were rarely needed these days — thanks to my relentless efforts — their presence was a constant reassurance. If the Second and I ever found ourselves in a battle too overwhelming, we knew the Military Division would be there, armed and ready to tip the scales in our favor.

At the heart of the city stood the golden tower, where STR’s headquarters were built around, a gleaming symbol of the order my father had imposed. Its polished exterior reflected the city’s light, making it seem almost otherworldly. This was where I was right now, the rhythmic click of my boots echoing through the marble-floored corridors as I made my way to the training quarters.

I was late. Again. And I knew she wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. She was nothing if not punctual, and my chronic tardiness had already earned me more than one scolding from her this month.

As I rounded the final corner, there she was, standing in the hallway, arms crossed. Her piercing blue eyes fixed on me, a storm brewing within their depths. Of all the expressions I’d seen on her face this month, this was by far the angriest.

“You’re late, Master.” – Her voice as cold and sharp as the edge of her spears, her gaze locking onto me like a predator sizing up its prey.

I groaned, already bracing for what I knew was going to be another exhausting exchange. – “Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me ‘Master’? You’ve literally told me before that you’re physically incapable of disobeying my orders. If that’s the case, why are you still calling me that?”

She tilted her head slightly, an infuriatingly calm smile creeping onto her face. – “No can do, Master. You’ve already ordered me to call you nothing but ‘Master.’ Your present orders cannot contradict your past orders.”

I blinked at her, dumbfounded. – “But… I don’t remember ever telling you that!” – My voice rose slightly in exasperation as I threw my hands up.

Her smile remained steady, unfazed by my frustration. – “Of course you don’t, Master. That particular order was given in a past life, in the true world beyond this one.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing deeply. – “Ah yes, the true world — the one you’re also conveniently unable to talk about.”

At first, her presence unnerved me. This strange girl with piercing ocean eyes and an unyielding devotion had appeared out of nowhere, her entire being seemingly entwined with my existence. She claimed to be tied to me by fate. Her arrival had been as unexpected as it was inexplicable, and her steadfastness was almost disconcerting.

Even as a child, she defied expectations. She was exceptional — fiercely intelligent, her mind sharp as a blade honed for battle. There was an unnerving precision to her every action, a skill set that seemed far beyond what her youthful appearance should have allowed. She moved with the grace of someone who had been training for decades, her reflexes honed to an uncanny degree. Her piercing gaze never wavered, and her quiet, unshakeable determination gave her an aura of invincibility.

Despite her apparent perfection, I found it difficult to trust her at first. How could I? She had appeared without warning, her motives a mystery. It felt as though she had stepped out of the shadows of some forgotten legend. Yet, as time passed, her loyalty proved unwavering. No matter the circumstances, no matter the trials we faced, she was there — always a step behind me, always ready to act.

However, that same girl now stands before me, threatening my life as I frantically dodge the spears she hurls at me with relentless precision. Each one whistles past, a blur of silver and danger, embedding itself into the ground or walls with enough force to send shockwaves rippling through the air. It’s as if this is some twisted game to her, a high-stakes exercise disguised as "proper reflex training."

"Here comes the next one!" – She calls out, her tone cheerful, almost mocking. There’s an unsettling mix of playfulness and intensity in her voice, as though she’s genuinely enjoying herself while putting me through this gauntlet of torment.

I barely have time to roll to the side before another spear flies past, the tip grazing my sleeve and leaving a clean slice. A part of me wants to yell at her to take it down a notch, but I know it wouldn’t make a difference. She’s always been like this — unyielding, her methods ruthless but effective.

Her powers, it seems, are returning with vengeance. She had warned me once, almost offhandedly, that her abilities would slowly reawaken as she aged, regaining the strength she had once wielded in her prime. At the time, I had thought little of it, dismissing her comment as a distant possibility. But now, facing the force and speed of her attacks, I realize just how inhuman her capabilities have become. The way she moves, the precision of her aim, the raw power behind each throw — it’s terrifying and awe-inspiring in equal measure.

There’s no denying it: She is truly deserving of her title as the Second Star. Her talent and skill shine as brightly as her piercing sea eyes, which track my every movement with a predator’s focus. She doesn’t just attack; she anticipates, adapting her strikes as though she can see three steps ahead of me. It’s almost unfair.

Sweat beads on my forehead as I narrowly avoid another spear, its sharp edge slicing through the air like a blade of light. My legs burn from the constant effort of dodging, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. And still, she shows no sign of slowing down. Her movements are fluid, graceful, each throw executed with a precision that borders on art. To her, this isn’t just training — it’s a performance, a display of mastery that leaves no room for error.

"Keep up, Master!" – She taunts, her voice laced with amusement. – “You’re supposed to be the First Star. Surely you can manage a little training from your Second?"

I grit my teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a retort. This isn’t just training — it’s a challenge, one she’s determined to see me rise to. And, as much as I hate to admit it, there’s something exhilarating about the way she pushes me, forces me to confront the limits of my abilities.

With one last desperate leap, I roll out of the path of a spear that slams into the ground with enough force to leave a crater. The impact sends a tremor through the earth, and I glance back to see the weapon embedded deep into the stone, its shaft still quivering from the force of the throw.

"You’re improving." – She says, her voice losing some of its teasing edge. For a moment, there’s genuine pride in her tone, a rare glimpse of the bond we share beneath all the chaos.

I straighten, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. – “Improving?" – I manage to choke out, glaring at her. – “I’m barely surviving!"

She shrugs, a small, infuriating smile tugging at her lips. – “No, you won’t die, trust me on this!”

Before I can protest, she summons another spear, its gleaming form materializing in her hand like a weapon born of light and resolve. She spins it effortlessly, the movement so fluid it’s almost hypnotic. And then, without warning, she lunges forward, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed.

This isn’t training anymore — it’s war. And in her relentless pursuit to make me stronger, she has no intention of holding back.

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My cape hung uselessly, pinned to the wall by a spear that had seemingly shot out of nowhere. Its gleaming tip had punched clean through the fabric, pinning me in place like a trophy on display. I struggled to free myself, the humiliating reality sinking in: I had lost again. Not just lost, but utterly outmaneuvered by her in the most infuriating way possible.

From behind me, her voice rang out, calm and collected, but with just enough of a smirk to make my blood boil. – “No one would need a servant weaker than themselves, don’t you think?"

I twisted my head to glare at her, panting from the effort of the fight. – “You didn’t ever use this one before!" – I snapped, gesturing wildly at the spear that had lodged me in place. "What do you mean you can control spears you’ve already thrown with the force of your mind?!"

She crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, as if my outrage was nothing more than amusing banter to her. – “It wasn’t necessary before." – She said simply, her tone maddeningly casual. – “But now, you’ve grown strong enough that I need to use more of my strength to win. You should be proud."

"Grateful?!" – I repeated, incredulous. With a sharp tug, I finally managed to free myself from the spear’s grasp, the ruined remains of my cape falling to the floor. – “You’ve been holding back this much the whole time? What else are you hiding, Sapphire? Do I need to brace for a spear made of pure lightning next time?"

She laughed lightly, the sound both musical and infuriating — a combination that only she could manage. – “Definitely no." – She said, her voice carrying a certainty that made my frustration flare even further. Her tone, however, suggested she found the idea at least mildly amusing, as if weighing it for the sheer absurdity of the thought. – “Maniacs like us, usually only have an affinity to one element. Yours is fire, and mine..." – She twirled the spear in her hand with practiced ease, the metallic sheen catching the dim light. – “...is metal."

Her words were delivered with the finality of someone stating an unshakable truth, yet they raised more questions than answers. I leaned against the wall, still catching my breath from her relentless assault. – “Maniacs, huh? Is that what we’re calling ourselves now?" – I shot back, brushing the dust off my ruined cape. – “And what’s this about ‘usually’? You’re making it sound like exceptions exist."

She shrugged, her movements fluid and deliberate, the spear in her hand vanishing into a shimmer of silver as though dissolving back into the air itself. – “Exceptions are rare, but not impossible.” – She admitted, her tone losing its earlier playfulness as her demeanor shifted into something more serious, even thoughtful. Her piercing eyes locked onto mine, sharp with the weight of her explanation.

“As counterintuitive as it sounds.” – She continued. – “The more affinities someone has, the weaker the final product tends to be. Think of it this way: mana is finite. If someone has, say, a mana level of fifty, but they possess two affinities, that energy is split between them. Instead of having fifty points of fire or fifty points of metal, they’d only be able to produce twenty-five points of each. Their magic would be less focused, less effective.” – She paused, her gaze steady. – “Power spread too thin is no power at all.”

Her words carried a ring of finality, but then she added. – “Thankfully, most of us are bound by a singular connection to one element. It defines us, shapes us. It becomes an extension of who we are, not just a tool we wield.”

She gestured slightly, as though calling forth her element for emphasis. Though no spear materialized this time, the air seemed to hum faintly, a subtle reminder of the power at her command. – “Yours.” – She said, her tone softening just slightly. – “Is fire. Wild and uncontainable. Destructive, yes, but also essential — a force that brings both ruin and renewal. It’s untamed and unpredictable, just like you.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished. Her expression hardened, the intensity of her gaze pinning me in place. – “And mine.” – She said, tapping a finger lightly against her temple. – “Is metal. Steadfast and unyielding. It bends when it must but breaks for no one. It is precise, calculated, and controlled — everything you aren’t.”

"How many elements are there in the first place? I don’t think we’ve ever really had this kind of talk."

She didn’t even hesitate, her tone calm and certain. – “We did. Past life." – She said, then added with a cryptic smile. – “Continuing… there are only four. Like the alchemists of old thought they discovered: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.”

"But you just used metal." – I pointed out, gesturing toward the spear she had flung at me with frightening precision.

"Good observation." – She said, spinning the spear between her fingers before letting it dissolve into shimmering particles. – “But Metal is merely the alter of Earth. It’s not a separate element, per se. Rather than manipulating the raw, untamed form of Earth, my soul calls forth the finished product.”

I frowned. - "But I’ve never seen you control earth before." – I challenged. – “Not once. It’s always metal with you."

She nodded, her expression firm. – “And you won’t. My soul is attuned solely to metal, not earth in its natural state. That’s the way it is for most of us. Our souls resonate with one aspect of an element, binding us to its specific form. Some, however, can adapt their soul’s resonance, shifting between the main element and the alter. In some cases, someone might be able to wield both forms of an element simultaneously, but again, their overall strength would be halved. To master two facets of an element is to divide your soul’s energy between them, leaving neither at full potency."

I leaned against the wall, considering her words. The notion of these distinctions — the raw versus alter forms of elements — added a layer of complexity to the abilities I’d taken for granted. – “So, you’re saying that even if someone could control both Earth and Metal, they wouldn’t be as strong in either as someone focused entirely on one."

"Yes." – She said, her tone steady and matter of fact, as though reciting an unchanging truth. – “Those who wield two or more elements end up spreading their power too thin, losing the potency of each. But there are exceptions — individuals so rare they’re almost beyond comprehension. These are the ones who can wield two or more elements to perfection, completely ignoring the rules of the universe."

She paused, her blonde ponytail swaying gently, as if the weight of her words carried their own unspoken gravity. – “But those.” – She said softly, her voice tinged with both awe and caution. – “Are the rarest of the rare.”

Her tone dropped further, underscoring the gravity of the subject. “The ones like that… they transcend what it means to be elemental beings. They are no longer part of the natural order but anomalies — disruptions in the fabric of existence. And like a cancer, they must be eradicated before their unchecked power consumes the world itself.”

Our conversation came to an abrupt halt when a sharp ping sounded in my ear, the discreet chime of my communicator cutting through the tense air. I instinctively straightened, the familiar tone signaling an incoming message from the Surveillance Division. The voice that followed was calm but edged with exasperation.

“He’s causing trouble again.” – The voice reported, clipped and efficient.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. – “What is it this time?” – I asked, already moving to grab my gear. My tone carried the weariness of someone who’d been through this routine far too many times.

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The classroom buzzed with tension as the fight unfolded. Teenagers crowded around the desks, their shouts and gasps filling the room. The blackboard stood forgotten, its chalk scrawl a meaningless blur in the chaos. At the far end of the room, where sunlight struggled to filter through dusty windows, the fight reached its climax.

The bulky teen charged, his fists swinging wildly, but the athletic boy moved with precision. His lean frame shifted effortlessly, dodging every clumsy punch like a shadow. His features were sharp, almost unnervingly perfect — black hair tousled from the scuffle and piercing cyan eyes that burned with icy focus.

The crowd held its breath.

The athletic boy’s counterattack came swift and sharp. His fists flew in a flurry of jabs, each strike landing with pinpoint accuracy. – “One, two!” – He called out, his voice steady, almost casual, as his fists found their mark. The bulky teen staggered, his face twisting in pain and disbelief. With one final blow to the jaw, he crumpled to the floor, the thud echoing through the stunned classroom.

The room fell silent for a beat, the only sound the ragged breathing of the victor. Then, a murmur rippled through the crowd, students exchanging glances filled with awe, fear, and something close to admiration.

"Chris wins again." – Someone whispered, breaking the spell.

Chris straightened, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His knuckles were red, but his expression remained unreadable, save for a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His blue eyes swept over the room, meeting the stares of his classmates with cool indifference.

Chris’s grin faded as he turned his attention back to the bulky teen lying on the floor. The tension in the room thickened as he walked over, each step echoing ominously against the tile floor. The crowd's murmurs quieted, replaced by uneasy silence.

The boy on the floor groaned, barely conscious, his hands twitching weakly as he tried to push himself up. Chris towered over him, his eyes cold and unreadable. Without a word, he lifted his foot and pressed it down on the side of the boy’s head, forcing him back onto the ground.

The sound of the boy’s muffled protest was drowned out by the collective gasp of the crowd.

"Know your place." – Chris said, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of menace. His foot pressed harder, and the boy whimpered, his hands flailing weakly.

“Not so fast.” - My voice cut through the tense air, sharp and commanding. The crowd parted instinctively as I stepped forward, my boots clicking against the tiled floor. Every gaze in the room turned to me, their whispers dying down to silence.

Slowly, he turned to face me, his gaze narrowing. His smirk returned, sharp and mocking. – “Well, well.” – He said, his voice dripping with amusement. – “And who are you supposed to be? The hero of the hour?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I moved closer, my steps measured and deliberate. The tension thickened, the kind that made every student hold their breath as if the slightest sound might break the moment.

“No bullies will ever escape the sight of a star.” – I said, my voice calm but laced with authority. My gaze locked onto Chris, unwavering. – “Apologize to him. Now.”

Chris’s smirk deepened, his teeth glinting with amusement. – “And if I don’t want to?” – He asked, his tone mocking.

“Huh.” – I sighed, lifting a hand to my forehead, already envisioning the next twenty seconds. The inevitable.

Before anyone could react, I moved. My body flew forward in a blur, far faster than any ordinary human could manage. Gasps erupted from the crowd, but Chris’s sight tracked my movements, sharp and focused. Yet perception alone wasn’t enough.

In a single fluid motion, I closed the distance between us, my leg snapping out toward his. The force of my kick connected with the leg he had been using to press down on the other boy’s head. The crack of bone reverberated through the room like a gunshot.

Chris staggered back, his balance disrupted, his smirk vanishing as pain flashed across his face. He didn’t fall, but his stance faltered, and he instinctively clenched his jaw to suppress a grunt.

The crowd erupted into chaos, shouts and gasps filling the air.

Chris steadied himself, his glare locking onto me. – “You’ve got some nerve.” – He spat, shifting into a defensive stance.

I stood tall, my arms at my sides, calm despite the storm around us. – “No one gets to trample on others and walk away like nothing happened. Not while I’m here.”

Chris lunged, his fists flying. This time, he wasn’t holding back. His strikes were powerful and calculated, his movements honed from countless fights. But my reflexes sharp as I dodged and countered with precision.

He threw a right hook, but I ducked, using the momentum to spin and land a solid elbow to his ribs. He stumbled, a hiss of pain escaping his lips, but he didn’t relent. His left fist came in low, aiming for my stomach, but I sidestepped and countered with a palm strike to his shoulder, forcing him back again.

He charged, feinting high before twisting low with a sweeping kick aimed at my legs. But I anticipated it, leaping into the air and flipping over his strike. I landed behind him, and before he could react, I delivered a swift kick to his back, sending him sprawling forward.

Chris pushed himself up, his breath ragged, but his eyes still burned with determination. – “This isn’t over.” – He snarled, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

I stepped forward, my expression firm. – “It is over.” – My voice unwavering.

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"I can't believe I've seen the First Star in person!" – Someone exclaimed, their voice trembling with excitement.

"She's way prettier than I thought!" – Another added, their tone giddy and almost reverent. – “Those pictures and broadcasts don’t do her justice. I swear, now I can die in peace."

"Did you see how she moved?" – A boy near the back of the room said, his hands gesturing wildly as if trying to mimic the motions. – “She was so fast—like, inhumanly fast! I didn’t even see her kick Chris until he was already on the ground!"

"I thought she was all talk." – A skeptical girl admitted, her voice tinged with newfound awe. – “But after that? No way. She’s the real deal."

A group near the windows huddled together, their excitement bubbling over. – “I’m so glad I was born in the same timeframe as Arstria." – One of them gushed. – “We’re literally living through history! I can’t wait to tell everyone I was here for this."

“She was so small too.” – One student exclaimed, their voice tinged with disbelief. – “Like, what, nine or something?”

“Yeah, and to see her take down a teenager like Chris?” – Another chimed in, shaking their head in amazement. – “That guy is way taller than her, and she didn’t even break a sweat. It’s like… she’s not human at all.”

A hushed murmur spread through the room, students nodding in agreement as they replayed the scene in their minds.

"Do you think she’ll be in tomorrow’s news?" – Another whispered, clutching their phone like a lifeline. – “I should’ve recorded it! Ugh, why didn’t I think of that?"

"Forget recording." – A bolder voice chimed in. – “That was a live experience. No video could ever capture what it felt like to see her stand up to Chris like that. She didn’t even break a sweat!"

I left the classroom in silence, Chris’s unconscious body in just one hand. The hushed murmurs of the students faded as the door clicked shut behind me, replaced by the rhythmic echo of my footsteps down the empty hall. The weight of him was insignificant—his broad frame might have intimidated others, but to me, it was no more than a minor inconvenience.

The school’s sterile corridors gave way to the chaos of the city streets, but I navigated the labyrinthine alleys with ease, my destination clear in mind. Before long, I arrived at a secluded, desolate alleyway, its cracked pavement littered with discarded scraps and the faint stench of neglect. A dented dumpster stood against the brick wall, its metal sides streaked with rust.

Without a second thought, I unceremoniously shoved Chris's lifeless body into the dumpster nearby. It made a sickening thud as it landed among the scattered refuse. I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief.

"So much for unconscious," I muttered to myself, barely glancing over my shoulder, feeling the weight of the moment settle on my shoulders.

But just as the dumpster lid was about to close, something unexpected happened. With a fluid, almost impossible motion, Chris sprang into action. Before his body even hit the trash, he twisted midair, his limbs bending with unnerving precision. His feet touched the concrete ground with the grace of a cat, as though he had been weightless all along. There was no stumble, no struggle — just a perfect, effortless landing.

"Thought you were out for the count." – I said, folding my arms.

Chris didn’t answer immediately. He rolled his shoulders, testing the movement in his arms, then ran a hand over his jaw, wincing slightly as his fingers pressed against the bruises already blooming on his cheek. Despite the damage, he moved with surprising steadiness, his blue eyes glaring at me with defiant fire.

“Couldn’t you hold back?” – He spat, his voice raw as he probed his jaw to ensure it was still in one piece.

I crossed my arms, unflinching under his scrutiny. – “I was holding back.” – I said evenly, my tone cool but edged with steel. – “Couldn’t you hold back while tormenting a mere human for no reason at all?”

Chris’s glare intensified, his frustration bubbling over. – “I was holding back!” – He shot back, his voice rising.

“You need to stop causing trouble.” – I said, my voice steady but sharp. – “You’re not a public star yet, but if you keep this up, these kinds of incidents will follow you around. They’ll stick to your reputation like glue, and sooner or later, people will remember what you did.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” – His expression sobers as he rose his hands in apology.

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him, my tone firm and unyielding. – “Sorry doesn’t mean much if you don’t back it up with action, Chris. Words are cheap. You need to actually change. We’re supposed to help humans, not torment them.”

Chris scoffed, the frustration in his voice palpable. – “You don’t understand, Premiere.” – He said, using the nickname he’d given me, one that never failed to grate on my nerves. – “I’m different from you and Seconde. I wasn’t born a star. I was born a regular human. I’ve lived in their society, walked their streets, and felt the weight of their rules. I understand their world better than you ever could.”

His sharp face burned with defiance as he continued, his voice rising. – “You think you know what they need? You don’t. What if that guy ended up with a swollen face? So what? The rest of the class was cheering for me! They were happy in that moment. Do you know what that means? It means I gave them something they don’t get often enough — victory. Justice. Relief from the garbage they put up with every day. You, with your rules and your ideals, can’t see that.”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, studying him. His stance was rigid, his fists clenched tightly as though he was daring me to challenge his view. Behind his bravado, though, I could see it—the flicker of doubt, the need for validation. Chris wasn’t just speaking to defend himself; he was speaking to convince himself he was right.

I took a step closer, my voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. – “You think beating someone senseless is justice? You think a moment of cheering is enough to justify hurting someone else?” – I shook my head. – “Chris, what you’re talking about isn’t justice—it’s power. And power without control, without understanding, is dangerous. Trust me, I’ve seen it destroy people.”

His defiance faltered for a heartbeat, but then he hardened his expression again. – “You talk about control, but you don’t know what it’s like to be powerless. To live every day as just another face in the crowd, ignored, overlooked. When I fight, when I win, it’s not just for me. It’s for everyone who’s ever felt small. You wouldn’t get that, Premiere. You were born special. You’ve always had power.”

I opened my mouth, searching for the right words, but before I could say anything, Chris spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence with a sharp edge.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice.” – He said, his tone low but seething with a mix of anger and accusation. – “When you were beating me up, everyone was cheering for you. They were on their feet, shouting your name, just like they did for me. And you—” – He pointed at me, his finger trembling slightly – “You were smiling.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” – I said, my voice dripping with mockery as I leaned closer. – “You’re so needy you have to beat up mere humans every day just to feel like you can win a fight? How lucky am I, then? Because whenever I feel the need for a confidence boost, I can just beat you instead.”

The words struck true, piercing through the layers of bravado he had meticulously constructed around himself. For a moment, he froze, his expression an unreadable mask. Then, slowly, the cracks began to show. The defiance in his stance wavered, his shoulders sagging under the weight of my carefully chosen words.

“Then what am I?” – He said with a wry laugh, though the bitterness in his tone was impossible to miss. – “Your personal stress reliever?”

The tension in the air began to dissolve, much like the stormy weather that had raged just moments ago. He exhaled, the humorless chuckle serving as a release for the frustration that had been bubbling beneath the surface. - “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll stop. But only if you promise not to beat me up again.”

A spark of mischief flickered in his eyes as he extended his hand toward me, a silent truce embedded in the gesture.

“Deal!” - I replied, gripping his hand firmly, sealing the agreement with a shake.

His demeanor shifted, the playfulness fading as a more serious expression took its place. “So… I’m sorry.” - He said, his voice dropping to a quiet, almost hesitant tone. - “I didn’t think things through. I hadn’t fully considered your position in all of this. When I finally become a public figure… my actions, especially ones like this, won’t just endanger my reputation — they’ll jeopardize yours too.”

His unexpected self-awareness caught me off guard, rendering me momentarily speechless. I had braced myself for more defiance, perhaps even sarcasm, but this heartfelt apology? It left me stunned. The sincerity in his voice carried a weight that couldn’t be ignored, and for a moment, I struggled to find the right words.

“I’m also sorry.” - I said, breaking the silence, my own voice softer now. - “As a star, it’s hard for me to fully grasp the struggles of humans. I forget that not everyone lives under the same expectations or carries the same burdens I do. You’re right to call me out on that.”

I paused, the weight of my own admission sinking in. Then, with a faint smile, I added. - “But still, if you absolutely feel the need to hit people, at least do it somewhere private where no one can see you. Or better yet, channel that energy into something useful — like beating up criminals or protecting people who actually need it.”

His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by my unexpected suggestion. Then, slowly, a genuine smile crept across his face. “Huh. You’re full of surprises, you know that—”

Before he could finish his sentence, his body suddenly went rigid. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor. Panic seized me as his body began to spasm violently, his eyes rolling back until they turned completely black.

“W-What’s happening?!” – I shouted, even though I already knew the answer. My heart raced as I crouched beside him, the horrifying sight making it hard to keep my composure.

Through the convulsions, his voice rasped out, strained and desperate. – “Grab… the vial… from my belt.” – He gasped, pausing between each word as though speaking took every ounce of his strength. – “I… need it…”

I didn’t hesitate. My hands darted to the leather belt around his waist, fumbling for the small, crimson flask nestled in one of its compartments. The liquid inside swirled ominously as I uncapped it and pressed it to his trembling lips.

“Drink.” – I urged, tipping the flask carefully to make sure he swallowed every last drop.

The change was immediate. His spasms subsided, his breathing steadied, and the unnatural darkness in his eyes receded, returning them to their usual vibrant blue. A wave of relief washed over me as I leaned back, watching him recover with a mixture of worry and exasperation.

“What was that?” – I demanded, trying to mask my fear with a stern tone. – “You didn’t take your daily dose, did you?”

“Sorry… Sorry.” – He muttered sheepishly, scratching the back of his head like a child caught sneaking snacks before dinner. – “I forgot.”

“You forgot?!” – My voice rose in frustration. “You know what happens when your body runs out of blood! You can’t just forget something like that!”

He climbed to his feet slowly, stretching his limbs with a series of loud, unsettling cracks. It was as if the whole ordeal had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. – “The thing is.” – He said casually, stepping closer to me. – “I wanted to test something.”

Before I could react, he reached out, tilting my chin up with surprising gentleness. The unexpected gesture sent a jolt of heat rushing to my face. – “T-T-Test what?” – I stammered, my voice faltering as my cheeks flushed crimson.

“If I only need your DNA…” – He murmured, his voice low and filled with a playful edge. – “then maybe I don’t need the vial anymore. Maybe a kiss would work too.”

“W-W-W-W-What?!” – I spluttered, my mind short-circuiting at his audacity. The realization of what he was suggesting hit me like a lightning bolt, and before I could even think, my instincts took over.

My foot shot out, landing a direct hit to his most sensitive area. He let out a strangled cry, doubling over in agony, but I wasn’t done. With a second kick, I sent him flying backward, his body colliding with the nearest wall with a resounding thud.

“STOP!”- I bellowed, my voice echoing through the alley as Chris slid to the floor, unconscious.

I stood there, fists clenched, my heart pounding in my chest as I glared at his limp form. The audacity, the nerve, the absolute gall! My face burned hotter than a furnace as I replayed the moment in my mind, the heat of his touch lingering far longer than I cared to admit.

However, that wasn’t the immediate problem. How could he forget to drink it?! Doesn’t he understand what happens if he goes even a single day without it?

----------------------------------------

It all began months ago. I had long suspected that Father was dedicating himself to something secret, something he refused to share no matter how many times I asked. The air around him had changed — his usual steady demeanor had grown more distant, his piercing gaze clouded with preoccupation. Whenever I questioned him, he would offer vague reassurances or change the subject entirely, leaving me with nothing but speculation.

What could be so important that he couldn’t trust me, of all people, with the truth?

The secrecy gnawed at me, especially since it seemed tied to the golden tower itself — specifically, the underground laboratory hidden deep beneath its shining facade. The place was shrouded in mystery, its existence known only to a handful of people. I’d only caught glimpses of it once or twice, through narrow cracks in sealed doors or in passing conversations I wasn’t meant to overhear. What little I had seen hinted at something extraordinary and ominous: towering machinery, strange glowing vials, and an eerie hum that seemed to vibrate through the walls.

Whenever I pressed him for answers, he would merely brush me off. – “It’s not your concern, Arstria.” – He would say, his tone firm but oddly kind, as though he were trying to shield me from something.

But that only made my curiosity grow. What could possibly be so dangerous or secretive that even I couldn’t know about it? I was no stranger to the weight of responsibility — I had been raised for it, molded by it — but this felt different. Whatever he was working on, it wasn’t just a project or an experiment. It was something that consumed him, pulling him away from the city, from me.

And so, I watched from the sidelines as Father disappeared for days, sometimes weeks, into the depths of the golden tower. He moved with a single-minded determination, leaving little room for explanations or reassurances. The entrances to the lower levels were heavily guarded, with locks reinforced by codes and barriers only he could bypass. Even the air around those sealed doors seemed to hum with a strange, forbidding energy, warning away anyone foolish enough to attempt entry.

I wasn’t just anyone, though. I was his daughter, the one he had named as his successor, the so-called First Star. And yet, here I was, shut out, left in the dark about something that clearly consumed him. The secrecy gnawed at me, driving me to the brink of frustration. I couldn’t let it go, not when it felt like whatever was happening below the tower was somehow connected to me — to us.

When my own attempts to uncover the truth failed, I realized I had no choice but to turn to the only person who might be able to help me: Sapphire. If anyone could figure out a way past those barriers — or at least offer me some insight — it would be her.

I found her in the training hall, her glasses put away as she practiced her spear techniques with meticulous precision. She didn’t even pause when I approached, her instincts focused on her movements.

“Sapphire.” – I said, my voice firm as I tried to keep my frustration in check.

She glanced at me briefly before returning to her practice. – “What is it, Master?”

I hesitated, unsure how to phrase my request. – “I need your help.” – I finally said. – “I want to know what Father’s been doing down in the lower levels. He disappears for days, and no one will tell me anything. Can you help me investigate?”

Sapphire stopped mid-thrust, her spear frozen in the air. She turned to me, her expression calm but faintly curious. – “You want to know what’s happening down there?” – She asked, as though the thought had never occurred to her before.

“Yes!” – I said, my desperation slipping through despite my best efforts. – “Please, help me figure it out. I can’t stand not knowing anymore.”

Her reply caught me completely off guard. – “There’s no need to investigate.” – She said simply, lowering her spear. – “The final step of the project will happen soon. If you’re that curious, would you like to be present when it happens?”

I blinked, stunned. – “Wait, you know about it?” – My voice rose with a mix of disbelief and irritation. – “You knew this whole time and didn’t tell me?”

Sapphire tilted her head, her calm demeanor unshaken. – “Of course I knew. I didn’t think it was a secret.” – She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. – “It didn’t seem important to mention. I assumed Sirius had already told you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, her expression completely unbothered. – “You didn’t ask.”

I opened my mouth to retort, then closed it again, realizing how pointless it would be to argue. Sapphire wasn’t the type to volunteer information unless prompted, and even then, she rarely seemed to grasp the emotional weight of what she said — or didn’t say.

----------------------------------------

Sapphire had been explicitly requested to be present during the testing of the experiment’s results, so when the time came, I followed her to the elevator that led to the deepest parts of the golden tower. It was a rare opportunity, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away. Whatever Father had been working on, I needed to see it with my own eyes.

As the sleek metal doors slid open, revealing the interior of the elevator, a wave of nervous energy swept over me. The polished walls gleamed under the fluorescent lights, reflecting Sapphire’s calm, focused expression. She stepped inside without hesitation.

When we reached the lower levels, the atmosphere changed dramatically. The sterile, polished surfaces of the upper floors gave way to a more industrial design. The walls were lined with complex wiring and conduits that hummed faintly, and the air carried a faint metallic tang that set my nerves on edge. It felt like we were entering an entirely different world — one that was cold, calculated, and devoid of the warmth I associated with the city above.

As we approached the final checkpoint, a group of scientists blocked our path. Their white lab coats fluttered as they rushed to intercept us, their faces a mixture of confusion and alarm.

“Excuse me, but unauthorized personnel aren’t allowed beyond this point.” – One of them said, stepping forward with an air of authority. His glasses glinted under the harsh lighting as his gaze flickered to me. – “This area is restricted.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could say a word, Sapphire stepped forward, her piercing blue eyes locking onto the scientist with a glare that could freeze fire.

“Step aside, human.” – She commanded, her voice as sharp as a blade. The authority in her tone was unmistakable, and the way she carried herself left no room for debate. – “Unless you want to go against the stars themselves.”

The scientist hesitated, clearly torn between protocol and the intimidating force of Sapphire’s presence. – “I’m sorry, but that’s against regulation—”

“Regulation?” – Sapphire interrupted, her voice dropping to a dangerously low pitch. She took a step closer, her expression hard as steel. – “Do you think your rules supersede the will of Sirius and his successors? Do you think your little protocols are more important than ensuring the success of this experiment?”

The scientist’s confidence wavered, and he took a nervous step back. The others exchanged uncertain glances, clearly unsure how to handle the situation.

“I-I wasn’t implying that.” – He stammered, adjusting his glasses nervously. – “It’s just—”

“It’s just nothing.” – Sapphire cut him off, her voice ringing with finality. – “The First Star will be present, or I will personally ensure that every one of you regrets questioning her authority. Do I make myself clear?”

Her words hung in the air like a thunderclap, and the scientists shrank under the weight of her glare. The tension in the hallway was palpable, but after a moment, the lead scientist relented with a sigh.

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of both gratitude and exasperation as Sapphire strode past the defeated scientists without a backward glance, her confident steps echoing in the sterile hallway. Her overly rude tone might have been unnecessary, but there was no denying its effectiveness. I bit back a sigh as I followed her, my heart pounding with anticipation and unease.

The end of the corridor loomed before us, a heavy metal door standing sentinel over whatever secrets lay beyond. Sapphire entered first, her presence commanding as she pushed the door open. I hesitated for a split second, steeling myself, and then stepped in after her.

The sight that greeted me took my breath away.

The laboratory was massive, a cavernous space filled with an intricate maze of machinery and bustling scientists. They moved with hurried precision, absorbed in complex calculations and tasks that seemed far beyond comprehension. Holographic screens projected glowing equations into the air, while the hum of equipment filled the room with an almost oppressive energy. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, and the atmosphere was charged with an unsettling mixture of purpose and tension.

Soldiers lined the perimeter of the lab, their machine guns pointed toward the floor but ready to be raised at a moment’s notice. Their presence was an unspoken reminder that this was no ordinary research facility — this was something dangerous, something secret.

And then I saw the center of it all.

Sixteen massive glass tubes dominated the space, each filled with a strange, glowing liquid. Suspended within were human bodies. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the chilling sight. The occupants varied in age and gender — there was an elderly man, an innocent baby, a mid-age woman, a teenage boy, and those were only the ones I could see from clearly from here. All floating motionless in their glass prisons. Their faces were eerily peaceful, as if they were simply asleep, but the wires and tubes connected to their bodies told a different story.

“What is this…?” – I whispered, my voice trembling as my mind struggled to process what I was seeing.

“Experiment: Shooting Star.” – Sapphire said flatly, her tone unusually cold. For once, her confidence seemed shaken, and I could sense a trace of disgust in her voice. – “A method to mass-produce magic users.”

My legs felt weak, my hands trembling as I clutched her shoulder for support. – “But how?” – I asked, my voice rising in disbelief. – “How is that even possible?”

Sapphire turned to me. Her expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something deeper — anger, perhaps, or sorrow. – “Sirius will do anything to protect humanity.” – She began, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. – “You should know that better than anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” – I didn’t even want to hear what she could be referring to, but I asked anyway.

“By taking your blood, and researching it thoroughly, he began modifying and injecting human beings with it, to create a new breed of humans. What you see before you are the results of his work. These people were brought here to become stars. Today, we will see if his experiment succeeds or fails.”

I stared at her, my chest tightening as a storm of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Anger, guilt, confusion, and betrayal warred within me, each one demanding to be acknowledged. The room seemed to close in around me, the cold hum of the machines becoming deafening in my ears.

“How could he do this?” – I whispered, my voice shaking. – “How could he… use people like this?”

Sapphire’s expression softened, but only slightly.

I turned back to the glass tubes, my eyes lingering on the faces of the people trapped within. They were the products of my father’s desperation, his unrelenting drive to save a world that had already been shattered. And now, I was standing in the middle of his vision, staring at the cost of his choices.

The cost of my existence.

Before I could press Sapphire for more answers, a shadow fell across the room, and an unmistakable presence made itself known. My father stepped forward from behind the array of glowing glass tubes, his figure commanding as always. He moved with purpose, his dark attire immaculate and his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the laboratory.

He came to a stop amidst the eerie, silent cylinders, his gaze sweeping across the room like a stormfront. The scientists instantly straightened, their hushed conversations falling into complete silence. Even the soldiers seemed to stand taller, their grips tightening on their weapons as they awaited his command. The entire room seemed to shift with his arrival, as if his mere presence had changed the air itself.

Stolen story; please report.

“Let’s begin.” – He said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of absolute authority.

My breath hitched as his words echoed through the vast space. Despite everything I had just learned from Sapphire, seeing him here — standing so confidently amidst the culmination of his secret work — sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn’t the man I knew as my father. This was Sirius, the last guardian of humanity, a man driven by an unyielding purpose. And right now, his focus was entirely on the experiment.

The scientists sprang into action, their previously uncertain movements now efficient and precise. Monitors flickered to life, displaying streams of incomprehensible data. The humming of machinery grew louder, filling the room with a mechanical symphony of progress. I could feel the tension building, like the static charge before a lightning strike.

Sirius turned slightly, his crimson eyes locking onto me for a moment. For an instant, I thought I saw something in his gaze — a flicker of acknowledgment, perhaps even regret — but it was gone before I could be certain. He didn’t say a word to me, instead returning his attention to the tubes.

“What’s going to happen?” – I whispered to Sapphire, my voice trembling as the reality of the situation set in.

She glanced at me, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp. – “The experiment has reached its final stage. They’re going to activate the modifications and see if the subjects — those people — can sustain the abilities granted by your blood.”

“But what does that mean?” – I asked, my voice rising despite myself. – “What happens to them if it doesn’t work?”

Sapphire’s gaze didn’t waver. – “If it fails.” – She said quietly. – “Their bodies will likely reject the modifications. Violently.”

My stomach churned, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I turned my eyes back to the tubes, to the fragile, peaceful figures suspended within. They looked so vulnerable, so unaware of the forces about to be unleashed upon them.

“Father.” – I called out, my voice breaking the stillness. – “Is this really necessary? These people — they didn’t choose this. How can you justify risking their lives like this?”

He didn’t turn to face me, his focus remaining on the monitors as he spoke. – “Arstria.” – He said, his tone steady but devoid of warmth. – “This is not a matter of choice. It is a matter of survival. Humanity stands on the brink of extinction, and we can no longer afford to rely on miracles. If these experiments succeed, we will have the means to fight back — to reclaim our world.”

“But at what cost?” – I demanded, stepping forward. “You’re using them as tools, as weapons!”

He finally turned, his crimson eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. – “If this works, they will become more than what they were. They will become heroes. They will be the foundation of a new hope for humanity.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” – I shot back, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. – “What happens then? Do you just try again with more people?”

Sirius’s expression didn’t change, but there was a heaviness in his gaze that I hadn’t seen before. – “If it doesn’t work.” – He said quietly. – “Then their sacrifice will not be for naught.”

Before I could respond, one of the scientists called out, their voice cutting through the charged silence. – “The system is ready, sir. Awaiting your command.”

Sirius turned back to the tubes, his posture resolute. – “Activate it.” – He ordered, his voice unwavering.

The room seemed to hold its breath as the command was executed. Lights flickered ominously, casting shifting shadows on the walls, and the hum of machinery rose into a deafening roar. Inside the tubes, the glowing liquid began to churn violently, its serene glow replaced by a chaotic, almost malevolent energy. The bodies within twitched and jerked, their peaceful expressions contorting into ones of pain and confusion. It was as if their very souls were being wrenched apart.

And then, the sound came.

It began with a sharp, piercing crack that echoed through the laboratory — the shattering of glass. One by one, the massive tubes burst open in an ear-splitting cacophony, spraying shards and glowing liquid across the room. The bodies within tumbled to the floor in a grotesque display, limbs sprawling awkwardly as they gasped and writhed.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, like newborns breaking free of their shells, the figures began to move. Slowly, shakily, they rose to their feet, their movements unnatural and jerky. Their eyes darted around the room, wide and unfocused, filled with confusion and terror. It was as though they were trying to make sense of the chaos around them, trying to grasp the impossible reality of their situation.

And then they all looked at me.

My breath caught in my throat as their gazes locked onto mine. There was something unsettling about the way they moved, their expressions eerily synchronized, as if responding to a silent, unspoken command. It wasn’t just the intensity of their stares that unnerved me — it was what I felt beneath it, something deeper, intangible, and yet undeniably real. A strange resonance stirred within me, a connection that defied logic. It wasn’t simply that they were looking at me; it felt as though they were me.

The sensation was overwhelming, an inexplicable bond that pulsed through my veins like a second heartbeat. Their presence tugged at the edges of my consciousness, as though fragments of my very existence had been given form and placed before me. And yet, amidst the undeniable familiarity, there was a void — a gaping absence that made the connection feel incomplete, jagged, and wrong. I couldn’t name what was missing, but I felt it as clearly as one feels the ache of a phantom limb.

Sapphire’s voice shattered my thoughts. – “Are you able to command them?” – Her words were sharp, cold, and devoid of the playful edge she so often wielded. There was no explanation, no rationale. Just the quiet, unyielding authority that made her statement feel more like an ultimatum than a suggestion.

“What are you talking about?” – I replied, my voice trembling with confusion and disbelief. “I can’t, why would I be able to?”

My words seemed to ignite something dark within Sapphire. Her composure cracked, replaced by an expression that sent a chill down my spine. Her usually calm, composure burned with something I had never seen before: wild, unrestrained, and terrifying.

A spear materialized in her hand, its silver sheen catching the faint light like a blade thirsty for blood. She moved with purpose, her arm drawing back to hurl the weapon straight at their heads.

“Stop!” – I shouted. Sapphire froze mid-motion, her body trembling as though caught in a battle against invisible chains. Her eyes flickered, and for a moment, I thought I saw regret flash across her face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a blank, emotionless mask.

“Leave.” – I commanded, the word slipping from my lips before I could think it through. The air between us seemed to ripple, and Sapphire’s body jerked, her movements suddenly stiff and unnatural, as though compelled by an unseen force. She turned and strode toward the exit, her departure swift and silent.

The tension in the room didn’t ease with her absence. If anything, it grew heavier, like a storm brewing just beyond the horizon. I turned my gaze back to the figures before me, their synchronized movements eerily still. That’s when the scream tore through the air.

It was a sound of pure anguish, raw and primal, slicing through the oppressive silence like a knife. My head snapped toward the source, and my blood ran cold. One of the figures had dropped to their knees, clutching their head as though trying to stave off some unimaginable pain. Their eyes were wide with terror, unfocused, as if seeing something far beyond the confines of the room.

The others followed suit, one by one, their synchronized grace crumbling into chaos. They clawed at their own faces, their mouths opening in silent cries before another scream echoed, louder and more harrowing than the first. The resonance I had felt before now pulsed with discord, a violent cacophony that made my very soul ache.

“What’s happening to them?” – I whispered, my voice barely audible over the growing symphony of despair. My feet felt rooted to the ground, my body paralyzed by the weight of the moment.

The void I had sensed earlier seemed to grow, its jagged edges cutting deeper into the bond between us. And then, with a sudden, horrifying clarity, I realized: whatever these figures were, whoever they were, they were incomplete. Fragments of something greater, torn apart and left to suffer in their shattered state.

I took a hesitant step forward, my hand reaching out instinctively, though I wasn’t sure what I could do. As if sensing my movement, the figures turned their tortured gazes toward me, their expressions twisted with desperation.

“Help me…” – One of them rasped, her voice barely a whisper but laced with a pain so profound it made my chest tighten.

The resonance within me surged, pulling me toward them like a tide I couldn’t resist. I knelt beside the nearest figure, my trembling hand hovering over their shoulder. The moment my skin brushed theirs, a shock ran through me, a jolt of energy that sent images flashing through my mind.

Memories that weren’t mine.

A kaleidoscope of lives that I couldn’t fully understand. I feel down, unable to move, as tears began to form inside of my eyes. Despair that I couldn’t fully grasp filled the entirety of my being.

Then, I screamed.

No, it wasn’t only me — all of them, screaming in unison. The sound was unearthly, a gut-wrenching wail that seemed to claw at the very fabric of reality. Their bodies convulsed violently, collapsing back onto the ground as their cries grew more agonized. Blood spewed from their mouths in horrific bursts, staining the floor and walls in gruesome patterns. Black veins began to spiderweb across their skin, pulsating and spreading like a dark, living infection.

And then, the transformation began.

They rose again, but this time, their movements were no longer human. Their groans were guttural, primal, as if their humanity had been stripped away, leaving only rage and hunger. Their eyes were entirely black, hollow voids that stared without seeing. The black veins had overtaken their flesh, turning their once-vulnerable forms into something grotesque and monstrous.

Before I could do anything else, they lunged.

Bloodborne Demon

Ghoul

With inhuman speed and ferocity, the creatures launched themselves at the scientists closest to them. Chaos erupted as screams of terror filled the lab. The creatures clawed and bite with a savage desperation, tearing into flesh as though driven by an insatiable hunger. The scientists had no chance. One by one, they fell, their bodies convulsing violently as the infection spread. Their veins turned black, their eyes darkened, and within moments, they too had become ghouls.

I stood frozen, unable to move, my body paralyzed by shock and horror. The scene unfolded like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sounds of destruction. The creatures moved with terrifying precision, their grotesque forms tearing through everything in their path.

“Open fire!” – One of the soldiers shouted, breaking the paralysis that had gripped the room. The soldiers raised their machine guns and unleashed a hail of bullets, the deafening roar of gunfire drowning out the chaos. For a moment, it seemed like the creatures had stopped, their bodies jerking violently as bullets tore through them.

But it wasn’t enough.

The ghouls didn’t fall. Their wounds closed almost as quickly as they were inflicted, the black veins pulsing with unnatural energy as they regenerated. They turned on the soldiers with a renewed ferocity, moving faster than the eye could follow. In seconds, they were upon them, claws and teeth ripping through armor and flesh alike.

The scene spiraled into utter pandemonium. Scientists and soldiers alike were slaughtered, their screams blending into a symphony of terror. Equipment was smashed, alarms blared, and the once-sterile laboratory became a battlefield drenched in blood and chaos.

I stood there, helpless, my mind screaming at my body to move, to do something — anything — but I was rooted in place. My chest heaved as panic clawed at me, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. All I could do was watch as the horror unfolded before my eyes, the weight of it pressing down on me like a crushing tide.

The chaos reached a terrifying crescendo as one of the ghouls, faster and more ferocious than the others, locked its hollow, blackened gaze onto my father. With an unearthly screech, it lunged towards him, its claws outstretched and glistening with the blood of its previous victims.

My father reacted instantly, his movements sharp and practiced, the reflexes of a man who had faced countless battles. His hands shot forward, and a wall of roaring flames erupted in front of him, a barrier of searing heat that had incinerated many beasts in the past. The fire blazed brightly, illuminating the lab with its golden light and casting monstrous shadows on the walls.

I held my breath, expecting the ghoul to be consumed by the flames, its grotesque body reduced to ash the moment it touched the barrier. But then, to my utter horror, the creature didn’t stop.

With a terrifying shriek, the ghoul leapt straight through the firewall, its black veins pulsating as it emerged on the other side unscathed. The flames clung to its body for a brief moment before flickering out, as though the creature had rejected their very essence.

“What?!” – My father exclaimed, his usually steady voice laced with shock. He stumbled back, his crimson eyes widening as he watched the impossible unfold.

My heart sank as the realization hit me. My father’s barrier wasn’t designed to repel humans — it was meant to stop the beasts we had fought for years. The monstrous invaders that had brought humanity to the brink of extinction were bound by rules, their very nature tied to the curse of the barrier. But these ghouls were different. They weren’t the creatures we had spent our lives fighting against.

They were human.

The ghoul reached my father in an instant, swiping at him with claws that seemed to tear through the very air. He dodged with practiced precision, the flames around him intensifying as he summoned another barrier. This one erupted in a dome of fire, trying to push the creature back momentarily, but it didn’t falter. It simply walked past.

The creature lunged forward with inhuman speed, its grotesque claws swiping away the last remnants of my father’s fiery defense. Then, it opened its jaws wide, a guttural screech erupting from its throat as it prepared to end my father’s life right then and there.

Time seemed to slow as I watched in horror. My father, the unshakable Sirius, who had stood as humanity’s last guardian, now vulnerable and at the mercy of this abomination.

“I’m sorry.” – I whispered, my voice trembling yet resolute, the words echoing through the room. In an instant, I placed myself between my father and the creature, my movements driven by pure instinct. My hand shot out, steady despite the storm raging within me, and I pointed it directly at the human-turned-monster before me. A single tear slipped from the corner of my eye, tracing a warm line down my cheek as I gathered the energy within me.

A burst of fire erupted from my palm, engulfing the creature in a roaring inferno. The flames were relentless, their golden light illuminating the room and casting long shadows against the carnage. The ghoul thrashed and screeched, its grotesque form writhing within the blaze as the black veins on its body pulsed frantically.

It tried to heal itself, its unnatural regeneration kicking in almost instantly. The wounds I inflicted closed just as quickly as they opened, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though my efforts might not be enough.

But I didn’t stop.

Gritting my teeth, I poured everything I had into the flames, willing them to burn hotter, stronger. The air around us grew searingly hot, the heat pressing against my skin and filling the room with an oppressive intensity. The ghoul’s regeneration began to falter, its body trembling violently as the flames consumed it faster than it could repair itself.

This wasn’t just a monster — it was a human being, twisted and corrupted, but still human. It bore my blood, my essence, and yet I was destroying it.

But I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.

The ghoul’s screams grew weaker, its thrashing slowing as the flames devoured what was left of its form. Finally, with one last surge of fire, I pushed beyond my limits, ensuring there was nothing left to regenerate. The creature’s body disintegrated into ash, the black veins vanishing into the air as though they had never existed.

But I knew that wasn’t the end of it.

The chaotic din of the laboratory settled into an eerie stillness as the last of the transformed scientists and soldiers let out guttural growls. Their black-veined bodies twitched unnaturally, and their hollow, void-like eyes glinted with an unholy hunger. Sapphire was gone, obeying my order to leave, but the price of that command now weighed heavily on my shoulders. My father stood behind me, silent but alert, his usual air of confidence replaced with a rare trace of vulnerability.

I tightened my grip on the twin rapiers at my sides, the cold metal a reassuring weight in my hands. The hilts felt like extensions of myself, their worn grips molded perfectly to my fingers. With a deliberate motion, I pulled the blades free from their sheaths, the ringing sound cutting through the oppressive silence like a declaration of defiance.

Their attention snapped to me. More than thirty pairs of soulless, inhuman eyes turned in unison, their grotesque heads jerking unnaturally as they locked onto my own. The air was thick with malice, and their low, guttural growls grew into a collective roar.

“Come at me.” – I commanded, my voice cold and steady despite the storm raging in my chest.

The words seemed to ignite something deep within them — a primal, collective instinct that spurred them into motion. They surged toward me as one, a frenzied horde of monstrous forms with no strategy, no coordination, only an overwhelming desire to destroy.

They weren’t human anymore. Whatever spark of humanity had once existed within them was gone, erased by the horrific transformation wrought by my father’s experiment. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to accept the truth: there was no salvation for them. No redemption.

And that’s why I didn’t hold back.

“Starfire Dance.”

The words left my lips like a whisper of resolve, their power rippling through the air. This was no ordinary battle technique — it was an art form, a symphony of destruction I had learned long ago and honed through relentless discipline. It wasn’t about brute force or sheer power; the essence of the dance lay in its fluidity, its refusal to yield to stillness. To master it, one had to become the fire itself — unceasing, untamed, and beautiful.

My twin rapiers ignited with blazing energy, their flames licking hungrily at the air. Their tips glowed white-hot, like miniature stars burning against the encroaching darkness. I stepped forward, my movements deliberate yet weightless, each step a note in an unseen melody that played in the depths of my mind. The rhythm of combat coursed through my veins, propelling me forward into the fray.

The first ghoul lunged at me, its grotesque, clawed hands reaching out with great speed. But it might as well have been moving in slow motion. I sidestepped, my flaming blade arcing upward in a fluid slash that carved through its torso like a brushstroke on a canvas.

I spun, using the momentum to propel myself toward the next wave of monstrosities. Their hollow, blackened eyes glared at me, filled with rage and hunger. Yet, they hesitated — a flicker of fear breaking through their primal fury as the arcs of fire left trails of molten light in the air around me.

In the theater of the battlefield, I was both dancer and conductor. The tempo quickened as I moved, my blades weaving an intricate pattern of destruction. Each strike was a step, every dodge a pirouette. The flames trailed behind me like a living entity, forming a blazing cyclone that engulfed the ghouls in its fury.

I leapt into the air, the searing heat from my rapiers illuminating the chaos below. As I descended, my blades crossed in an X-shaped strike, unleashing a burst of fire that radiated outward in a brilliant explosion.

In less than ten seconds, it was over.

I landed gracefully at the entrance, my rapiers’ flames extinguishing with a soft hiss. The world around me fell silent, save for the faint crackling of dying embers. I stood there, my back to the destruction I had wrought, my breathing steady despite the inferno that had raged mere moments ago.

Without looking back, I whispered the final words of my spell, my voice steady and laced with quiet reverence:

“Demons born from humanity’s evil, may you find peace in eternal slumber.”

The words carried through the still air, soft yet resolute, like the final note of a requiem. As they left my gentle lips, a wave of fire surged across the battlefield, igniting the monsters in a synchronized eruption of flame. Their twisted forms were consumed instantly, the inferno burning away every trace of their corrupted existence.

For a fleeting moment, amidst the fiery destruction, there was a haunting beauty in their end. A brief, bittersweet glimpse of art born from chaos. The monsters, in their final moments, transcended their nature. They became something more: a masterpiece etched in ash, their forms disintegrating into the void, never to return. And yet, the beauty of that moment was a cruel mockery, a reminder of the cost of survival.

For the first time since that day, people have died because of me. Again.

I sat motionless, my legs trembling beneath me, as the screams of scientists and soldiers echoed in my ears, their voices drowned out by the monstrous roars that had swallowed them whole. My hands trembled, stained with blood and dust, as I stared blankly at the aftermath. The air was heavy with the scent of charred flesh and burned metal, a suffocating reminder of my failure.

This is all my fault.

No. A voice whispered in the back of my mind, sharp and cold. It is not your fault.

It is his fault.

“It is your fault.”

My voice cut through the oppressive silence like a blade, and my rapier followed suit, its gleaming tip now poised against the throat of the man I had once called my father. My hands were steady, fueled by a righteous fury that burned hotter than the flames I had conjured earlier.

“How dare you experiment with their lives?!” – I demanded, my voice breaking as it climbed higher with rage.

His gaze was calm, almost indifferent, as though he were a spectator to his own demise. His tone was devoid of emotion, cold and matter-of-fact. – “If you kill me, the barrier will fall.”

Those words alone should have been enough to give me pause. And yet, they only fueled my anger. Here he stood, a man who had promised to protect humanity, revealing himself to be the architect of so much pain. His life, his death, they didn’t matter to him. All he cared about was his goal, his obsession with saving humanity, no matter the cost.

“I swear.” – I hissed through gritted teeth, my crimson eyes blazing as they bore into his. – “if you sacrifice another civilian for your ambition, I will rip your legs and arms from your body. Piece by piece.”

It wasn’t an empty threat. He was not my father, not anymore. He never was in the first place.

“I didn’t force any of them.” – He said quietly, his voice echoing through the barren, dust-filled room. – “They all accepted the risks. They knew the price of failure.”

“You’re supposed to be their guardian!” – My scream reverberated off the walls, raw and visceral, each word trembling with the weight of my anguish. – “You should know better! Why? Why would you do this? You already have the military, you have Sapphire, you have me! We’ve protected humanity for years, and no one has been hurt since that day!”

He remained silent for a moment, his face betraying no emotion, and then he spoke, his words slow and deliberate, heavy with despair. – “Ever since the world ended, I have searched for answers. But the more I searched, the less I found. When I first discovered my powers, I hoped. No, I believed that there were others like me. Other stars, scattered across this dying world. But I found nothing. No one. Only you. And Sapphire found you.”

His gaze darkened, the weight of years of hopelessness bearing down on his shoulders. – “Even after all this time, I haven’t been able to locate another. And the beasts… the beasts grow stronger with each passing year. Do you truly believe you will be able to defeat them all? Forever?”

I faltered. For just a moment, the certainty in my voice wavered.

“I don’t know.” – I admitted quietly, the fire in my tone dimming. – “I don’t know if I can. But I will fight until this life ends. No matter what they throw at me, I will keep going.”

“It has already ended.” – He said, his voice hollow, his words echoing ominously through the room.

“What are you talking about?” – My heart began to pound, a chill creeping into my veins.

“You’ve already died during the goblin incident, don’t you remember?”

The words struck like a hammer. I stared at him, uncomprehending.

“No.” – I said firmly, shaking my head. “That’s not true. I was gravely injured, but you healed me. Right?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t place: pity, regret, or something darker.

“No.” – He finally declared. – “That was a lie. You died that day. Your brainwaves flatlined. Your heartbeat stopped. You were gone from this world.”

“Then how am I standing here?” – My voice rose, trembling with disbelief.

“You’ve died fifty-four times.” – He continued, his tone eerily calm, as though recounting a fact rather than a revelation. – “Every time, I thought it would be the end. But each time, you opened your eyes. Your wounds, no matter how severe, healed as though they had never existed. Your arms, your legs, your organs, even when you were nothing more than a mangled mess of blood and flesh… you came back. Every single time.”

I took a step back, my rapier lowering slightly as his words sank in.

“No.” – I whispered, shaking my head. – “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not.” – He said, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t place, was it guilt? – “And do you know how I got so much of your blood? It wasn’t from the monthly check-ups, but from the times you died. As your body healed, I drained your blood. Gallons of it. Infinite blood. It replenished itself faster than I could take it. That’s why Sapphire’s blood was never an option.”

The room seemed to close in around me. My grip on the rapier tightened, my hands trembling as the full weight of his confession bore down on me.

“So, you experimented on me.” – I said, my voice low and dangerous, trembling with a rage I could barely contain. – “You used me like a lab rat. And I thought you were my father.”

I raised the blade again, its point trembling as it hovered inches from his throat.

“You’re no father. You’re a monster.”

As my eyes locked onto him, consumed by the fury and betrayal swirling in my mind, a sudden weight crashed onto my shoulder from above. Sharp teeth sank deep into my flesh before I could even react, the pain searing and immediate. My instincts roared to life, and with a burst of adrenaline, I grabbed the creature and hurled it away. It hit the wall with a sickening thud, its distorted form crumpling to the ground.

A burning ache spread from the wound, and I looked down to see blood staining my clothes. The sight sent a jolt of fear through me — fear not for the pain, but for what might follow.

“No…” – Sirius’s voice broke the silence, sharp with panic. In an instant, he was at my side, his crimson eyes wide with worry as they scanned the injury. – “What if the blood infects you too?” – His hands hovered near my shoulder, hesitant to touch the wound.

“It is not…” – He stopped, his voice trembling with relief as his gaze softened. – “Thank God.”

The infection: it was there. I could feel it. A dark, invasive force slithering through my veins, probing, searching for a way to seize control. For a terrifying moment, I thought it would consume me, just as it had so many others.

But then, it stopped.

The force recoiled, as though recognizing something it couldn’t conquer. I could feel it hesitate, almost as if it realized it had once belonged to me. It wasn’t just my immune system fighting back: it was something deeper, something intrinsic to who I was. The infection faltered, and in the next instant, my body’s defenses obliterated it entirely, burning it away like a fleeting shadow under the noonday sun.

I staggered to my feet, ignoring Sirius’s protests to rest. – “I’m fine.” – I said sharply, though the lingering pain in my shoulder told a different story. I couldn’t afford to stop now.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for the creature that had attacked me. The others had been reduced to ash or crushed beneath the weight of my flames, but one ghoul had evaded destruction. It had hidden in the shadows, biding its time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And now, it had another chance.

The air grew heavy as I felt its presence, a dark energy radiating from the far corner of the room. My flames sparked to life in my palm, flickering and eager to finish what they had started. I turned slowly, prepared to incinerate whatever monstrosity dared to lurk in the shadows.

But then I hesitated.

It… Him?

There, crouched in the corner, was no ghoul. Not a twisted, rotting creature of nightmares, but a black-haired teenager. His sharp features were illuminated by the faint glow of my fire, revealing a face that was undeniably human. He stared at me with wide, confused eyes, his expression a mix of fear and bewilderment.

My flames wavered, their light casting uneven shadows across the room. I could feel Sirius’s presence behind me, his footsteps halting as he noticed the figure as well.

“Who… are you?” – I asked, my voice low but steady, though my hand remained outstretched, the flickering fire still ready to strike.

The blue-eyed human didn’t respond immediately. His gaze darted between me and Sirius, as if trying to make sense of the situation. Slowly, he raised his hands, palms open in a gesture of surrender.

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I didn’t need to eat. My body functioned perfectly without food or water, a fact that Sirius often reminded me of with his stoic pragmatism. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it. There was something deeply satisfying about indulging in flavors and textures, a small pleasure in an otherwise chaotic existence. My favorite, without question, was strawberry ice cream.

It wasn’t just the taste, it was the simplicity, the way it melted on my tongue, cool and sweet, a perfect counterpoint to the heat of my flames. It became something of a ritual for me: a treat to celebrate my victories, no matter how small. And today, I found myself sitting on a plaza bench with a cone of vanilla ice cream in hand, watching the world move around me.

Next to me, Chris stirred, his head lolling slightly before his eyes fluttered open. He looked disoriented, his gaze shifting to the sky before settling on me.

“Where am I?” – He asked groggily, his voice hoarse.

I smirked, licking the edge of my ice cream as I glanced at him. – “You fainted.” – I said casually, my tone light. – “Probably because of your massive dumbness.”

It was a lie, of course. But I wasn’t about to admit that, not when my own cheeks still hadn’t fully cooled from the blush that had crept in earlier.

Chris groaned, sitting up straighter as he rubbed the back of his neck. He still looked pale, his black hair disheveled and his expression clouded with confusion. To think that the boy now sitting beside me, looking every bit like a normal teenager, was the result of a twisted experiment using my own blood.

Chris truly was lucky.

After the ghoul bit me, it wasn’t its blood that had tried to corrupt me. it was my own blood that had done something extraordinary. Somehow, my blood had fought back, not only purging the infection but transforming the ghoul itself. The creature had reverted, its monstrous form collapsing, leaving behind him.

Ever since that day, Chris had been tethered to me in a way neither of us could escape. To keep his humanity, to stave off the madness that clawed at the edges of his mind, he needed to drink a vial of my blood every single day. Without it, he would lose himself, consumed by the remnants of the infection that still lingered in his veins.

I tried not to think about it too much, but the guilt gnawed at me like a relentless shadow. If my blood had the power to save Chris, then perhaps… perhaps it could have saved the others, too. The ones who had been lost to the infection, twisted beyond recognition. If only I had known sooner, if only I had acted faster. But it was too late now.

The experiment had produced a single success. Chris was the lone survivor, the only one who had been able to endure the transformation. My blood had granted him a fraction of my strength and even a trace of my healing factor.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Chris’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, his brows furrowing as he caught the way I had been studying him. His sharp tone didn’t fully mask the curiosity beneath it, though his expression was tinged with mild annoyance.

“Like what?” – I asked, feigning ignorance as I turned my attention back to my ice cream, the perfect distraction.

“Like you’re trying to figure out if I’m about to sprout claws or something.” – His words dripped with sarcasm, though the faint edge in his voice betrayed a lingering unease.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. – “Don’t flatter yourself. If I wanted to, I could knock you out again without breaking a sweat.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed, but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back on the bench, his blue gaze drifting toward the bustling plaza. Around us, the lively sounds of the city filled the air: chatter, laughter, the rhythmic clatter of footsteps against the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the chaos we had faced together long ago.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the quiet stretching between us like a fragile thread. Then, breaking the silence, Chris asked: “Premiere, if you could go anywhere you wanted today, where would it be?”

I glanced at him, surprised by the question. His tone was softer now, almost wistful, as he gazed toward the horizon.

“I don’t know.” – I replied after a moment, letting my gaze follow his. – “Maybe a place where a lot of people are smiling.”

Chris nodded thoughtfully, his lips quirking into a small smile. – “I see. Today would be a great day to go to a beach!”

“A beach?” – I raised an eyebrow, amused. – “Really? Don’t tell me you surf.”

“I actually do!” – He said, his voice brightening with enthusiasm. – “What if we just skip the training and go straight there?”

I took another bite of my ice cream, savoring the sweetness as I considered his suggestion. – “The beach, huh. How is it there?”

His head tilted slightly, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. – “What do you mean? You’ve never been to the beach?”

I shook my head, and his jaw dropped in exaggerated disbelief.

“WHAT?!” – He exclaimed, leaping to his feet as if the sheer idea of someone missing out on a beach trip was a personal offense. – “WHY?! We need to go now!”

His childlike enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Despite his confident demeanor and the burden of his circumstances, moments like this revealed a side of him that felt far younger than his years.

“I’ve never had the time.” – I admitted, the humor fading slightly as I thought about it. – “And honestly… I think I’d dislike it.”

“Why?!” – He demanded, flopping back down onto the bench with the dramatic air of someone determined to prove me wrong.

“You know, I’m a literal embodiment of fire.” – I said, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. – “Water is basically my arch-nemesis. We don’t exactly get along.”

He snorted. – “You know that humans are literally made out of water, right?”

I raised a hand, motioning for him to let me finish. – “It’s not just that. Water… it’s always brought bad memories for me. Every time it appears in my life, it feels like it’s there to bring despair.”

From the rain of that fateful battle, when droplets fell like the heavens themselves were mourning the blood-soaked ground. To the haunting words that were said in that memoir. From the moment I plunged into that lake the water’s cold embrace threatening to steal the breath from my lungs, to the sterile, sickly gleam of the liquid in the lab tanks, the substance that suspended those humans as if mocking their suffering.

Chris’s expression softened, the teasing light in his eyes dimming. He shifted uncomfortably, as though the weight of my confession unsettled him. – “Then.” – He said slowly. – “You need to go to the beach with me. I swear, you’ll love it. I’ll make sure of it.”

I smiled at his earnestness, but the idea still felt far away, like a dream I wasn’t ready to chase. – “Another day.” – I said, standing up and brushing the crumbs of ice cream cone from my hands. – “Today, we have somewhere else to be.”

“Where?” – He asked, his curiosity piqued.

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“From the people Sirius sought to bring into his ranks, two individuals stood out, rising above the rest. They were geniuses, almost equals to Sirius himself, though their brilliance shone in vastly different ways. One of them was a figure shrouded in mystery, known only as "the blacksmith” to the rest of the world. But to those who knew him he was a living legend.

Sirius had discovered him during one of his travels, a stroke of fate that seemed almost too extraordinary to be chance. While scouting near an active volcano, he felt a presence, a strange, unyielding force that defied the hostile, molten landscape. Drawn closer by curiosity and instinct, he stumbled upon a sight that even he could scarcely believe.

There, amid rivers of glowing magma and the searing heat of the earth’s core, stood a man. His figure was framed by the flickering orange light, a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips, with more tucked into his pockets like talismans. His eyes burned with a quiet intensity, focused entirely on the anvil before him. With an ease that belied the danger of his surroundings, he worked the molten metal, shaping it with practiced precision. The magma wasn’t just an obstacle; it was his ally, fueling his forge in a symbiotic dance of fire and craft.

This man had not only survived the apocalyptic end of the world but had thrived in its ashes. While humanity withered and electricity stopped working, he carried on, undeterred. Technology’s collapse was a calamity for most, but to the blacksmith, who had never relied on it in the first place, it was barely an inconvenience. He lived by his own means, and in his solitude, he forged weapons of unparalleled craftsmanship.

The beasts, relentless and deadly as they were, had not spared him either. Yet, he stood unbroken, fending off their assaults with weapons he had built with his own hands. Alone in the fiery wasteland, he became a quiet force of nature, cutting down his foes with steel and fire. It was only a matter of time before Sirius brought him to Sirius City, recognizing the invaluable skill and indomitable spirit this man possessed.

There was a poetic irony in the blacksmith’s craft. Beasts from mythology were always slain by heroes wielding steel weapons, never modern weaponry. The old ways carried a certain power, an enduring truth that even the apocalypse couldn’t erase. For me, this meant that while my flames could not infuse a firearm, they could merge seamlessly with a sword or an axe. It was a connection I could feel deep within my soul, as if the steel called to my fire and gave it form.

Sapphire’s rapiers, elegant as they were, came with caveats. She had crafted them with precision, but they were tethered to her will. She could summon or dismiss them at a whim. As much as I respected Sapphire, I needed something more, something I could call my own.

So, when the blacksmith joined STR, I knew what I had to ask.

He listened quietly as I explained my frustrations and aspirations. His expression remained unreadable, though his sharp eyes seemed to see straight through me, weighing my words with a craftsman’s scrutiny. When I finished, he gave a small nod, the barest acknowledgment, before turning back to his forge.

What he created for me was beyond anything I could have imagined.

The rapiers were masterpieces, each one a blend of lethal elegance and raw power. Their blades gleamed with a silvery sheen, etched with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the firelight. When I held one for the first time, it felt alive in my hand, as though it had been waiting for me. The balance was perfect, the grip a seamless extension of my own movements. But what truly set them apart was their harmony with my flames.

The blacksmith had crafted them to resonate with my power, to draw from the fire within me without resistance or hesitation. When I channeled my flames into the blade, they didn’t merely coat the steel, they became one with it. The fire flowed like liquid, licking along the edges of the rapier, pulsing with an intensity that matched my heartbeat.

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“To what dishonor do I owe the presence of children disturbing my work?” – The man’s voice rang out, gruff and sharp, cutting through the humid air of the forge. He didn’t even glance up from the glowing crucible in front of him as we stepped inside. The forge was in a cavernous underground passage, close enough to the city’s barrier that I could almost feel its hum, an invisible pulse of energy encircling Sirius City like a protective cocoon. The heat from the forge was oppressive, intensified by the roaring fires and molten metal that surrounded us.

It was an astonishing design. To think they had the ingenuity and audacity to use the raw power of Sirius’s magic as a fuel source to smelt metals. That energy, the very lifeblood of the city’s barrier, was being harnessed here in a way I’d never imagined possible.

For a moment, I simply stood there, awestruck by the scale and complexity of the place. The walls of the forge were lined with magma, channeling streams of energy into the various smelting vats and furnaces. Sparks flew like tiny fireflies, dancing in the air before vanishing into the shadows. The sound was a relentless cacophony of hammers striking anvils, bellows hissing, and the low, rhythmic hum of magical conduits working in tandem.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling out of place in this world of molten metal and raw power. Just months ago, I’d lived like an ordinary human being, my biggest concerns limited to the mundane struggles of daily life. I wasn’t one to watch the news, let alone pay attention to the animated series depicting magical girls. Back then, the idea of magic had been something abstract, entertaining in theory but far removed from reality.

Now, standing in this forge, the reality of it all was impossible to ignore. The raw power fueling this forge wasn’t just theoretical energy, it was true heat, channeled and controlled to maintain the fragile balance that kept humanity alive within the barrier.

“Vulkancore, we’ve come to get a weapon for him.”

Arstria’s voice rang out, slicing through the forge’s chaotic symphony of clanging metal, hissing steam, and crackling flames. It was a tone that didn’t waver, commanding attention with an authority that felt uncanny in someone so young. Yet, it wasn’t her age or stature that mattered in this moment, it was the weight behind her words. They carried conviction, a confidence that seemed to ripple through the oppressive heat of the forge.

The words seemed to rouse the blacksmith from his focused trance. He moved slowly at first, his broad shoulders shifting under the heavy fabric of his soot-stained apron. His posture spoke of a man deeply entrenched in his craft, each movement deliberate and methodical, as though he had no patience for anything, or anyone, who disrupted his work without cause.

Finally, he turned toward us, and his gaze landed on me. I couldn’t help but stiffen under the intensity of his scrutiny. His eyes were sharp and discerning, a pale shade that stood out against his weathered, soot-darkened face. The look he gave me was equal parts annoyance and curiosity, as though he were sizing me up, trying to determine if I was worth the interruption.

Above those piercing eyes, a pair of sunglasses perched on his forehead, holding back his long, disheveled hair. It was an odd sight, the sleek, modern frames clashing with the ancient, almost otherworldly ambiance of the forge. For a moment, I wondered why he’d bother with something so seemingly out of place. Was it to shield his eyes from the glaring heat of the flames? That would make sense, but as I observed the way the sunglasses barely seemed to budge despite the sweat glistening on his skin, it became clear they had another purpose entirely, to keep his unruly hair from falling into the molten lava and flames around him.

It was a strangely practical choice for such an extraordinary man. The juxtaposition of sleek, modern convenience against the ancient, almost mythical craft surrounding him only deepened the air of mystery about him. Everything about the blacksmith seemed to defy easy categorization. The forge itself mirrored this duality, raw, intense, and undeniably functional, yet adorned with subtle, almost accidental touches of individuality. A mismatched set of tools hung meticulously on one wall, their placements precise but unorthodox. Scattered among the glowing furnaces were trinkets of no obvious utility: a clockwork eagle perched on a shelf, a polished horse etched with intricate designs, and a well-worn book resting precariously on a ledge above the flames.

And then there was the smoke.

He didn’t stop smoking for a second, as if the act were as integral to his being as the flames that surrounded him. The cigarette, clenched between his teeth, seemed to move with him like an extension of his own body. Thin wisps of smoke curled upward, mingling with the haze of the forge in a way that made it hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

He moved toward a heavy, iron-bound chest tucked into the far corner of the forge, its presence almost obscured by the clutter of tools, machinery, and scattered fragments of half-finished creations.

With deliberate precision, he reached for the key hanging from his belt, its polished surface catching the faint glow of the forge. It was a simple key, unassuming and practical, yet it felt imbued with significance in his hands. The way he handled it, deftly but with care, made it clear that whatever lay inside the chest was something of great value.

The lock clicked open with a satisfying snap, and he lifted the lid. The hinges groaned faintly, as though reluctant to reveal what had been hidden within. I leaned forward instinctively, curiosity overriding the oppressive heat of the forge, and when my eyes fell upon the contents, I froze.

Inside the chest, nestled against white cloth, were two weapons unlike anything I had ever seen before. They radiated an otherworldly energy that seemed to hum faintly in the stillness of the moment. Despite their small size, the weapons exuded an undeniable presence, as if they were alive, waiting for someone worthy to claim them.

Both weapons shared the same basic design a small, curved blade, no longer than a pocketknife, attached seamlessly to a smooth, spherical orb. The craftsmanship was breathtaking. The blade’s edge gleamed with a preternatural sharpness, the light playing across its surface in hypnotic waves, while the orb seemed to pulse faintly, as though it held a heartbeat of its own.

The one on the right immediately caught my eye. Its blade shimmered with a soft cyan hue, cool and ethereal, like the glow of moonlight reflecting off water. The orb it connected to was a pristine white, its surface smooth and flawless, yet its depths seemed to swirl with hidden power, like a storm trapped within.

Beside it sat its twin, an inverse reflection of the first. This one had a white blade, almost blinding in its purity, as if it had been forged from light itself. The cyan orb it was attached to appeared colder, its glow sharper and more focused, reminiscent of the frigid clarity of an arctic sky.

I stared at the weapons in stunned silence, my mind grappling with the sheer beauty and strangeness of them. They were unlike anything I had ever seen, not swords, not knives, not any weapon that fit the molds I understood. Instead, they felt like relics of a forgotten age, imbued with a purpose far beyond mere combat.

Vulkancore’s voice broke the spell, his tone low and steady. – “This is undoubtedly the greatest work I’ve ever done.” – He said, his words laced with reverence. – “A weapon so rare as it is powerful, and so dangerous as it is beautiful.”

I glanced at Arstria, who stood beside me, her crimson eyes fixed on the weapons with an intensity that mirrored my own awe. She didn’t say anything, but the slight nod she gave me was enough to convey what she was thinking.

Vulkancore didn’t wait for any further indication. With the same precision and care he brought to his craft, he grabbed the daggers with a pair of long, heavy tongs. The metal jaws clamped around the weapons as though they were something too volatile, too dangerous, to be touched by human hands. Even through the haze of the forge, I could see the faint, swirling energy emanating from the orbs, rippling in the air like waves on a freezing desert horizon.

“These weapons aren’t chosen by warriors.” – He said, his deep voice laced with solemnity. – “They are alive in their own way. They decide. They will test you to see if you are worthy of wielding them.”

There was something in his tone, a reverence that bordered on fear. It wasn’t just respect for the weapons but for the power and will they embodied. I couldn’t fully fathom the depth of it, but his words sent a shiver down my spine nonetheless.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my hands and held them out, palms up, ready to receive them. My fingers trembled slightly, though whether it was from fear or anticipation, I couldn’t say.

Vulkancore moved with deliberate slowness, lowering the daggers toward me as if the act itself was a ritual. The moment they made contact with my skin, I felt it, an overwhelming, searing cold that raced through my hands like shards of ice stabbing into every nerve.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as pain erupted, sharp and unrelenting. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before, a sensation that went beyond the physical. My body screamed at me to let go, to release the daggers and end the agony, but I couldn’t. Something deeper, something primal, urged me to hold on, no matter the cost.

The world around me began to blur, the forge fading into darkness. And then, I saw it.

The depths of the earth, beyond the fire and molten core, stretching into an abyss that defied comprehension. It was as though I were falling endlessly, pulled deeper and deeper into the heart of existence itself. And there, in the void, I saw it.

A colossal being with wings that covered the entirety of the sky, each scale shimmering with an otherworldly light.

And in its eyes, I saw the end.

The collapse of stars, the unraveling of time, the very fabric of the universe tearing apart. It was a vision of destruction so profound it left me breathless, my soul trembling under its weight.

Pain brought me back. My hands, no, my veins, were bursting. The vessels in my palms swelled and ruptured, sending rivulets of blood coursing down my arms. My grip faltered, but I held on, refusing to yield even as my strength waned.

“I knew it.”

The words pierced through the haze, sharp and decisive. Before I could fully process what was happening, Arstria slapped my hands with surprising force. The daggers slipped from my grasp, clattering to the ground with a metallic thud.

The instant they left my skin, the pain ceased, leaving behind only a cold emptiness. I staggered back, clutching my hands, which were now slick with blood. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my body still trembling from the ordeal.

“Don’t get too upset over it.” – Arstria said, her tone casual, almost teasing, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. – “He tried to give me those awful weapons too, and I didn’t want them either. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

Her words caught me off guard, pulling me out of my daze. – “You weren’t chosen either?” – I managed to ask, my voice hoarse.

Vulkancore didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crouched to pick up the daggers with the tongs, handling them with the same caution as before. – “Not even I was.” – He said finally, his tone neutral but weighted. – “But if you plan on living a long life, it is good they have rejected you.”

With that, he placed them back into the chest, their faint glow diminishing as they returned to the velvet-lined interior. He closed the lid with a heavy thud and locked it with a twist of the key, as if sealing away something that should never have been unleashed.

Arstria placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch light but grounding. – “Come on.” – She said, her voice softer now. “Let’s find you something better. Something that won’t try to kill you the moment you pick it up.”

Vulkancore then presented me with many different weapons, but the one that caught my attention the most was a golden sword. A weapon strikingly ornate with intricated details and a sense of power and mystique.

The blade had a unique, asymmetrical design, starting with a curved and sharp-edged profile that tapers into a fine point. An almost ethereal glow running along its edges. The blade’s surface features a golden aesthetic. A curved cutout near the base adds to the weapon's exotic design, not just functional but also highly ornamental. Fine engravings and patterns near the base enhance its elegance, with details resembling celestial or arcane symbols.

The guard is intricately crafted, shaped like a golden phoenix or dragon, with detailed feathers or scales accentuating the hilt. Gold dominates the guard, with an antique, polished finish that exudes royalty. The handle is wrapped with what appears to be braided golden material, providing both grip and visual richness. The pommel of the handle tapers into a spiked point, echoing the weapon's lethal elegance.

The moment I laid eyes on the sword, an inexplicable connection surged through me, as though the weapon itself was part of me. I reached out instantly, my fingers grasping the handle. The material fit perfectly into my palm, as if it had been crafted for me alone.

I raised the sword, the golden edge catching the ambient light and refracting it into radiant, fiery hues. The weight was perfect, substantial yet balanced.

“Can I really have it?”

----------------------------------------

Arstria had tried to teach me the basics of swordsmanship once. She had demonstrated the moves with enthusiasm, but her instructions left much to be desired.

“Keep your body lower, steady your stance, and swing the blade with both hands.” – She’d said confidently, mimicking the motions herself.

“Then you need to swoosh and then slice, defeating the enemy!” – Arstria declared with a flourish, her voice filled with the kind of confidence that made her instructions sound simple.

To her credit, Arstria made it look easy. Her movements were fluid, almost dance-like, each step seamlessly blending into the next. She wielded her training blade with an elegance that was mesmerizing to watch, the arcs of fire trailing behind her sword giving the impression of a star painting the air itself. It was dazzling.

And completely unattainable for someone like me.

Her fighting style relied heavily on two things: incredible flexibility and explosive bursts of fire to propel her forward. Both were skills I was woefully incapable of replicating. I could barely swing the sword without tripping over my own feet, let alone leap across the battlefield in a blaze of glory.

And then there was the matter of her theatrics.

Every attack she demonstrated ended with her striking a dramatic pose, one hand on her hip, her sword angled just so, as though she were waiting for an unseen audience to erupt into applause. It was as if she expected cameras to capture her every move, as though the spectacle of the fight was just as important, if not more so, than its outcome.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” – Arstria asked, tilting her head.

Her crimson eyes blinked at me, and for a moment, she seemed genuinely puzzled. – “The pose? Of course, it does! It’s the punctuation mark of the attack, the exclamation point! Without it, how would anyone know you’ve won?”

I opened my mouth to argue but quickly shut it again. There was no point. Arstria had her own logic, and trying to unravel it was a battle I wasn’t equipped to fight.

Instead, I focused on trying to replicate her moves, albeit without the flames or the flair. I bent my knees, gripped the sword with both hands, and swung as she’d shown me, only to feel a sharp twinge in my lower back as I overextended.

Arstria clapped her hands together, her expression a mix of encouragement and exasperation. – “Almost! You need to loosen up more. Think of your body like a ribbon in the wind!”

Still, there was something undeniably captivating about watching her in action. Even if I couldn’t replicate her style, I could admire the artistry behind it, the way her flames seemed to breathe with her, the way her blade moved as if it were an extension of her will.

But as she struck another triumphant pose, her sword gleaming and her hair catching the light, I couldn’t help but shake my head. She’s definitely more performer than soldier, I thought, biting back a grin.

Maybe in a different world — one where humanity never fell — she could dance just for her own sake, because that smile is something more valuable than all the lives she saved.

Needless to say, Arstria wasn’t exactly the most skilled instructor. She meant well, of course, but her teaching method left me more confused than equipped to wield a blade effectively. After watching me fumble through a few pathetic attempts, she eventually sighed and called for backup.

“Sapphire, you take over.” – She announced, waving over to the Second Star.

The moment Sapphire approached, I felt the temperature in the room metaphorically drop. Her piercing blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach churn. There was a sharpness in her gaze, a silent promise that this wasn’t going to be just another casual training session.

“You’re holding the sword like a toddler clutches a spoon.” – Sapphire remarked flatly, her tone devoid of any warmth. She stepped closer, and I instinctively gripped the blade tighter, my palms growing slick with sweat.

She circled me like a predator stalking its prey, her movements precise and deliberate. – “If you’re going to survive, you’ll need to do better than that. Much better.”

What followed was less a lesson and more of a trial by steel. Sapphire’s idea of training seemed to involve attacking me with relentless ferocity, forcing me to block, dodge, and parry for my life. She swung her weapon with a grace and precision that only highlighted my clumsiness, her strikes coming so fast and sharp that I was convinced she was trying to kill me.

“Trying isn’t good enough.” – She snapped, following up with a thrust that I barely managed to deflect. – “The beasts won’t give you second chances, and neither will I.”

Her words were harsh, but her actions were harsher. Every strike she landed, not on me, thankfully, but on my weapon, sent vibrations up my arms, leaving my muscles screaming in protest. My attempts to fight back felt laughable in comparison, each swing of my blade slower and sloppier than the last.

Was I really five years older than these two? How could these children be that strong?!

At one point, I tripped over my own feet and landed flat on my back, my sword clattering to the ground beside me. Sapphire loomed over me, her weapon poised as though she was debating whether to finish me off right then and there.

“You’re hopeless.” – Sapphire muttered, shaking her head with a mixture of disdain and disappointment.

Her words stung, but I barely had time to process them before she launched another spear directly at me. My instincts screamed at me to move, but my body refused to cooperate. I stood frozen, staring in horror as the weapon sliced through the air.

But then, like a blur of fire, Arstria grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me out of harm’s way. The spear missed me by mere inches, embedding itself into the wall with a dull thunk that echoed in the training hall.

“Close.” – Sapphire remarked, her tone laced with disappointment as she stepped forward, another spear already materializing in her hand. She twirled it lazily, as if the whole thing were a game to her.

“Stop, stop, stop!” – Arstria screamed out, sharp and commanding. Stepping in front of the spear. – “What are you even trying to do?”

Sapphire tilted her head slightly as the spear vanished, her expression of mild amusement. – “If he survives, he’ll become strong. If not, that’s one less useless human in the world.”

Her tone was so matter of fact, so utterly devoid of empathy, that I found myself staring at her in stunned disbelief. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something so cold, but it still hit me like a slap to the face.

I barely heard their argument, too focused on the fact that Sapphire’s eyes occasionally darted toward me, calculating and predatory. She wasn’t just teaching me; she was testing me. And I had the distinct feeling she wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep if I failed.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why Sapphire was acting this way. Ever since I’d met her, there was something unsettlingly single-minded about her. If you cracked open her head and examined her brain, I was convinced you’d find every synapse screaming one thing: Arstria, Arstria, Arstria.

The Second Star was, without question, completely insane.

Her entire existence seemed to revolve around Arstria. Sapphire wasn’t just loyal, she was obsessed. Every word, every action, every decision she made seemed calibrated to serve or protect her. It was like watching a zealot in action, and it was equal parts fascinating and terrifying.

I’d already noticed how annoyed she’d been the past week while Arstria was training me. She didn’t even try to hide it, her icy glares and passive-aggressive remarks a constant reminder that I was, in her eyes, taking up Arstria’s precious time. But this? Trying to spear me during training? That went beyond jealousy. This was full-blown possessiveness, the kind you’d expect from a sibling who’d taken the concept of envy to dangerous extremes.

It was unbelievable, really. The relationship between Arstria and Sapphire was akin to being sisters, yet Sapphire treated it with a fervor that bordered on unhealthy.

And then there was the whole master-servant dynamic they had going on. I still didn’t understand it. Sapphire called Arstria “Master” with the kind of devotion that made me uncomfortable, and while Arstria always insisted they were equals, Sapphire clearly didn’t agree.

Am I even in the right place among the stars? I wondered, glancing down at the sword in my hand. What was I doing here, stuck between Arstria’s fiery determination and Sapphire’s steely madness? Was this some cosmic joke, or had the universe genuinely decided to test how much nonsense I could endure before snapping?

“If I can’t train him.” – Arstria thought out loud, her voice filled with hesitation. – “and if you can’t either… Then there’s only one option left.”

Sapphire’s eyebrows arched in surprise before her lips curled into a sly smile. – “Vian?” – She asked, her tone almost playful. – “I see. Her lessons are truly one of a kind.”

I didn’t like the way she said that, like she already knew how this was going to end, and it amused her. Sapphire’s smile widened as she added – “That would also mean you’ll be spending far less time with him, Master.” – Her emphasis on the word Master dripped with satisfaction, as though the suggestion alone was a victory for her.

Arstria crossed her arms, her gaze clouding with doubt. – “But she was only able to train you, Sapphire. I could never get into her methods. They’re…” – She hesitated, searching for the right word. – “Unconventional.”

Sapphire shrugged, unconcerned. – “Unconventional doesn’t mean ineffective. If anything, it makes her the perfect candidate. If this one.” – She gestured lazily toward me. – “Can’t handle her training, then he doesn’t stand a chance against the beasts anyway.”

The casual dismissal in her voice made my blood boil, but I bit my tongue. I wasn’t about to give Sapphire the satisfaction of a reaction.

“There’s only one way to find out.” – I said, surprising even myself with the steadiness of my voice. Slowly, I got to my feet, gripping the sword tighter as I looked Arstria in the eye. My body ached from Sapphire’s brutal training, my mind reeling from the constant barrage of insults and doubts, but I refused to let it show.

“I need to get stronger.” – I continued, my words firm. – “If I’m going to use this life of mine to help people, then I’ll take whatever chance I get.”

----------------------------------------

Three Months Later

After three grueling months of training under Vian’s unconventional and brutally effective methods, Arstria finally deemed me ready to accompany her on a beast eradication mission.

The day had arrived, and despite the nerves gnawing at my stomach, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. – “I’m so hyped, bro.” – I said, grinning as I tightened my grip on the golden sword Vulkancore had given me. We were approaching the feather’s location.

Arstria glanced at me, her expression hovering between amusement and exasperation. – “First of all, don’t call me ‘bro’.” – She said, adjusting my military outfit with a practiced efficiency that bordered on maternal.

“Second.” – She continued, brushing her fingers through my hair to fix an unruly strand, - “Remember what we talked about: if the battle gets too hard, you hide. I’ll take care of the beast.” – Her tone was calm but firm, like a mother sending her child off to school for the first time.

I laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood. – “And if you die, it’s no big deal because you’ll just get back up after a while, right?”

Her face lit up with a grin, as though I’d just repeated a fact about the weather. – “Exactly!” – She chirped like a bird, clearly unfazed by how unsettling that sounded.

But I couldn’t shake the eerie truth behind it. In the months leading up to this mission, I’d watched countless videos of Arstria’s battles. There was a stark difference between the way she fought before and after my experiment. Before, her movements had been cautious, calculated, a fighter keenly aware of her own mortality. Now, she charged into combat with reckless abandon, throwing herself into danger as if her life were a bargaining chip she was all too willing to spend.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Discovering her immortality had fundamentally changed her approach. If sacrificing herself meant taking down a beast, or several, with her, she didn’t hesitate. The way she talked about it, dying was nothing more than an inconvenient pause in the fight.

Still, hearing her confirm it so casually sent a chill down my spine. – “You realize how creepy that sounds, right?” – I muttered, adjusting the weight of my sword.

Arstria tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. – “It’s just practical. If I know I can get back up, why wouldn’t I use that to my advantage? The beasts don’t stand a chance when I fight like that.”

I sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. To her, it was just logic. To me, it was a reminder of how vastly different we were.

As we reached the clearing where the feather had landed, the air grew heavier, the atmosphere tinged with an unnatural stillness. The feather glowed ominously in the center of the clearing, its gaseous-like form pulsing faintly as though alive.

“So, this is how they look like in person. To think this is the culprit behind the end of humanity.” – I crouched down to look upon the object.

It resembled the feather of a dove, pristine and elegant, yet it wasn’t made of any physical substance. It pulsed faintly, as if breathing in the quiet air, an ethereal creation more akin to a shimmer of light than solid matter. The truth of its nature, however, was far more ominous. This was no mere feather, it was a dormant rift in the dimensional fabric, a gateway to another world.

Arstria stood beside me, her posture firm and commanding, though her crimson eyes betrayed the weight of her words. She began explaining, her tone carrying a mixture of gravity and patience.

“Ever since the Grand Mana Meter was completed, we’ve finally been able to understand how the beasts infiltrate Sirius City’s barrier.” – She said, her gaze fixed on the feather. – “They don’t pass through the barrier itself. The beasts outside never manage to enter directly.”

She paused, letting her words sink in, as though testing how much I had absorbed from her previous explanations. I nodded, recalling the many lessons she had drilled into me.

“They use these feathers.” – I added, my voice steady despite the unease twisting in my stomach. – “For some reason, these rifts manifest inside the city. The beasts aren’t appearing out of nowhere, they come from another dimension entirely, and these feathers serve as their portals. The stronger the beast trying to cross, the longer it takes for the portal to fully manifest and allow them through.”

Arstria gave a small, approving smile, her salmon-colored hair catching the faint glow of the feather. – “Exactly. And what do we do when we find one of these portals?” – Her question hung in the air, expectant.

I didn’t hesitate. – “We don’t wait for them to pass through.” – I replied, my tone resolute. – “If we did, lives would be threatened. Instead, we invade their dimension first. We kill them there, closing the portal before they can step into our world.”

“Good!” – She exclaimed, reaching up to pat my head. The gesture might have been reassuring if she weren’t so much shorter than me. As it was, the sight of her stretching upward in an almost comical attempt at encouragement coaxed a faint grin from my otherwise tense face.

Then, without missing a beat, she reached to her belt and retrieved a sleek, compact device. – “Activating portable drone.” – She announced.

The small machine unfolded in her hands, its polished surface gleaming in the light. It took to the air with a soft hum, its high-definition cameras adjusting smoothly to capture every angle. It adjusted its trajectory with practiced ease, positioning it for maximum visibility.

“This drone will record everything.” – She said, her voice now tinged with the efficiency of someone who had done this countless times. – “People need to see us in action. Their faith in us and in Sirius only grows when they witness our victories.”

I glanced at the drone, its lenses glinting like watchful eyes. – “But only the victories.” – I noted, my voice quieter. – “The people never see the failures.”

Arstria’s gaze flicked to mine, sharp and unyielding. – “Of course.” – She said, her tone leaving no room for debate. – “If they saw every misstep, every injury, every death… it would shatter their trust. Hope is fragile, and despair is our enemy’s strongest ally. We show them the moments of triumph, the proof that we can and will protect them. Nothing else matters.”

I nodded, though her words didn’t completely ease the knot in my chest. I turned my attention back to the feather, its faint shimmer now pulsing with increasing intensity. The portal was close to awakening.

“Time’s up.” – Arstria said briskly. She adjusted the gloves on her hands, her movements deliberate and steady. – “Are you ready?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. – “Ready.”

With a decisive nod, Arstria stepped closer to the feather, her figure framed by its eerie glow. The drone hovered above her, its lenses trained on the scene as she extended her hand toward the rift. A soft hum filled the air, growing louder as the feather’s energy responded to her touch.

“Then let’s go.” – She said, her voice steady and calm.