Four Stars Academy…
The sea of flames began to falter as the first drops of rain struck the academy grounds. Fire hissed and recoiled beneath the downpour, refusing to die quietly. Water answered flame, and for a brief, violent moment, the two clashed for dominion over the ruins.
Thunder rolled across the heavens. Lightning tore through the clouds, striking again and again as though the sky itself sought to brand the land. Each flash illuminated the broken bodies of fallen demonic beasts—half-burned, half-forged anew by heat and storm. Steam rose in suffocating clouds as fire and rain collided, filling the air with the stench of scorched flesh and wet ash.
This was all that remained of the prestigious Four Stars Academy.
Collapsed halls. Shattered towers. Training fields reduced to craters of mud and stone. The remnants of what had once been a golden building lay split and blackened, its former grandeur twisted into ruin.
The rain thickened, falling harder now, and with it a faint greenish hue seeped through the air, spreading across the grounds like a sickness.
High above the academy, a lone man stood suspended within the storm, gazing down upon the destruction below.
Kime Auburn.
His expression was calm, composed—but his eyes betrayed him. They lingered too long on the ruins, tracing places that no longer existed. A fractured courtyard. A collapsed lecture hall. A scorched training ground where laughter had once echoed.
In all his eons of life, this was among the hardest decisions he had ever made.
His manipulation of time had spanned too wide a scale, woven through too many variables. To steer the future he had seen, he had been forced to choose outcomes over lives—forced to accept sacrifices he could not undo.
Illiopo's death.
The fifty-three trainees who would never leave Four Stars Academy.
The countless observers who had perished in — City.
Each loss weighed upon him, not as numbers, but as certainties—events he had willingly allowed to occur.
He had done it anyway.
It had been painful. It still was. But it had been necessary. Of all the futures he had witnessed, this was the only path that did not end in absolute darkness.
Others might call him partial. Self-serving. A tyrant who played god.
Let them.
Everything he had set into motion had been for this moment—to ensure Itekan awakened his shadow memories and reclaimed his authority. To ensure Itoyea claimed his sword and bonded with the power meant for him. And to ensure Kutote could finally sever himself from the worthless men and false authorities that had weighed upon his life for so long, and move forward unburdened.
Below, a dull pounding echoed through the ruins.
Several Zengas who had survived the inferno were still hurling themselves against the reinforced doors of his office—snarling, clawing, too consumed by rage to flee.
Kime watched them for a second longer than necessary.
That should give him enough time to make a decision.
Then he lifted his hand.
A single, restrained wave of Spiritual Energy swept across the entrance. The Zengas were crushed flat in an instant, their bodies collapsing as though gravity itself had turned against them. No flourish. No hesitation. Just an end.
Kime exhaled slowly.
Descending through the rain, he landed before the ruined office door. For a moment, his hand hovered near the handle. His fingers tightened—then relaxed.
Finally, he opened it.
---
Ten minutes earlier…
Inside the office, tension hung thick in the air. The fear that even this place would soon fall kept everyone on edge.
Each passing second etched itself into memory—bad memories. Claustrophobia gnawed at the weaker-willed. Some whispered prayers. Others wished for death rather than endure the slow, suffocating suspense.
Most had already given up.
But not all.
Even as the walls seemed to close in and the temperature steadily rose, some refused to lose hope. Refused to lose faith.
They were the first to notice it.
The heat—once steadily climbing since the first two explosions—had begun to simmer.
Gerald Stecham clung to that change, hoping it was a sign. A sign that the worst had passed.
But doubt gnawed at him.
No matter how this ended, his reputation would be ruined. His relationships with his peers fractured beyond repair. He had never imagined Alison Jean would lie against him.
He hoped he would survive.
And yet, part of him wished he wouldn't.
In the corner of the office, Instructor Keel Kun stood in the midst of a heated exchange with Avery Ransthrol and Rose.
"…I have no evidence," Rose said firmly, meeting Keel Kun's gaze, "but I'm certain, Instructor. She's the one who destroyed the Southern Tower—the breach that let the beasts in."
Rose wasn't the strongest. Nor the smartest. But she trusted her intuition above all else.
And every fiber of her being screamed that it had been Alison.
"I know," Keel Kun replied quietly. "But there is a reason laws exist. We cannot apprehend someone on intuition alone. Without proof, she goes free."
"It's my grandfather," Avery said suddenly.
Both of them turned to him.
"He's the mastermind behind all of this. I'm certain of it."
Keel Kun closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. Another intuition-based deduction. Another truth without proof.
It meant nothing.
Who would dare accuse a living legend on speculation alone?
Before he could respond, another instructor—who had been tending to an injured trainee—called out to him.
"I'm coming," Keel Kun said. He turned back to Avery and Rose. "Stay alert. I have a feeling this isn't how it ends."
They nodded, and Keel Kun moved away.
Rose returned to the injured. Avery remained by the wall, lost in thought.
Before long, Alison Jean slithered into his peripheral vision like a snake.
"So," she said softly, "have you made your decision yet?"
Avery didn't flinch. He had expected her.
"You talk as if there was ever much of a choice," he replied. "I've thought about the Ransthrol lineage. There's no way my grandfather would let someone like me live—a bastard son of his unfilial third son. Especially one who opposes him."
He turned to face her.
"So let's be honest. You're here to either take me out… or take me with you."
"Close enough," Alison said calmly. "Master doesn't care about your mistakes or short-sighted decisions. He loves all his children equally—and wants you all to survive what's coming."
"Even at the cost of everyone else's lives?"
"Even then."
"Even at the cost of your own?"
"Even then."
Avery swallowed.
He didn't know whether it was loyalty or indoctrination. Either way, he saw no path that didn't demand a choice.
"What is it," he asked quietly, "that he's so afraid of?"
Alison's eyes hardened.
"Death," she said. "Not metaphorical. Not symbolic. Death in the flesh. The god of death—Noir."
Avery's legs gave out beneath him.
The calamity god. The forbidden god. The bringer of annihilation.
When the nation of Tamoru had shifted its official religion to worship death itself, the world hadn't intervened. And only a few months later, the entire country had been erased during the fight between the apostles of death and Carpathia.
Avery had been there. At the epicenter.
He had even made the foolish mistake of working with the god's disciples—seeking revenge against the Ransthrol family for his childhood.
He had learned the truth the hard way.
Death respected no one.
Carpathia had sealed Noir away last year—but if his grandfather feared the god's return this much…
He understood now.
He didn't condone it.
But he understood.
And that meant there was still time.
Time to change things.
Time to atone.
"I'll go with you," Avery said.
Alison smiled—sharp and satisfied.
"I thought as much. You've made the correct decision, Young Master."
She produced a small device and input a set of coordinates.
"Come closer," she said. "The Territory of the Dead Men's Ship."
As Avery stepped forward, the space around them distorted. Their bodies dissolved into light.
Rose and Gerald both noticed it at the same moment.
They shouted.
Others turned.
But it was too late.
The two vanished completely.
A heavy presence pressed against the office door.
Then—
With the sound of screaming metal, the door was ripped from its hinges.
And standing outside, framed by rain and ruin, was Kime Auburn.
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