The girl from the photograph. I remembered quickly.
Click-clack.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, sharp and deliberate. My heart thudded as a figure stepped into view.
Crimson red hair flowed down her back in silky waves, its rich colour catching the light like embers in the dark.
Her striking green eyes locked onto me, scanning me with an unreadable expression. But what caught my attention most wasn't her beauty, it was her attire.
She wore a sleek, form-fitting black blouse, its high collar accentuating her elegant neck. Draped over her shoulders was a dark red coat, trimmed with intricate gold embroidery.
Her tailored pants hinted at both refinement and practicality.
My body tensed. Not out of fear, but out of instinct. This wasn't the attire of a simple commoner.
Suddenly, I noticed her expression shift, shock flashing across her face.
"Your nose is bleeding." Her voice laced with concern.
Drip.
I touched my nose, my fingertips coming away stained red. Before I could react, my vision swam, the world tilting beneath me.
"Luci, Luci!"
"Dear!"
Thud.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
***
For a moment, there was nothing. Just an endless, weightless void.
Then, like a broken dam, memories surged into my mind, overwhelming and unstoppable.
Images. Sensations. Emotions.
Memories that weren't my own yet now belonged to me.
I saw myself, Lucion Everhart, training relentlessly every evening, pushing my body beyond its limits, all for a singular dream: Vortex Academy.
Vortex.
The number one academy in the human domain. A place for those who aspired for greatness, who sought a future beyond the ordinary.
Despite being a mere mortal, I had dared to dream. I had trained in secret, far from prying eyes, longing to break free from the mundane life of a farmer.
...
A year ago…
While working with my father near the mountain's edge, I had waited for dusk to settle.
The moment the sun dipped below the horizon, I slipped away, each step careful, each breath measured.
This was my routine. My father believed I was tending to the fields, but in truth, I had another purpose, to train. To carve my own fate beyond the limits of an ordinary life.
But as I ventured deeper into the forest, beyond the fields' familiar embrace, the air grew unnervingly still.
A silence settled around me, thick and oppressive, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Then, suddenly, a sharp sound broke the silence, a metallic clash of steel against rock.
The noise pierced the quiet night like a warning, and before I could fully process it, a low, guttural roar followed.
Fear jolted through me, my heart pounding.
Every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, but something else tugged at me a strange, inexplicable pull.
It wasn't bravery. It was something deeper, almost primal.
The sound wasn't just noise. It felt like a call, a challenge I couldn't ignore.
I hesitated for only a moment, my mind racing.
What if someone was in trouble? What if this was my chance to prove I wasn't just a farmer's son, bound to a life of mundane routine?
Before I could second-guess myself, my legs moved.
I rushed toward the source of the noise, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
The forest seemed to close in around me, the shadows twisting and shifting as I pushed through the underbrush.
I kept perfectly still, barely daring to move, as my fingers dug into the cold dirt beneath me. Through the leaves, I saw it.
A wolf-like creature, standing on its hind legs. Its fur was black as the void itself, and its eyes burned with a malevolent red glow. The sight of it sent a shiver of terror through me.
And standing against it—
Her.
The girl with crimson-red hair.
She moved like a tempest, her sword a blur of motion, each strike calculated and deadly. The beast lunged, its claws swiping.
She pivoted effortlessly, her blade carving through the air with precision. Blood splattered against the moonlit grass, the beast howling in agony.
I had never seen such skill before. Such terrifying grace.
But
A second beast emerged from the shadows, its dark red eyes locked onto her exposed back.
She didn't see it.
Panic shot through me. My limbs felt like lead, my voice caught in my throat.
My instinct screamed at me to run, to hide.
But I didn't.
My body moved. Grabbing a rock from the ground, I hurled it with all my might.
It struck the creature's skull with a sickening crack, causing it to stagger for just a moment, but a moment was all she needed.
Her blade whirled in a deadly arc, severing the beast's throat in a single, fluid motion. It collapsed, twitching once before going still.
Silence fell over the clearing.
Then, her gaze snapped toward me.
I swallowed hard. For a second, I thought she might strike me down just for interfering.
But instead, she approached, each step slow and deliberate.
She stopped just before me, staring down with piercing green eyes.
Her lips parted, and she said a single word that changed everything.
"Idiot."
I blinked. "Huh?"
She sighed, sheathing her blade and crouching to my level. "What were you thinking? Do you have a death wish?"
I shook my head frantically. "I…I just… you were in danger, so I…"
Her eyes softened, just barely. "You're lucky you weren't torn apart." Then, to my utter confusion, she smirked. "Still, not bad for a mortal."
That night, she didn't just leave after saving me.
She took me home, ensuring I was safe.
My father, overwhelmed with gratitude, insisted she stay.
And in the following days, I learned her name, Selena.
She was a warrior, trained in ways beyond my comprehension. And more than that to my surprise, she chose to stay.
It started with subtle things. She began watching over me during training, offering cryptic advice and occasional corrections.
One evening, as I practiced my footwork with a wooden sword, she tossed a dagger at my feet.
"Swords are flashy," she said, her voice sharp but not unkind.
"But daggers? They're honest. Quick, precise, and deadly in the right hands. Pick it up."
I hesitated, staring at the blade glinting in the moonlight.
It was smaller than I expected, but the weight felt perfect in my hand.
"Good," she said, circling me like a predator. "Now, show me what you've got."
I lunged at her, but she sidestepped effortlessly, her movements fluid and unhurried.
Before I could react, she disarmed me with a flick of her wrist, the dagger clattering to the ground.
"Again," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
And so, we trained. Night after night, under the cover of darkness, she taught me the art of the dagger.
How to strike from the shadows, how to use my opponent's momentum against them, how to kill with a single, precise motion.
"A dagger isn't just a weapon," she said, her voice low and steady. "It's an extension of your will. Your determination to survive."
Her words stuck with me, fuelling my determination. I practiced relentlessly, my hands calloused and my body aching, but I refused to give up.
Each night, I grew faster, sharper, more confident.
The first time I called her "sister," it was an accident, a slip of the tongue during training.
She had gone eerily still for a moment, her usual sharp demeanor cracking just slightly.
Her expression was unreadable, surprise, hesitation, something else lurking beneath it.
But just as quickly, she had masked it, her usual smirk returning as she ruffled my hair.
"Took you long enough," she had said, though something in her voice had been different.
And as time passed, her attachment to me grew.
She never called me Luci at first. That name only came later, on a night when I had collapsed from overtraining.
I had awoken to the sensation of someone gently running their fingers through my hair. Dazed, I had looked up to see her expression soft, tender in a way I had never seen before.
"You idiot," she had murmured. "You always push yourself too hard."
She had hesitated, then whispered, "Rest, Luci. Just this once."
That was the first time she ever used that name. A name that only she called me.
A name that carried something deeper, a bond forged by something far more personal than obligation.
The memory blurred, its edges fading into the present.
***
I gasped, my eyes snapping open as reality crashed back in.
The familiar ceiling greeted me, though my mind struggled to process what I had just seen.
Before I could fully process the moment, a cold voice cut through the haze, its chill sinking into my bones.
"You're awake."