The evening air was warm, carrying the scent of roasted meats and fresh bread as Lyra and her group gathered around the campfire, plates full and laughter drifting through the forest clearing. For once, the tension of traveling and constant threats seemed to ease, if only slightly.
Lyra, ever restless, set down her fork and looked over at Rei. "Rei… I want to be stronger. I can't just keep hiding or running forever." Her tone wasn't whining; it was determination.
Rei froze mid-chew, glancing at her carefully. "Stronger… you mean in combat?" He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I can train you, but… fighting with a girl? It's… harder. Not impossible, but it's not exactly straightforward."
Lyra perked up a little, curious. "What do you mean?" she asked, voice steady.
"I mean…" Rei glanced at Yura, who had been silently observing the conversation with a faint scowl. "…that a guy training a girl directly is… tricky. Strength differences, technique adaptation…" He trailed off, unsure how to phrase it without offending. "You'd be better with someone more experienced in teaching women fighters."
Yura's head snapped up, her dark eyes narrowing. "I wasn't planning to teach just anybody," she said sharply, arms crossed. "Especially not someone I don't trust yet."
Lyra felt a small sting, though it barely reached her expression. She kept calm, but Rei's worried glance made her sigh internally. "I don't mind how slow your training is," she said firmly. "I'm willing to learn. I don't care if it's… difficult."
Yura froze. Her eyes flared in disbelief. *Did she just brush me off like that?* A flush of pride and irritation swept through her. Her jaw tightened, and she stood straighter. "You… you think this is trivial?" she hissed, clearly offended. "Fine. I'll teach you. But don't mistake it—you are lucky I even agreed. Consider it a favor, nothing more." Her voice dripped with pride, each word carefully measured.
Lyra's expression remained neutral, almost unreadable. She simply nodded. "Then… I agree." Her calmness seemed to only fuel Yura's irritation further.
Rei exhaled, running a hand down his face. "Alright… let's start then."
The next day, Yura led Lyra deeper into the forest than she had expected. The trees grew thick, the canopy above blotting out much of the morning light, and the forest floor became uneven with roots and moss. It wasn't the safe beginner area Rei had suggested, it was deep, untamed, and full of magical life.
"Wait, what?!" Lyra exclaimed. "This is—this is outrageous! There's no way I can—"
Before she could finish, Yura's sharp eyes caught movement in the shadows. A large, lupine magical beast leapt toward them, teeth bared and aura flaring.
"Slay it!" Yura shouted, drawing her sword in one fluid motion. Her strike was precise, slicing through the beast before it could reach Lyra. The wolf-like creature collapsed instantly.
Lyra staggered back, her heart racing. "I— I can't even touch it! How—how do you—"
Another movement caught her eye. Smaller, level 8 beasts approached, their glowing eyes reflecting in the dim light. Lyra froze. Yura shouted again. "Move! Try something! Don't just stand there!"
Lyra barely dodged as one of the smaller beasts lunged at her, claw swiping past her shoulder. She stumbled, pressed herself against a massive tree, and watched helplessly as it ran straight into a twisted root and knocked itself out cold. Her chest heaved. "This… this is insane…"
Yura's voice cut through her panic. "Do NOT just hide! Fight! DEFEND yourself!" She sliced another approaching beast down effortlessly, her movements fluid and brutal.
Just as Lyra tried to take a shaky step forward, a beast appeared seemingly out of nowhere, barreling straight at her. She froze in terror.
"LYRA!" Rei's voice rang out from a distance, and a burst of magic shot through the forest. The beast fell mid-charge, smoke curling from its charred body.
Rei ran forward, eyes scanning the shadows, and reached Lyra in a few strides. "Are you okay?!" He scooped her up in his arms without a second thought, shielding her behind him. "Yura, leave. We're done for now!"
Yura scowled but stepped back, pride and irritation mixing in her glare. "Hmph. Don't think this changes anything. You're going to learn properly next time. No excuses."
Lyra clung to Rei, still trembling, but nodded. "I… I understand." Her mind raced. *I'm going to have to grow stronger… much stronger… if I'm going to survive this.*
Rei's arms held her firmly, eyes scanning the forest to ensure no other threats emerged. "I won't let anything happen to you," he said softly, voice calm but firm. "You'll learn. We'll get through this together."
Lyra exhaled, still shaken, but somewhere inside, a spark of determination ignited. She knew the path ahead would be harsh, but she wouldn't back down, not now, not ever.
And deep in the forest, shadows stirred, watching the group as the first lessons in survival and combat began.
.........
The grand council room of the Imperial Kingdom was alive with chaos. The leaders of every district, city, and province had been called in on an emergency summons. Their faces were pale, eyes wide with panic as reports from Dawnvake, a tiny village tucked within Crystalspure, the capital of Lyria, were read aloud.
"The village… it's gone," one voice trembled, pointing at the detailed map laid across the table. "All homes burned to the ground. Witnesses report mass killings—men, women, children… even the livestock. It's a complete annihilation."
Another leader slammed a fist onto the table, sending papers flying. "And the mana crystals! Thousands of them… gone! Who is behind this? Who would attack one of our villages?"
Arguments erupted, voices overlapping as accusations flew from every direction. "It's a rival faction!"
"No! An inside job!"
"The thieves were clearly after the mana crystals, not the people!"
Chaos reigned, tempers flaring. Every leader was shouting, pointing fingers, and demanding answers. Panic had overridden protocol.
The room went silent for just a moment as Kaizen entered. He didn't announce himself; there was no prelude to his presence. The usual calm, self-assured smile that seemed to mask all emotions had vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-edged glare. The chatter faltered mid-sentence as every eye turned toward him.
Kaizen's voice was low but cutting. "Enough."
Even in the midst of panic, the sound of his authority made heads turn. Papers rustled, and the leaders fell into uneasy silence.
Without another word, Kaizen gestured sharply, summoning aides. "Gather every report. Trace every lead. I want to know who did this, why, and what remains of the witnesses. Leave no stone unturned."
Before the council could begin to formulate a plan, the heavy doors of the chamber burst open. A dozen masked figures, clad in dark armor and wielding vicious weapons, stormed in. The metallic clang of swords against stone, the thunder of boots on marble, echoed through the hall.
"INTRUDERS!" someone shouted, but the chaos had already begun.
Leaders tried to draw weapons, but the intruders were swift, merciless. One by one, the men and women of authority fell, stabbed, slashed, or sent flying across the room. Screams of terror mixed with the sickening thud of bodies hitting the floor.
Kaizen moved with predatory precision. His eyes narrowed as one masked figure lunged toward him, aiming to strike. In an instant, Kaizen's hand met the attack, and the intruder's hand evaporated as if burned by some intense energy. A smell of scorched flesh filled the air, and the attacker screamed in agony, blood melting and dripping in blackened rivulets.
Before Kaizen could process further, a new presence emerged. From the shadows behind him, a figure darted forward with fluid grace, a woman in sleek, black armor, ponytail swaying, green eyes glowing behind her mask. She slammed her hands onto the injured intruder, chanting under her breath. The wound knitted itself together, flesh mending with a faint golden glow, yet her expression remained unreadable, cold, professional.
Kaizen didn't flinch. He didn't even glance at her, but his eyes were like blades, scanning every intruder, every movement, every threat.
The surviving intruder, now healed enough to stand, staggered slightly but straightened when Kaizen's gaze cut through the room like a knife. They didn't speak, just moved toward the exit, dragging the wounded with them.
Before disappearing into the hall, the black-armored woman turned slightly, and one of the masked men, fierce, broad-shouldered, voice deep behind the mask, spoke with deadly calm.
"Tell the Emperor… we're coming. And we will reclaim what your kingdom has taken from us."
Then, as quickly as they arrived, they were gone, vanishing into the shadows and smoke of the council hall, leaving chaos, terror, and stunned silence in their wake.
Kaizen finally allowed a breath, his jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line. For the first time, those in the chamber saw something rarely glimpsed, a deep, simmering irritation that even his legendary composure couldn't mask. His eyes scanned the remaining leaders, silent but lethal, and the room understood: there was another battle he had to fight
.........
Days had passed since Hiryuu, Mira, and Elisia were welcomed into the kingdom, and the royal treatment had never lessened.
Silken drapes framed wide balconies. Servants moved soundlessly through marble halls. Warm meals arrived without request, and guards bowed every time Elisia passed, even when she tried not to notice.
"This place is exhausting," Elisia muttered one afternoon, reclining against a cushioned window seat. "Everyone keeps staring like I'm going to explode."
Hiryuu stood nearby, arms folded, eyes half-lidded as faint traces of magic shimmered around her fingertips. "They're cautious. And curious. You don't carry system magic quietly."
Elisia sighed. "I know. I can feel it too. It's… restless."
That restlessness was exactly why, days later, the comfort stopped being comforting.
They had begun searching in earnest.
Late one evening, the air in their assigned chambers felt strange, subtly distorted, like a thread pulled too tight. Hiryuu paused mid-step, her expression sharpening.
"…Do you feel that?" she asked.
Elisia nodded immediately. "Yeah. It's not mine."
The sensation wasn't hostile, but it was foreign, structured differently from the system magic bound to Elisia. It pulsed once, faint but deliberate, from the adjoining room.
Mira.
They followed the feeling quietly.
Inside the next chamber, Mira sat on the floor, a thin circle of sigils etched faintly in the air around her hands. The symbols were unfamiliar, curved, gentle, nothing like military-grade spellwork. One by one, she adjusted them, murmuring softly as she rewrote portions of the magic.
Hiryuu frowned. "Those aren't imperial spells."
Mira didn't look up. "They're not meant to be."
She finished the last alteration, then pressed her palms together and lowered her head.
"Eirene," she whispered.
The room stilled.
Not with power, but with warmth.
Elisia felt it immediately. A soft, human presence, nothing overwhelming. No pressure. No demand.
When Mira finally opened her eyes, she smiled faintly. "She listens better when the noise is quiet."
Hiryuu tilted her head. "The Goddess of Mercy."
Mira nodded. "Also called the Goddess of Kindness. Healing. Protection. She represents the human side of divinity."
Elisia straightened. "I've barely heard her name mentioned."
"That's because the military priesthood doesn't favor her," Mira said calmly as she rose. "She isn't useful for conquest. But in villages, smaller kingdoms… among healers like me, ....she's remembered."
Hiryuu studied the fading sigils. "And prayers alone are enough?"
Mira shook her head. "Not usually. For Eirene to truly answer, the prayer must pass through a sustained or highly recognized religious figure. Someone anchored deeply in faith. Otherwise… she only watches."
That hung in the air longer than it should have.
Mira exhaled, the tension easing from her shoulders. "I'll go get some tea. This always leaves me thirsty."
She slipped out of the room, unbothered.
Hiryuu yawned suddenly, rubbing her eye. "I'm taking my scheduled nap. Don't let anyone stab reality while I'm out."
She turned and left without another word, already half-asleep as she went.
That left Elisia alone.
The room felt quieter without them, too quiet.
Elisia glanced around, then toward the slightly ajar door of Mira's room. After a brief hesitation, she stepped inside. The space was modest compared to the rest of the chambers, shelves lined with scrolls, charms, and old religious texts.
Her gaze landed on a thick, worn book resting on the desk.
The Book of Guidance.
She picked it up absentmindedly, flipping through the pages while waiting for Mira to return.
At first, everything seemed ordinary.
Prayers. Hymns. Recorded interpretations of Eirene's teachings, mercy, restraint, protection of the weak.
Then Elisia frowned.
"…That's not right."
She flipped back a few pages, eyes narrowing as she reread a passage. The wording felt off. Too precise. Too… recent.
Slowly, carefully, she began scanning deeper.
And with each page she turned, her expression darkened.
Something had been changed.
----
Elisia hadn't meant to pry.
At first.
The Book of Guidance rested heavily in her hands, its worn leather spine familiar, comforting even. She had read versions of it countless times, scriptures of mercy, healing rites, prayers meant to calm the dying and soothe the living.
Nothing new.
Or at least… it shouldn't have been.
She flipped through the pages slowly, fingers brushing over the ink, eyes scanning lines she already knew by heart.
Then she stopped.
Her brow furrowed.
She flipped back.
Read it again.
The passage spoke of mercy as balance, of lives weighed and measured, of loss being "necessary" for order. That wasn't unusual. The doctrine had always leaned uncomfortably close to cold logic.
But something was wrong.
The margins.
Elisia leaned closer, her breath hitching.
The ink near the edges looked… distorted. As if it had bled and dried again. As if words had once been there, words that no longer existed.
She turned the page.
Then another.
Her fingers began to tremble.
Whole verses felt… hollow. Incomplete. As if something vital had been carved out and smoothed over. And beneath the polished scripture, faint impressions remained, like scars under healed skin.
"Elisia?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin.
Mira stood by the doorway, watching her with mild curiosity, a cup of steaming tea in her hands.
"You've gone quiet," Mira said gently. "Is something wrong?"
Elisia swallowed.
"…Mira," she said slowly, carefully, "where did you get this copy of the Book of Guidance?"
Mira blinked.
"My copy?" She tilted her head. "I've had it for years."
"That's not what I asked," Elisia said, her voice tight now. "Where did you get it?"
Mira hesitated.
Just for a second.
But Elisia saw it.
Mira sighed and set the cup down, her usual warmth dimming into something more distant. Older.
"I wasn't supposed to keep it," Mira said quietly.
Elisia's grip tightened on the book.
"…What?"
Mira crossed the room and sat across from her, folding her hands in her lap. For the first time, she looked tired, not physically, but in a way that came from carrying something for too long.
"When I worked under the system," Mira continued, "I wasn't just a healer."
Elisia's heart pounded.
"I was a Recorder."
The word landed like a blow.
"…That's impossible," Elisia whispered. "Recorders don't exist anymore."
Mira smiled faintly. "That's what they want people to believe."
She reached out and touched the book.
"This isn't a public scripture," Mira said. "Not truly. It's a pre-edited draft. A master record."
Elisia felt cold all over.
"Recorders were allowed to read the divine records before they were… corrected," Mira said. "Before certain gods were softened. Before certain truths were erased."
Elisia's eyes burned as understanding crashed into place.
"…Eirene," she breathed.
Mira's gaze sharpened.
"Yes," she said. "The Goddess of Kindness. Mercy. Healing."
Elisia flipped through the pages rapidly now, seeing it clearly, passages where mercy was reduced to restraint, compassion turned into procedure, protection rewritten as obedience.
"They hollowed her out," Elisia whispered. "They didn't erase her… they diluted her."
Mira nodded.
"When I was dismissed," she said softly, "I was told to return the book. Or destroy it."
"But you didn't."
"I couldn't," Mira admitted. "Something about it felt wrong. I didn't fully understand why—only that burning it felt like killing something already wounded."
Elisia's hands shook.
"…This book shouldn't change," she said. "Yet it is."
Mira frowned. "Change?"
Elisia pointed to the margins. The faint impressions. The bleeding ink.
"The village," Elisia whispered. "The massacre."
Mira went still.
"When that many innocent lives are lost," Elisia continued, voice trembling with awe and horror, "divine records react. Suppressed truths strain. The scriptures don't stay quiet."
She looked up at Mira, eyes wide.
"Eirene is pushing back."
Mira inhaled sharply.
"Only someone aligned with mercy would notice," Elisia said. "Only someone who still believes kindness isn't weakness."
Silence fell between them.
Mira didn't deny it.
Elisia closed the book slowly.
She didn't tell the others.
Didn't call for priests.
Didn't raise an alarm.
Instead, she stood abruptly, clutching the book to her chest.
"I need to tell Kael," she said.
Mira looked up, startled. "Elisia—"
"If the system notices this shift," Elisia said urgently, already moving toward the door, "they won't come for the book."
She looked back, fear and resolve blazing in her eyes.
"They'll come for us."
And then she was gone.