Back in class, chairs scraped softly against stone.
The scratching of pens began.
Shura reached into his coat for his sheet—
And accidentally dropped his ID card.
It slid across the obsidian floor.
Adrian picked it up casually.
Then froze.
His eyes stopped moving.
Sponsored Candidate — Empress Rose
He didn't speak.
Didn't question.
But something shifted in his expression.
He handed it back.
"…You dropped this."
Shura took it without noticing Adrian's reaction.
"Thanks."
Adrian leaned back in his chair.
Empress Rose doesn't attach her name lightly…
But he said nothing.
Around them, students were already writing rapidly.
"They are heroes." "They are the shield of humanity." "They are strong." "They are cool." "They sacrifice for us."
Ink flowed like rehearsed praise.
Adrian glanced at Shura.
"So. What's your plan?"
Shura didn't look up.
"I'm writing that they are brave."
"Obviously."
"That they sacrifice their lives… for people who only care about their own safety."
Adrian stopped moving.
Shura continued quietly.
"If they didn't exist, we couldn't even imagine living normally."
His pen pressed harder.
"And rulers claim they save everyone."
The air between them tightened.
"They command them."
"They send them."
"And when they return… or don't…"
His jaw tightened.
"They take the credit."
Adrian's eyes sharpened.
"Shura."
He leaned forward.
"You can't always be right."
Shura looked at him.
"You're wrong at that point."
Before the tension could rise further—
Yura moved her chair.
And sat directly between them.
"This is my place now."
Both boys blinked.
Adrian sighed dramatically.
"That's it. I was living peacefully. He came and ruined everything."
Yura ignored him.
She looked at Shura.
"Adrian is right."
Shura frowned.
"Once, Emperor Yun Shi and Zenkyou went to the Outer Radius personally."
The room felt quieter.
"They fought a monster whose strength, name, and feats remain unrevealed."
Adrian nodded.
"All records were sealed. We only know this—"
"—they almost died that day," Yura finished.
Shura's eyes widened.
"…But the monster survived?"
Adrian shrugged.
"What did I say? No records."
Silence.
The reality of the Outer Radius settled heavily.
Even rulers were not untouchable.
Even Zenkyou had nearly fallen.
Outside the classroom—
Lior leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
Through resonance, he felt the emotional fluctuations inside.
Shura is different, he thought.
He made two silent children talk on his first day.
A faint smile touched his lips.
The Articles
One by one, students finished.
Two hundred and fifty sheets of praise.
Glorified accounts.
Heroic exaggerations.
Political safety.
When Shura and Adrian finished, they looked at each other.
No argument now.
No ego.
Just understanding.
"…Let's combine them," Adrian said quietly.
Shura nodded.
They rewrote.
Not praise.
Not accusation.
Truth.
Balanced.
Measured.
Yura watched silently.
They were still writing when the room began to quiet.
Shura's pen moved faster.
Adrian leaned over slightly.
"Wait. Stop."
"What?"
"You're not seriously writing that."
Shura didn't look up.
"It's true."
Adrian read the line again.
And rulers claim they save everyone — while the ones who bleed are sent forward in their name.
"That sounds like you're accusing them."
"I'm not accusing anyone."
"It sounds like you are."
Shura finally looked at him.
"If they command operations, then they're responsible too."
"Responsible doesn't mean selfish."
"I didn't say selfish."
"You implied it."
Shura frowned.
"You're reading too much into it."
"And you're pretending people won't."
A few students nearby glanced at them.
Shura lowered his voice.
"So what? We just write 'heroes' fifty times like everyone else?"
"That's not what I'm saying."
"Then what are you saying?"
Adrian hesitated.
"I'm saying there's a difference between being honest and being reckless."
Shura stared at him.
"…You think this is reckless?"
"I think," Adrian said carefully, "we don't know enough to judge people at the top."
Silence stretched between them.
Shura's jaw tightened slightly.
"So we're just supposed to assume they're perfect?"
"No."
"Then?"
Adrian ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"Then we write about the ones who fight. Without attacking the ones who command."
Shura looked back at the page.
His pen hovered.
"…That weakens it."
"No. It sharpens it."
"How?"
"Because it stays focused."
He tapped the paper.
"This is about the Odyssey. Not about politics."
Shura didn't respond immediately.
He read the paragraph again.
The room was almost done now. Papers stacking. Chairs shifting.
"…Fine," he muttered.
He crossed out the most direct line.
But he left this:
Yes, rulers command operations. Yes, kingdoms organize strategy. But the ones who bleed are individuals.
Adrian read it.
Considered.
"…That's better."
"It still says the same thing."
"Yeah," Adrian replied.
"But now it doesn't sound like you're trying to start a revolution on your first day."
Shura snorted quietly.
"I wasn't."
"Good."
A small pause.
"…You'd be terrible at it anyway."
Shura glanced at him.
"You still combined it with me."
Adrian looked away.
"…Because the rest of the class wrote garbage."
Shura smirked faintly.
"That's not a compliment."
"It wasn't meant to be."
They both looked at the page one last time.
Balanced.
Not praise.
Not attack.
Adrian exhaled.
"Next time, warn me before you try to destabilize the academy."
Shura tilted his head.
"…I didn't destabilize anything."
"Not yet."
But he didn't pull his name off the paper.
The Article Submitted by Shura & Adrian
Title: The Weight They Carry
The Odyssey are not symbols.
They are not statues carved in stone.
They are people who walk beyond the Safe Radius knowing they may not return.
They enter the Dangerous Zones not because it is glorious, but because it is necessary.
If they did not exist, the Beacon-lit streets we walk daily would not feel normal.
The food we eat, the silence we sleep in, the safety we assume — all of it depends on those who step into the Deep.
Yes, rulers command operations.
Yes, kingdoms organize strategy.
But the ones who bleed are individuals.
Some return in silence.
Some return in coffins.
Some do not return at all.
The Odyssey are brave — not because they seek death, but because they accept its possibility.
They are not above us.
They are not tools.
They are the thin line between civilization and extinction.
And the weight they carry is not glory.
It is responsibility.
They submitted it.
No dramatic expression.
No pride.
Just quiet certainty.
Two hundred and fifty other articles stacked neatly beside it.
Ink praising strength.
Ink praising rulers.
Ink praising glory.
But only one spoke of weight.
And Lior, standing outside,
felt it immediately
Scene Shift — Bamboo Forest
The bamboo forest whispered beneath the Beacon-light.
Tall green stalks swayed in slow rhythm. Hollow knocks echoed softly whenever the wind shifted direction.
Yua adjusted the flame beneath the pot.
"I think… it's too strong," she murmured, concentrating.
Juro leaned slightly closer, watching the simmer.
"Lower it gently. Cooking is like Viora," he said. "Too much force ruins balance."
She nodded and eased the heat.
Steam curled upward.
For a moment, everything was steady.
Then—
The pot tilted slightly.
A thin splash stained Juro's sleeve.
Yua froze.
"I—I'm sorry!"
Juro looked at the stain.
Then at her.
"Oh no," he said lightly. "I didn't even bring spare clothes."
She lowered her head quickly.
"I'll wash it. It's my fault."
He shook his head.
"It's just cloth."
He paused for a moment.
Then added, almost absentmindedly—
"If I wasn't here, you'd still manage."
That was when she reacted.
Her fingers tightened around the ladle.
"Father… don't say it like that."
Juro stilled.
Ah.
Not fear of the stain.
Fear of absence.
His expression softened.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said gently. "Not yet."
The wind moved through the bamboo again.
Yua nodded.
But she did not fully relax.
After a moment, she said quietly, "Let's just wash it."
Juro glanced at the sleeve once more, then clapped his hands lightly.
"No. We'll buy you new clothes."
"That's not necessary."
"It is," he insisted calmly. "A warrior should cook properly dressed."
She blinked.
"…That's not a rule."
"It is now."
The heaviness thinned.
But it did not disappear.
The Clothing Shop
The shopkeeper straightened the moment Juro entered.
Minutes later—
Juro stood surrounded by folded fabrics.
Dark training attire.
Light woven tunics.
Reinforced sleeves.
Travel coats.
He frowned slightly.
"These won't last long," he muttered.
Yua tugged his sleeve.
"One is enough."
He looked at her.
Then back at the shelves.
"Growth doesn't ask permission," he said. "Clothes should allow for it."
He selected several sets.
Not everything.
But far more than necessary.
The shopkeeper blinked in disbelief.
As the bundles were wrapped, Juro's thoughts drifted.
I hope Shura isn't isolating himself.
A faint smile touched his face.
He attracts people without trying.
Then his gaze sharpened slightly.
But instinct alone won't carry him forever.
It's time he learns control.
Proper steel.
Scene Shift — Ossuarium Academy
"…Don't misunderstand," he muttered.
Shura blinked. "About what?"
"We're not friends."
"Oh."
"You just… interrupted my peaceful life."
Shura stared at him for a second.
Then grinned.
"Your life was peaceful?"
"It was."
"Liar."
Adrian shot him a look. "It was quiet."
"Boring," Shura corrected.
"Stable."
"Dead."
Adrian exhaled sharply. "See? This is exactly what I mean."
Shura laughed softly.
"Fine. We're not friends."
"Good."
A pause.
Then Shura nudged him with his elbow.
"Leave that. Tell me about the training."
The training yard echoed with controlled impact.
Weighted bars of dense core-metal clanged softly as students lifted and lowered them with discipline.
Polished basalt paths reflected Beacon-light like dark water.
Shura stretched his shoulders.
"So physical training is just muscle targeting?" he asked Adrian. "Increase density. Reinforce structure."
He flexed slightly.
"Already decent, right?"
Adrian glanced once.
"You've trained before."
Shura scratched his cheek.
Walking had been difficult at first in this world.
The pressure.
The density.
The resistance in the air itself.
"I guess," he said casually.
Yura finished adjusting her wrist-weights.
"After this, you can attend open sectors. Politics. Mechanism studies. Beacon systems."
Shura's eyes lit up.
"Without an instructor?"
"Mostly," Adrian replied. "Except for specialization classes."
"Like Lior?"
Yura stopped walking.
Her face went blank.
Then she resumed walking without answering.
Adrian blinked.
"…Did we say something?"
Shura panicked and grabbed one of her sleeves.
"Sorry!"
Adrian, without thinking, grabbed the other.
"Forgive us!"
Yura looked down at both of them.
Unimpressed.
"…Stand up."
Adrian froze halfway through apologizing.
Why am I apologizing?
Why do I care?
He released her sleeve and cleared his throat.
"You're loud," he muttered.
Shura grinned.
"You smiled earlier."
"…Coincidence."
But she didn't walk away.
They moved toward the outer edge of the yard.
Students sparred in controlled pairs.
One boy swung too wide—
His opponent stepped inside the arc and tapped his ribs with a wooden blade.
Clean.
Efficient.
Shura watched carefully.
Not brute strength.
Precision.
Control.
His expression shifted slightly.
Across the courtyard—
Lior observed silently.
He did not interfere.
Not yet.
Bamboo Forest — Same Time
Juro stepped outside the shop, bundles in hand.
The Beacon-light shifted faintly across the sky-dome.
He paused.
His awareness extended outward—not dramatically.
Just a quiet sensing.
Steel.
Unrefined.
Beginning to align.
A faint exhale left him.
Good.
Growth requires friction.
He adjusted the packages and began walking.
Soon, instinct would no longer be enough.
And when that day came—
Shura would need more than strength.
He would need discipline.
Ossuarium Academy Yard
Three shadows stretched across the dark stone.
Uneven.
Different lengths.
Different postures.
But moving forward together.
Not friends.
Not rivals.
Not yet.
But no longer separate.
And above them—
The Beacon pulsed steadily.
Unaware.
Or perhaps—
Waiting