Chapter 7

  The Burden of a Hero

  Sirius City

  2008-05-24

  When I open my eyes, I am already in bed. The familiar golden light of the tower filters through the ornate curtains, casting intricate patterns on the walls. The memory of the battle flickers in my mind like the remnants of a dying flame.

  It takes a moment for my surroundings to register. My room, the same as always, untouched by the chaos outside. The soft sheets beneath me are warm, their comfort mocking compared to the destruction I remember.

  A knock echoes from the door, hesitant yet firm.

  “Come in.” – I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

  The door creaks open, and a familiar figure steps inside. The figure of father, clad in his signature black attire, loomed in the doorway. His crimson eyes, usually so sharp and piercing, held an unfamiliar softness as he regarded me. For a moment, he stood there in silence, as though measuring his words, before finally stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

  “You’re awake.”

  I sat up slowly. – “How long have I been out?”

  “Three days.” – He replies, moving to the side of the bed. – “Though considering your forced awakening, your body should be in a far worse state. But it seems you’ve already healed completely.”

  His words hang in the air, but his expression betrays something unspoken — a tension simmering beneath the surface. He studies me as though searching for cracks, for signs of fragility I can no longer afford.

  “Three days…” – I repeat, letting the weight of it settle. My mind floods with questions, but one rises above the rest. – “The city — what happened to the city?”

  Sirius’s gaze shifts, his expression shadowed with guilt. – “Many were killed by the beast. Even more by the fire. But if you hadn’t intervened, no one would’ve survived.”

  The words hit like a punch to the gut. My breath stops, and for a moment, the room feels stifling, the golden light suddenly oppressive.

  “How many?” – I ask, even while not wanting to know the answer.

  Sirius pauses, the silence stretching into an unbearable eternity. – “The exact numbers aren’t clear yet.” – He looks to the side, before deciding to tell the truth. – “Tens of thousands. Entire districts were destroyed. But so was the Grand Beast.”

  I press my hands into the soft sheets, grounding myself against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to burn me. The memories of the battle come rushing back — the deafening roars, the heat, the cries of the people.

  “I didn’t control it…” – I say, my voice breaking. – “I couldn’t control it. All I wanted was to stop that thing, and instead…” – I trail off, my words swallowed by the weight of my guilt.

  Sirius stepped closer, his presence commanding but tempered with a rare gentleness that felt like the eye of a storm. His crimson eyes, often so piercing and unyielding, softened as they met mine, their glow flickering with a mix of regret and determination.

  “You were pushed to the brink.” – He said, his voice low and steady, the weight of his words filling the room. – “Awakenings are unpredictable, volatile. They strip away control, exposing the rawest parts of you. No one blames you for what happened. Least of all me.”

  He paused, his gaze dropping momentarily to the floor as though searching for the right words — or perhaps wrestling with his own guilt. When he looked back up, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, an emotion I had never seen from him before.

  “I’m the one at fault.” – Sirius continued, his tone resolute but tinged with sorrow. – “I made a promise to protect this city, to stand as its shield no matter the cost. Yet I left. I chose to chase my own obsessions, instead of staying here where I was needed most. If I had been here…” – He took a slow, deliberate breath, steadying himself. – “If I had been here, I could have stopped the Livyatan. No one would have been hurt! …That burden belongs to me, not you.”

  The weight of his words pressed heavily on the air between us. I could feel the tension in his stance, the tightly coiled guilt that simmered beneath the surface. Sirius, the indomitable protector of Sirius City, was laying bare his failure in front of me, and it struck a chord deep within my chest.

  “But instead.” – He continued, his quiet voice echoing with the weight of his guilt. – “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here to guide you, to help. I left you to bear a burden you weren’t ready for. That’s my failure.”

  “It is not your fault, Father.” – I said quickly, emotion trembling with my voice. – “You couldn’t have known a beast would bypass the barrier. It’s never happened before. There was no way for you to predict something like that.” – I reached out to him, my hands clutching his coat as I tried to ease the crushing weight in his posture. – “You did everything you could. No one could have seen this coming.”

  He shook his head slowly, his expression darkening further. – “That too was my fault.” – His tone sharp and laden with sorrow. – “By revealing that the barrier was tied to my life, I created doubt in their hearts. And by introducing a child they had never seen before as their future protector, I gave them cause to question their faith.”-

  Sirius looked away, staring into some distant memory as his voice grew heavier. – “Their belief in the barrier faltered. Their fear crept in. And that fear was enough to weaken the very fabric keeping us safe. The beast didn’t appear on its own — it was allowed in because I failed to maintain their trust.”

  His words hit like stone, the truth undeniable yet harsh. It wasn’t fair, I wanted to say. It wasn’t fair for him to shoulder all this blame when so much of it had been out of his control.

  “But what of the barrier now?” – I asked, desperation coming as the thought appears suddenly in my mind. – “Have you found the gap? Have you fixed it? If a creature like that could get in, then others might have followed by now. What if it happens again?”

  Sirius met my gaze, softening his expression just enough to reveal the depth of his concern. – “The barrier is completely intact. I inspected it myself. Every line, every inch — it’s as strong as it’s ever been. No beast could have broken through it. That’s what shocked me the most. When I learned of the Grand Beast’s attack, I expected to find a breach. But there was none.”

  I stared at him, my mind racing to process his words. – “Then how did it get in?”

  He hesitated for a moment, his crimson eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and something darker — uncertainty. – “She explained to me. The beast didn’t invade through the barrier. It appeared inside the city. Through a different manner entirely.”

  “A different manner?” – I repeated. If there was a way for the beasts to simply ignore the barrier, to materialize within its bounds, then what we relied on to keep us safe was meaningless.

  Sirius’s gaze turned distant, his voice heavy with memory. – “When I fled my hometown years ago… I witnessed something similar. The beasts didn’t attack from the outside. They didn’t invade through any direction. They simply… Appeared. All at once, all over the city, as if they had been summoned there.”

  He paused, his jaw tightening. – “If only I had visited other cities during their fall, I might have been able to uncover the truth.”

  His words carried the weight of a thousand failures, real or imagined. He clenched his fists. – “But if that were the case, I couldn’t just stand and watch. I would have tried to help, using too much of my power and endangering the barrier here. And so, I chose this city. I abandoned the rest of the world, to protect what I could.”

  His voice faltered, and for the first time, I saw the cracks in his unshakable exterior — the guilt and doubt that gnawed at him from within. – “And now, even here, I failed. Because I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, to reassure him, but the words wouldn’t come. How could I ease a burden like that? How could I convince him that he wasn’t to blame when he carried the weight of every decision as though it had shaped the world itself?

  But before I could speak, he straightened, his crimson eyes burning with renewed determination. – “But now.” – He said firmly, his voice cutting through the heavy air like a blade, “I won’t leave again. Ever. From this moment forward, I will devote everything to protecting Sirius. The golden tower will no longer be just a symbol. It will become a fortress — a headquarters. A place where we can prepare for whatever comes next.”

  He turned to me, his gaze steady and unyielding. “And together, all three of us will protect humanity. No matter the cost.”

  “What do you mean… Three?” – My voice trails off as I try to make sense of what happened, the weight of his words mixing with my own turbulent thoughts.

  Sirius doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his crimson eyes flicker toward the door. – “Her.” – He says simply, his tone carrying a strange blend of authority and deference.

  Before I can question him, the door opens, its creak amplified by the tense silence in the room. A figure steps inside, moving with deliberate, measured grace. It’s a girl, and there’s something about her presence that commands attention. Her blonde hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, glistens faintly in the golden light, and her sharp bespectacled blue eyes meet mine with an intensity that sends a jolt through me.

  “It’s you.” – I whispered, the words barely audible as recognition struck me like a lightning bolt. My breath caught in my throat, my mind scrambling to process the sight before me. The girl in the yellow raincoat. The one who had moved with inhuman precision in the alley. The one who had saved me before everything fell apart.

  Her sharp blue eyes, now framed by glasses that added an air of calculated composure, met mine with a calm intensity. The same aura of quiet strength surrounded her, but now, standing in the golden light of the tower, she seemed even more otherworldly.

  “Who are you?” – I asked, my voice trembling with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief.

  She inclined her head slightly, her lips curling into a faint, enigmatic smile that only deepened the mystery around her. – “Greetings again, Master.” – She said smoothly, her voice carrying a sense of unwavering confidence. – “I’ve been appointed as the Second Star.”

  Her words hit me like a physical blow, my thoughts scattering like shards of broken glass. – “Second Star?” – I repeated, confusion lacing every syllable. – “Appointed by who?”

  The girl stepped further into the room with a measured grace, her movements deliberate, as though she controlled the very space around her. Her raincoat was gone, replaced by a fitted outfit of dark, understated elegance, accented with faint golden details that mirrored the room’s light. She seemed perfectly at ease, despite the weight of the moment.

  “By him, of course.” – She said, gesturing toward Sirius without even glancing in his direction. Her tone was light, almost playful, yet it carried an undercurrent of authority that made it impossible to dismiss her words as casual.

  I turned to look at my father. Sirius stood in the shadows of the room, his tall frame still and imposing. I could feel the weight of his discontent. His crimson eyes flickered with an emotion I couldn’t quite place.

  “Could you give us a moment, wraith?” – The girl added, her gaze now fixed firmly on Sirius.

  For a moment, an unbearable silence filled the room. The air felt charged, like the calm before a storm. My father’s posture stiffened, his hands curling into subtle fists at his sides. He seemed as if he was about to say something, but then stopped, his gaze lingering on me.

  The room seemed to exhale as the door clicked shut. The girl let out a soft sigh, brushing a stray strand of her blonde hair back into place.

  “Mere human.” – She remarked with a smile. – “He doesn’t know his place.”

  I stared at her, still trying to piece together the whirlwind of emotions and questions swirling in my head. – “Second Star?” – I repeated again, my voice quieter now but no less bewildered. – “What does that even mean?”

  “Do you want the long version or the short version?” – She asked, her tone casual. It was as if she were preparing to recount a story that could stretch hours or days.

  I hesitated, ignoring her question altogether. – “I thought I had fallen from the sky to protect humanity as the First Star.” – The words slow and deliberate as if to convince myself of their truth. – “But now you’re saying there are more like me?”

  A knowing expression that carried both amusement and a hint of sadness. – “Of course. Did you think you were the only one? The law of this world is straightforward. Where there are beasts threatening to destroy humanity, there must be stars to protect them.”

  She began pacing slowly, her hands behind her back as if organizing her thoughts. – “You’ve seen the monsters outside, haven’t you? Their numbers, their relentlessness. Do you really think a single star, no matter how powerful, could stand a chance against such overwhelming odds? If there are countless beasts, why wouldn’t there be multiple stars?”

  Her words settled over me like a heavy blanket, their implications sinking deeper with each passing moment. My hands clenched at my sides. – “Then… where are they?” – I asked, my voice firmer now. – “If there are others like us, why haven’t they come to help? Why does it feel like Sirius City — and the people inside it — are alone in this fight?”

  “I’m sure there are more. If you think about it, Sirius was just a regular human that obtained magic powers, so he should be counted as a star for all accounts. But I think no one will be as special as you and me, we’re simply too different than everyone else.”

  I forced myself to meet her gaze. – “And what about you? Why now? Why appear here, of all places? Why didn’t I know about you before?”

  “They say you fell from the sky.” – She began, her tone soft but unwavering. – “But that wasn’t the case for me. When I opened my eyes for the first time, I was already a four-year-old child, wandering the wastelands. Alone.”

  Her words hung in the air, and I found myself unable to look away from her. She continued, her voice steady but tinged with a distant sadness.

  “The beasts came for me, of course. I didn’t know why at the time, but they were relentless. They thought they could crush me, devour me, but I survived. Somehow, against impossible odds, I endured. I wandered through the empty, broken remains of the planet, searching for something I couldn’t name. And then, one day, I felt it — a pull. A force guiding me toward this place, the last city standing against annihilation.”

  She paused, her gaze shifting briefly to the window, where the faint glow of the barrier shimmered in the distance. The light reflected in her eyes, casting an almost ethereal glow over her expression.

  “I followed that call through the ruins of a dying world, through the ever-encroaching shadow of the beasts, until I arrived here. To Sirius City.”

  I listened in silence, the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest. Her story felt like a mirror, twisted and distorted, reflecting a life so different from my own yet somehow inextricably linked.

  “Well.” – I said hesitantly, breaking the quiet. – “I was still a baby when Father saw me falling from the sky. I don’t remember any of it. No fragments, no flashes — just emptiness. But he found me, took me in, and raised me as his daughter. He believes in me so much…” - My voice softened, a hint of warmth creeping into my words. – “He even presented me to the city, told them I was their hope.”

  “The city, huh?” – She murmured, her tone thoughtful. – “I had already entered this place by then, following the signal that had drawn me here. The pull was strongest within these walls, but I couldn’t quite find its source — until that day.”

  She stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, as if the memory carried a weight of its own.

  “It was during that presentation, when he introduced you to Sirius City, that I finally understood what I had been searching for. It wasn’t just the city or the barrier, as I had thought. It was you.”

  “Me?” – I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

  She nodded, her gaze locking onto mine, steady and unwavering. – “In that moment, I knew. The pull, the journey, the survival — it had all led me to you. The First Star. My purpose became clear. I was fated to serve you.”

  Her words sent a shiver through me, a strange mix of awe and unease settling deep in my chest. I felt the weight of her declaration pressing down on me like the flames I had unleashed during my awakening, intense and suffocating.

  “I…” – I began, my voice trembling slightly as I struggled to find the right words. But they faltered, tangled in the swirl of confusion and emotions clouding my thoughts. Finally, I managed to ask the question that had been gnawing at the edges of my mind.

  “Then why were you beating those humans in that alley when I first found you?”

  She sighed softly before meeting my gaze with unflinching resolve.

  “After seeing your face during that presentation, something changed.” – She began, her voice steady but laced with a weight that hinted at deeper truths. – “It was as if a lock within me had been undone. The seal that tugged at my memories, keeping them fragmented and incomplete, finally broke. And with it came the truth — the truth about this world, my purpose, and why I was drawn here.

  My purpose has always been to protect you. But I knew I couldn’t simply appear before you without reason, without an order. So, I chose to stay in the shadows, watching over you from a distance. I decided that if anything or anyone posed a threat to you, I would eliminate them before it could reach you.”

  Her words were calm, matter of fact, but the conviction behind them was undeniable.

  “After the presentation. I overheard a group of thugs talking as they slipped away from the crowd. They spoke of their crimes, their vile deeds, with no remorse. It was clear to me that letting such criminals roam free in your city was unacceptable. So, I began to investigate.

  It didn’t take long to discover their hideout or uncover the truth about their plans. They weren’t just ordinary criminals. They had devised something far more sinister — a plot to kidnap you.

  They planned to abduct you and use you as leverage against Sirius himself. To bargain with your life in exchange for power, wealth, and control over the city’s underworld. It was disgusting. Unforgivable.

  When I first met you, I was chasing after the remnants of that group — the ones who had managed to escape — and their leader.”

  “So, you…” – I began, hesitating as I tried to piece together my thoughts. My voice faltered, and I looked down at my hands before finally meeting her gaze again. – “You did all of that to protect me?” – I felt a strange mix of emotions. I couldn’t stop the small, incredulous laugh that escaped my lips, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting me. – “To think I tried to stop you…” – I muttered, shaking my head as the memory replayed itself in my mind.

  “Your desire to protect is what lead for us meeting. I’m grateful for that, Master.” – She smiled completely innocently towards me.

  “But… Could you please stop calling me ‘Master’? It feels inadequate.” – If she was the Second Star, she shouldn’t consider her to me my servant, we should be equals.

  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, calm, and almost unnervingly composed, unfazed by the frustration that colored my voice. – “Of course you don’t, Master.” – She said, her tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement. – “That particular order was given in a past life, in the true universe beyond this one.”

  “The true universe?” – I repeated, my eyes narrowing as her words sent a ripple of unease through me. She had mentioned it before, but it still sounded too bizarre, too abstract, to fully grasp. – “What do you mean by that?”

  She tilted her head slightly, her golden hair catching the faint light from the room’s gilded edges. – “The true universe.” – She said slowly, as though testing the weight of the words on her tongue. “It is the true reality beyond this fake world.”

  My pulse quickened. Every word she spoke only deepened the mystery, leaving me torn between skepticism and a strange, unshakable curiosity.

  “There are three seals.” – She continued, her tone shifting into something more measured, more clinical, as if she were reciting a carefully rehearsed explanation. – “Three distinct barriers placed upon the stars by the law of this world, to put our lives in the roles expected upon us.”

  She held up a gloved hand, raising one finger. – “The first seal is the one around a star’s mana core. It prevents us from accessing our magic, leaving us powerless. You broke this seal during your forced awakening, releasing the flow of mana within you and granting you the ability to use magic.”

  I nodded slowly, the memory of that moment flashing in my mind — the fire, the pain, the surge of raw, untamed energy that had nearly consumed me.

  “Then.” – She said, raising a second finger. – “There is the second seal. This one is far more intricate. It suppresses the true power within us — our full potential. Even I haven’t been able to break it yet. I believe it’s tied to age or maturity, though the specifics remain unclear. It should, theoretically, release as we grow stronger over time.

  Interestingly enough, you’ve already tapped into that power once, though only temporarily. During your battle with the Livyatan, your forced awakening briefly bypassed this seal, allowing you to unleash what lies dormant within you.”

  Her explanation was layered and complex, and while I couldn’t pretend to fully understand it, I found myself able to follow along, piecing together the fragments of her reasoning.

  “And the third seal?” – I asked, my voice hesitant but curious.

  Her expression darkened slightly, the faintest shadow crossing her face. She raised a third finger, her movements slower this time. – “The third seal.” – She said, her voice lowering. – “Is the most enigmatic of them all. It locks away the memories of the true universe — the knowledge of what we once were and the world we came from. This seal ensures we remain bound to this false reality, blind to the truth.”

  I felt a chill crawl down my spine as her words sank in. – “And… you broke this seal?”

  She nodded, her gaze unwavering. – “Yes. When I saw your face for the first time, it triggered something within me. It allowed me to shatter the third seal and reclaim my memories of the true world. Now I know more than anyone else on this planet, more than even the law of this world ever intended.”

  Her voice grew quieter, almost wistful. – “I can sense the presence of your seal, Master, though it remains intact for now. And even with my memories restored, I’ve discovered a limitation — something I can’t explain. Whenever I attempt to describe events or truths from the true universe…” – She trailed off, her hand briefly touching her throat.

  “The words. They refuse to come.” – She admitted, her tone tinged with frustration. – “It’s as if they’re trapped inside me, unable to leave my lungs. I can feel them, the memories and the knowledge, but this world rejects them, silences them before I can speak.”

  Her tone was genuine, and for a moment, I saw something behind her stormy gaze — an echo of pain, perhaps even regret. It was rare for her to show anything resembling vulnerability, and it caught me off guard.

  “I see… Second Star… Wait, what is your name?

  “I don’t have one. I’m nothing more than a puppet, I exist solely to serve and protect you.” – Her voice carried no resentment, no sadness — only acceptance of the role she had been given.

  Then, she had turned to me, her expression softening ever so slightly, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

  "Do you wish to give this life of mine a name?" – She asked, her tone steady yet laced with a subtle vulnerability. – “Like you would name a pet you’ve just adopted?"

  The question struck me. For a brief moment, I hesitated, unsure how to respond. Naming her felt like an immense responsibility, a decision that would bind us in some unspoken way. Yet, as I looked into her piercing blue eyes, a name rose to the fore front of my mind.

  “Sapphire.” – I said finally, the word carrying more weight than I expected. – “I’ll call you Sapphire, after your eyes.”

  For the first time since we’d met, she truly laughed — a soft, musical sound that caught me completely off guard. There was something almost wistful about it, as if it carried the echoes of a memory just out of reach.

  “You truly haven’t changed.” – She said, her voice tinged with an emotion I couldn’t place. – “No matter how many times we meet, you always give me that exact name.”

  In the days that followed, Father devoted himself entirely to rebuilding Sirius City. From dawn until the late hours of the night, he worked tirelessly, his commanding presence rallying workers, architects, and engineers into action. Every step he took carried purpose as he moved through the battered streets, his cloak trailing behind like a shadow of resolve. Where buildings had crumbled, Father outlined plans for stronger, sturdier structures. Where families had been torn apart, he offered reassurances, his words a rare balm against the grief that lingered in every corner of the city.

  Despite his stoic exterior, there was a weight to his every action. An urgency born not only from the devastations that had shattered the city but from a deep, unspoken pain that seemed to gnaw at him with every passing moment. Yet he never faltered, never allowed that pain to slow him. Every decision he made was swift and deliberate, as though he could stitch the city’s wounds by will alone.

  At the heart of the destruction, where the battle’s final moments took place, he had constructed a memorial. It was simple yet hauntingly beautiful, a towering pillar of obsidian that reached for the heavens, its dark surface etched with the names that left us. Around it, smaller stones had been laid in a solemn circle. This was the city’s heartache made tangible, a place where grief could find a voice and remembrance could take root.

  When the preparations were complete, a rite was held to honor them. Black-clad mourners gathered in droves, their forms huddled close against the chill of the open air. The sky hung heavy with clouds, mirroring the weight of sorrow that filled the place. The only sounds were soft sobs, the faint rustling of wind, and the occasional murmur of prayers whispered to the depart. I stood there among them, feeling like a ghost, an intruder in their mourning, as Sapphire remained quietly by my side.

  Father stepped forward. The crowd stilled, all eyes turning toward him. His voice, when it came, was calm and steady, yet it carried the weight of his sorrow. A sorrow he would not allow himself to show. He spoke of the tragedy, of the strength of its people, and of the lives lost. He offered words of solace, of unity, and of a future worth fighting for. But as he spoke, my eyes drifted across the people.

  Faces stared back at me, tired, grief-stricken faces lined with pain and despair. Their expressions were a mirror to my own thoughts, their suffering a consequence of my existence. The knowledge weighed on me like a spear pressing against my back. I had stolen their families, their friends, their homes. If I had never fallen from the sky, if Father had never found me, he would never have introduced me to the city. He would never have tied their hope to my name. And no beast would have found its way into the city.

  “It’s her! It’s because of her that this happened!”

  The words hit me like a slap, sharp and undeniable. A man with sunken eyes and trembling hands. He pointed directly at me, his voice hoarse and broken as he screamed. – “My daughter is dead because of you!”

  A ripple of murmurs swept through the cloud, their stares heavy with accusation. He was right. It was my fault.

  Sapphire shifted beside me. For a moment, I saw a flicker of something dangerous and cold, predatory intent that sent a chill down my spine. She moved with that same inhuman precision, her expression calm but deadly, as if his outburst was an affront to my honor. To her, the man’s pain was irrelevant, his words an insult that needed silencing.

  “Stop.”

  My whisper broke out. She froze mid-step, turning her head slightly to glance at me. For a moment, her gaze searched mine, as though trying to understand why I would stop her from defending me.

  She didn’t argue or protest, but there was something unsettling in the way she regarded me, as though she couldn’t fathom why I would allow such words to go unanswered. To her, the idea of myself being questioned was unthinkable. And to her, human life was irrelevant, meaningless next to the role I had been given to her.

  Father’s speech resumed shortly after, his calm voice restoring some semblance of order to the gathering. But I no longer heard his words. I stood there, staring down at the weight. It was all too much. And though she stood by my side, offering protection I hadn’t asked for, I had never felt more alone.

  I was the First Star, the one destined to protect everyone, to stand as the shield between humanity and the beasts. Yet I had failed them. I couldn’t wash their blood from my hands, nor silence the echoes of their cries in my mind. Redemption wasn’t something I could simply ask for: I had to earn it, not just from the city, but from myself.

  From this day onward, I swore that no one would die again, not while I had the power to stop it. I would forge that power with my hands, break every limit, and destroy anything that dared threaten Sirius City. Never again would this city cry out in pain. Never again would its people shed a single tear because of my weakness.

  The rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless. The memorial loomed, but I didn’t look back. Instead, I turned to Sapphire, who stood unfazed by the storm that soaked through her hair and dark clothes.

  She wasn’t human. I knew that now. While she had been sent from the stars, her loyalty bound to me, I knew I couldn’t rely on her to protect human life the way I needed to. Sapphire didn’t see the world the way I did, didn’t feel the weight of each life lost, didn’t seem to understand the fragile value of existence. But there was one thing I could count on, her obedience.

  I turned to her, and grabbed her hand, my fingers trembling slightly as they closed around hers. Her edged blue eyes flickered toward me, unyielding as always, but for the first time, I didn’t feel small under her gaze.

  “Train me.” – My voice cut through the downpour, clear and resolute despite the storm raging around us. My grip tightened around her hand, to this decision. – “Carve the strongest version of me. So that I can do what I was born to do.”

  For a moment, Sapphire said nothing. The rain drummed steadily around us, a deafening rhythm that seemed to slow as we stood there, frozen in time. Her expression remained unreadable, her gaze searching mine, as though she were trying to weigh the sincerity of my words.

  Then, finally, she tilted her head ever so slightly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t a kind smile. It wasn’t warm or comforting. No — it was the sharp, dangerous grin of someone who saw potential and was prepared to drag it into the light, no matter how much it hurt.

  “Very well, Master.” – She said softly, her voice steady but carrying an edge of challenge. – “If that is your order, I will obey it.”

  She was the best teacher I could have asked for. Relentless, unyielding, and unwavering in her pursuit of perfection. In the weeks that followed, my life became a blur of sweat, pain, and determination under Sapphire’s relentless tutelage. From the moment I woke until I collapsed into my bed at night, I pushed myself beyond limits I hadn’t even known existed. There were no breaks, no moments of indulgence, only the constant echo of her commands and the ceaseless rhythm of my own beating heart.

  She started with my body, breaking it down piece by piece so that she could rebuild it into something stronger. – “First, master yourself. Your instincts, your speed, your strength. Without them, you’re just a small light waiting to go out.”

  At first, it was hell. Sapphire would blindfold me and force me to react to her attacks, strikes so fast they felt like lightning crashing down around me. I had to listen, to the heat inside her body as it approached. Her precision was uncanny, her movements so refined and fluid that it seemed less like fighting and more like an art form.

  She taught me to perceive the world differently – to see the slightest shift in an opponent’s weight, to feel the danger before it even arrived. My reflexes, once sluggish and uncertain, grew sharper. I could sense her presence even when I couldn’t see her, and with every day that passed, the hesitation that plagued me began to melt away.

  Then came my speed and strength. Sapphire showed no mercy in this regard, and her training left me bruised, battered, and aching beyond belief. She made me sprint endlessly, forcing me to weave through obstacle courses she asked to be built with impossible precision. She would chase me, a force of nature into herself, her movements inhumanly quick, like a predator stalking prey. Often, she did catch me, delivering swift and painful reminders that survival was earned, not given.

  To build my strength, she forced me to carry weights until my legs buckled beneath me. I punched wooden dummies until my knuckles were raw and bleeding, and I kicked reinforced concrete pillars until my bones felt like they would splinter.

  I cursed her under my breath countless times, but in those moments, she would only smirk faintly, as if amused by my stubbornness. Despite her brutal methods, I couldn’t deny the results. The tasks that had once seemed impossible became second nature.

  After I had reached what she considered an acceptable level of speed and training, though I knew she was far from satisfied. She began the next stage of training: martial arts. Sapphire’s fighting style was something I had never seen before, a brutal and elegant discipline that relied almost entirely on kicks. A devastating form of combat that combined ferocity and precision.

  For hours, she made me drill each movement until my legs felt like lead and my balance faltered. The front kick to strike an opponent’s center of gravity. The roundhouse kick to sweep through their guard. The flying knee strike to devastate an enemy’s core. Sapphire demonstrated each technique flawlessly, her body a blur of motion as she struck with speed and precision that left me breathless.

  “Power comes from the hips.” – She said, tapping her side as I wobbled through yet another poorly-executed move. – “Plant your foot. Twist. Flow through the motion. It’s not just a kick. It’s a weapon: an extension of your will.”

  She sparred with me daily, her own attacks merciless but controlled, her strikes a constant reminder of just how far I still had to go.

  Finally, when she had refined my instincts, honed my body, and molded me into something stronger than I’d been before, Sapphire broached the subject of magic. Or rather, her lack of involvement in it. We stood together at the edge of the training ground, my body aching from the day’s punishment as she summoned a spear of gleaming metal into her hand. Her mana solidifying into a weapon so sharp it looked like it could split the world in two.

  “This is my affinity.” – She said, spinning the spear effortlessly before slamming it into the ground. – “Metal is my domain. I’m able to create spears out of my own energy. Your fire is different. Magic is not something that I can teach you.”

  I frowned, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of my face. – “What do you mean? You’ve taught me everything else.”

  She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. – “Magic isn’t technique or strength. It’s yours, and yours alone. The way I summon metal and the way you summon fire are as different as the sun and the earth. I can guide you, push you, and challenge you, but I cannot teach you how to master what is already within you. That is something you must discover for yourself.”

  However, Sapphire’s words did little to stir confidence within me. Her insistence that magic couldn’t be taught rang hollow, echoing against the frustration that churned in my chest. I had trained on my own before, years spent clawing at the edges of my potential, pushing my soul as far as I could, only to meet failure every time. I hadn’t grown stronger then. I had remained weak, my flame barely flickering in the wind.

  I couldn’t let that happen again. Not now. Not when so much rested on my shoulders.

  “You say you know me from before this life, right?” – I demanded with as much impatience I could burn up. – “Then you must have seen what my power was capable of back then. If you truly knew me, if you’ve seen me at my strongest, then tell me. What do I need to master next?”

  The question hung heavy between us, the storm of my frustration crashing against the cold wall of her composure. I searched her expression for answers, a flicker of hesitation, a hint of guilt, anything that might betray what she was hiding. Because I knew she was hiding something.

  “Master, I can’t talk about that. Remember? But this isn’t about your past. It’s about your future.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, to press her for answers, but she raised a hand to stop me, her posture rigid, her presence commanding. – “Listen, there is something missing from your arsenal. Something you’ll need if you’re to stand a chance against what’s coming. Take note that this solution is temporary, a placeholder. You will need a proper blacksmith to create a proper one. But for now…”

  The air around her shifted, crackling with unfamiliar energy. I could feel it, a faint hum, like the distant vibration of a tuning fork, resonating deep within my blood. Her magic had always been impressive, but this was different. It was more controlled, more deliberate.

  I watched in stunned silence as silvery metal began to form, appearing out of thin air like liquid light. It rippled and flowed between her hands, a molten stream that coiled and twisted, shaping itself under the force of her will. The sheer precision of it was mesmerizing.

  The shape slowly began to take form, growing longer, far thinner than the spears she usually summoned. My heart pounded as I tried to understand what I was seeing. A weapon, yes, but not like any I had seen before. A spear? No, it wasn’t that. It was leaner, more elegant, almost delicate in appearance.

  And then, as the glow of magic faded and the metal solidified, I saw them. Two blades.

  Two swords.

  But these weren’t ordinary swords. They were rapiers, their slender blades gleaming faintly in the golden light that spilled into the room. The weapons were impossibly thin, their edges honed to lethal precision. The intricate, protective hilts curled like flowing metal vines, designed to guard the hand without sacrificing agility. The rapiers practically hummed with purpose, their presence both graceful and deadly.

  For a moment, I could only stare, my disbelief rendering me speechless.

  “Rapiers?” – I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. – “These are—”

  “Bladed weapons that humans rediscovered more than five hundred years ago.” – Sapphire said smoothly, stepping back to allow me to approach them. – “Primarily designed for self-defense and dueling, though I suspect you’ll be using them for far more. They’re thrusting weapons, Master. Lightweight, agile, and capable of piercing through even the strongest armor.”

  I swallowed hard, reaching out tentatively to grasp the hilts of the twin blades. The moment my fingers curled around them, a jolt of something surged through me, something that felt like recognition. As though they knew me, and I knew them, even if I couldn’t explain why.

  The weight of the rapiers was perfect, almost unnaturally so. They felt less like tools in my hands and more like extensions of my body, as if they had been waiting for me all along. I gave one of the blades a tentative swing, marveling at how effortlessly it cut through the air.

  “These are… incredible.” – I said, awe creeping into my voice.

  Sapphire watched me carefully, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with purpose. – “Mages are beings of order. Their strength comes from controlling the chaotic flow of mana within them, shaping it into spells with precision. That is why they rely on tools, wands, staves, to channel their magic, to focus their will into a single point.”

  She paused, her gaze lingering on the rapiers in my hands as she bends over one knee, before meeting my eyes again. – “But you, Master… You are different. The universe acknowledges your potential. Through my servitude to you, through the fire that burns within you. And metal, answers that call. It bends not just to me but to you. It is no coincidence that you stand here now, with blades in your hands. The edge of a sword is perfect for you to wield your fire, to let it flow not as a spell but as an extension of yourself.”

  I stared at her, my chest tightening as the weight of her words sank in. My fire… my power… had always felt unpredictable, wild, like something I had to drag out of myself, fight to control. But now, as I held these rapiers, it was different. The potential felt close — tangible, as if the weapons were drawing it to the surface.

  A quiet hum filled the space around us as I lifted one of the rapiers, its edge catching the light. The blade gleamed faintly, and for a brief moment, I imagined it alive, resonating with the fire I could feel deep in my core. I tightened my grip on the hilt, the smooth, cool metal anchoring me.

  “Then show me.” – I said, my voice firmer now. – “If these blades are to be an extension of me, I need to learn to use them. Not just to swing them — I need to make them sing. Show me how to fight with fire and steel.”

  Sapphire’s smirk widened slightly, an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. – “I was hoping you’d say that, Master.” – She turned sharply, gesturing for me to follow as she strode to the center of the training ground, the rain still drumming steadily around us. – “I’ve taught you to move, to strike, to survive. But this will be different. You will not just fight — you will wield. The swords, your fire, and your instincts will become one. There will be no hesitation. No wasted movement.”

  I followed her to the clearing, rapiers still in hand, my pulse quickening with anticipation. Sapphire turned to face me, her expression turning deadly serious. – “These blades demand precision. A single strike can pierce through armor, but only if it’s deliberate. Sloppy movements are the mark of the unworthy, and I will break you of that habit.”

  She raised her hand, summoning a spear from thin air with an effortless grace that sent shivers down my spine. The weapon materialized, glinting ominously as though it had been waiting for her command. With a deft motion, she spun it in her palm, the spear slicing through the air before she drove its tip into the ground at her feet.

  “You plan on saving all the humans in this city, don’t you?” – She asked, her voice cool and unyielding, like the spear in her hand. Her abyssal eyes locked onto mine, bottomless pools of doubt and challenge. They seemed to pierce through my very soul, daring me to falter. But in that moment, something in me solidified — some primal instinct or unyielding resolve.

  “Yes.” – I said firmly, meeting her gaze without hesitation. – “I will save them all. That is why I exist.”

  She tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a faint smirk. It wasn’t a smile of amusement but one of curiosity, as if my answer was both expected and entirely ironic. – “Their lives are so short.” – She said, her tone a mixture of pity and disdain. – “They will die anyway. So why protect them?”

  Before I could answer, she lunged forward, her spear a blur as it shot toward my head. My instincts screamed, and I dove to the side, just narrowly avoiding the strike. The spear sliced the air where I’d been standing moments before, its force sending a sharp gust across my face. My heart raced. She had been aiming to kill me. If I hadn’t dodged, I would already be dead.

  “I protect them.” – I said, breathing heavily as I pushed myself upright. – “Because I was born for this. That is my role.”

  My rapiers ignited in my hands, their flames licking hungrily at the air as I surged forward, closing the gap between us. The heat of my weapons radiated against the air humidity. With a precise slash, I aimed for her neck, pouring everything into the attack. But she was faster — just as I had dodged her spear, she danced out of the way of my blade, her movements as fluid as water.

  She pivoted, her voice calm even in the midst of battle. – “If you were born to protect. Why everyone? Why not just save a few? That would be enough, wouldn’t it? Sirius thinks so.”

  Her spear came again, a blur of silver aimed directly for my chest. I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. The dirt splattered beneath my feet as I pressed forward, slashing again and again. But she matched me, parrying each blow with a spear that seemed to move faster with every exchange.

  “Because I want to save everyone!” – I shouted, the words rising above the clash of our weapons and the roar of the storm around us.

  I saw her opening. Her spear thrust had overextended, leaving her side exposed. With a burst of speed fueled by the flames coursing through my rapiers, I lunged toward her. The fire propelled me forward, a blur of heat and determination, and for a moment, I thought I had her.

  Her smile widened, a predator’s grin filled with unsettling joy. – “You’re such a greedy maniac.” – She said, her voice carrying an edge of mockery. – “Protecting every single person, every single time, when you’ve already done enough. Why? Why can’t you see that protecting once should be enough?”

  Before I could answer, her second spear appeared, summoned into her other hand as if from thin air. She wielded it with terrifying precision, driving the shaft directly into my side. Pain exploded through my body as I felt at least one rib crack under the force of her strike. My breath hitched, but I refused to fall. Gritting my teeth, I stepped back, willing myself to endure the pain.

  “That’s because I love every single one of them!” – I roared, my voice rising above the tornado.

  The rapiers in my hands erupted into roaring flames, the intensity of their heat pushing the rain back in sizzling bursts of steam. With a surge of power, I took to the air, the fire propelling me forward faster than she could react. My body twisted mid-flight, positioning me behind her, aiming for her blind spot. Victory was within my grasp.

  But as my rapiers approached her, poised to strike, they vanished.

  One moment, the flames were roaring with life, and the next, they were extinguished, my weapons dissolving into thin air as if they had never existed, the exact same as the spears she had summoned. My momentum carried me forward, leaving me open and vulnerable. I barely had time to register what had happened before her elbow drove into my face with devastating force.

  Pain erupted through my skull, sharp and all-encompassing, as I felt the world tilt around me. My vision blurred, stars dancing in the edges of my consciousness. The impact sent me sprawling into the floor, my body crumpling as darkness began to overtake my senses. The last thing I saw was her towering form, her silhouette framed by the flickering light of the storm.

  That was the ending of our training that day, and the beginning of many spars that would follow.

  2008-09-01

  I was there, sitting in the center of my room on the golden tower, the endless quiet surrounding me as I meditated. Even in my moments of rest, I sought strength, to hone the power within me, to refine it into something greater. With each breath, I tried to feel the flow of energy, the pulse of fire that connected me to the world outside. This was a ritual, a discipline, one she had instructed me to do to become what I needed to be.

  But the stillness shattered. A faint ring in my ear, the communicator Father had created for me cracking to life. I opened my eyes, my heart already quickening.

  “Beast detected.” – His voice declared, as though announcing a shift in the weather.

  The words I’d been waiting for, anticipating since that fateful day.

  I rose to my feet in an instant, the tension in my chest coiling like a spring finally released. This was the moment I had been preparing for. My body moved before my thoughts could fully catch up, carrying me to the window.

  The streets below sprawled out in an ocean of shadow and flickering light. The city lay in uneasy slumber, unaware of what loomed on its horizon.

  “Southern District. It appeared two kilometers from the barrier’s edge.”

  I couldn’t get there by car, it would take too long to navigate the winding streets. I couldn’t wait for Sapphire either. As powerful as she was, her speed paled in comparison to what I could achieve.

  The promise I had made echoed in my mind: No one else would die.

  Throwing open the massive, gilded window that stretched toward the sky. Without hesitation, I jumped.

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  The world fell away beneath me, the tower shrinking in my periphery as I shot upward. The rush of air roared in my ears, tearing at my clothes and hair, but I didn’t care. Flames erupted through both of my rapiers, surging from my core and streaming in burning arcs of red and gold. My body cut through the darkness of the sky like a blazing comet.

  Below, the people of Sirius City would see only a streak of fire, a flash of speed so fast it might be mistaken for a missile.

  The southern district drew closer, its familiar streets and alleys coming into view as I descended. And there it was the beast. The creature lumbered through the ruins of a restaurant, considering how late it was, no one was inside.

  As the smoke began to clear, its true form emerged, a silhouette solidifying in the haze like a nightmare clawing its way into reality.

  It was massive, easily the size of a building, its towering presence blotting out the wreckage behind it. Six jagged legs, each ending in massive claws, dug deep into the cracked earth as though claiming dominion over the battlefield. With every movement, they carved deep grooves into the ground, screeching stone against stone. The creature’s posture was low, as if it were always ready to lunge.

  Its body was encased in a monstrous carapace. Stone yet seemingly alive, a jagged armor that looked as though it had been ripped from the underworld itself. It was yellow, nearly gold, but veins of emerald green pulsed through the cracks in its shell, glowing faintly like rivers of energy flowing beneath its hide. It could withstand a collision with an oncoming bus and come away unscathed, the vehicle crumpling like paper against its impenetrable plating.

  Two massive appendages extended from its head, each one larger than a man, with edges that that gleamed sharply. They clacked together ominously, the sound ringing out like the strike of a blacksmith’s hammer. I had no doubt that those pincers could shear through steel without resistance. Bank safes, armored vehicles, even the golden walls of the tower would stand no chance.

  And then I saw it, a single eye, round and glassy, embedded deep within the center of its head, staring at me with an unblinking, predatory focus. The eye wasn’t human or even remotely familiar, it was alien, ancient, and vast, as though it held the weight of the desert itself within its gaze. A swirling abyss of ochre and gold, it shimmered faintly like sand heated to the point of liquefaction, yet the pupil remained fixed.

  It wasn’t merely looking at me. It was judging me. Measuring me. The eye seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive, expanding and contracting in time with the slow, reverberating beat of the molten veins running through its stone-like body.

  Grand Beast

  Scarab

  Treasure of the Desert

  The words echoed in my mind, reverently, like the distant hum of an ancient hymn. A creature born of the desert, forged from sand, stone and myth. In that now-vanished land, a place swallowed by the end, people had revered these creatures as manifestations of divinity. To them, these beetles was no mere insect, they were sacred, a symbol of the eternal sun and its unending cycle of rebirth and regeneration. Each sunrise brought life anew, and the scarab, rolling tirelessly, embodied that divine promise.

  In their worship, they saw the scarab not as a destroyer but as a harbinger of life, a bridge between the mortal world and eternity.

  Such was their devotion that they immortalized its image in gold, in stone, in everything they touched. Craftsmen shaped precious metals into its likeness, melting their finest jewelry into the form of scarabs that would adorn the bodies of pharaohs and kings. The insects, tiny yet mighty, were worn proudly over hearts and sealed within tombs, believing they could guide the souls of the departed to the next life. Scarabs would be pressed into rings, necklaces, amulets. Symbols of honor and favor bestowed by the gods themselves.

  The more scarabs a ruler possessed, the greater their honor. Pharaohs had their names engraved into these jeweled forms, binding their mortal identity to the eternal significance of the scarab. To them, these creatures were the very essence of endurance and transformation, proof that the sun would rise after even the darkest night, that death was but a door to something greater.

  But their worship is what birthed this abomination.

  “Beast, born of humanity’s collective imagination.” – I declared, my voice shining through the night. The fire inside me flared, its heat spreading through every fiber of my being as I raised my blazing rapiers high. – “Let me bring thy rebirth by fire.”

  The air around me combusted, the flames in my hands growing into radiant tornados.

  “Ultimate Magic:”

  The words left my lips as I willed the fire within me to obey. My heart thundered, the ember blazing brighter and hotter. Consuming everything else. My hands moved in a practiced, deliberate arc, flames swirling in sync with my motion as if I were a conductor and they, my orchestra.

  The world seemed to hold its breath. The winds paused, the debris hanging mid-air, caught between the beast’s overwhelming presence and the magic building within me.

  “Ars Nova!”

  The declaration split the air like a lightning strike, and the flames erupted outward, no longer tethered to my rapiers. They spiraled into the heavens, twisting into pillars of fire so intense. The golden and crimson light towered above me, casting a blinding light that turned night into day. The winds howled in protest, scattering as my firestorm devoured the terror the Scarab had summoned.

  I had no time to lose. This wasn’t an opponent I could afford to give a single chance. Not a moment’s hesitation. Not a single opportunity to grow stronger. I would end it here and now, before it could unleash its fear. Before anyone gets hurt.

  Flames and stone collided, clashing in an explosion that tore through the battlefield. The sheer force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, the ground beneath groaning as massive fissures spread. The air itself seemed to rupture, a deafening crack reverberating across the ruined landscape. And yet, for all the chaos, no other building — no other human — was touched.

  I had trained for this. I had trained relentlessly since that day. Each pulse I conjured now carried purpose, precision. I knew what I would burn and what I would protect. Every ember obeyed me, every blaze followed my will. This time, the flames were mine to command.

  The beast shrieked in protest, a keening wail that rattled my bones as its massive form melted under the torrent of fire. Its stone-like carapace cracked and blackened, molten streams of slag pouring from its armored limbs like rivers of liquid metal. I kept my gaze locked on it, my hands burning with heat, refusing to let up. I wouldn’t let it escape.

  And then the flames subsided. The battlefield fell eerily silent, save for the faint hiss of cooling embers and the crackle of charred earth. I stood there, my body tense, my breathing shallow. I didn’t let my guard down, not this time.

  I stared at the creature’s remains, waiting, watching for any sign of movement. I knew better than to assume it was over.

  Suddenly, without warning, the ground beneath me erupted.

  Its massive pincers shot up from the cracked earth like a pair of guillotines, gleaming faintly in the dim light. I leapt instinctively, the motion as fluid and practiced as a dancer’s step, the edge of its pincers grazing the tips of my boots as I soared into the air.

  It escaped underground? No, I thought, mid-leap. I had seen the flames engulf it. I had felt its body burning beneath my power. It didn’t escape. It survived.

  And as the creature rose from the shattered earth, I saw why.

  Its form had changed. The dull, yellow stone that had once armored its massive body was gone, melted away by my flames. In its place was a suit of gleaming gold. Polished, reflective, and unnervingly beautiful. The molten veins that pulsed across its body now glowed brighter, more vibrant, as though the fire that had struck it had not destroyed it but reforged it.

  Of course. Of course.

  The creature’s myth followed it into reality. Sapphire had warned me that these beasts were not merely giant animals. They were living ideas. When fire had struck this Scarab, reality itself had rewritten its existence. To burn it was to forge it anew, like gold refined in the hottest of forges. The creature had become what it was always meant to be: a symbol, not of ruin, but of rebirth.

  “Tch.” – I clicked my tongue in frustration as realization hit. I made a mistake. Again.

  The Scarab’s singular desert eye, now shining brighter than ever before, fixed on me with renewed malice. Its body, lighter and stronger than before, moved with unsettling speed. The earth beneath my feet trembled as I landed, and before I could reposition, the ground turned to liquid beneath me: Quicksand.

  I staggered, my footing lost, as the Scarab’s massive body lunged forward. The quicksand dragged me down, pulling at my legs like a predator sensing weakness. The creature’s gleaming pincers opened wide, the edges shimmering like twin blades as it prepared to cleave me perfectly in two.

  Summoning every ounce of focus, I ignored the sinking sensation around me, my body moving on instinct. I shifted my weight, thrusting one of my rapiers backward until it was perfectly aligned behind my ear. Sapphire’s training flashed in my mind: her precise movements, her unrelenting strikes. She had used it against me so many times. And now it was my turn.

  I launched the rapier forward, the blade like a meteor as it tore through the air. The Scarab’s eye, wide and unblinking, had no time to react. The rapier struck true, piercing the glowing center of its gaze.

  The creature shrieked a sound that shook the ground, the quicksand trembling beneath me as the beast’s movements faltered. Its legs flailed, its form writhing as it lost sight of me completely.

  Without hesitation, I summoned a burst of fire through my remaining rapiers, the flames roaring to life as I slashed a circle at my orbit. The quicksand around me hissed and crackled as the heat burned through it, the liquid earth crystallizing into glass beneath my feet.

  I surged upward, fire exploding from my weapon to launch me into the air. The Scarab’s body loomed before me: massive, golden, and unyielding. Its armor was flawless, every surface perfectly smooth and impenetrable. I knew no weapon could pierce that hide.

  Clutching with both my hands, I forced them downwards. As the rapier pierced perfectly through a gap in the fortress. I plunged the blade into the Scarab’s back, the narrow point sliding perfectly into the vulnerable space between its plates.

  “Firefly Burst!”

  Naming the move after another beetle. Flames erupted from the point of impact, exploding outward through the gaps in its golden armor. The fire raced through the creature’s body like a living thing, consuming it from the inside out. Its gilded plating, so impervious on the outside, became its prison — a pot to boil it down, the fire raging hotter and brighter as the Scarab shrieked its death throes.

  “Now.” – I growled through gritted teeth. – “Try using any conceptual bullshit to survive.”

  The Scarab convulsed violently, its golden body cracking and splintering as the flames tore through it. And then, finally, it fell silent. Its body collapsed beneath me, its once-glistening armor shattering into fragments.

  I leapt back, landing gracefully on the molten glass as the creature’s form exploded into a cascade of green particles, rising into the air like fireflies before vanishing into nothingness.

  It was gone. Erased. As if it had never belonged in this world to begin with.

  As the city’s rebuilding continued, the beasts came. One after another, relentless and unyielding, as if drawn to the faint glimmer of hope that Sirius City represented. They descended upon us in waves: some small, little more than mindless creatures easily cut down by my flames, and others vast, terrible things that shook the ground with every step. But no matter their size, no matter their ferocity, I was there every single time.

  There wasn’t a battle I couldn’t win.

  Every fight honed me further, the edges of my power sharpening like a blade against a whetstone. I learned their movements, their patterns, and their weaknesses. Sapphire pushed me harder with every encounter, her cold precision molding me into something faster, stronger and unyielding. The ember within me burned brighter, until it was no longer just a tool I wielded but a force that became a part of me. Each battle was a test, and I refused to fail.

  While I fought, the city rose from its ruins. My father was its architect, its protector in his own right. He didn’t just rebuild; he reimagined. The area around the golden tower expanded steadily, new walls rising higher, sturdier and unbreakable. What had been shattered was replaced with something stronger. Entire districts were reshaped under his vision, their foundations imbued with the same determination that burned within me.

  And then he founded STR — the Sirius Tactical Response.

  It started small, little more than an idea forged out of necessity. The people needed protection. They needed order. My father, already the mayor in all but name, took command of the city’s defense in a way that left no room for doubt. He formalized everything — creating specialized teams, squads of handpicked soldiers, scientists, and strategists. STR became the backbone of Sirius City’s survival, a symbol of resilience, unity, and action.

  Before I realized it, STR had grown into a force of its own. Where I had once fought alone, teams now moved with precision across the city, responding to threats before they could escalate. Scouts patrolled the outer edges of the barrier, studying the beasts in their own territory. Engineers reinforced our walls and weapons, building technology that could stand alongside magic. Strategists developed plans, ensuring no area was left vulnerable.

  It wasn’t perfect: at first, the people were hesitant, wary of putting their trust in Sirius again. The memory of what had been lost was still raw, their faith fragile. To many, I was still a symbol of that loss, of the day the Livyatan had breached the city. But my father was relentless in his efforts, pouring his every resource into not only rebuilding the city’s defenses but reshaping its spirit.

  And slowly, the perception began to change.

  It started with stories: accounts of my battles, spreading like wildfire through the streets. Survivors whispered of the First Star who stood alone against monsters and drove them back with fire and fury. The tales grew, became legend. Soon, the stories became broadcasts: images of me cutting through beasts like a flame through darkness, my fire painting the sky. My father knew the power of image, of belief, and he wielded it with the same precision I did my rapiers.

  Then came the animated series. At first, I scoffed at the idea when they told me about it.

  “You’re making what?” – I’d asked, incredulous.

  Over time, that series along with countless posters, broadcasts, and speeches from my father did more than entertain. It rebuilt something that had been broken: their faith.

  It didn’t happen overnight. Their trust had been shattered, their hope buried beneath rubble and ash. Winning them back took effort: battle by battle, brick by brick. I had to prove myself, not just with words or propaganda, but with action. Every time I stood between a beast and the city, every time I fought to protect them, I gave them another reason to believe.

  And my father amplified that belief until it became unshakable.

  Where once there had been whispers of blame, there were now cheers of triumph. Where faces had once stared at me with doubt, they now glowed with admiration and trust. People no longer saw me as the girl who had brought ruin upon them. They saw me as their protector, their shield, their First Star.

  By the time I realized it, everything had changed.

  The golden tower wasn’t just a symbol of Sirius City’s power, it was a beacon, the heart of the city that refused to fall. STR stood as the bulwark against the darkness, a force led by my father’s unwavering vision. And I was its brightest light, the flame that guided them through the night.

  2009-01-29

  First Star Status: Deceased.

  Beast Status: Eliminated.

  Number of Casualties: Zero.

  Incident Report – STR Command Center

  Location: Residential District, Sirius City

  Threat Level: Hideous

  Beast Quantity: Twenty-two specimens.

  Report Summary:

  At 15:14 local time, a beast signal was detected originating from a densely populated residential district, specifically inside a multi-story apartment complex. The signal registered a "Hideous" threat classification — lower in tier than Grand Beasts, but still lethal to unarmed civilians. STR's Command Center immediately issued an evacuation order for the surrounding area, with automated alarms sounding throughout nearby blocks.

  Evacuation teams, already on standby, mobilized within three minutes of the detection. Residents were herded into designated safe zones with practiced precision, the evacuation protocols executed seamlessly. Drones were deployed to ensure no individuals remained within the building or adjacent structures.

  At 15:23, the First Star entered the scene.

  The beasts had spawned inside the upper floors of the apartment building: twenty-two specimens in total. Their grotesque forms, humanoid with sinewy green skin and twisted limbs. Were deceptively small, but their strength, speed, and vicious cunning made them deadly in confined spaces. They moved like a swarm, their stone-carved weapons clutched tightly in clawed hands, their guttural growls reverberating through the narrow hallways and stair like a predator’s call.

  The walls shook as doors splintered and furniture toppled, the air thick with the sounds of shattering glass, snapping wood, and the rhythmic pounding of the beasts' pursuit.

  For the residents, the evacuation had been swift and effective, almost all of them made it to safety. But there was one.

  A single woman.

  She had been asleep when the attack began, waking to the sound of heavy thuds and growls echoing from the floors below. Dazed and panicked, she stumbled through the darkened apartment, her trembling hands locking the door and barricading it with whatever she could find: chairs, a bookshelf, even a refrigerator she pushed against the frame with desperate strength. But she could hear them. The beasts.

  At first, it was the distant scraping of claws on tile. Then the snarling, guttural whispers outside her door. Words — almost human, but twisted and broken — spoken in low, mocking tones. They were playing with her. She pressed herself into a corner of the room, her breath coming in short gasps, her knees drawn to her chest as she listened to the sound of claws dragging down the hallway walls, stopping just outside her door.

  “Please… please just leave” – She whispered.

  But they didn’t leave.

  The door shuddered as something heavy slammed into it, the barricade groaning under the force. Another impact splintered the wood, sending cracks spider-webbing through the frame. The woman clamped a hand over her mouth, her pulse thundering in her ears as tears streamed down her face. The pounding continued, relentless, until with one final blow, the door exploded inward, the barricade collapsing in a cacophony of splintered wood and clanging metal.

  Hideous Beast

  Goblin

  The beasts poured into the apartment, their grotesque forms silhouetted against the dim light from the window. Green-skinned and jagged-toothed, they leered at her, their weapons of rough-hewn stone clutched in clawed hands. Their green eyes glowed with malice, their twisted mouths curling into grins that sent ice through her veins.

  For a moment, the world seemed to slow. She could see it in their expressions, the sick delight in the way they moved toward her. They weren’t here to kill her quickly. No. They meant to torment her, to stretch out the moment of her fear, to savor every ounce of her helplessness.

  She knew she wouldn’t make it past them. Even if she ran, they would catch her, drag her back, and do things she couldn’t bear to imagine. The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her, but there was something else too. Resolve. If she was to die today, she would choose how. She would deny them the satisfaction of her suffering.

  With one final, shuddering breath, she leapt from the window.

  The air rushed past her in a deafening roar as the ground hurtled toward her, her thoughts falling silent in the face of certain death. There was no fear left, only an eerie stillness, a resignation to what awaited her at the bottom.

  But death never came.

  Before she could reach the ground, the air itself seemed to explode around her, heat erupting in a sudden, searing flash. A figure streaked toward her from the sky, cloaked in fire. In an instant, strong arms encircled her, flames swirling protectively as if they had a will of their own. The force of the catch sent a sharp jolt through her body, knocking the wind from her lungs, but she was alive. Held aloft, cradled by the First Star.

  Her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared up at the figure who had saved her. The First Star’s face was set in fierce concentration, her crimson eyes blazing like twin embers, framed by the crimson glow of her flames.

  But there was tension too. Arstria had never done this before.

  She had trained to fly faster than any missile, to launch herself across the battlefield in streaks of fire and light. But now she held a fragile human in her arms, and she knew the speed she usually wielded like a weapon would destroy the woman she sought to save.

  The wind tore at them as the First Star’s movements faltered, her flight becoming erratic. She could feel it, the weight of the woman, the drag of gravity as it fought against her. She tried to stabilize, but her flames sputtered under the strain, flickering like an uncertain candle.

  Steady yourself, she thought, forcing her arms to lock tighter around the woman. She can’t handle the speed. I can’t let her die.

  But even as she slowed her flight, the thought crept unbidden into her mind. A chilling, cruel whisper: What if I drop her? What if she dies in my hands?

  Doubt broke her focus.

  Her flames surged, uncontrollable now, flaring too hot, too fast. The First Star tried to adjust, to reign in the wildfire that had erupted from her core, but it was too late. Her flight wavered, the balance of heat and motion crumbling as the weight of her burden pulled her down.

  The ground loomed closer. A sprawling lake in the center of the city came into view, its surface dark and still, reflecting the faint glow of distant lights. She aimed for it instinctively, hoping the water would soften the fall, give them both a chance.

  The surface of the lake came too quickly, the calm water breaking apart into ripples of darkness as they fell. In a final, desperate act, the First Star shifted her body midair, twisting so that her back faced the water. With the last of her strength, she wrapped her arms around the woman, shielding her with every ounce of power she had left.

  The First Star struck the lake with such force that the surface exploded outward, a tidal wave rippling toward the shore. Beneath the water, rocks hid just below the surface, jagged, unyielding stone that hadn’t been visible in the dark.

  The woman was thrown free, her body skipping over the shallow water before she came to a halt near the shore. Her arm scraped against the rocks, her ribs bruised, but she was alive. Her eyes fluttered open, the world spinning around her, the echo of the fall still ringing in her ears.

  But the First Star was gone.

  The force of the impact had carried her deeper, the current swallowing her lifeless form as though the lake itself had claimed her. Blood trailed from her body, mixing with the water in swirling ribbons of crimson. The majority of her ribs had shattered upon impact, bones snapping beneath the weight of her fall, puncturing her internal organs.

  For a moment, the lake fell still again. The ripples faded, the water smoothing into an undisturbed mirror of darkness, as though it had swallowed its secret and wished to keep it hidden.

  Then, later, the surface broke once more.

  A girl plunged into the frigid water, her sharp dive cutting through the lake’s silence. Sapphire moved with a desperation that felt alien to her normally composed form, her body carving through the depths as she reached the figure sinking into the gloom. The lake was murky, the water thick and dark, but she pushed forward, her piercing blue eyes fixed on the faint shimmer of gold that still clung to the lifeless body below.

  When her hands finally closed around Arstria’s unresponsive form, Sapphire felt something inside her fracture. The weight of the girl’s body, still so cold, sent a jolt through her. Like reality itself had struck her down. She kicked hard, dragging upward with every ounce of strength she could summon, until the two of them breached the surface.

  Spotlights from the approaching aircraft pierced the darkness, blinding beams sweeping over the lake until they found the figures adrift in the center.

  Moments later, military personnel swarmed the shoreline, their movements quick and efficient. Soldiers dropped ropes and hauled Sapphire from the water first, but she clung tightly to Arstria’s lifeless body, refusing to let her go. When they finally pried her away, it was only to load both onto a waiting helicopter.

  The rotors roared overhead as Sapphire sat hunched over, shivering and soaked to the bone. Her hands trembled as she stared at Arstria, wrapped now in a thick blanket but utterly still. The flames that had once defined her — her strength, her brilliance — were nowhere to be seen. The ember inside her was gone.

  “No…” – Sapphire whispered, her voice breaking. She clutched her knees, tears mingling with the water dripping from her face. – “Not again… Not again…”

  The soldiers didn’t speak to her; they couldn’t. No one knew what to say. The Second Star — always so composed, so unshakable — looked small now, fragile, a child who had been left alone in the dark.

  When the helicopter landed on the roof of the golden tower, she moved on instinct, her body numb as she carried Arstria into the building herself. Soldiers followed, their boots echoing behind her, but none dared to stop her. The once bright and burning First Star hung limply in Sapphire’s arms, a haunting reminder of what had been lost.

  Sapphire descended the tower’s halls in a daze, searching for him — Sirius. When she finally found him, standing amidst a team of white-coated scientists, her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees, clutching Arstria close as though the girl might slip away again if she let go.

  “Save her…” – Sapphire’s voice broke, raw and pleading as tears streamed down her face. – “Please!”

  The calm, calculating Second Star — who once stood above all others, untouchable and cold — was now nothing more than a desperate child in the face of a grief she couldn’t bear. Her hands trembled as she held Arstria out to him, her composure shattered completely.

  Sirius stared down at the lifeless form of his daughter, his crimson eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, it seemed as though the world had stopped moving around him. The hum of machinery, the distant murmur of voices — it all faded to silence as he stood frozen, staring at what remained of the First Star.

  Then, without a word, Sirius moved.

  Sirius took Arstria from Sapphire’s trembling hands, cradling her as gently as one might hold porcelain. His face remained blank — too blank — as if his mind had shut off every feeling, every thought, to keep himself moving forward. He carried her into the elevator, Sapphire trailing behind him, her sodden clothes leaving a trail of water as she walked.

  The elevator hummed softly as it descended, taking them deeper and deeper into the golden tower’s hidden underground. Sapphire stared blankly at the walls, her breaths uneven as she hugged herself for warmth.

  The doors opened to reveal a stark, sterile space: the underground lab. Unlike the ornate brilliance of the tower above, the lab was cold and clinical, its walls lined with strange machines that hissed and whirred with an eerie precision. Scientists glanced up as Sirius entered, their eyes widening as they took in the limp form he carried, but they said nothing.

  Sirius moved to the center of the room, where a large cylindrical glass tube stood empty, surrounded by an intricate web of machinery. Without hesitation, he laid Arstria’s body down on the metal platform beside it.

  Sapphire stepped closer, her voice a thin, trembling whisper. – “What… what are you doing?”

  Sirius’s hands moved methodically, adjusting the settings on the control panel as the glass tube slowly began to fill with a strange, translucent liquid. The fluid glowed faintly, pulsing with a soft orange light that reflected against the sterile walls.

  Sapphire’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched, her piercing blue eyes fixed on the motionless figure before her. Arstria’s lifeless form lay on the cold, sterile table, her salmon-colored hair fanned out like a halo. Sapphire clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought against the rising tide of despair that threatened to drown her.

  “This will heal her, right?” – She asked, her voice trembling. She clung to the faintest shred of hope, her gaze darting toward Sirius.

  He didn’t look at her. His crimson eyes remained locked on the table, his expression cold and unyielding, as if carved from stone.

  “No.” – He said finally, his voice devoid of warmth, of softness, of anything at all. The single word felt like a blade slicing through the fragile thread of hope she held. – “It will not heal her. It will preserve her body for future experiments.”

  The weight of his words struck Sapphire like a physical blow. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt around her. The suffocating silence that followed was broken only by the soft hum of the machinery around them.

  Sirius moved toward a console, his movements calm, deliberate, mechanical. He was focused, methodical, and completely detached, as though the lifeless form on the table wasn’t his daughter.

  The sound of her weapon materializing was sharp and sudden. In an instant, the tip of a spear gleamed at Sirius’s neck, its edge shimmering with lethal precision.

  “Try anything like that, and I will kill you.” – Sapphire growled, her voice low and dangerous. Her calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw, burning fury. – “The least you can do is give her a proper burial, as her father.”

  Sirius didn’t flinch. He turned his head slowly, his crimson eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.

  “She lived to protect this city.” – He said, his tone unwavering. – “Whatever made her strong, I need to discover. That is what she would truly want.”

  “As if you knew her!” – She spat, her voice rising, trembling with rage. – “You’re the one who poisoned her mind with your obsession to protect these damned humans! If she’d never taken on this burden, she wouldn’t have died again!”

  For the first time, Sirius’s mask cracked. A flicker of something — guilt, pain, or perhaps regret — flashed across his face. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, though no less resolute.

  2011-10-18

  "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.

  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.

  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.

  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.

  "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?