Undercover Student Of The Heroes Academy

[p_magno]

The phone screamed on the desk.


Grrringg…! Grrringg…! Grrringg…!

A young woman with hair the color of deep ocean water reached for it, her movements languid, practiced. She brought the receiver to her ear.

"Hello, Heroes Association. State your request." Her voice was flat, a monotone worn smooth by years of identical calls. The boredom was a physical weight in the words.

The voice that crackled back was drenched in static and pure terror. "Th-there… is a strange o-occurrence… g-going on. 15 Giripo Block. At t-the abanddoned w-warehouse. It's a d-dungeon gate! Please, co-come quickly! S-something is go-going to h-happen! Please come!"

The woman's orange eyes, which had been staring vacantly at a coffee stain on her report, sharpened. She sat up, the chair groaning in protest. "Sir, take a deep breath. Calm down. Our heroes will be there very soon. Please be patient. Thank you." She didn't wait for a reply. The click of the receiver settling into its cradle was decisive.

She leaned back, the leather of her office chair sighing with her. Her gaze drifted to the rain-streaked window, seeing not the city lights but the growing pile of reports on her desk. Lately, it was always calls like this. Panicked citizens reporting flickering dungeon gates, strange shadows, imminent breaches. Heroes would scramble, sirens would wail… and they'd find nothing. Not a monster, not a rift, not a single shred of dimensional instability. Just empty streets and a creeping, collective paranoia.

And the red leaf. Always, at some point during the investigation, a hero would spot it. A single, perfectly formed, crimson leaf where no tree grew. It was a signature. A taunt.

'Sigh… In the end, we must still check it out.' Duty was a chain. She turned to her computer, the screen's glow painting her tired face in pale blue. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, pulling up the active roster. Two names blinked back at her, listed as available. A duo. It would have to do.


_______


[HERO PROFILE: T]

Name: Tarsus Bernard

Rank: B

Talent: A

Profession: [Authority Mage] [Gun Master]




[HERO PROFILE: K]

Name: Kathrine Xavier

Rank: C

Talent: A

Profession: [Light Mage]

_______


She closed her eyes. The ambient noise of the office, the hum of servers, the distant chatter, faded into a muffled silence. In the dark behind her eyelids, she focused, finding the specific, familiar psychic frequencies. It was like dropping a single pebble into a still, black pond. A ripple spread out, seeking.

"Kat, Tarsus. You have a mission." The connection snapped into place, carrying with it the sound of distant traffic and the bright, brassy melody of a film score.

'Love Till The End', She recognized. The new cinematic sensation. 'of course they'd be near the cinema as long as Kat is there.'

Before the expected groan of protest could form in their minds, she pressed on, her mental voice calm and procedural. "Surveillance confirmation. Location is the abandoned warehouse, 15 Giripo Block. Probable connection to the red leaf case. Please proceed with caution. And... " She hesitated, a cold knot tightening in her own stomach, "...I strongly advise you both come to the guild office first. Obtain additional protection relics. Just in case."

The reply that echoed back was bright, impatient, and utterly devoid of concern. It was Hero K's mental signature, like sunlight on polished brass. "Don't bother with the relics, Aunty! The paperwork alone takes longer than the job. We're on it. Gotta finish before midnight. I am not missing the premiere!"

Airel, the telepathist, felt a headache beginning to pulse behind her eyes. "I know. But I have a bad feeling about this." She sighed, the sound a whisper in their shared mental space. "Alright. Just be careful. Report in when you're clear."

She severed the link. The sudden return to the quiet office was jarring.




***


On the lively street of Yvova, under the neon glow of the cinema marquee, Kathrine Xavier blinked. The psychic voice faded from her mind, replaced by the vibrant hum of the city night. She pursed her lips for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing features that looked younger than her years, a round, cheerful face lit by molten gold eyes. Then she shrugged, the motion sending her dark reddish hair swinging.

She turned her head, shooting a glance at the man walking beside her. Tarsus Bernard was a study in stillness amidst the crowd. In his mid-forties, with black hair swept back and eyes of a deep, expressionless blue, he looked less like a person and more like a cliff face, unmoved by the colorful chaos around them.

"Well, well, well," Kathrine sang, a mischievous curve touching her lips. "Looks like our day off is officially hijacked, Gramps."

Tarsus didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on some point in the middle distance, his brow slightly furrowed as if perpetually analyzing a complex equation. "It's just surveillance," he stated, his voice as flat and calm as Airel's had been over the phone. "We'll finish it quickly and return to base."

'And don't forget,' Kathrine added inwardly, her eyes drifting back to the sparkling cinema poster, 'we have a movie to catch.'



****


Inside the Abandoned Warehouse, 15 Giripo Street

Time: 10:45 PM




The warehouse swallowed sound and light with a greedy indifference.

Their footsteps, Kathrine's light and quick, Tarsus's heavy and measured echoed through the cavernous space like lonely heartbeats. A thick blanket of dust coated every surface, swirling in the beams of their wrist-lights. The air was cold and stale, smelling of decay, rust, and forgotten things. They moved through empty rooms, Kat's light slicing through the darkness to reveal cracked concrete walls, skeletal metal frames, and nothing else. No dungeon gate. No strange energy signature. No monster.

Just dust, shadows, and the oppressive, echoing silence.

Room after room yielded the same nothing. The tension that had coiled in Kathrine's shoulders on arrival began to loosen, replaced by a familiar frustration. Another wild goose chase. Another red leaf to pin to the board.

They stopped before a final door. It was metal, scabbed with rust, and bore a faded, peeling label: DO NOT ENTER. STAFF ONLY!

Tarsus gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Kathrine reached out, her gloved hand wrapping around the cold handle. With a sound that split the silence like a scream Creeeeeak... she pushed it open.

They stepped through, the light probing the new darkness.

None of them looked behind after the first glance. None of them saw the small, square piece of paper that fluttered down from above, landing silently in the disturbed dust behind their boots.

It was stained a rusty, reddish-brown. Words were scrawled across it in a frantic, jerking hand, the letters shaking and uneven as if written by someone whose body would not obey. The ink, dark and dreadful, soaked into the cheap paper.

Two words. A warning that came far too late.

R U N !


****




As they walked deeper, the stench hit Kathrine like a physical blow. It was the smell of meat left to spoil in a damp cellar, thick and cloying, coating the back of her throat. She gagged, pulling the collar of her jacket up over her nose. "Gosh, this place stinks like hell. How long was this abandoned for? And what the hell died in here?"

Beside her, Tarsus's expression didn't waver. His deep blue eyes scanned the shadow-cloaked corners of the staff room, methodical, detached. "Who knows. That ain't my problem. Let's just get this over with." He paused, the beam of his wrist-light cutting through the swirling dust motes. "Where do you think the gate might have spawned?"

Kathrine didn't answer immediately. She closed her eyes for a second, tuning out the rot, trying to listen to the quieter hum of her own intuition. It was a flutter in her gut, a faint, persistent pull. "…Dunno, Gramps. But I've got a feeling that whatever we're looking for… it's in this room."

Tarsus let out a short, heavy sigh, the sound loud in the enclosed space. "You and that instinct of yours will give me a headache soon," he mumbled, turning his light towards a row of rusted filing cabinets.


Thwack!

Kathrine's fist connected solidly with his upper arm. He didn't flinch, but he did shoot her a glacial sideways glance. She scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "What about yours, Old Man?" she muttered, stomping past him deeper into the room, her boots kicking up little clouds of grime.

The search was slow, tense. Every shuffled paper, every scrape of metal echoed in the eerie, tomblike silence. The only light was their own, creating a small, fragile pocket of vision in the overwhelming dark.

Then Kathrine's gaze snagged. "Over there," she whispered, her voice suddenly tight. "That light. Let's go check it out."

A dozen yards away, a single, sickly white light flickered. On. Off. On. Off. A slow, arrhythmic pulse in the gloom.

Tarsus didn't argue. He fell into step beside her, his hand drifting unconsciously to rest on the grip of the revolver holstered under his trench coat.


Tap. Tap. Tap.

Their footsteps were the only sound, marking time as they closed the distance. The flickering grew brighter, more defined. It was a simple light stand, the kind used in a photography studio, standing alone in the center of an otherwise empty space. Perched on top was a single bulb, flashing its erratic signal.

Taped to the base was a slip of paper. In crude, bold red marker, it read: FOOLS! HAHAHA!!!

This was it. The final room. The end of the line. And it was a joke.

A low, rough sound escaped Tarsus. He ran a hand through his black hair, his usual icy composure cracking to reveal the sharp edge of his annoyance. "This… seems to be a prank." The words were hoarse. His face, already cold, seemed to harden further, the lines around his mouth deepening into a scowl of pure, frustrated anger.

Kathrine watched him, a pang of sympathy cutting through her own irritation. She took a half-step towards him, her hand starting to rise to pat his shoulder, a clumsy gesture of comfort. But the movement froze halfway.

A warning shrieked through her nerves, a primal, electric jolt of DANGER!

Tarsus, his jaw set, reached out to grab the light stand. "We'll take this as proof. Show the Association what the 'surveillance mission' was."

"No, don't—!"

Her cry was too late. His fingers closed around the cold metal pole.

And the world changed.


[A… LAY… UIOF… UTTE… ATA… RA]

The voices were not in the room. They were inside them. A chorus of whispering, guttural syllables that slithered past ears and directly into the soul. Kathrine's body locked, muscles seizing. Her gift, her sensitivity to supernatural presences, had screamed only a second ago. But before that? Nothing. It was as if the threat hadn't existed until this exact moment.

Tarsus frowned, a deep, subconscious reaction. His hand jerked towards his holster.

Then he heard Kathrine's voice, strangled and thin with terror. "Something is wrong." She was staring, wide-eyed, at the light stand in his hand, her whole body trembling violently. "Throw it away! Throw it now!!"

He didn't question. He flung the stand away from them with all his strength. It clattered across the concrete, the bulb shattering.

The light didn't go out.

It bled from weak white into a deep, pulsing crimson, painting the floor and walls in the color of fresh blood.

'I should have been more patient.' The thought was a bitter poison in Tarsus's mind. His revolver was in his hand now, a familiar, comforting weight. "Stay close to me. Begin dispelling the darkness. Now!" The command was sharp, leaving no room for debate.

"On it." Kathrine's voice was steadier now, focused. She clasped her hands together, fingers interlacing, and bowed her head. Her eyes squeezed shut. When she spoke, it was a low, resonant chant that thrummed with power.

<A spark that dispels darkness, a flame that burns away the shadows of evil… I command you.> "Descend!"

Light erupted from her. Not from her hands, but from her very core, a brilliant, golden-white radiance that tore through the clinging dark like a supernova. It flooded the room, bleaching the red glow, exposing every cracked tile, every stain on the wall.

It also exposed what the darkness had hidden.

"What the fuck!"

Three figures sat in a wide circle around them. They were not flesh, but stone, giant and grotesque, each towering twelve feet high. They were slumped in a parody of meditation, but their faces were contorted into identical, impossibly wide grins, the stone mouths stretching almost to the edges of their cheeks. Thick, viscous blood wept from their hollow eye sockets, dripping down their craggy faces. And from those stony lips, the same indecipherable, soul-scraping incantation poured forth.

"W-what do you think we should do?" Kathrine breathed, the brilliance around her flickering with her fear.

Tarsus had no plan. But a deeper instinct, honed by decades of survival, was roaring in his skull. "I've got a bad feeling about this place. Something I have never felt. Not in all my years." He met her gaze, his own eyes deadly serious. "We leave. Now."

He grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron, and turned to run.


Cling.

A sound like a single, struck crystal bell. Pure. Final.

Their movement ceased. Not out of choice. Their bodies simply… stopped obeying. They were statues themselves, trapped in a snapshot of flight.


Cling.!

A second bell-tone. The world didn't go dark, but it went silent. The whispering chants vanished. The sound of their own panicked breath vanished. The thrum of Kathrine's light vanished into a void of absolute, dread-filled quiet. Even the air in their lungs felt still and dead.


Clong..!

A third, deeper resonance. Time rushed back in a dizzying wave. Sound returned, the ragged gasp of Kathrine sucking in air, the pounding of Tarsus's own heart in his ears like a war drum.


Duuuum!!

Then came the pressure. An overwhelming, sinister force that descended upon them, pressing down on their minds, their souls, their very bones. It was the weight of a malevolent gaze. It was the promise of annihilation.

Something lunged from a patch of shadow Kathrine's light could not touch, a darkness deeper than absence.

Tarsus's reaction was pure reflex. A wave of destructive aura, visible as a ripple of distorted air, exploded from him, meeting the lunging force head-on. There was a crack of displaced energy. In the same motion, he raised his revolver. The barrel glowed a faint blue, mana charging the specialized round within. He didn't aim. He simply pointed at the center of the shadow and pulled the trigger.


Pa! Pa!

Two shots. The bullets, streaks of cerulean light, crossed the short distance in the space between heartbeats.

They should have struck home. They should have torn through.

Instead, they stopped. Suspended in mid-air, an inch from the edge of the shadow. Their insane momentum simply… died. The blue glow faded. The bullets fell to the floor with two pathetic, tinny clinks!.

A figure stepped out of the dark.

It was vaguely humanoid, with pale, sallow skin stretched over a wiry frame. Patches of undeveloped, grey scales dotted its arms and neck, looking tougher than forged steel. Its eyes were pools of bloodshot red, from which twin trails of crimson tears traced lines down its cheeks. Its hands ended in claws like curved black daggers. Four mid-sized horns, crackling with faint, malevolent sparks, spiraled up from its forehead. But the worst of it was the aura. A demonic, bloodthirsty pressure filled the room, thick enough to taste, coppery and vile.

'What the hell is this?' Tarsus's mind raced, cold dread solidifying in his veins. He imagined this thing loose in the world, and the thought was beyond nightmare.

He shot the briefest glance at Kathrine, a flick of his eyes. 'Signal. Backup. Now.'

She gave an almost imperceptible nod. Her mind was already reaching out, forming the psychic SOS to Airel at the Guild.

The premonition of danger hit her a fraction of a second before the monster moved. It was a blur. It didn't run; it simply ceased to be in one place and was in another, directly in front of her.

There was no roar, no snarl. Just a fist, moving with a terrible, silent economy.

It struck her center of mass.

The sound was wet and crushing. Kathrine's world exploded into white, then red agony. She felt ribs, organs, life itself compress and shatter. Blood, hot and arterial, erupted from her lips. Her light snuffed out instantly.

As her consciousness guttered, a final, ingrained survival mechanism triggered. A shimmering, ghostly second version of herself seemed to peel away from the broken body, absorbing the lethal force. The shattered form shrank, collapsing in on itself into a faint, dying ember of light.


She used blessing of a new life to survive the deadly blow.


Pa! Pa! Pa! Pa!

Tarsus moved. Not in grief, not in panic. In pure, cold fury. He launched himself forward, his revolver barking four times in rapid succession. Each shot was a tiny star of condensed mana, capable of shearing through buildings and steels. The monster didn't dodge. It simply swatted them aside with its clawed hands, the bullets ricocheting off its palms with sparks of violet energy, destroying distant walls, leaving massive scars in the warehouse structure.

Tarsus had known the bullets wouldn't penetrate. He hadn't cared. Shooting was never the plan. It was punctuation.

A grim, razor-thin smile touched his lips. "Slow."

The word wasn't an insult. It was a command. His eyes glazed over with an ancient, silver light, the mark of his Authority. He forced a rule upon the space between them, a law that can't be disobeyed. The monster's forward lunge ceased mid-stride. Its claws, extended to tear, froze. It strained against the invisible bindings, the air cracking with the pressure of its resistance, but for one critical second, it was held.

Tarsus lifted his revolver, pressing the barrel almost lovingly against the frozen monster's forehead. He spoke to the gun, his voice a low, resonant chant that bound intent to metal. "Instant Death."

He pulled the trigger.


Pa! Pa! Pa!

Three shots. No flare of mana, no explosive force. Just three clean, deafening cracks. The bullets did not ricochet. They sank into the pale, scaled flesh of the monster's skull with sickening, wet thumps.


Swoosh!

A blur of golden light. Kathrine was there, materializing behind the monster in a dash of pure solar energy. Her body was enveloped in a nimbus of yellow sparks, her molten gold irises blazing, blooming outwards until her eyes were twin miniature suns. The room, still stained with the memory of red, was flooded with a harsh, holy light. Her voice, when it came, was not her own, it was a chorus, a command etched into the fabric of reality.

<Oh sun of the end, heed my call. Destroy all evil disrupting the balance of this world. As I enchant thy name…>

She raised her right hand, index finger extended like the barrel of a divine gun. At its tip, a sphere of impossible energy coalesced, a miniature, contained supernova. It didn't just burn; it unmade. Heat that cleanses and overpowers anything deemed unworthy, evil and corruption itself, breaking all barriers created with evil or non evil whether space or time, infinity or affinity, bending and negating all laws, authorities and concepts, defying all possibilities of countering.


"Ephilog."



Boooom!

Time itself seemed to slow, to stretch, as the miniature sun launched from her finger. It was not a beam, but an expanding sphere of absolute annihilation. It enveloped the frozen monster, swallowed the three stone statues, consumed the entire room, the warehouse, and kept going, a silent, expanding dome of gold that bleached the night over the entire city before vanishing.

Silence rushed back in, heavier than before.

The only sounds were the heavy, wet coughing of Kathrine and the faint, persistent sizzle of something burning that wasn't there. She collapsed to her knees, blood, too much blood streaming from her mouth and nose. She had poured everything into that spell. All her mana. And deeper, the very flicker of her life force. The golden light around her guttered and died, leaving her pale and shaking in the sudden, ordinary dark.

"…Kat." Tarsus's voice was rough. He was at her side in an instant, his hands hovering, unsure where to touch her broken form. "What the hell did you do that for, Kat?! You're killing yourself!" The scowl on his face was deep, but his eyes, those cold deep-sea eyes, were wide with a fear he'd never shown before.

Kathrine ignored him. Her gaze was fixed on the center of the room, where a crater of melted and vaporized concrete smoked. 'Is it over?' The thought was a desperate prayer. She forced herself up to one knee, one hand braced on her thigh. She managed to turn her head, to force a weak, triumphant smile towards Tarsus.

The smile died on her lips.

Tarsus was already standing, his body rigid, his revolver raised again. He was staring past her, through the settling clouds of dust and steam, his face a mask of dawning, impossible horror.

Kathrine's heart, which had been hammering against her ruined ribs, went very still. Slowly, she turned her head to follow his gaze.

The dust settled.

The monster stood in the center of the molten crater. Its head was intact, the bullet holes gone. A massive, gaping hole yawned in its chest, edges glowing with residual heat. But as they watched, the edges of the wound began to move. Pale flesh and grey scales stretched like spider-silk, knitting together across the void. It was healing. From an attack that negated existence itself.

No being could survive that.

"What we are facing… is not an ordinary being." Tarsus's voice was a hollow whisper, lost in the vast, empty silence of the ruined room.

'Is it even a being we are up against?' Kathrine's mind screamed the silent question.

As if it had heard her, the monster laughed. The sound was hoarse, dry, like stones grinding together deep underground. It wasn't a sound heard with ears; it vibrated in their teeth, in the marrow of their bones, in the core of their souls.


[It seems this world has a lot of fun things. I should have come sooner.]

'He' turned fully towards them. The last of the hole in his chest sealed shut with a final, wet snap. His blood-red eyes, dripping their perpetual tears, settled on them with a chilling, amused curiosity. He spoke again, three simple words that carried the weight of a death sentence.


[I had fun.]



Splaat!

There was no movement. No wind-up. No blur.

One moment, Tarsus was standing, his revolver aimed, his body tense for the next, futile attack.

The next, a geyser of blood erupted into the air, a dark fountain that splashed across Kathrine's frozen face, warm and thick.

She looked down.

Tarsus's lower half stood for a moment longer, then toppled sideways. His upper half lay on the dark, wet floor a few feet away. His deep, cold blue eyes were open, staring right at her. They held no last heroic defiance. Only a profound, shocked pain. And beneath that, a regret so deep it was a bottomless chasm. Regret for a mission he took. Regret for a light stand he touched. Regret for leaving the people precious to him, alone.


Plop.

Kathrine's knees gave way. She dropped hard to the floor, the impact jarring up her spine. She couldn't look away from his eyes. The eyes that had rolled in annoyance at her jokes. The eyes that had silently planned their routes. The eyes that had, just seconds ago, been wide with fear, for 'her'.

A shadow fell over her.

She lifted her gaze. The monster was there, standing over her, its horrific, scaled face split by a wide, sinister smile that reached from horn to horn. It looked down at her, a child examining the most interesting bug it had just crippled.


[I kept you for last.]

The words slithered into her mind. She knew it then, with a certainty that froze the last of her tears. The fight, the authority, the sacrificial sun… none of it had mattered.

It was all over before it even started.

Her vision, the world, everything..



Went Blank!




****


In the darkness, there was nothing. No sound, no light, no body. Kathrine floated in a void, a speck of fading consciousness. The only thing that existed was the memory of those deep blue eyes, staring, accusing, forever still. A single, hot tear formed in the emptiness of her mind's eye and fell through the nothingness.

She woke up.


Gasp! Gasp!

Air, cold and sharp, flooded her lungs. She sat bolt upright, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Instinct took over, golden light flared wildly around her, uncontrolled, ready to lash out at the horror, at the smile, at the blood.

"Kathrine. Kathrine, look at me. Kathrine Xavier!"

The voice was stern, laced with a worry so acute it cut through the panic. Kathrine's wild, darting eyes focused.

Airel. The telepathist. Sea-blue hair, deep orange eyes wide with concern. They were in a white, sterile room. A medical bay in the Guild.

Reality crashed down, a tidal wave of memory. The warehouse. The blood. The eyes.

"T-Tarsus," Kathrine choked out, her voice a shattered thing. "Old Gramps i-s…" She couldn't say it. Saying it would make it real.

Airel didn't make her. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around Kathrine, pulling her into a tight, almost desperate hug. "Shh," Airel murmured into her hair, her own voice trembling. "It's alright. It's alright, Kat. It's alright."

But it wasn't. It would never be alright. The dam broke. Kathrine buried her face in Airel's shoulder and sobbed, great, heaving, ugly sobs that tore from a place deep inside that had just been hollowed out. Tarsus had been her anchor. Her grumpy, steady, constant father-figure in a chaotic world. He was the one person whose quiet presence meant safety. And he was gone. Shredded like trash for the amusement of a thing that called it fun.

'Why didn't I die?' The thought was a poison loop in her mind. 'Why did this cursed blessing save me? Why did it choose me? I should have died with him! I HATE this! I hate it!'

She cried until her throat was raw and her body was spent. She cried until there were no tears left, only a dry, aching emptiness.

That day, in a white room that smelled of antiseptic and grief, a part of Kathrine Xavier was not just lost.


It was slaughtered.

 

[p_magno]

The rain fell in sheets, a relentless grey curtain that blurred the world into watercolor smudges of black stone and wet grass.

To Kathrine, it was barely a whisper.

She stood before the grave, her dark reddish hair plastered to her scalp, her face, her neck. Water dripped from her chin, her nose, the tips of her motionless fingers. She had been standing here for five hours. Maybe longer. Time had become a meaningless concept, something that happened to other people in other places.

Her eyes, those molten gold irises that had once burned with the light of miniature suns, were dim. Empty. They traced the letters carved into the cold granite, over and over, a loop she couldn't break.


[In Loving Memories]
+

Tarsus Bernard

2335 - 2382

+

The dates were a sharp, brutal summary of a life. Born. Died. Everything in between compressed into a dash of chiseled stone.

She opened her mouth. Her voice, when it came, was a hoarse, quiet thing, barely audible over the drumming rain.

"Sorry for not attending the funeral." The words felt wrong in her mouth. Hollow. "I couldn't allow myself to be seen too much. Based on what I signed with the guild."

Her body remained rigid, a statue carved from grief. Only her lips moved.

"I saw your family from the distance when coming here." A pause. She swallowed, the motion painful. "They were all very sad. They were crying. Your wife. Your daughter. Your eldest son." Her voice cracked on son, splintering like thin ice. "Well, why wouldn't they be? You left them too early."

She bit down on her lower lip, hard. The metallic taste of blood bloomed across her tongue, mingling with the rain that ran into her mouth. "You left everyone too early, Gramps."

The tears came then, hot and sudden, but the rain stole them before they could fall. Only the slight tremor of her shoulders betrayed the sobs that were building, crushing her chest from the inside.

"Too, sob!.. too early." Her voice rose, ragged and breaking. Blood trailed from her bitten lip, washed away instantly by the downpour. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I was useless. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to protect you." Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. "I should have died with you right then and there. But this curse, this shitty curse that people call a blessing, it brought me back."

She paused. The rain answered with its indifferent percussion.

"To do what?"

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

"To do what?" The question was a whisper now, fragile and lost.

Her knees buckled. She sank down, kneeling in the mud before the grave, her forehead almost touching the cold stone. The sobs came quietly now, exhausted, each one a small surrender. The rain intensified, as if the sky itself was trying to wash her away.


A shadow fell over her.

Kathrine didn't look up. She felt the change in the pressure of the rain, the sudden cessation of needles on her back. Black fabric entered her peripheral vision, the hem of a gown, sensible heels sinking slightly into the wet earth.

Airel stood beside her, holding a large black umbrella that could have sheltered two. Her orange eyes, usually so calm and distant, held an expression of profound, quiet sorrow as she gazed down at the kneeling, shivering figure.

"Kat." Her voice was stern, but the sternness was a thin veneer over something much softer. "Let's get going."

The rain continued its steady rhythm. Kathrine didn't move.

The silence between them was not empty. It was filled with everything that had happened, everything that had been lost, everything that could never be unsaid or undone.

Finally, Kathrine spoke. Her voice was muffled, her face still turned towards the grave.

"Were you here since the start?"

Airel's grip on the umbrella handle tightened almost imperceptibly. "Well," she said, her tone carefully measured, "you could say that."

A pause. Then, gently: "Were you crying?"

The question was unnecessary. They both knew the answer. But some truths needed to be spoken aloud, if only to acknowledge their weight.

"You could say that," Kathrine whispered.

Airel's lips curved into a smile. It was a small, sad thing, a gesture performed more from memory than from genuine feeling. It did not reach her eyes. She bent down, her free hand finding Kathrine's, fingers intertwining with cold, rain-slicked skin. She pulled, gently but with quiet insistence.

"Let's go." Her voice softened, losing its stern edge entirely. "He wouldn't be happy if you caught a cold, would he?"

Kathrine let herself be lifted. Her legs protested, joints stiff from hours of stillness. Mud clung to her knees, her shins. She looked at the grave one last time.

"Yeah," she breathed. Just that single word, heavy with everything she couldn't say.

They turned away together. The umbrella shifted, encompassing them both. Kathrine's soaked clothes immediately began to drip onto the dry circle of sanctuary Airel had created.

They walked in silence through the cemetery, past rows of silent stones, each one a story ended. The gate groaned as Airel pushed it open. The empty road stretched before them, gleaming wet under the grey sky.

Kathrine's voice, when she finally spoke, was hesitant. Uncertain, like a child testing dark water.

"Aunty… I would like—"

"Take as long as you want."

Airel didn't look at her. Her gaze was fixed forward, on the road, on the rain, on some distant point that only she could see. But her words were immediate, firm, and without hesitation.

Kathrine's lips twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was closer than she had been in days. "You knew what I wanted to say already."

"Gosh, why wouldn't I?" Airel's tone was dry, but there was warmth beneath it. "I've known you ever since you were fourteen, Kat."

That earned her a scoff. A small, genuine sound of disbelief. "Fourteen? You just didn't notice me until I was fourteen because I was quiet."

Airel's lips curled upward. Still not a true smile, but closer. "You were very good at being invisible. It was concerning."

Airel cleared her throat softly. "Well. Just as I said, you can take as long as you want." A pause. Her voice dropped, losing its lightness, becoming something older and more serious. "But not too long. Or I might find you personally."

It was a joke. Her face was expressionless as always, save for that slight, barely-there curl of her lips. But Kathrine heard the truth beneath it. 'Don't disappear. Don't break. Don't fight this alone.'

"Thanks," Kathrine said. The word was small, inadequate, but it was all she had.

Silence reclaimed its place between them. The rain continued its steady assault on the umbrella's black canopy. Their footsteps were soft, synchronized, the only sounds in the empty street.

After a long pause, Kathrine spoke again. Her voice was careful, deliberately casual, the tone of someone asking a question they've rehearsed a hundred times in their head.

"Do you think they'll still come find me?"

Airel was silent for a moment. Her orange eyes studied the rain-slicked pavement.

"...I don't think they will." Her voice was calm, factual. "It has already been eight years since then. You've changed your hair, gotten a new identity, built an entirely new life." She paused. "And last time I checked, the Citadel of the Sun God had already found a new Saintess. She's taken your place quite publicly."

She turned to look at Kathrine. "From what I've seen, the temple seems to have… changed. Their strict rules. Their expectations." She didn't say their harshness. She didn't need to. "They appear to be gentler now."

Kathrine said nothing. She only nodded once, a small, jerky motion. Then, so quietly it was almost lost to the rain:

"I hope so. It would be bad if she got the same treatment I got back then."

Airel nodded slowly. She lifted her gaze to the cloudy sky, the endless grey, the rain that fell from somewhere unseen.

"I hope so too."

They walked on. The road stretched ahead, wet and empty. The umbrella sheltered them both. Their hearts, heavy with silence, carried them forward.

Step by step.

Away from the grave.

Into whatever came next.



****





Snow drifted lazily through the air, each flake a tiny ghost descending from a sky painted in muted ashen blue.

Winter solstice. The longest night of the year.

The bar was warm, crowded, alive with the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses, sharing drinks and warmth, chasing away the cold with liquor and louder laughter. At one table near the window, a group of men were deep in their cups, their voices carrying easily over the ambient noise.

"Hey, hey." A man with dull, tired eyes leaned forward, tapping the scarred wooden surface with a thick finger. "Did you see what happened two nights ago?"

His companion, mid-chug, lowered his beer with a satisfied gasp. "Are you talking about the strange light? The one that blinded the whole city? Same as three years ago, right?"

"No, no, not that." The first man shook his head impatiently. "Yeah, I know it's similar. But unlike three years ago, this light, it shot straight up." He paused for effect, letting the words hang. Then he slammed his drink down with a heavy thud, both hands bracing on the table as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper.

"It inverted the sky."

Gasps rippled through his small audience. The beer-drinker set down his mug, suddenly sobered. "I saw it with my own two eyes," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The sky, it inverted. For two whole hours. The snow clouds were raining down golden light, and the sky itself turned bright gold. Like the sun god himself had descended."

His friends nodded, their drunken stupor momentarily pierced by genuine awe. The conversation swirled on, voices rising and falling, their words eventually fading into the general murmur of the bar.

A figure in a black hooded coat slipped through the door.

A few patrons glanced up, assessing, then looked away. Nothing remarkable. Everyone wore coats against the snow. The figure moved with quiet purpose, weaving between tables, heading straight for the bar. The hood shadowed their face completely.

The bartender was an older man with a meticulously groomed beard, which he was currently patting and arranging with fastidious care. He didn't look up until three gold coins clinked onto the polished wood before him.

Three gold coins. Far too much for a single drink.

"Private service 'Three'." The voice was female, flat, stripped of all inflection.

The bartender's hand stilled on his beard. He grunted, a low, rumbling sound of recognition mixed with exasperation. "You can't even greet your superior properly, even when you're acting." He shook his head slowly, his eyes finally lifting to the shadowed hood. "Sigh. How the mighty have fallen."

The figure leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hush. "Sorry, Uncle Henry. I'll repay for this little one's bad deeds."

Henry's hand shot out with surprising speed. His fingers found the edge of the hood and tugged, dragging the figure forward by the fabric.

"Ouch! Ouch, that hurts! Ouch, ouch!" The dignified flatness of the voice shattered completely, replaced by a yelp of genuine protest.

Henry released her ear. He picked up the three gold coins and pressed them back into her hand.

She took them, scoffing, the sound half-hearted and familiar. "It was just getting fun." She pushed back her hood.

Raven black hair. Not the dark reddish she once had, but stark, dyed black. Her skin was paler too, unnaturally so, a sharp contrast to its former brightness. But her eyes remained unchanged, deep, molten gold irises that seemed to hold their own internal light, set in a round, cheerful face that stubbornly refused to age. She had just passed her mid-twenties, but she still looked like a fifteen-year-old playing dress-up.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." She lifted her chin, attempting to reclaim her earlier composure. "I'm a professional, don't you know, Sir Beardy?"

His hand twitched.

"You want another?" He made as if to reach for her ear again.

"No thank you!" The words came out in a rushed, respectful squeak. She straightened her posture, clasping her hands before her like a chastised schoolgirl attempting to project dignity.

Henry shook his head slowly, a long, weary motion. "Just go already. I already have a headache handling you."

Kathrine bounced away from the bar immediately, waving goodbye with far too much enthusiasm.

She was nearly to the corridor when his voice caught her from behind.

"Take it easy on yourself."

She stopped. Her back was to him, her raised hand slowly lowering to her side. For a moment, she was perfectly still.

Then she turned, a smile stretching across her face. "I will, Sir Beardy."

She bounced away before he could respond.



****






The corridor was narrow, dimly lit. Kathrine walked its length until she reached a door marked with a simple brass number: 3

She opened it calmly.

Darkness greeted her. She fumbled for the switch, and light flooded the modest room, two empty couches facing each other, a low table between them, walls bare except for a single painting of a ship in stormy seas. Nothing luxurious. Nothing that would draw attention.

Kathrine shrugged off her coat, letting it fall onto the arm of one couch. Beneath, she wore a simple white singlet and black trousers, practical and unremarkable. She sank into the cushions with a sigh that seemed to originate from somewhere deeper than her lungs.

"I'm so exhausted right now." The words were directed at no one, a quiet confession to the empty room.

"Sigh." A calm voice, familiar and expected, drifted from the opposite couch. "What should I do with you?"

Kathrine's eyes open calmly. She sat up, her body shifting from relaxation to awareness.

The couch opposite her had been empty moments ago.

It wasn't empty now.

A woman sat there, sea-blue hair catching the overhead light, deep orange eyes fixed on Kathrine with a patient expression. She wore a simple ash-grey gown, unadorned, elegant in its simplicity. Her hands were folded in her lap.

"Aunty Ariel." Kat's voice was warm, her smile genuine. "What a pleasant surprise. Seeing you after such a long time."

Airel regarded her from across the low table, orange eyes steady, unreadable. "I always drop by monthly. How is that a long time?"

Kat's response was immediate, almost reflexive, a pout, her gaze sliding away to fix on the faded painting of the ship. Her voice dropped to a mumble, petulant and small. "Weekly would have been better. Hmph! "

Airel sighed. It was a familiar sound, worn soft by years of repetition.

Silence settled between them, comfortable and heavy. The kind of silence that didn't demand filling. Outside, the snow continued its patient descent. Inside, the clock on the wall ticked its slow, steady rhythm.

Kat made to rise, her hand bracing on the arm of the couch. "Let me get you something to drink, Aunty—"

"How's your body?"

The question cut across her words, calm but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. Worry, carefully contained. Airel's expression hadn't changed, but her fingers had stilled in her lap.

Kat lowered herself back into the cushions with a sigh. "It's fine. There's no need to worry about it."

Airel said nothing. She simply looked at Kat with that particular expression, the one that said, without words, 'I know you're lying. Spit it out.'

Kat held her gaze for three heartbeats. Then she sighed again, deeper this time, a surrender. "Alright, alright."

She stood, turning her back to Airel. Her white singlet had shifted slightly, and at the edges, just visible against the fabric, was something dark. Not a shadow but something else.

She pulled the singlet up.

The mark covered her entire back. A black sun, its rays reaching outward like cracks in porcelain, like veins of rot spreading through healthy tissue. The edges were feathered, uneven, and noticeably larger than before.

"It got bigger," Airel said. Her voice was flat, stripped of emotion. It was the voice she used when she was trying very hard not to feel anything at all.

Kat pulled her singlet down and turned back around, settling onto the couch with forced casualness. "Yeah. It got bigger than last time."

Before Airel could respond, Kat pressed on, her words tumbling out in a rehearsed rush. "I used the ability again. After the first time, I noticed I was developing an affinity for time magic. Faint at first, barely there. But it was growing." She paused, her molten gold eyes brightening with something that might have been pride, or obsession, or both. "I needed complete affinity. So I used it a second time."

She smiled. It was a bright, genuine smile, the kind that had once come easily, frequently. Now it sat on her face like a mask.

"And guess what?" She puffed out her chest, chin lifting. "I'm already a fully fledged Time Mage."

The silence that followed was not comfortable.

"How much blood did you lose?" Airel's voice was very calm.

Kat pretended to think, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. "Not much."

Airel raised one eyebrow.

Kat shifted. "Slightly much. I think."

The eyebrow remained raised.

Kat sighed, the theatrical pride crumbling. "A lot." Her voice dropped, the single word heavy with reluctant honesty.

Airel closed her eyes. Her hand moved to her temple, fingers pressing slow circles against the skin there. When she spoke, her voice was measured, carefully controlled, the voice of someone counting to ten in a language only she understood.

"Kat."

"I know." Kat leaned forward abruptly, her hands gripping the edge of the couch cushions. "I know I'm hurting myself, Aunty. I know it's dangerous. I know every time I use that ability, the mark enlarges, and every time it does, I might lose something I won't get back." Her voice was steady, but her knuckles were white against the fabric. "But I can't just sit here. I can't just do nothing. Not when that bastard is probably out there, roaming free, doing whatever it wants, calling whatever it does fun." The word was venom on her tongue.

She leaned closer, her gaze intense, her eyes glowing with that faint, internal light. "I need to make that beast pay. And to do that, I need to be stronger. Stronger than I've ever been. Stronger than that monster." She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper that vibrated with quiet, absolute conviction. "Strong enough that not even the world can hold me down."


Airel looked at her. Not with pity, not with fear. She looked at Kat the way she had always looked at her, seeing past the bravado, past the desperate smiles, past the carefully constructed walls. Seeing the fourteen-year-old runaway who had arrived at the Guild with nothing but fear and a dying light. The twenty-two-year-old woman who had knelt in the mud before a grave and asked the rain why she was still alive. And now the twenty-five-year-old with a thirst for revenge.

"Kat." Her voice was soft now. "Would you like to be a student?"

Kathrine's brows furrowed, confusion cutting through the intensity. "…Err. Why the hell would I want to act like a child again?"

Airel leaned forward. The movement was slow, deliberate. And on her lips, a slight smile began to form, the first true smile of the evening.

"We found the whereabouts of the monster that caused the incident three years ago."

The air in the room changed. Compressed. Became something solid and heavy.

"And it led us to the academy."



Duuuum!

The pressure was immediate, suffocating. The temperature seemed to drop, the light seemed to dim. Kat's molten gold eyes, just moments ago bright with conviction, clouded over with something far darker. Bloodlust rolled off her in waves, invisible but palpable, a predator's answer to the scent of its prey.

Airel did not flinch. She leaned back into the couch cushions, her posture relaxed, her expression patient.

"Kathrine." Her voice was calm, steady, an anchor in the sudden storm. "Kathrine!"

The pressure receded. Slowly, reluctantly, like a tide withdrawing. Kat blinked, and her eyes cleared, the gold returning, the red haze fading. But her face had changed. The playful pout, the theatrical pride, the fragile smile, all of it was gone. What remained was something harder.

"When is the enrollment?" Her voice was flat. Emotionless.

Airel's smile widened slightly. She settled more deeply into the couch, crossing one leg over the other, her hands folding neatly in her lap.

"Two weeks. Enrollment for the Hero Academy opens in two weeks. And in two weeks, you will become Kate Latna." She spoke the name like she was placing a chess piece. "A beginner healer mage. Loves books. Keeps to herself. Prefers the library to the training grounds. Unremarkable in every way."

"Kate Latna." Kat tested the name on her tongue, rolling it around, weighing it. Her frown returned. "A healing mage? But I don't have any healing attribute that isn't connected to my light mag–"

Airel extended her hand. Between her fingers, a book materialized. She tossed it underhand, a casual, practiced motion.

Kat caught it instinctively.

"Imbue your mana into it," Airel instructed.

Kat hesitated for only a second. Then she closed her eyes, focusing. Her mana, that familiar warmth, flowed from her core down her arm, into her palm, through her fingers, into the book's plain, unassuming cover.


Vrooom...

The book dematerialized. Not dissolved, not destroyed, it simply unbecame, its physical form dissolving into particles of light that swirled around Kat's hand before sinking into her skin.

She opened her eyes. Extended her hand, palm up.

A soft, green glow began to emanate from her fingers. Gentle. Warm. Healing.

She stared at her own hand, at the impossible light pulsing there, then raised her gaze to Airel.

Airel nodded once. "High-Grade Healing Attribute Book. Permanent imprint. All that remains is practice, and that is precisely what you will be doing at the academy." Her smile widened, just slightly. "Is that sufficient?"

Kat did not reply immediately. She looked at her hand, at the green glow, at the evidence of Airel's meticulous, far-reaching preparation. Then her lips began to curve.

Slowly at first. Then wider.

Soon, both of them were smiling. And their smiles, mirror images of each other, were not gentle. Not warm. They were the smiles of hunters who had finally, after three long years, caught the scent.

The smiles of women brewing a storm.

And when that storm is released, it would be.


Priceless!