The world was painted red.
Verdamona stood at the edge of a cliff, the earth beneath her trembling as if the void itself was hungry for what was about to happen. The blood moon hung swollen in the sky. Her breath was ragged. Her vision was blurry.
Her hands shook violently around the hilt of a sword. The steel was sunk deep into a chest that rose and fell faintly. Blood ran freely down her fingers, drenching her palms until it felt like she was drowning in it. Her blurred sight cleared for a moment. Her heart nearly stopped.
"Phaser?"
The face before her wasn't an enemy. It wasn't some faceless figure or a stranger.
"No. No, no, no, this isn't... this isn't true!"
She shook her head violently. Her chest seized as she stumbled closer, her hands pressing desperately against the wound as if she could erase what she had done.
"I didn't... I didn't mean... please, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Her words tumbled out in a desperate litany of apologies as if each one could undo the blade lodged in him. Her tears mixed with the blood on her hands. Phaser coughed weakly but then, he did the unthinkable.
He smiled.
His trembling hand lifted and brushed her cheek. His touch was shockingly gentle against her fevered skin. His thumb wiped away one of her tears, and his voice was steady in a way that broke her even more.
"It's fine."
Her lips parted, shaking her head violently, but his touch held her still.
"You did what you had to do, Verdamona."
"No, no I didn't. I can fix this, I can save you—"
But he shook his head.
"In every story, there must be a protagonist… and a villain. You were always meant to be the protagonist. Not me. If I have to die to become the villain you conquer, then so be it."
His hand lingered a moment longer against her cheek, memorizing her warmth, before he slipped free of her touch. And then, he pushed himself backwards.
"PHASER!"
Her scream tore through the sky as his body fell into the endless void below. Her fingers clawed out for the air where he had been but it was too late. His form was swallowed by the darkness, leaving her with nothing but blood and moonlight and an ache that would never end.
The sound of her own scream jolted her awake.
Verdamona's eyes flew open. Her hands clawed at the desk in front of her, slick with phantom blood that wasn't really there. Sweat dampened her temples. Her body was trembling like a leaf. The lecture hall was silent. Her eyes darted around wildly until they landed on him.
He stood there, leaning slightly next to her.
"Verdamona? Are you alright?"
Her lips trembled, the echoes of the cliff still clawing at her mind. She blinked rapidly, fighting the sting of tears. She gasped softly. The lecture hall was empty now. Everyone else had already filed out after the lecture ended. It was just the two of them.
"You fell asleep. Class ended ten minutes ago. I didn't want to wake you too suddenly."
Verdamona's heart pounded as she stared at him. And for the first time, she really, stared. His features were... cute. His single braid caught her eye. The words tumbled out before she could stop herself.
"Why did you braid your hair like that?"
Phaser blinked, caught off guard. Then, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Tradition. In my lineage, we can't cut our hair until a ritual is done so I braided it."
Her mind flashed back to that dream—no, that nightmare—and she remembered his dying smile. Verdamona sighed heavily, pressing her hand against her chest, willing her heartbeat to steady.
"It's only a dream. Just a dream…"
Phaser tilted his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes, but he didn't pry. Instead, he straightened and offered his hand.
"Our next lesson is a practical one so we better go."
She looked at his outstretched hand for a moment too long before finally taking it, her fingers brushing his in a way that sent shivers down her spine. As they stepped out together into the light of the training grounds, she swore she could still feel his touch on her cheek and the phantom of a smile telling her she was always meant to be the protagonist.
°°°°°
"The whole point of this place is to make Officia Fluxers. We do not pander to extracurricular whims. Our curriculum is fixed because the world expects uniform competence from Reversa graduates."
The lecturer paced the stage with the bored authority of someone who had said the same words a thousand times.
"It has been twenty days since your arrival. You have listened, you have read and given time to orient yourselves. Tomorrow you will leave the island. You will enter a Fluve Field and hunt. To be clear, every student must form a practical team of three. If you do not field a complete team, your practical mark is halved. That is irreversible. Teamwork is not optional at Reversa. Your target for the next thirty minutes is simple. Form groups."
Verdamona looked at me with that gentle, honest expression.
"We're set."
"I want pratice. All that theory is nice in a textbook but real muscle remembers only the real thing. Nice to be your partner."
For her, who is a Commoner without sponsors and House backing, the reality was stark. She had no network. Tomorrow's mission would be a blade-edge if we didn't find a third.
Me? I was Phasnovterich Argemenes. Most students kept their distance. They learned early that proximity to an Abyssal House came with a price. It made finding a third either impossible or a political landmine. We murmured possibilities, but the training arena had that tense, constrained energy of a place where every glance means calculation. I didn't know if it would be easier to bribe someone, threaten them with social annihilation or just be blunt and ask. Then, as if the plot itself decided it was done waiting, a man stepped in front of us.
He was impossible to miss. Platinum hair and eyes and with that quiet confidence people mistake for kindness? It's definitely him. When he spoke, his voice was even, as if he'd practiced asking the question a dozen ways and chosen the softest.
"May I join you?"
For a second I thought Verdamona would be polite. Instead she snapped.
"No."
The refusal was blunt. One could see it surprise and the polite recoil that creased half his smile. He blinked, genuinely stunned as if the word had never been offered to him before.
"You have never been told 'no'? Wow. First time hearing it huh, Mr. Thales?"
That was the thing about Thales Erdict. He had the look of someone born to be commanded. He had the arrogance of a House heir, except he was an heir of Erdict, and Erdicts wore humility like armor only in stories. In the game he was supposed to be the charming prodigy. In real life, he was the kind of alpha that made lesser males uneasy.
"You offended Phaser earlier. You didn't apologize. You don't get to expect people to welcome you with open arms after that."
People were watching the exchange like it was an event. Thales looked from her to me, his eyes flicking over my profile. Then, and here the classroom practically fell into a softer silence, he bowed.
"Phasnovterich, I am sorry for what I said earlier. I was wrong."
A flicker of something—maybe satisfaction, maybe relief—lit me. I had been waiting to see whether he would acknowledge the damage. At least he owned his mistake and the room appreciated honesty in a way they seldom admitted.
"How do you think you can apologize now and expect us to hand you a place in our group—"
Before she could finish turning her indignation into a proper tirade, I put a hand over her mouth and told her.
"It's okay. Let him join."
She struggled for moment, then sagged and pouted like someone who had had their candy taken away. Her protest failed, her arms dropping in something like defeat. Thales rose and bowed again.
"Thank you. I'll make it right.Tomorrow I'll stand at your flank. I'll not act foolishly. I promise you my skill, and my apology."
Verdamona didn't trust easily. She folded her arms and gave him an incredulous look.
"I'll believe it when I see it. If you try anything, I will make your life a living hell."
Thales' expression softened into an almost rueful smile. "I don't want that. I'll behave."
Looking at him then, I thought I recognized one of those rare moments a player could not manipulate.
Genuine contrition.
Perhaps he was better at being a first-act protagonist than he was at being an enemy. Perhaps his arrogance hid insecurity. People rarely fit one shape and the old game had always had layers under its surface.
"Call me Phaser."
"Thales."
He extended his hand first to me in a soldier's courtesy, then to Verdamona. She eyed his palm like she expected a trick, then, after a second's hesitation, she took it.
Now my plan is easy. It's time to make Verdamona and Thales have a good connection. Even though the plot has been altered, they still have to be friends at least.