A week passed.
A week of strange calm — the kind that only settles before something irreversible.
— EGHOSA —
Since the spar with Theran, Eghosa healed quickly, the medical pods stitching flesh and bone back together in minutes. To her, the week felt like a blur of recovery, quiet pride, nervous thoughts, and stolen moments of peace with Trisha and her family.
She didn't notice the way Trisha sometimes paused, staring at her with clenched fists.
She didn't notice the flicker of doubt in her friend's eyes.
All she saw was the countdown.
Seven days.
Then six.
Then five.
Then three.
Her mother cooked constantly. Her brother Jephthah checked on her twice a day, pretending to be calm but visibly terrified in the eyes.
"You're going somewhere none of us understand," he once said quietly.
"Just… come back."
But she couldn't promise that.
She didn't know what awaited her.
— TRISHA —
Trisha spent most of the week silent.
Not cold. Just… thinking.
The spar replayed itself in her dreams — the moment she charged blindly, the instant she blacked out, the sickening realization that she had contributed nothing. While Eghosa nearly killed Theran.
A part of her blossomed with pride for her friend.
But a darker part asked:
"How far apart are we now?"
She hid this well. Laughed when needed. Teased when expected. But inside, a seed of competitiveness germinated — quiet, persistent, hungry.
— THE DEAN —
On the seventh morning, Dean Ancelot arrived in a hover-car, leaning on his cane with a tired smile.
"Time to go, girls. The UNE judges don't like waiting."
EghThe port was massive — a circular field lined with black tiles that drank the sunlight instead of reflecting it.
And at its center rested the ship.
Even "ship" felt like the wrong word.
**It wasn't metallic — it absorbed light.
It wasn't shaped like a vessel — more like a crucifix blade sealed within a chrysalis.
Its edges were too smooth.
Its surface too silent.
Its presence too… aware.**
The UNE judges stood beside it like two statues carved from stone and discipline. Their gray insignia robes fluttered in the cold wind.
One of them looked at the candidates with mechanical precision.
The other looked directly at Amos Devon — eyes narrowed with something like interest or caution.osa hugged her mother so hard the woman laughed and cried at the same time.
Trisha's aunt hugged her tighter than usual, her voice trembling despite her sternness.
The farewell was soft, emotional, human.
And then it was over.
Melissa Santos
She stepped forward first, wearing a deep purple combat robe embroidered with silver patterns. The design was simple, elegant, and deadly. Her expression calm, yet sharp as a spearpoint.
She looked like she belonged here.
Amos Devon
He was exactly the same.
Roman–Chinese hybrid robe.
Silver hair.
Children's book open in his hand.
Expression unreadable.
And yet… the air shifted when he stood beside Melissa.
The judges' attention flickered to him again.
As if he emitted a presence none of them could understand.
Trisha Stephen
Black tracksuit.
Hair tied tightly.
Eyes cooler, sharper.
There was something new in her aura — expectation, hunger, maybe fear disguised as resolve.
She didn't smile.
She didn't tease.
Not today.
Eghosa Precious
Black jeans.
A near-weightless combat jacket.
A red scarf around her neck.
She felt nervous.
But proud.
Proud of where she had come from.
Proud of who she had become.
Proud that she was standing here at all.
Her heart fluttered painfully as the ship loomed over them — a dark promise she did not understand.
"The Empire Royal Academy…" she whispered.
"What are you?"
Cairn Velros
And then… there was him.
Cairn arrived in full knight armor — obsidian plates etched with his family's crest. A cape of dark crimson trailed behind him.
He emitted danger.
Pure, unfiltered danger.
Enough that nobles whispered, soldiers tensed, even Melissa raised an eyebrow.
The viscount, standing behind the candidates, felt a coldness spread across his spine.
"Cairn… what are you planning?"
But his son gave him no answer.
Cairn stood tall — eyes locked on the ship.
His gauntlet flexed once, metal scraping softly.
He was waiting.
Waiting for something.
Someone.
Or for the right moment.
Melissa approached him first.
"Armor?" she asked dryly.
Cairn smirked. "You'll understand soon."
She scowled. "My father says not even he knows what the Academy truly is."
Cairn's expression darkened.
"So does mine."
A moment of silence.
They both turned to Amos.
Still reading.
Still silent.
Melissa asked, "You know something, don't you?"
Amos didn't look up.
"I know nothing," he said softly.
But his eyes…
They betrayed something else entirely.
A whisper of awareness.
A suspicion.
A prediction.
A truth only he had sensed.
Cairn's hand tightened on his gauntlet.
"Then why do you look like you're expecting it?" he asked.
Amos closed his book.
"I am," he replied.
Eghosa felt her heartbeat skip.
Trisha's jaw tightened.
Melissa straightened slightly.
And Cairn…
Cairn smiled like a man sharpening a sword before a war.
From behind them, the viscount watched the exchange with growing concern.
"My son…
Something in you is changing.
And I no longer know what it is."
He glanced at the UNE judges, stiff and unreadable.
Something about this entire situation felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
Too unknown.
With a deep, resonant hum, the ship's outer shell shifted, petals of black metal peeling back like a mechanical flower.
A ramp descended, silent, impossibly smooth.
The air grew colder.
Everyone felt it.
Something old.
Something powerful.
Something watching.
And that's when Cairn stepped forward.
Not timidly.
Not cautiously.
But like a general walking into enemy fire.
His armor glinted under the ramp's eerie light.
His aura roared through the port like a command.
The UNE judges both turned their eyes toward him.
Amos closed his book.
Melissa's grip tightened on her spear-case.
Trisha inhaled sharply.
Eghosa's heart slammed against her ribs.
Everyone knew.
He was about to do something.
Something reckless.
Something only Cairn Velros would dare.
And as the final wind swept across the port, carrying dust and tension into the air—
Cairn drew his sword.
He pointed towards nothing
"I thought you weren't coming anymore
Theran".