The port city was quiet in a way it had never been before.
Morning fog curled between the metallic pillars, drifting like pale ghosts across the landing platform. The UNE ship waited at the center — a vessel of obsidian alloy, its hull lined with faint blue pulses that beat like the heartbeat of a slumbering titan. The engines hummed low, as if whispering warnings of the journey to come.
Today was the departure.
A day the students of Earth-236 had dreamed of…
and now feared.
The candidates gathered one by one.
Melissa Santos arrived first — calm as moonlight, her purple robe rippling behind her. Her aura was sharp and serene, like a blade wrapped in silk. She carried herself like someone who already accepted whatever future awaited her.
Amos Devon came silently, reading a book as he walked. His gray robe swayed with the breeze, the pages fluttering. He lifted his gaze only once — enough for the UNE judges to note the unfathomable depth in his eyes — and returned to his reading.
Trisha Stephen stepped onto the platform next, wearing a black tracksuit. Her eyes were clear, sharper than ever. A week of wrestling with her inferiority, her anger, her pride… had carved something new into her expression. Determination. And a little hunger.
Eghosa Precious followed, jacket zipped halfway, black jeans fitting comfortably, a red scarf wrapped around her neck. Her fingers trembled slightly — fear, pride, anticipation all tangled together — but she held her chin high.
Then—
The air changed.
A pressure settled over the platform like the sky itself leaned down to watch.
Cairn Velros appeared.
His armor — a full high-grade imperial knight suit — gleamed gold and steel under the morning sun. The lion crest engraved on his chestplate glowed faintly. His every step was heavy with purpose… and something darker.
Even the nobles who had gathered to watch whispered among themselves.
He did not greet anyone.
He did not look at his father, the Viscount.
He simply walked past them all, stopping several meters before the UNE ship…
…and stood there.
Perfectly still.
Waiting.
For who?
No one knew.
Not even the judges.
The Viscount frowned, sensing something coiled beneath his son's calm — something raw, unspoken.
Melissa watched him with narrowed eyes.
Amos didn't look up, but his hand paused on his page.
Eghosa felt a shiver crawl down her back.
Trisha muttered, "He's about to do something stupid."
And she was right.
Because Cairn slowly raised his sword —
Not threatening anyone on the platform.
Not pointing at the judges.
Not challenging any rival.
He pointed at empty space.
At nothing.
And said quietly:
"I thought you weren't coming anymore… Theran."
---
For a heartbeat, silence ruled.
Then the fog shifted.
The UNE judges stiffened — one turning sharply toward the direction Cairn indicated.
"…I sense it."
"So do I," the other judge muttered, unsettled. "Someone hid from us."
A feat almost unheard of.
Someone capable of suppressing their presence from UNE judges…
was a monster.
A low chuckle slithered through the air.
Footsteps followed.
A silhouette emerged from the white haze — slow, deliberate, terrifying.
Theran Solace.
Dressed entirely in black, no armor, no cloak. Just cloth over muscle, and muscle over instinct. His red eyes glowed faintly, the only color in his otherwise shadow-like figure.
Even Amos closed his book.
Melissa tensed.
Trisha whispered, "Oh hell no."
Eghosa's breath caught.
The viscount looked confused — he had heard of the boy… but seeing him was different. He felt like a storm wearing a human shape.
Theran smirked as his gaze swept across the group.
"Well… this is amusing," he said, voice lazy, dangerous. "They're really sending you to represent humanity?"
He stopped in front of the UNE judges.
"Greetings, sirs. Nice ship."
He said it with enough disrespect to make a noble faint.
Then turned to Dean Ancelot and bowed casually.
"Hello, dean."
Finally—
He looked at Eghosa and smirked even wider.
"Hahaha… don't tell me this batch of trash is what passed your exam?"
Eghosa covered her face with her scarf, wishing the ground would swallow her.
Trisha muttered, "I'm going to stab him."
Even Melissa rolled her eyes.
But then—
Cairn stepped forward, aura sharpening.
And Theran's grin faded.
The two stared at each other.
A year's worth of rivalry, frustration, humiliation, and obsession condensed into one moment.
"I came," Theran said, tilting his head, "because this pup kept crying about wanting a rematch."
Cairn didn't blink.
He simply lowered his stance.
"Draw your blade."
Theran moved first.
Cairn moved at the same instant.
To students, spectators, even nobles — the movement was invisible.
But the judges saw the shockwave.
BOOOM.
Both were flung back the exact same distance.
Equal.
Perfectly, horribly equal.
Eghosa gasped.
The viscount's eyes widened.
The judges exchanged glances.
A student being equal to Theran in raw clash…?
Impossible.
Yet here it was.
Cairn lifted his longsword — a majestic imperial-grade blade humming with compressed aura.
Theran reached behind himself and drew—
Two massive odachis.
Everyone froze.
Even the judges stiffened.
You do not dual-wield odachis.
It is impractical. Heavy. Inefficient.
And yet…
Theran held them as easily as feathers.
The viscount muttered, "That… that's insane."
Eghosa, remembering their training, whispered:
"He used one odachi before. Why… two now…?"
Trisha answered quietly.
"Because he's done hiding."
They clashed again.
This time, Cairn found it — a clean opening.
A perfect path to Theran's heart.
He thrust.
The judges inhaled sharply.
There was no escape from that angle.
Theran—
Spun.
A ballerina's pirouette.
Graceful. Deadly. Impossible.
His odachis curved with his movement, redirecting Cairn's path and turning Cairn's perfect strike…
Into a disaster.
SLASH.
Cairn was launched backwards, armor dented, breath stolen.
Gasps rang across the platform.
"One cannot learn that," a judge murmured. "That's instinct. Pure combat instinct."
Dean Ancelot swallowed.
"That boy… is unnatural."
Cairn rose from debris, chest heaving, aura cracking around him like splitting stone.
The air trembled.
A low, resonant sound echoed — like the growl of a lion.
Eghosa staggered back.
Melissa whispered, "Impossible…"
Trisha grabbed her own arms to stop them shaking.
Cairn's aura surged upward, golden and violent —
First Stage of Intent.
Warrior's Intent.
Lion's Roar.
The viscount felt tears prick his eyes.
"He… he did it…"
Theran smiled.
Then he exhaled.
And the world froze.
A feral, blood-colored aura exploded out of him — not regal, not noble, not controlled.
Predator.
Pure predator.
A storm of killing instinct.
Intent meeting intent — pressure clashing like colliding worlds.
The judges leaned forward.
"Amazing…" one whispered.
They moved again.
To everyone else, it was noise.
Bang.
Clang.
Whip-crack.
Boom.
Swords blurred into afterimages. Wind detonated around them. Sparks fell like molten rain. Cairn fought like a general leading an army — disciplined, calculating, rhythmic.
Theran fought like war itself — flowing, dancing, every step both an attack and a defense.
Eghosa couldn't breathe.
"That… that's not human…"
Amos finally looked up from his book.
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown.
He just watched.
As if analyzing a puzzle.
Then—
Theran shifted.
A single, simple pivot.
His odachi sliced downward toward Cairn's exposed neck.
Melissa screamed.
Trisha stepped forward instinctively.
But—
PSSSHHKT!
Cairn's armor exploded with nanite light, auto-forming a helmet around his head in a fraction of a second.
The blade slammed into metal instead of flesh.
Cairn stumbled back.
Theran smiled.
And Cairn's eyes sharpened.
Cairn moved.
Swift.
Precise.
Deadly.
His longsword pierced Theran's chest — deep, brutal, nearly heart-splitting.
Blood erupted.
Theran's body jerked.
Then collapsed to one knee.
Then to the floor.
Weapons still clutched tight.
The port fell silent.
Dead silent.
Even the ship seemed to stop humming.
Cairn stood trembling, chest heaving, armor cracked and bleeding beneath.
But he had won.
For the first time in his life…
He had defeated Theran Solace.
Cairn began walking toward him.
Blade raised.
To finish it.
The moment Cairn stepped into striking distance—
SWOOOOM.
A UNE judge appeared beside him, hand gripping Cairn's collar, dragging him backwards in a blur.
"WHAT—?!" Cairn roared.
The judge didn't answer.
He simply pointed at the ground where Cairn had been standing.
A 4-meter deep slash carved into the metal.
Still hot.
Still steaming.
Cairn's blood ran cold.
Eghosa fell to her knees.
Trisha covered her mouth.
Melissa stared wide-eyed.
"He… he's unconscious!" Melissa shouted. "How—?!"
The second judge stepped forward.
"That," he said, voice low and reverent, "is Second-Stage Intent."
Everyone froze.
"His sword acted by itself," the judge continued. "A subconscious defense. Automatic. Instinctual. Only wielded by monsters."
Cairn's knees trembled.
Not in fear.
In exhilaration.
He looked at Theran — dying, broken, but still beyond reach even in defeat.
And he whispered, voice cracking:
"One day…
One day I'll stand…
as your equal."
---
The judges turned.
"Board the ship."
The students obeyed, shaken to their core.
As the loading ramp rose, Eghosa stared back at Theran Solace:
Bleeding.
Collapsed.
Unmoving.
Unreachable.
A predator even in death's embrace.
The viscount sealed the port, ordering no one to approach the body.
"He won't die," the judge assured Eghosa. "Not someone like him."
The hatch closed.
The engines roared.
Earth-236 shrank beneath them.
And the stars opened their gate.