The barrier shattered.
A deafening crack echoed across what remained of the burning world, and Jennie fell—plummeting through the broken air, through the ashes, through what used to be the ground. The heat clawed at her skin, the air thick with fire and ash. Her body hit what was left of the earth, rolling down the slope of molten rock and dirt until she stopped among the blackened remains of a crater.
Her chest heaved; her body barely moved. Every breath burned. Her eyes opened halfway, the vision blurred by smoke and tears.
Her trembling voice escaped like a ghost:
"What… happened…?"
Her words disappeared into the dying wind. The silence was louder than thunder.
She blinked, her eyes struggling to focus through the haze, and the tears began falling. It was cold—freezing, despite the burning landscape around her. The contrast sent shivers down her blood-covered skin.
"It's… too cold…" she murmured weakly, and her eyes began to close again, her lashes glistening with tears and soot.
Up above, Zephyra floated silently amidst the crimson clouds, her long silver hair swaying with the wind that no longer carried life.
"That's done now," she said, her voice flat, empty—like a queen standing over the grave of her own kingdom.
But then—
A faint sound. The slice of wind.
She tilted her head slightly, a calm motion, avoiding something unseen. The air split beside her as a blade of condensed light missed her by a breath.
When she turned, Nova stood on the fractured ground below, blood dripping from his dagger. His eyes burned—not with rage alone, but confusion, grief, disbelief.
Zephyra's bored gaze fell upon him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Are you the one that did it?" Nova's tone trembled with restrained fury.
Zephyra's eyes softened for a brief moment—not with guilt, but indifference.
"What if I am?"
Nova's fists clenched. His heart pounded.
He tried to sense Jennie—nothing. No trace. No heartbeat.
Don't tell me…
His jaw tightened, a vein pulsing across his forehead.
"I don't have time to deal with you."
He raised his hand toward her, his voice cutting the air like a verdict:
"Vanish."
Zephyra's eyes widened. The space around her warped—folded in on itself—her body beginning to distort and fade. But before she vanished, her gaze flickered, and she moved—stepping outside the fold like a ghost stepping through glass.
Nova froze. His expression collapsed into disbelief.
"...How…?"
Zephyra's lips curved slightly, her expression half-amused, half-cold.
"Reality manipulation…? Isn't that dangerous, now?"
Nova's voice shook with both fear and anger.
"I changed the reality. I removed you from existence. How are you still alive?"
Zephyra smiled faintly, lifting her sword.
"I'm beyond reality."
Nova spat, "Don't bullshit me."
The air cracked. The world twisted again, turning into an iron maze. Dozens of metallic spikes shot from every direction, piercing Zephyra through the chest, arms, and shoulders. The force was enough to break mountains.
Her body staggered, blood dripping like liquid flame.
Nova turned away, exhaling heavily—only for his senses to scream.
The spikes shattered.
In an instant, Zephyra was in front of him, her blade a blur, slicing toward his neck. He reacted purely by instinct—raising his hand—but the blade disintegrated mid-swing, turning into translucent glass before shattering.
Zephyra clicked her tongue.
"That's an annoying power."
Nova's thoughts spiraled.
Reality manipulation doesn't work on her directly? What is she...?
Zephyra's sword reformed again, her black flames crawling up the blade like living serpents. She vanished, reappearing behind him. Flames swallowed him whole.
For a moment, nothing moved. The air screamed.
Then Nova walked out of the fire—unburnt.
His clothes were torn, but his expression unreadable.
Zephyra's eyes narrowed. She lunged again, her hand piercing through his chest—through bone and flesh—but before she could pull back, the wound sealed, knitting instantly.
Nova's voice was quiet, strained.
"This is useless… Reality manipulation takes too much Vana. I need to save enough to heal Jennie."
He stepped back, summoning another distortion of space—but before he could act, Zephyra blurred.
She swung once.
And in less than a heartbeat—Nova's arms were gone. Then his legs.
Blood sprayed through the air as his body collapsed, hitting the scorched ground.
Zephyra turned away, her tone empty, her words sharp.
"Reality manipulation must cost a lot of Vana. No doubt you were out of it quickly."
She looked around one last time at the ruin of the battlefield—the broken mountains, the scorched plains, the vaporized rivers.
Her expression softened slightly.
"Farewell… Lisa, Nirin, Nova, Jennie… and Supreme Commander Myterl."
She raised her gaze to the burning sky, her sword fading away as she floated upward—higher, beyond the clouds, until she stood in the silence of space.
Before her lay a planet, half-devoured by her earlier flames—cracked and hollow.
She raised her hand one final time, whispering:
"Incinerate."
Black fire flowed from her palm, wrapping around the entire planet.
In seconds, it disintegrated.
Not burned, not shattered—erased.
The oceans vaporized. The core split open. The ashes scattered through the void like dust lost in eternity.
Zephyra stood there, watching. Then she turned, vanishing into the darkness of space.
And from that emptiness—
A spark.
Jennie opened her eyes.
Her body trembled. Her hands were pale and blood-stained. Her hair tangled with dirt and dust. She blinked slowly, her lashes heavy with dried tears.
She sat up, her breath shaky, looking around—seeing trees. Flowers. A soft field of grass beneath her.
"You're up."
Her head turned weakly toward the voice. Nova sat beside her, bruised and pale, his arms wrapped in torn fabric. He was trying to light a fire with two sticks, his motions calm but distant.
"Nova…?" she whispered.
He looked up, his solemn face softening into a tired smile.
"What's up?"
Jennie blinked, her expression blank.
"What happened? Where… are we?"
Nova exhaled. "Nothing much, really…"
Jennie looked around again—the green, the peace, the warmth. It didn't make sense. Her body froze as her memories rushed back.
Her voice cracked.
"We were attacked… weren't we?"
Nova's hands paused mid-motion. He said nothing, but his silence was the answer.
Jennie's hair fell over her face as her lips trembled.
"I remember… Lisa was stabbed… Nirin was burned alive… and Supreme Commander Myterl… she sacrificed herself to save me… and everyone else died too…"
Her voice broke, the words spilling like glass falling apart.
Nova finally spoke, quietly:
"Yes. After I got there, I saw that purple-haired girl. I tried to take her out. I used everything—every last drop of Vana—to use reality manipulation for a while. But it was completely useless against her."
He touched his forehead, his voice bitter.
"How can someone survive changing the reality itself?"
He looked away. "I created this place with what remained of my power. A world detached from everything else. Nothing can find us here."
Jennie lowered her head. The dam broke.
Her tears fell onto the grass as her voice shattered.
"Everyone's dead…" she whispered, her fingers digging into the dirt, nails tearing the earth apart. "Everyone's dead…"
Nova didn't move. He just sat there, his eyes reflecting the small fire that finally caught flame.
Jennie's voice trembled, fragile as glass.
"Are you… alive?"
Nova nodded silently.
Jennie's tears didn't stop.
"Can't you use reality manipulation to bring them back?"
Nova's shoulders sank. "I can't use it anymore," he said softly, guilt carving through every word.
Jennie sobbed harder. "I don't know anymore what to do…"
Nova looked at the flames, his voice calm but heavy.
"What else is there to do… but keep living?"
Her heart stopped. The words echoed—
Live on.
Myterl's final words.
"Live on?" Jennie repeated, voice breaking. "But how?"
Nova's reply was quiet, almost a whisper.
"The same way you always have."
Jennie looked up at him, her eyes wet and trembling.
"Nova… just like this, you and the others can die too."
Nova nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Perhaps."
Jennie's voice fell into a whisper. "Can't we just… run away? Somewhere peaceful like this?"
Nova blinked once, then without hesitation said, "Let's go."
His voice—sad. Desperate.
Jennie looked at him in surprise, her lips parting slightly. Nova's eyes softened as he thought to himself, Jennie's been through enough. She deserves peace… maybe more than anyone.
"I'll remove our memories of the others," he said quietly, "and we'll live somewhere quietly."
Jennie looked down, her hair covering her eyes. "What about the others?"
Nova froze. His mind went to Zazm. The others. He almost smiled. They'll manage.
Then his own words struck him.
His hand slammed against his face.
What am I thinking? I can't leave anyone.
He exhaled deeply, grounding himself.
Jennie lifted her head. "No… let's stay," she said softly.
Nova looked at her.
Jennie continued, voice fragile but burning with something new.
"I wasn't able to protect anything… but next time, I'll make sure I do."
Nova stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes. His expression hardened into resolve.
"Me too," he said.
Jennie looked up at him through her tears. Nova reached out his hand.
"I was weak before. Next time, I'll make sure I take care of things."
His voice was calm, but behind it—grief, determination, hope.
Jennie's hollow eyes softened. She reached out, her trembling fingers grasping his hand.
And then, without thinking, she leaned forward—pressing against him.
Nova blinked, frozen.
"Jennie—wh-what are you doing?" he stammered.
Her face buried in his chest, tears soaking through his torn shirt.
Nova's heart raced, his face burning red. He looked down at her, her shaking shoulders, her muffled sobs.
He couldn't push her away.
So, quietly, gently—he placed his arms around her and held her.
The fire crackled softly beside them, the flowers swaying around their broken world.
And in that small field beyond reality—two survivors stood among the ashes, finding warmth in each other, beneath a sky that no longer existed.
---
The wind whispered softly through the trees.
The air was cool, the grass swaying gently in rhythm with the evening.
Under the shade of a large tree, Jennie slept, her face streaked with dried tears. The exhaustion of grief had claimed her—her body curled slightly, as though trying to protect itself from invisible pain. Her breaths were uneven, quiet sobs echoing in the rhythm of her dreams.
Nova approached silently, a thin blanket in his hands. He crouched down, brushing away a few strands of hair from her face before gently covering her. The fabric rustled softly as he tucked it around her shoulders. For a moment, he just looked at her—at how fragile she seemed now, completely unlike the determined girl he knew.
She had cried until her body gave out. Perhaps both her mind and soul had reached their limit.
Nova stood up, stepping a few paces away. He stopped near a patch of flowers, sitting down and leaning his back against a rock. He stared at his hand, flexing his fingers open and closed, watching the faint glow of Vana pulse and fade beneath his skin.
"I don't have much Vana left…" he muttered, voice low. "Even with the auxiliary power I use to replenish it faster, it'll still take at least a week to recover."
He let out a tired sigh and leaned back, his head tilting toward the starless sky.
"If I was any later, Jennie would've been gone," he whispered, almost as if trying to convince himself. "Thank god I wasn't la—"
He stopped.
His sentence cut short as his breath hitched. His hair fell forward, covering his eyes as the wind swept through the clearing. His expression hardened, then softened into something broken.
"…Lisa and Nirin are dead," he murmured.
The words hung in the air, heavy.
The memories came quietly—uninvited but merciless.
Lisa's laughter echoing in the training grounds.
Nirin's teasing during late-night meals.
Lisa's constant bickering.
That constant fighting between Minos Lisa and Nirin.
"No it wasn't fighting"
Nova chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "More like a way to strengthen the bond…"
His voice trailed off, and he fidgeted with his fingers, eyes distant.
Then he whispered, almost to himself, "But why can't I cry?"
He brushed his hair back from his face, eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.
"Is it because they weren't… precious enough to me?"
He paused, then immediately shook his head.
"No, that's not it. Even if that wasn't the case, it's human nature to mourn those you fought beside… those you shared a meal with…"
A dry, broken laugh escaped him as he leaned back again, staring at the treetops.
"I'm just too selfish," he whispered, voice cracking. "Thinking back, I didn't even remember them properly. All I cared about was Jennie…"
He covered his eyes with one hand, breathing unsteadily.
"What even is going on anymore…"
For a moment, nothing but silence. Then a tear slipped down from beneath his hand, glinting faintly before disappearing into the grass.
He slowly lowered his arm and stared up at the sky. His eyes were slightly red, the faint shimmer of moisture still in them.
"I need to choose a way," he said softly.
He pushed himself up and rubbed at his nose—the way people do after crying—and muttered,
"I won't lose myself. No matter what."
"Never thought I'd see you like this."
Nova froze. His eyes flicked to the side.
A familiar voice, calm and cool.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he said quietly, "Is that so? Perhaps I'm more emotional than I thought, unlike you… emotionless bastard."
He lowered his hand from his face—and there, standing a few meters away, was Zazm.
Hands tucked casually in his pockets. His expression unreadable, that same calm aura surrounding him as though the chaos of the world couldn't touch him.
Nova let out a small exhale. "Did you get lost while coming here or something?"
"Something like that," Zazm replied flatly.
Nova gestured to the side. "Sit."
Zazm didn't move. His eyes shifted past Nova, landing on Jennie sleeping under the tree. The sunlight illuminated her face from the tree leafes—peaceful, but her eyelids were still swollen red even in sleep.
"Is Jennie okay?" Zazm asked quietly.
"Physically, yeah," Nova replied. "Mentally… not at all."
Zazm stared for a moment longer. "She seems peacefully asleep," he murmured, before his gaze dipped to her eyes. "But even now, she's been crying."
Nova nodded. "She cried and complained for almost two hours straight before her body gave out."
Zazm shook his head slightly. "No. It's not just exhaustion."
Nova looked up. "What?"
Zazm's eyes didn't leave Jennie. "It's more like she finally felt safe in your presence. That's why her body allowed itself to rest."
Nova blinked, surprised. Then a small, sad smirk curved his lips.
"Is that so…? Guess I'm not as unreliable as I thought."
Zazm didn't reply. He just stood there quietly, his face cold, his gaze distant—like he was physically there but emotionally detached.
Nova sighed. "Everyone's gone. All the girls. Lisa and Nirin too. And Supreme Commander Myterl… she sacrificed herself for Jennie."
Zazm finally looked at him, his expression unchanged. "Why would she do that?"
Nova chuckled softly, but the sound was hollow.
"Beats me. Never thought someone we didn't even fully trust would give their life for us."
Zazm's voice was quiet, his tone drifting off.
"Supreme Commander Myterl…"
Nova studied him for a moment, then asked suddenly, "Are you not sad? Angry? Anything?"
Zazm's head tilted slightly. "About what?"
Nova frowned. "Lisa and Nirin were our comrades. They fought beside us. Even if you weren't close to them, shouldn't you at least feel something? Grief, guilt, something?"
Zazm's reply was cold and immediate.
"Would my grief bring them back?"
Nova's breath caught.
Zazm's eyes were sharp, glinting like ice under sunlight.
"Then there's no point. The dead stay dead."
Nova stared at him, shocked. "And…?"
Zazm's tone didn't waver. "If you want to survive, don't live by your heart."
The words lingered in the air, sharp enough to cut.
Nova's expression shifted from surprise to quiet realization. He leaned forward, resting one arm on his knee. His tone softened, thoughtful.
"I think I get it now…"
Zazm raised an eyebrow slightly, but stayed silent.
"At first, I couldn't understand you," Nova continued. "But now I do. What you're doing… it's simple, really. You're cutting yourself off from everyone. No...its more like you don't care."
Zazm didn't respond. His gaze drifted up toward the stars.
Nova continued, "You still care about us more than anything. To you, the rest of the world doesn't matter—it's just an illusion. You protect what's in front of you, what's real to you, and the rest can burn. The world can get destoryed, every human can die but it wouldn't matter to you as long as everyone is safe, right?"
Zazm finally looked down, meeting Nova's eyes. A faint, almost invisible nod. "Perhaps."
Nova's lips curved slightly—not in mockery, but in quiet respect.
"You chose that way because it's safer. You've seen what happens when you care too much. You'd rather cut the string yourself than watch it break."
Zazm didn't reply.
Nova looked forward again, his tone gentler. "It's selfish… but it's also the most optimal way to survive."
Zazm's silence said enough.
Nova stood slowly, dusting his hands. His expression had changed—his eyes more focused, his presence stronger.
"But I won't become like you," he said finally.
Zazm turned his head slightly, one brow raised.
Nova's gaze remained on the horizon. "You live detached to protect yourself. I'll live connected to protect others."
He raised his hand toward the faint sun. His eyes reflected its glow.
"I'll become someone who protects others not because I'm some hero but because I'm human… and humans care for each other."
The wind swept through the clearing again.
Jennie stirred slightly under the tree, her breathing softening.
The sunlight fell between the two men—one shaped by logic, the other by feeling.
Neither was wrong.
But only one carried warmth and care in his words.
And as the evening deepened, Zazm stood still and quiet, while Nova looked up at the sky,
vowing silently to never let his heart turn cold.
Zazm turned around, his expression unreadable, his voice cold and calm.
"Let's get her back."
Nova blinked, looking at Jennie who lay unconscious beneath the quiet glow of the forest's dying light. Her breathing was slow, her face still streaked with the marks of tears, and her hair glimmered faintly under the breeze. Nova walked closer, crouched beside her, and gently shook her shoulder.
"Jennie, wake up," he said softly.
No response. Not even a twitch. Her lashes fluttered once, but she remained still, completely lost in whatever fragments of her shattered mind she was trapped in.
Nova exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's out, man," he said helplessly.
"Pick her up," Zazm ordered, his tone flat, as if he were stating an equation.
Nova looked up at him incredulously. "Wait, wait, wait—what? That's so wrong, man. You can't just pick up a sleeping girl without her permission. That's—" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Zazm's expression hadn't changed in the slightest.
Zazm's hands were in his pockets, his posture relaxed, his tone even colder. "You either pick her up," he said quietly, "or I pick you out of history."
Nova sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping. "This feels so wrong… but I guess we don't have a choice right now."
He leaned down carefully, sliding his arms under Jennie and lifting her in a princess carry. Her head rested lightly against his chest, her breathing steady, her hair brushing against his arm. Nova's face turned slightly red, his expression conflicted—half embarrassed, half protective.
Zazm turned his head slightly to glance at him. "Done?" he asked.
"Yeah," Nova muttered, adjusting his grip on Jennie, "but this better not become a habit."
Zazm said nothing. Instead, a faint hum echoed as the air in front of them distorted. A circular portal materialized—its edges shimmering with spatial ripples that bent reality around it. Zazm's gaze flickered once, then steadied, the cold reflection of the portal's light shining in his eyes.
"Did you see the person who killed everyone?" he asked as the portal stabilized.
Nova nodded, his tone quieter now, heavier. "Yeah."
Zazm's next question came without hesitation. "What did they look like?"
Nova started walking toward the portal, Jennie's sleeping form secure in his arms. "Does that matter?" he replied, his voice tired, empty.
Zazm's eyes followed him silently as he passed through the portal, murmuring to himself, "Not really."
The light swallowed them whole, and the scene shifted.
---
They emerged inside a massive hall—a room carved with divine precision and grandeur. Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their glow cascading across marble floors and tapestries depicting celestial wars. The atmosphere was thick with authority and silence.
Rhyes sat on a long sofa, his cloak draped loosely around his shoulders. Next to him sat Serpahina, her hair cascading like silk, her posture refined but tense. Asher leaned against the wall near the corner, his usual playful grin gone, replaced by quiet unease.
Across from them sat a figure that radiated sovereignty—a young woman with jet-black hair fading into light pink as it fell over her shoulders. A large, ornate crown rested on her head, and her eyes were hidden behind a soft black blindfold. Queen Elziora.
The room was silent—eerily so—when the heavy double doors opened.
Neo entered, bowing deeply before he spoke. "Your Majesty," he began, his tone formal, "most of the students have regained consciousness. A few are still asleep, but all are stable."
Elziora gave a faint nod. "We have Zazm to thank for that."
Rhyes leaned forward, his gloved hands clasped together. "Without a doubt. He's been a major help." Then his brow furrowed slightly. "Though something keeps irritating me."
Serpahina turned her head. "What might that be?"
"I'm not sure," Rhyes admitted. "It's… an eerie feeling I can't seem to shake."
The moment he said that, a strange rattling sound echoed from the window. Everyone's attention turned instantly.
A faint green glow shimmered beyond the glass, and before anyone could react, a spectral bird phased through it. The creature was translucent—without eyes, feathers, or a beak—only the shape of a bird illuminated by a soft, ethereal light.
It fluttered soundlessly across the room and landed on Rhyes's shoulder.
Elziora's expression changed; her calm authority faltered for the first time. "It can't be…" she whispered.
Asher straightened, his eyes widening. Neo took a step forward, disbelief etched on his face.
The bird—silent, weightless—began to weep. Tiny, shimmering tears fell from where its eyes should've been, glowing as they touched the ground. Slowly, its form hardened, its light fading until only a delicate stone statue remained.
Rhyes lifted a hand, gently taking the small stone bird from his shoulder. His expression turned solemn, his voice gone quiet.
Serpahina exhaled shakily, her lips trembling. She looked down, her gaze hollow. The silence in the room was suffocating.
Elziora rose from her throne. "The worst-case scenario," she said softly.
Serpahina's voice broke as she spoke. "If Myterl is dead…" She lowered her head, pressing her hands together near her face, whispering through grief. "Then everyone else must be too."
Neo clenched his fists tightly, jaw tightening as he turned sharply, leaving the room without a word.
Asher stood there, motionless, his red hair shadowing his eyes. His smirk was gone, replaced by an expression of quiet devastation. He turned slowly. "I'll be outside for a while."
Rhyes looked down at the small statue in his hands, his face unreadable yet heavy with unspoken emotion. He finally stood, his voice calm but firm. "I have work to attend to. I'll leave things to you here, Miss Serpahina."
Serpahina gave a weak nod. "Understood."
Rhyes bowed before Queen Elziora. "With your permission, Majesty."
"You may go," she said softly.
He turned and left, the weight of his footsteps echoing through the corridor. As he stepped into a sunlit hallway, he looked down at the stone bird in his hand. The light of the afternoon sun fell across his face, highlighting the tired lines around his eyes.
"Farewell, Supreme Commander Myterl," he murmured.
"Thank you… for everything."
---
The scene shifted again—back to Zazm and Nova emerging from the portal.
They stepped into Nova's quarters, the faint hum of reality settling around them. Nova carefully placed Jennie on the bed. Her breathing was steady now, her face peaceful, though the traces of pain still lingered beneath her closed eyes.
Zazm turned toward the door. "I'll bring Supreme Commander Lorriel or Aina," he said.
Nova blinked. "They're here?"
Zazm gave a small nod. "Yes."
He turned and began walking away, hands still tucked into his coat pockets, his steps steady and unhurried. But halfway through the corridor, he stopped.
"I know you're there," he said quietly.
From behind one of the marble pillars came a soft laugh—low, melodic, and faintly teasing. Zephyra stepped out, her violet hair cascading elegantly over her shoulders. Her long purple dress shimmered faintly with every step, her golden eyes fixed on him.
"Come on," she said with a sly grin.
Zazm's face didn't change. His tone was as flat as ever. "Where were you?"
Zephyra stopped beside him, her expression softening just slightly. "Did something happen?"
"Yes," Zazm said simply. "A lot."
Her voice lowered, concern slipping into it for the first time. "What happened?"
Zazm looked ahead, not meeting her eyes. "Supreme Commander Myterl is dead. Along with all the other students." His voice was calm, too calm. Then, after a pause, he added, "And Jennie… somewhat too."
Zephyra's eyes widened, the color draining from her face. "What about Jennie?" she asked quickly, almost desperately.
"Calm down," Zazm replied, his tone unchanged. "She's alive. Physically fine. Mentally…" He didn't finish.
Zephyra's hands curled slightly at her sides, her voice trembling for the first time. "But who could do something like that?"
Zazm said quietly. "It was an Omega-class threat."
Zephyra stared at him, her usual playfulness gone. "To slay so many people like that…" she whispered.
Without warning, she stepped closer and—like it was second nature—jumped lightly onto his back, her arms wrapping loosely around his shoulders. Her chin rested on his head as she whispered, "Are you okay?"
Zazm didn't move. "What happened to me?" he asked flatly.
"Nothing," Zephyra replied softly. "I just thought I should ask."
The corridor fell silent—just the sound of the wind outside, the faint hum of mana still in the air, and two figures standing still: one cold and unreadable, the other smiling faintly but hiding worry behind her calm mask.
_____________________