The moon was high when Hoshizora Airi found herself standing alone in the academy's ancient library. The Grand Archive, they called it. A labyrinth of towering shelves and whispering tomes that housed every magical theory, forbidden spell, and elemental secret in existence. Candles floated midair, casting flickering shadows along the marble floor, and the scent of old paper wrapped the space like a spell of its own.
She had waited until curfew, slipping through the winding back corridors using a minor illusion to evade any patrolling prefects. To the others, she was still the quiet transfer girl who barely passed her mana assessments. But in truth, Airi had sensed something—an ancient presence—that called to her from the library the day she first arrived.
"I can feel you," she murmured, eyes scanning the dusty volumes.
She wasn't wrong. The air around her shimmered. A tome on the top shelf began to vibrate, the gold-inked title glowing faintly: Magia Nocturna: Arts of the Forgotten Age.
Airi raised her hand, and with a whisper of incantation under her breath, the book floated down to her palms.
"Hidden behind weak illusions," she said with a smirk, flipping the pages. "They thought no one would find this."
Inside, the parchment pulsed with dark crimson runes and diagrams of shadow magic long banned by the academy. She wasn't afraid. In her past life, she had faced far worse—dragons, cursed kings, realms drenched in blood. This academy's rules? Child's play.
But she barely had time to scan a page when she felt it.
A presence.
A pulse.
A low breath, not her own.
She spun, spell prepared.
A boy stepped out of the shadows—tall, with raven-black hair and a crest-stitched blazer. His eyes shimmered with a subtle silver glow.
"You shouldn't be here," he said. "This section is restricted to third-years and Archmages."
Airi narrowed her gaze. "And yet… here you are."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not hiding who I am."
"And I'm not afraid of being seen," she replied calmly, slipping the book under her cloak.
Silence stretched between them. Then he smiled, not unkindly. "You're the transfer student. Airi, right? From Hokkaido."
"That's what the records say," she answered vaguely.
"I'm Tsukishiro Ren," he said. "Second-year. Top of my class in elemental mastery. And unfortunately, one of the few allowed access to these archives."
"Lucky you," she said. "So what do you want?"
Ren tilted his head, then walked past her, fingers brushing along the spines of the old books. "You're strong. I felt your mana signature when you entered. You don't belong with the weaklings in Class F."
Airi stiffened. He had felt her?
"Maybe I'm just good at hiding," she said.
"Or maybe you're hiding for a reason," Ren replied. "Either way, you're not the only one with secrets."
He turned, walking back into the shadows. "Don't dig too deep, Airi. The last person who read Magia Nocturna disappeared."
She waited until his footsteps vanished before exhaling. Her heart was steady—but her curiosity now burned hotter than ever.
The next morning, Airi sat quietly in her assigned desk while Professor Ayame droned on about elemental theory. The classroom was loud, noisy, and filled with braggarts showing off weak fireballs and pathetic wind gusts.
She watched silently, resisting the urge to yawn. Most of them couldn't even manipulate second-tier spells.
Then, Ayame called on her.
"Hoshizora-san. What is the core structure of a tri-elemental fusion circle?"
A few snickers followed. Her classmates were eager to see the "weak girl" fail.
Airi stood slowly.
"The base is a three-layered pentagram, overlaid with interlocking sigils representing the elemental triad: Ignis, Glacius, and Aether," she said. "But that's a flawed structure."
Ayame blinked. "Flawed?"
"The fusion is unstable unless you embed a sixth anchor rune to balance the chaotic flow. That's why the records of the 4th Grand Duel say the wielder lost control. The circle was incomplete."
The class fell silent.
Ayame stared. "…That's… correct."
Ren, sitting by the window, smirked quietly to himself.
Later that day, in the academy courtyard, Airi sat under a sakura tree, watching petals drift in the summer wind.
She was no longer just hiding.
Now… she was being watched.
She could feel Ren's mana nearby, and someone else—an unfamiliar, jagged magical pulse. Not a student. Not a professor.
She turned slowly—and saw a raven land on the branch above her. Its eyes glowed faintly blue.
"Messenger familiar," she murmured. "But from who?"
The raven opened its beak.
And spoke.
"Airi Hoshizora. The truth is stirring. Come to the Clocktower at midnight. Alone."
It vanished into shadow.
Airi stood, gaze sharpening.
"Looks like the game's beginning," she whispered.