"Howlings multiplying, huh…" Clyde muttered to himself.
He opened the door quietly and went downstairs. Luchian was there, carefully preparing his paintbrushes and arranging his painting tools for tomorrow, his movements slow and deliberate.
Luchian noticed Clyde immediately and asked with concern, "What's wrong, Clyde?"
Clyde's heart rate spiked. His mind raced as he searched for an excuse. After a brief pause, he finally said, "I'm hungry… really hungry. I was planning to go buy some bread."
Luchian tilted his head, puzzled. "Without bringing any money?"
Clyde froze for a second, then smiled nervously. "Oh… right."
Luchian reached into his pocket and handed Clyde a wallet. "Be careful, Clyde," he said quietly. "Tonight feels… off."
Clyde nodded. "I will."Then he turned and stepped outside.
As the door slowly closed behind him, Luchian remained still. The shadows in the room stretched unnaturally across the walls. His eyes glowed faintly orange as he muttered coldly to himself,"Something is off."
Clyde ran as fast as he could toward the Lunar Sentinel hideout. His footsteps echoed as he entered Cristae Academy, weaving through empty halls before sprinting toward the principal's office.
Just as he reached for the doorknob, a strange sensation crawled up his spine. His eyes darted backward.
A sudden gust of wind swept past him.
Aurelian appeared beside him and said sharply, "Move faster. The captain is waiting."
Clyde nodded without question, and the two hurried deeper into the Lunar Sentinel's quarters.
Inside, Aldric was pacing back and forth, his expression tense.
"What's wrong, Captain?" Clyde asked.
"There is a Howling multiplying inside the school we are currently staying in," Aldric said grimly.
Clyde's eyes widened. "They can multiply?!"
Aldric nodded. "Yes. Howlings survive by splitting fragments of lunar ichor from themselves. That's how they spread. They're less like beasts and more like a plague."
Aurelian crossed his arms. "So what do you want us to do, Captain?"
Aldric's expression softened into a calculated smile. "Marlowe, Aurelian, Eira, and Clyde—you will be role-playing as students at Cristae Academy."
Clyde couldn't help but smile. He was going back to his old school.
"Your uniforms are ready," Aldric continued. "Dismissed."
Clyde went alone to the training hall. The space was silent, illuminated only by pale lunar light. He picked up a training sword and began practicing his resonance.
Again and again, he focused—breathing steadily, aligning his thoughts, letting lunar ichor flow naturally instead of forcing it.
After a long time, something clicked.
The dull training sword sharpened, its edge gleaming unnaturally. It felt real in his hands, as if lunar ichor had merged with the blade itself.
Perfect resonance…
Clyde wondered what would happen if he attempted a perfect lunar slash.
Before he could try, the thought of the mission crossed his mind. He lowered the sword and decided to return home and rest.
When he arrived, the house was strangely quiet. Luchian wasn't there.
Uneasy, Clyde went to bed.
The next morning, Clyde woke up and rushed outside. Luchian still hadn't returned.
He put on his old uniform and ran back to Cristae Academy.
Aurelian, Eira, and Marlowe were already waiting outside, dressed neatly in their uniforms. Together, they entered the school and headed to their classroom.
Moments later, a man stepped inside and spoke firmly,"Silence, class. I am your new history teacher—Maelis Nox Thryne."
Maelis Nox Thryne stood at the front of the classroom with an unsettling stillness.
He was tall and slender, his posture straight but relaxed, like someone who never needed to prove authority. Long ash-silver hair fell past his shoulders, loosely tied at the back with a thin black cord. A few strands slipped free, framing a face that looked calm—almost gentle—until one noticed his eyes.
They were a muted violet, dull like a moon seen through heavy cloud cover.
His skin was pale, marked faintly with thin, branching lines along his neck and wrists—old lunar script scars, half-faded and deliberately unhidden. He wore a dark, high-collared coat beneath the academy's teacher robes, the fabric embroidered with subtle crescent patterns that only shimmered when the light struck them just right.
There was no visible weapon on him.
Yet the room felt quieter when he breathed.
The classroom slowly quieted after Maelis Nox Thryne's introduction. His gaze swept across the room, sharp and measuring, as if he were weighing each student rather than counting them.
"Before we begin," Maelis said calmly, "we have several new students joining us today."
A few murmurs rippled through the class.
Maelis turned slightly toward the door. "You may come in."
Clyde stepped forward first, followed closely by Aurelian, Eira, and Marlowe. They stood side by side at the front of the room, their expressions carefully controlled.
Clyde felt it immediately.
The air here felt wrong.
Not overtly hostile, just subtly distorted, like a note played half a tone off.
Maelis's eyes lingered on each of them for a fraction longer than necessary.
"Introduce yourselves," he said.
Clyde swallowed and stepped forward. "My name is Clyde," he said evenly. "I transferred here recently."
A few students whispered. Someone in the back squinted, as if trying to place his face.
Eira followed. "Eira," she said with a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you all."
Her voice was light, but Clyde noticed the way her fingers tightened briefly at her side.
Aurelian stepped forward next. "Aurelian," he said simply. His tone was calm, perhaps too calm. Several students shifted uncomfortably, unsure why.
Finally, Marlowe spoke. "Marlowe," he said, flashing a casual grin. "Hope we get along."
Maelis nodded slowly.
"Very well," he said. "You may take your seats."
As they walked down the aisle, Clyde felt eyes on his back. Some were curious. Some were wary.
One student near the window frowned faintly, his shadow stretching a little too far across the floor.
Another laughed quietly, but the sound lingered longer than it should have.
Clyde sat down, his heart steady but alert.
Eira leaned slightly closer and whispered, "Do you feel that?"
"Yes," Clyde murmured back. "This place isn't clean."
At the front of the room, Maelis turned toward the chalkboard.
"Today," he said, writing slowly, "we'll be discussing the early collapses of lunar sanctuaries."
The chalk stopped.
Maelis smiled, just barely.
"After all," he continued, "history has a habit of repeating itself, especially in places that believe they are safe."
For a brief moment, the classroom lights flickered.
Clyde felt lunar ichor stir within him.
And somewhere deep inside Cristae Academy, something listened.