The Moonlight shone brightly through the Mounagiri Gakuen hills. A gentle breeze blew across the hills. The Hashitangi of the Madhabucho still echoed, and threads of the Mounagiri Gakuen wobbled in curiosity and nervousness.
Monagiri Gakuen no longer felt like a school. It felt like a storm waiting to burst. The classrooms and the halls buzzed with strange silence; not loud, but charged. Murmurs passed like invisible threads between dorms, practice chambers, and shrine corridors. Some students were trained in pairs—others, alone, as if they were undergoing a severe penance to God. And a few threads didn't sparkle with excitement at all; just watched the sky.
The academy courtyard hummed with an unusual stillness. Thread-lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the stone paths. Near the Spiral Fountain, a few students lingered in half-hearted conversations, their threads dim and coiled — as if even they were holding their breath.
The Courtyard Training Ring of the Mounagiri Gakuen was buzzing with activity upon the Seishin. Students queue up in the Courtyard ring to practice their Thread Core. Sparks of silver thread clashed mid-air. Two third-year duelists, palms with threads glowing, practiced aerial displacement — their movements sharp, almost mechanical. David, class12A, as his threads collided with Rick in the courtyard ring, said," I heard that the Kazan hasn't been moved this rapidly in 60 years," one whispered. "The last time it happened this rapidly… some or several students' threads vanished."The students in the courtyard ring fell into absolute pin-drop silence as blue threads wobbled in the courtyard training room. Andy shivering but asked David," Stop scaring us like that, SENIOR." David," Well, I don't mean to scare you juniors, but just a warning that threads are always in the battle and we should always keep those threads strong for these moments."
In the Thread Library, SCROLLS on the Threads resonance, core strengthening, and history of the kazan trials were hunted by the students of the gakuen. A corner in the library existed where some students even run small quiz like competition on this THREADNANAM- the knowledge and wisdom of the thread world and dimension. Deep inside, a boy with mirror-tinted spectacles flipped through an ancient codex on resonance mutations."Tamara. Kodokuna. Tom," he murmured. "Three harmonics I see." And then his eyes narrowed, "one RUPTURE. Who are you? What are you?"
IN the East Wing Dormitories, some students huddled by the thread-charts, with fear in their eyes. "Do we even stand a chance?" one girl, Clara, asked. "My threads still fray under pressure..."Sita, her threads trembling, answered: "It's not about winning. It's about surviving. The Trial watches your truth."
In the Training Sector — Thread Resonance Chambers Rows of students sat in lotus position, their eyes shut. Between their fingers, threads floated — not summoned, but felt."Breathe into the thread. Not around it," whispered Instructor Maeli, her voice a ripple in the silence. Around her, resonance nodes hummed faintly. Some students' threads trembled wildly — unstable, flickering. Others held a steady pulse — a slow, golden thrum. Others pushed themselves to catch up. One student bled from the nose. Another fainted. No one stopped.
In the Sky Balcony Sector — Echo Thread Mimicry. On the high terraces, pairs of students faced each other. "Echo. Don't imitate," instructed Sensei Veyren. "Match intent, not just form." One student projected a fiery spiral. The other, trembling, tried to trace it — but the echo thread fractured mid-air. A sharp cry. The thread lashed back and left a thin scar. "Too shallow," Veyren said. "Try again. Let it feel you."Below them, senior students mastered this: projecting the opponent's move even before it happened. Their eyes stayed locked. But it was their hearts that did the weaving.
In the Inner Shrine Sector — Stability Thread Training Inside darkened halls lined with silk flags, students sat before shallow bowls of threadwater. Each bowl had only one ripple — the student's own pulse. A single trembling thread floated on the surface, connected to their SHINDHAYAM.
They had to keep the ripple calm and steady, even when their minds screamed, even when instructors whispered intrusive thoughts. Even when emotional illusions — family, loss, humiliation — were triggered behind them."If your thread bends, your truth bends," the monk intoned. "Kazan will expose both."
In the Eastern Flame Sector — Elemental Thread Attunement Here, those with elemental threads — flame, frost, storm, and vine — stood amidst the elements themselves. One girl channeled her stormthread as winds howled around her. A boy with frostweave stood under freezing rain, trying to hold a glowing orb steady. Another trembled as his vine-threads twisted uncontrollably under an emotional surge. "The Trial won't wait for your emotion to settle," snapped their senior. "Control is earned, not granted."
In the West Courtyard — Psychological Endurance Circle
Ten students stood in a thread circle. Inside, they were made to relive emotional triggers. "This is the Kazan's core," said the Watcher. "It doesn't test your strength. It tests whether your fear can wear your face."One boy crumpled. His threads frayed into ash. Another girl stood tall — her tears glowing like flame — and said, "I still stand."
Meanwhile, some students' threads flared with rage and pulsed violently. Some rumours passed on the whole gakuen that some class11A students were responsible for this chaos. Some started to revolt and said, Ah, yes, class 11A. Isn't that the threaded cursed boy's class?" I think his name was Roh-, no kodokuna wasn't it? "What? he really is a curse to this gakuen. Look what sort of Armageddon he has unleashed upon us. How did he enter Mounagiri gates anyway?" I heard some even support him, like that recently transferred girl, who looks like an angel, they exclaim, but what is she doing with a cursed devil boy?" "I heard she even came to his support a few times." No, not only her, but some students of class 11A also support him, wonder what he did to them, probably brainwashed them."
Meanwhile, in the Shizumanam, as all these threads were unfolding, Tamara finally woke up refreshed and sat cross-legged on the ripplebeds of the Special wing of the Shizumanam. Her golden threads shimmered and pulsed gently. The Inimainashi sisters ran a Yojna on the three students, Tamara Kodo, and Tom, for the last time before they leave the shizumanam.
The Inimainashi sisters finished the Yojna and smiled with delight," Your threads have stabilised now, you are in good condition to leave the shizumanam. You all be careful and should follow up here in a few days."
They all nodded in unison with a smile. They left the shizumanam.
High above the main courtyard, nestled in the thick branches of a quiet tree, Kodo sat with one leg drawn close to his chest. The soft rustle of student voices below drifted up like floating threads — laughter, worries, whispered mantras. He saw them.
Students cross-legged under threadlamps, practicing their resonance alignment. Some tracing air-patterns with trembling fingers. Others simply sit together, eyes closed, synchronizing their pulse. They didn't deserve this. His throat tightened.
The moonlight filtered softly through the high branches above Mounagiri Gakuen. Kodo remained seated in the tree, his arms now relaxed at his sides, the wind teasing faint ripples through his glowing white threads. From below, a familiar voice rose. Tamara (looking up, gently): "You ready for the trial?"Her golden threads shimmered beside her like quiet fireflies — not storming now, just... calm. Present. Alive.
Kodo looked down, a small smile tugging at his lips. The breeze caught his white threads as they pulsed softly in rhythm with his breath — steady, earned through practice. Kodo (nodding): "Well... It's all about giving the best out there now."Tamara didn't reply immediately. She simply watched him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable — then softened into something close to relief. Tamara (quietly): "Good."
Just as the breeze quieted and Kodo leaned back against the tree trunk, a sudden voice shattered the stillness. Tom (yelling): "Kodoooo!"
Before Kodo could react, a figure leapt from the adjacent tree. There was a thud — and then a crash as Tom collided into Kodo, both boys tumbling through the leaves and landing in a heap on the soft courtyard grass below.
Kodo (groaning): "What are you doing, man? That was dangerous, you know..." Tom lay on his back, grinning, arms behind his head like he meant to fall all along. Tom (grinning): "As if that's enough to beat us. We ain't that weak, Kodo." Kodo blinked, then smirked. He sat up slowly, brushing leaves off his shoulder. His white threads pulsed faintly — they had caught part of the fall, reflexively softening the landing. He hadn't even noticed.
Kodo (thinking): Maybe... I really am lucky. To have threads like these. To have them. Tom (nudging): "You're spacing out again, aren't you?"Kodo blushed lightly. Tamara, standing a few steps away with arms folded, burst into a soft laugh — a sound more healing than any threadwave.
Tom chuckled and punched Kodo's shoulder gently, not to hurt — just to remind him. Tom: "Snap out of it, Mr. Thoughtful. Tomorrow's not waiting."
The three of them stood under the moonlit tree, laughter still echoing softly through the leaves. For a moment, the war, the trial, the wounds — all of it faded. Just three threads. Bound. Unbroken.
Kodo smirks quietly, spacing out. Tom punches his shoulder. Tamara laughs.
The threads had been pulled taut. And the Trial approached like a rising tide.