The Core Square of Astra gradually settled into silence as the ceremony ended. The final ribbons of light dissolved in the air, leaving behind the feeling that everyone had just awakened from a radiant dream.
And then — without warning—
BOOM!
A streak of light tore across the sky. Thousands of blazing arcs burst like blooming stars, dazzling enough to make every head tilt upward in awe. Ether fireworks — not the ordinary kind, but the sort only a skyborne academy could conjure.
Lucen nearly dropped his Ether-Honey glass.
"Stars above… those are real core-energy fireworks?!"
Alice smiled, the lights shimmering in her eyes.
"Try not to leave your jaw on the ground, Lucen. It isn't very elegant."
Lucen snapped his mouth shut at once, making Elior let out a soft laugh.
Amid the cheers, Headmaster Solomon raised a hand. The sound vanished as if someone had flipped a switch. He snapped his fingers — pop — and from above, rows of crystalline tables descended, settling perfectly in front of the students. Another motion — and food fell from the sky like soft stars, landing neatly on silver plates without a single crumb astray.
Warmth returned quickly. Voices filled the air — chatter, crystal cutlery, laughter spreading from group to group. Students who had only met yesterday now stood shoulder to shoulder, sharing Ether-honey cakes and shimmering fruit drinks.
Elior sat with Lucen and Alice. His heart still beat to the echo of the ceremony — and the fleeting glance toward Remiel, the silver-winged professor. Father. Secret. Light. They tangled inside his chest, impossible to separate.
The cheerful air stretched on — until a plate slammed against the table.
Varzek — tall, eyes burning gold — loomed before them. Kerr and Morr lurked behind him like black carrion birds.
Varzek flicked a violet-frosted cake toward Alice.
It never touched her. With a crisp crack, it froze mid-air before shattering like brittle ice.
Alice didn't move.
Her eyes were cold — like a winter lake at dawn.
Varzek smirked.
"Fitting, isn't it? Freezing everything around you. Just like the blood of a half-divine freak."
Lucen shot to his feet.
"Shut up, Varzek."
Varzek looked at him as though hearing a stray dog bark.
"Oh? And who are you? The boy too poor to even own a proper Ether staff?"
Lucen flushed red. Elior placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him seated.
Varzek's gaze slid to Elior, thin and cruel.
"And you… the one with no parents to speak of. An orphan drifting in the sky. Like a piece of misplaced trash."
The air grew colder. Eyes turned — curious, shocked, a few pitying.
Elior didn't respond. Not because he was weak — but because something in his chest stirred, as if crushed light were struggling to break free.
A clear, cool voice spoke behind Varzek.
"Burn."
The cake in Varzek's hand burst into flames. He yelped, flinging it aside with a clang, stepping back pale-faced.
Professor Elara Vynn stood there, arms crossed. Pale fire flickered on her fingers — quiet, but threatening.
"If you use food to start a fight again," she said, voice smooth yet sharp as forged steel, "I will send you to Ego Management Class. Believe me — no one wants to be in that class."
Varzek clenched his teeth.
Unable to meet her eyes, he dragged his followers away.
Silence hovered — then laughter and relieved sighs burst forth. The feast resumed. But Elior — try as he might — couldn't ignore the sensation rising inside him, something awakening in the depths of his being.
When the final dessert dissolved into light, Solomon stood once more.
"Tomorrow," he announced, "your first lessons begin. Be prepared."
Before each student, a feather-thin sheet appeared — a timetable marked with runes and professor names.
Elior's gaze caught on one line:
Foundations of Soul Studies — Professor Remiel
His heart stuttered.
Solomon lifted a finger — gentle as a touch on still water.
Light swept over them.
The square vanished.
A soft breeze, a gentle spin — and Elior stood in his dorm again, starlight strewn in his hair like dust that refused to fall.
The beginning was complete.
Tomorrow — the true path would open.
Dusk settled over the academy like a silver veil steeped in twilight. In that quiet, dim glow, Elior stood before Lucen's door and knocked three times — soft, but urgent.
The door cracked open. Lucen peeked out, hair tousled from a nap.
"What's going on?"
"Get Alice," Elior whispered. "We… need to talk. In the canteen."
Three exchanged glances — no questions, no hesitation. They understood: Elior never called without reason.
Astra's canteen at sundown was far quieter than in the morning. Ether lanterns hovered in the air, casting a soft starlight haze. They chose a secluded corner beneath a crystalline arch, away from the laughter of other students.
Elior set a small black-bronze box on the table. Inside were two teardrop-shaped devices, delicate as carved gemlight.
"Ear pieces?" Lucen murmured.
"Not exactly." Elior handed each of them one. "Listen."
They put them on. Only one sound emerged — faint, trembling like wind through a hollow vein of stone.
U—u—u… u—u…
A sound so subtle it felt like memory instead of noise — cold, distant, and almost… alive.
Lucen frowned. "Just interference."
Alice said nothing. Her fingers rested on her glass, eyes narrowing slightly, chasing a ghost of recollection.
Then — she stiffened.
"This sound… is the one from the Astra Core during the opening ceremony."
The space around them chilled, as though the air itself inhaled.
Lucen shot upright. "Hold on. You mean—?"
Elior nodded slowly.
"The tracking insect I planted on that man yesterday. Today was the last of its Ether energy. These are its final moments of transmission."
His hand rested on the bronze box. Metal cold seeped into his skin, and something inside him tightened — like a strand of light being pulled, stretched to breaking.
Alice spoke again, voice low, as if afraid the lanterns might hear:
"If this sound came from the Astra Core… then he was there. But no one except the Headmaster and faculty are allowed inside."
Lucen clenched his fists. Gone was his usual airy laziness — replaced by a sharp, tempered focus like a drawn spear.
"Then there's only one possibility."
He leaned forward, voice dropping:
"There's someone in this academy with authority they shouldn't have."
Elior looked at his friends. His pulse quickened — not in fear, but from the sensation of a door opening. Light and shadow both staring through the crack.
Silence held them. Outside the glass wall, Ether birds swept past, leaving trails of light fading like star-ash.
Lucen stood first.
"We'll find the truth."
Not a vow — yet heavy as one.
They left the canteen. At the three-way junction, crystalline lamps split their paths. Before parting, Elior turned, voice quiet but steady:
"Tomorrow… how do we get to the third ring?"
Alice shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing.
"Walk. Through the training grounds between the second and third ring. Past the wall. There's a gate and guards. Just look like you belong."
Lucen blinked. "That doesn't sound rational."
"In Astra," she replied, lips curving faintly, "everything is rational if you're confident enough."
The line made Elior laugh — the first since leaving the hall of ceremony.
He nodded.
Not because he was ready —
but because now he knew he had to be.
They separated, each returning to their dormitory. Down the long corridor, light brushed Elior's steps like Ether dust falling from an angel's wings.
And behind him, in the dark, his heartbeat shifted — echoing not his own rhythm, but that of something far deeper…
In the Core of Astra.
And there, something — or someone — was listening.