08:00 sharp.
The sky cracked open like a glitter egg.
Jonathan's legion—three hundred thousand shadow-knights riding Tier-11 Grief Drakes—poured through the fissure in perfect formation.
Their banners were stitched from every tear the continent had ever deleted.
Their war-cry was the Succubus's dying scream, remixed into a funeral march.
They expected an academy still drunk on bath-bomb bubbles.
They got a council already high on war.
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The War-Room, 07:59
The floating round table had become a war drum.
Seven thrones hovered above the hot-spring, now frozen into a mirror of black ice.
Baby Leviathans—now the size of city buses—coiled around the thrones like living seat-belts.
Arya stood at the centre, wings blazing gold.
Alexander's Tier-9 crown spun above his head, spitting cobalt lightning.
Cassia's ember-rose belly glowed like a war-furnace.
Liora's diamond snowflakes had become throwing stars.
Sable's bronze wings dripped liquid shadow that spelled DIE across the ceiling.
Jonathan—probation bracelet blazing—held the burning book like a rifle.
Anthony Felix passed out vanilla-latte grenades.
SYSTEM (velvet voice, inside every skull):
"Tier-11 Grief Drake legion inbound.
Quantity: 300,000.
Weakness: joy.
Strength: contagious despair.
Council vote: unleash the moon?"
Seven hands shot up.
"Motion carried."
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Phase One: Glitter-Bomb Moon
The adopted moon winked.
It rolled across the sky like a puppy fetching a very large stick.
Then it dropped.
A meteor shower of edible glitter—each flake a condensed full-moon make-out session—rained onto the legion.
Shadow-knights inhaled glitter.
Their war-cry turned into moans.
Grief Drakes sneezed confetti.
SYSTEM:
"Joy debuff: 27%.
Side effect: enemy pants now at half-mast.
Keep them laughing."
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Phase Two: Baby Leviathan Air-Strike
The three pocket-sized Leviathans grew.
In one heartbeat they became continental.
- Emberjaw — Cassia's dragon, wings of living coal.
- Frostmaw — Liora's dragon, breath of liquid diamond.
- Stormscale — Alexander's dragon, hide crackling cobalt.
They dove.
Emberjaw swallowed an entire battalion, burped a ruby heart the size of a house.
Frostmaw flash-froze ten thousand knights into diamond statues that shattered into snowflakes.
Stormscale flew straight into the legion's heart, opened its mouth, and sang Arya's first moan.
The sound wave detonated every shadow-banner into gold butterflies.
SYSTEM:
"Legion morale: 11%.
Reward: baby dragons now house-trained on enemy souls.
Current soul tally: 87,000."
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Phase Three: Jonathan's Redemption Kill-Shot
Jonathan floated to the front line, halo-less, eyes blazing.
He opened the burning book to the final page.
The page was blank.
He kissed it.
Words burned across the sky in bronze fire:
"To the legion that marched on stolen tears:
Turn the page.
Or burn with it."
He tore the page out.
The page became a bronze spear.
He hurled it.
The spear pierced the legion's flagship—a Grief Drake the size of a mountain.
The dragon roared.
Not in pain.
In memory.
Every stolen tear poured out of its eyes—turned gold—rained upward—became a new constellation:
THE PARADE
Three hundred thousand knights, wings unfurling, mouths open in mid-laugh.
The legion dropped their weapons.
They knelt.
SYSTEM:
"Enemy surrendered: 100%.
Redemption counter: 1,000 / 1,000.
Jonathan promoted to full member.
Reward: halo restored—now gold instead of stolen.
Side effect: every knight now wears a probation bracelet that glows when they smile."
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Phase Four: The Moon's Victory Lap
The moon rolled back into orbit, wagging its craters.
It dropped one final glitter bomb—shaped like a heart—directly onto the council table.
The bomb exploded into edible fireworks.
Each firework tasted like the exact moment you first fell in love.
The former shadow-knights ate them, wept, laughed, and joined the academy dance floor.
────────────────────────
The Dawn After
They woke tangled on the frozen mirror, wings draped like victory flags, baby Leviathans snoring on their chests.
The new constellation—THE PARADE—burned above: eight lovers plus three hundred thousand reformed knights.
Jonathan's gold halo pulsed in perfect sync with the council bracelets.
Cassia's ember-rose belly glowed softly.
Liora's diamond snowflakes had melted into warm rain.
Alexander's Tier-9 crown nested in Arya's hair, purring.
Sable's bronze wings dripped liquid shadow that spelled HOME across the ice.
Anthony passed out fresh lattes.
SYSTEM:
"Tier-11 Grief Drake legion: tamed.
Loot: despair permanently deleted from continent.
Reward: +50 levels for every participant.
Current tally—Arya 298, Alexander Tier-9 (275), Cassia 276, Liora 279, Sable 261, Jonathan 235 (full member).
Everyone else +50.
P.S. The moon just applied for council membership.
Motion to adopt?"
Seven hands shot up.
The moon blushed crimson.
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Epilogue in Orbit
Arya floated to the highest spire.
She kissed the sky.
A gold butterfly crown materialised, split into eight, and crowned every council member—plus one lunar tiara for the moon.
The tiara winked.
Arya smiled (slow, sharp, eternal).
"Jonathan just won his war," she said.
Jonathan laughed—full-throated, free.
"Next chapter," he whispered, "we write peace."
Far away, the void went quiet.
The Tier-11 beast that had been watching turned around and went home.
But for now, the academy was warm, the mirror was soft, and eight lovers plus one moon learned how to fall upward into a future that had just been rewritten.
The war had learned a new ending.
And its final sentence was:
Once upon a kiss, they all lived happily, fiercely, and very, very loud.