The night was not black.
It was heavy.
Above the Paladin Academy, the sky seemed compressed, as if an invisible hand were slowly crushing it. The stars flickered. Not that they were disappearing — they were trembling.
Then—
A siren.
Deep.
Grave.
Ancient.
Not a modern alarm.
An alarm carved into the very stone of the Academy.
The walls vibrated.
A second siren answered.
Then a third.
And suddenly, the entire Academy screamed.
---
🔔 BLACK LEVEL
🔥 RAGNAROK CODE
☩ INFERNAL PRESENCE DETECTED
---
Students rushed out of the dormitories in panic.
Rank B Paladins ran through the corridors, armor half-fastened.
Rank A Paladins froze in the middle of the stairways.
The ground trembled.
A professor murmured, his voice broken:
— "That signal… has only sounded once before…"
Another replied:
— "Fifty years ago…"
A silence.
— "… during Ragnarok."
---
In the Grand Hall of Relics, the seals engraved into the pillars lit up in a dark crimson glow.
The wall frescoes — the ones never shown to students — began to shine.
They told the story of the Era of Ragnarok.
A silhouette surrounded by white flames.
Continents melted.
Seas evaporated.
SS Paladins kneeling.
A name written in sealed letters:
Lucifer.
---
In the central tower, the high-ranking officials were already gathered.
The silence there was more frightening than the sirens.
A Rank S Paladin gripped the table hard enough to crack the wood.
— "That's impossible… He was sealed."
— "No," an older voice answered. "He was contained."
The nuance sent a chill through the room.
Another murmured:
— "I saw him… during the war."
All eyes turned toward him.
His hair had turned white too early.
His left arm was nothing more than a blessed prosthetic.
— "He wasn't fighting."
A silence.
— "He was walking."
His voice trembled.
— "And everything died."
---
Outside, the sky opened.
Not like a crack.
Like an eyelid.
A white glow slowly descended above the distant mountains.
Not explosive.
Not violent.
Calm.
Too calm.
The spiritual pressure forced the weakest Paladins to their knees.
Some vomited.
Others cried without understanding why.
A Rank A murmured:
— "My blessed energy… it refuses to come out…"
A legendary Rank S felt his legs tremble.
— "This isn't an aura."
His voice was dry.
— "It's a presence."
---
In the forbidden archives, an ancient book opened by itself.
Pages turned.
Stopping on a forbidden illustration.
An angel.
But its wings were burning.
And beneath its feet, gods lay fallen.
A handwritten annotation from a survivor of Ragnarok:
> "He does not seek to rule.
He seeks to correct."
---
The sacred bells shattered.
One by one.
Without being touched.
As if sound itself refused to resonate in front of him.
---
In the main courtyard, the statues of ancient heroes began to crack.
The statue of one of the SS Paladins of the old era lost its head.
It fell.
Shattered.
A murmur spread through the ranks:
— "Even stone remembers…"
---
In the High Council chamber, a world map was projected in blessed light.
A white dot blinked.
At the center of the destroyed forest.
A counselor whispered:
— "He is still young."
— "Yes."
— "But what he carries…"
A silence.
No one finished the sentence.
Because everyone knew it.
---
At the top of the tower, the oldest living Paladin placed his hand on the balcony.
His eyes filled with ancient sorrow.
— "King of Hell…"
The wind rose.
Not natural.
It turned inward.
Toward the forest.
Toward that glowing point.
— "Why now…?"
---
And in the invisible depths of the spiritual dimension…
Something smiled.
Not with cruelty.
Not with rage.
With patience.
A voice, soft, almost tender, crossed the veil:
— "Because you have forgotten."
The distant light pulsed once.
The entire Paladin Academy felt the same thing.
Not an attack.
Not a threat.
A reminder.
The memory of a time when the sky burned.
When gods fell.
When even SS Paladins could do nothing.
---
A student whispered, tears in his eyes:
— "Is that… the King of Hell…?"
A professor answered without taking his eyes off the sky:
— "No."
A silence.
His voice broke.
— "That… is only his awakening."
---
The siren kept screaming.
But no one was running anymore.
No one was speaking.
The entire Academy faced the horizon.
Toward the white light.
Toward the era threatening to begin again.
---
In the distance…
Very far away…
A faint laugh.
Almost imperceptible.
Not a demonic laugh.
Not a scream.
An amused breath.
As if the entire world were nothing but a dusty chessboard.
And a piece had just finally moved.
---
The light was no longer white.
It was soft.
Filtered through thin curtains in the pale colors of the Paladin Academy.
The smell of burning had disappeared.
Replaced by medicinal herbs and regeneration seals.
A faint beep echoed in the room.
Regular.
Stable.
Yojuro opened his eyes.
The ceiling was still.
Good sign.
He blinked slowly.
His body still belonged to him.
Excellent sign.
He turned his head slightly.
— "Oh."
A face far too close to his own.
Two bright green eyes.
An overly dramatic smile.
— "HE'S ALIVE!"
Yojuro closed his eyes again.
— "What a shame…"
Zayn jumped back, offended.
— "Excuse me?! I just spent twelve hours stressing like an abandoned husband and that's how you thank me?!"
Yojuro sighed softly.
— "Were you crying?"
— "Never."
A pause.
— "… Just a small strategic ocular condensation."
Yojuro opened one eye.
— "You cried."
Zayn crossed his arms, fake arrogance radiating.
— "Me? Zayn? Supreme strategist? Bearer of Borealis? I don't cry. I meditate intensely."
He proudly lifted his sleeve.
His watch shimmered slightly.
Borealis pulsed with a faint light.
— "And even if the world explodes, me and my watch are here. Always."
He tapped the dial.
— "Always."
Yojuro observed the object for a second.
Silence.
— "Is it the one that stopped you from doing something stupid?"
Zayn's smile faltered.
Just briefly.
— "I didn't do anything."
— "Exactly."
Their eyes met.
No humor now.
Just silent understanding.
Then—
Knock knock.
The door opened gently.
A silhouette entered.
Not loud.
Not theatrical.
Simple.
Jessica.
Her hair loosely tied, a few strands falling awkwardly near her eyes. She carried a carefully prepared plate.
She stopped when she saw Yojuro awake.
Her shoulders relaxed.
— "You… you're awake."
Her voice was soft. Too soft for this world.
Zayn raised his hands.
— "Yes yes he's alive, I officially confirm."
He leaned toward Jessica, whispering loudly on purpose:
— "He already started insulting me again, so everything's normal."
Yojuro stared at him.
— "Leave."
— "With pleasure."
Zayn stood up, stretching his arms.
He approached Jessica and placed a hand on her shoulder with a mischievous smile.
— "I'll let you two talk. But if he acts all mysterious and cold, ignore him. He does that when he's embarrassed."
— "I'm not—"
The door closed.
Silence.
Calmer.
More real.
Jessica approached the bed.
She placed the plate on the table.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Some meat.
Simple.
But made with care.
— "The doctors said you need to eat."
Yojuro looked at the plate.
— "You made it."
It wasn't a question.
Jessica slightly looked away.
— "… Maybe."
He slowly sat up.
Pain tried to protest.
He ignored it.
— "You survived."
She nodded.
— "Yes."
A silence.
Then, more quietly:
— "I thought you were dead."
Her voice barely broke.
But enough.
Yojuro finally looked at her.
Not strategic.
Not analytical.
Just human.
— "I'm sorry."
She looked up, surprised.
— "Why are you apologizing?"
— "I didn't control it."
A heavier silence.
She understood.
Everyone had felt that presence.
That burning cold.
That thing.
— "That wasn't you."
He didn't answer.
Because he wasn't sure it was true.
Jessica picked up a spoon and handed it to him.
— "Next time…"
She inhaled.
— "… be careful."
Yojuro allowed himself the faintest smile.
Barely visible.
— "I will."
She smiled back.
More openly.
But her cheeks turned slightly pink.
She quickly looked away, as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating.
— "You're stupid."
— "I'm told that often."
— "You always put yourself in front."
— "It's easier."
— "For who?"
He didn't answer.
Because he had no answer.
A comfortable silence settled.
She remained seated beside the bed.
Not too close.
But not far either.
Her fingers nervously played with the edge of her sleeve.
— "When you were unconscious…"
She hesitated.
— "… you murmured something."
He raised an eyebrow.
— "Oh."
— "You said 'Zayn.' Several times."
She tried to smile.
— "You care a lot about him."
Yojuro looked at the ceiling.
— "He's an idiot."
— "Yes."
— "Immature."
— "Yes."
— "Arrogant."
— "Yes."
A silence.
— "… But if he falls, I fall."
Jessica looked at him for a long moment.
Then lowered her eyes softly.
— "I understand."
It wasn't that she understood Zayn.
It was something else.
More silent.
More fragile.
She finally placed her hand on the sheet, very close to his.
Without daring to touch.
Just close.
Enough for warmth to exist.
— "Always come back."
He slightly turned his head toward her.
— "To where?"
She hesitated.
Then smiled shyly.
— "Here."
The wind moved the curtains.
The sunlight entered the room a little more.
Outside, the world was still afraid.
Paladins whispered the name Lucifer.
The elders trembled.
The seals vibrated.
But in that infirmary room…
There was no King of Hell.
No Ragnarok.
Just two heartbeats.
And a silent promise.
---
In the hallway, leaning against the wall, Zayn smiled.
— "Idiot."
His watch vibrated slightly.
As if something, somewhere, was also watching.
And waiting.
---
To be continued.