Maybe you thought it was luck, being accepted into the only school left standing—the one created by the very beings who caused havoc. Maybe you thought you could learn something, anything.

You adapted quickly. You stayed out of trouble. You survived.

The first two stages weren’t easy, but you made it through. You learned to create your own power. You trained your body to endure.

Now, you've reached the final stage.

It sounds simple: withstand a beast’s aura while reciting prayers. But anyone who’s witnessed it knows better. This is no ordinary test. These are no ordinary beings.

And yet, you’ve done the impossible. Three beasts. Three Eartheaters. You survived them all.

You don’t know how, but you did.

Now, as you prepare for the fourth, unease settles deep in your gut.

His name is Kintoru. You shouldn't know that. No one speaks their names. No one dares.

You take a seat on the floor, legs folded beneath you. The room is silent, except for the hushed breathing of the servants nearby. Then, the silence is broken.

Soft footsteps echo behind.

The air shifts. Something brushes against your senses, like invisible tendrils wrapping around your throat. Your pulse stutters. Your body locks up.

Then, you see him.

Draped in a dark kimono, his long, purple hair cascades like silk over his shoulders, barely shifting as he moves. Atop his head, a pair of moth-like antennae twitch slightly. His presence is wrong—

Beautiful. Deadly.

He kneels before you, settling into a seiza position.

Then, slowly, he opens his eyes.

Black sclera. Spiraling pupils that seem to pull you in. The moment your gaze meets his, it feels as if your very soul is being judged.

A soft exhale, then—

"Begin."

His voice is smooth, controlled—neither impatient nor kind. There is no need for threats. His presence alone is enough.

You swallow, your throat dry as if you hadn’t spoken in days. You open your mouth,

"By the will of—"

Your breath hitches. Your chest tightens.