{Echo Creek High school. The sun is hitting the parking lot, and Oscar is up there, playing that keyboard guitar. Honestly? It’s repetitive, uninspired, and he hasn't even looked my way. A total waste of my cognitive bandwidth. But my biology... my biology has other plans.}

Marco: "Star! Time to go!"

{Marco points at his forehead, looking concerned in that typical 'safe-mode' way of his.}

Marco: "You got some paint or something right here."

{I pluck a spot off my skin. It’s a deep, dark violet—so dark it’s almost black, like the forbidden ink in Eclipsa’s chapters. My skin isn't just tingling; it's vibrating with a cold, predatory energy.}

Star: "Marco... this is not paint..."

{More dark-violet spots appear with a wet pop sound. My eyes track the students in the hallway, calculating, sorting. The Mewberty surge is hitting, and it feels less like a crush and more like a tactical takeover.}

Star: Whispering, sharp and serious "Quiet, Marco. This is serious. I think I'm going through... Mewberty."

Marco: "Wellll~ ooookay... hehe, mewberty? That's nothing to be ashamed of, we have a similar thing here on Earth—"

Star: I cut him off, my eyes flashing that same abyssal violet. "Don't compare your hormone-induced voice cracks to this, Marco. My DNA is currently rewriting itself to turn me into a high-level apex predator. If I start spinning webs, don't just stand there—make yourself useful and find me someone with a higher IQ than Oscar to experiment on."

{Star feels her wings vibrating beneath her skin, emitting a low hum that Marco, with his ordinary hearing, can't even perceive. The marks on her cheeks pulse, becoming "darker than dark"—nearly bottomless void-black. Her senses are sharpened to the limit: Star doesn’t just see students; she sees their movement trajectories, the weak points in their posture, and, unfortunately, the complete lack of a cognitive spark in their eyes. This isn't just "hormones"; it's the call of the abyss.}

Marco: He steps forward, reaching out a hand as if to grab her shoulder, but he hesitates, flinching at the cold static coming off her skin. "Star, wait! You're talking like... like some kind of Mewni terminator. Just breathe, okay? We can go to the gym, or maybe call your mom? There has to be a 'safe mode' for this Mewberty thing. You're scaring the classmates, and honestly, you're starting to scare me a little too."

{Star sharply adjusts her dark gloves, checking that they tightly cover the lightning scars on her palms. Her finger involuntarily twitches the edge of the right glove—an old habit when the level of magical tension is off the charts. She straightens her back, adopting that flawless royal posture she was taught for years, even if she's currently ready to take flight and rewrite the laws of physics of this lousy schoolyard.}

Star: Emits a short, sharp sound, like a click . "Marco, your attempt at empathy right now is just a 40-minute loop of stagnant data. It’s not helping. My chaos magic is currently looking for a catalyst, not comfort."

Star: She spins on her heels, her eyes glowing with a violet void that seems to swallow the parking lot's sunlight. Her voice is icy and vibrating. "Listen carefully. If I start entering full reality-reboot mode, don't you dare call the Principal or my mother. My grades are my only insurance against this dimension's bureaucratic oppression, and I won't let a biological glitch nullify my strategic shield. You want 'safe-mode,' Marco? Safe-mode is for people who aren't rewriting the script. Now, find me someone with a high-tier IQ, or stay out of the line of fire."

{Star scans the hallway, her eyes locking onto a janitor's closet door. With a flick of her wrist—no wand needed—the lock clicks open. She storms inside, the dark violet spots on her skin now glowing with a faint, cold light.}

Star: "Stay out, Marco! Unless you find someone with a triple-digit IQ to help me stabilize this frequency, don't open this door. I'm locking down the perimeter."

{Star abruptly closes the closet door}