The wind stirred dry leaves across the rooftop of the Academy, where Reika stood with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the bleeding horizon. The sky burned gold—a fleeting silence before the storm. Behind him, boots crunched against gravel.
Kaien plopped down onto the ledge beside him, ever casual. Zariel followed, posture as sharp as his coat's creases.
"You've been quiet," Kaien said. "Which usually means you're in love, cursed, or in denial. Sometimes all three."
Reika didn't look at them. "They're not just random mercs, are they?"
Zariel's expression darkened. "They call themselves Bloodcore. Fanatics. Soldiers without banners, all trying to impress a ghost."
Kaien smirked. "Azoth. Thinks if he frees Asmodai, he'll earn himself a seat at Hell's high table."
"They're the one's that've been coming after me for months," Reika muttered, jaw tight.
"And you've handled it," Zariel said calmly. "That's why we didn't tell you. We've been cleaning up their outposts on the edges. You've held your ground."
Reika ran a hand through his hair, sweat drying in the breeze. "And the ones I haven't seen yet?"
"They're getting bolder," Kaien said. "To them, you're not just the key. You're the lock. The vault. The whole damn door."
"And if they're right?"
"Then stop being bait," Zariel said. "Start being a hunter."
A long silence passed.
Reika exhaled. "Fine. But if anyone asks, my cover story's 'family emergency.' I'm not dragging more people into this."
"Too late," Kaien muttered under his breath.
---
Down by the dorms, Kairo was draped upside down on a bench, boots sticking skyward like broken antennae.
Reika approached, hands in pockets. "You look comfortable."
"Physically? Yes. Emotionally? No." Kairo flipped upright with a grunt. "Farl's still twitchy. Sleeps at sunrise. Paces all night like a cursed metronome."
"Side effects?" Reika asked.
"Of whatever the hell she touched? Probably. Caught her gnawing on silverware. A fork, Reika. Not metaphorically."
He winced. "Tell her I'll come by tonight."
"She'd like that. More than she likes herself right now." Kairo squinted at him. "You good?"
"I'm fine."
"You smell like tension and romantic confusion. Don't lie."
He raised an eyebrow. "What does romantic confusion smell like?"
"Burnt cinnamon. And regret," Kairo deadpanned. "Good luck with the girls. All three of them."
Reika froze. "Three?"
Kairo grinned as he walked off. "Counting your emotional damage as one."
---
The training courtyard pulsed with heat and low wind. Reika wiped sweat from his brow, catching his breath between drills, when he felt the familiar hum of trouble approaching.
"Still getting beat up by your own sword?" came Vivi's voice—bright, teasing.
She tossed him a chilled juice can. He caught it midair.
"You're back," he said, unable to hide his grin.
"Yup. Miss anything? Besides someone letting Mira cozy up next to them at lunch every day?"
"Mira's just... being friendly."
"Oh sure," Vivi sipped. "I'm very familiar with the kind of 'friendly' that includes eyelash-batting and wound-dressing."
He chuckled awkwardly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Exactly," she muttered, cheeks puffing as she looked away. "Anyway! Training time. You. Me. Wooden weapons. Emotional stakes I'll pretend aren't there."
Before he could protest, she dragged him to the sparring circle.
Above them, Mira watched from a second-story balcony, her expression unreadable—except for the faint slip in her smile.
---
The clash of wooden swords echoed through the courtyard. Reika spun defensively, barely keeping pace. Vivi was fast—annoyingly so.
"You got quicker," he panted, ducking.
"And you got sloppier," she shot back. "Distracted much?"
"I've got a lot going on."
"Oh, like who to fall for?" she said, striking low, then high. "Eyes on me, Reika."
He stumbled, caught off-guard, and she used the moment to elbow his shoulder, sending him off balance. He fell back—and she caught him by the collar.
Their faces hovered inches apart. Time paused.
Her eyes widened. "...Uhhh."
"I—uh—" he began, words failing.
She released him too quickly, color rising in her cheeks. "That's enough training for today! Gotta go! Bye!"
She bolted, heart hammering like a war drum in her chest.
---
Later that night, Reika sat atop the rooftop again, silence pressing in. The stars were dim. The wind restless.
Mira joined him, ghost-quiet, her presence steady.
"She likes you," she said at last.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm starting to see that."
"Do you like her?"
He hesitated.
Mira smiled—soft, and infinitely sad. "It's okay. I'm not... interested in competing."
"You're not?"
"I said I'm not," she replied. "Didn't say I don't care."
He turned to look at her—and saw the weight in her eyes. Felt it press against his chest.
And then came Kaien, because timing was dead to him.
"Love triangle alert!" he called, striding over with his signature swagger. "Want me to solve this the Kaien way?"
"No," Reika groaned.
Kaien grinned, undeterred. "Easy. Date both. Keep a mysterious third girl on standby. That way, when the first two fight, the third one wins by default. Like a tournament."
Zariel appeared behind him with a sigh. "Your third girl literally robbed you and left you in a tree."
"She was resourceful."
"She stole your boots, Kaien."
"Yeah," Kaien muttered. "Still miss those boots."
Reika buried his face in his hands as they bickered, but somewhere beneath the chaos, he found himself smiling.
Even so, the laughter didn't quite reach his chest. Not all the way. Because Vivi had started to fight for him.
And Mira was trying not to.
Absolutely—here's the next chapter following the style and tone you've established: cinematic, emotional, suspenseful, with tension and dread mounting as Reika begins to feel the true weight of the war pressing in.
Chapter Title: "Blue Blood and Broken Glass"
The wind howled colder that night. Like it knew something was about to go wrong.
Reika walked the quiet road to Farl's house, hands deep in his pockets, mind drifting. He tried not to think about Mira's words. Or Vivi's hand on his collar. Or Kaien's ridiculous love triangle advice.
But the silence tonight wasn't peaceful.
It was watching.
Farl lived in the eastern quarter of the Academy—a row of old stone houses meant for students with off-campus clearance. Her door was usually cracked open, a lamp flickering from inside. Tonight, it was shut. No light. No sound.
Reika stepped up to the front porch and paused.
Something was wrong.
His eyes narrowed as he reached for the handle. It creaked open under his touch—unlocked. A cold breeze slipped past him, brushing against the back of his neck like a whisper.
The smell hit him first.
Not rot. Not human blood.
Something colder. Metallic. Wrong.
He stepped inside.
"…Farl?" he called softly.
No response.
He moved through the front room carefully, stepping over scattered notes, potion bottles, and an overturned chair. Something had rushed through here—fast and violent.
Then he saw the trail.
Drops of blue blood. Glowing faintly, like moonlight caught in water. Leading toward the staircase.
"Farl," he said again, louder.
Still nothing.
He climbed the stairs two at a time. At the top, the hallway door was ajar. Her room was behind it.
The smell was stronger now—like scorched earth and wet iron. Reika hesitated.
Demon Wolf.
He didn't know how he knew. But his body remembered it. Like an old scar that throbbed in the rain. That scent. That presence.
He pushed the door open.
Glass crunched under his boots.
Her window was shattered inward—glass embedded in the wall like shrapnel. Curtains torn down. A table splintered in half. A long gash across the floorboards, as if something with claws had carved through it.
The air became colder, reika's fear grew larger, and without warning, a distant howl came to life.
Farl was in trouble, or maybe she was trouble.