The night air was cold, sharp with the scent of torn earth and burnt magic.
Yujin knelt over the shattered ground, his breathing heavy, arms trembling as the last faint glow from the Herald's black blade faded into the night. Blood trickled from a gash on his shoulder, but his eyes—sharp, clear, and burning with determination—never left the spot where the Herald had stood.
But now, the Herald was gone.
Not dead, not defeated.
Simply vanished.
As if his purpose had been fulfilled.
The moment Yujin's blade met the Herald's in that final clash, a strange pulse had rippled through the ground—shaking trees, rattling the stones underfoot—and then, in the blink of an eye, the figure of the Herald dissolved into a thousand shards of fading light.
Now, all that remained was silence.
Kain rushed to Yujin's side, his sword lowered but still tense. "You're hurt."
"I'm fine," Yujin rasped, though the pain in his arm told a different story.
Sylvia and Mira reached them moments later, their faces pale in the moonlight.
"That was no ordinary scout," Sylvia muttered, scanning the surroundings with wide, wary eyes. "He knew you, Yujin. He called you… the last light of Lee Hajin's bloodline."
Mira knelt beside him, pulling out a small healing capsule from her pouch. "We need to get you treated first."
But Yujin raised a hand weakly. "We need to report this to Headmaster Arcan. The Whisperers—they're not just targeting the Academy. They're after something much older."
He remembered the Herald's parting words:
"The old war never ended. It only slept… waiting for you."
Yujin's fingers clenched the dirt. Why me?
---
By the time they returned to the Academy gates, dawn was creeping across the horizon.
The once-crimson banners fluttering atop Star Academy's towers looked faded, almost fragile against the pale morning light. But the campus below was anything but still.
Cadets rushed across the grounds, faculty gathered in hushed clusters, and armored guild representatives patrolled the perimeter, their faces hard, their weapons at the ready.
The news of the Herald encounter had traveled faster than the team.
Inside the briefing hall, Headmaster Arcan stood waiting. His usual composed expression was carved into something colder—sharper. Around him stood Professor Rowel Vayne, Avelyn Drake, and several guild leaders, their faces drawn with worry.
As Yujin entered, supported by Kain and Mira, the hall fell silent.
"You survived," Arcan said quietly, his eyes flicking over the team. "That is… no small miracle."
Yujin forced a weak smile. "We brought back news."
Sylvia stepped forward, her voice calm but urgent. "The Herald called Yujin by name—by his ancestor's name. He wasn't there to kill us. He was there to test him."
Rowel frowned, folding his arms. "Test?"
Mira added, "And he mentioned the old war."
Avelyn's brow furrowed. "That's not possible. The old war ended centuries ago."
Yujin spoke, his voice low. "Not ended. Buried."
The hall remained quiet for a long moment.
Finally, Arcan spoke. "You've done well. Rest now. We'll need your strength in the days to come."
But as the team turned to leave, Arcan's voice stopped Yujin.
"Stay."
The others hesitated, glancing back—but Yujin gave them a small nod. "Go. I'll catch up."
As the doors closed behind them, Arcan's expression softened—just a fraction.
"You have questions," Arcan murmured, stepping forward.
Yujin swallowed hard. "You knew, didn't you? About my family."
The headmaster was quiet.
Then he said softly, "I knew… there would come a day when the bloodline of Lee Hajin would awaken again. I just didn't expect it to be you."
Yujin's breath caught.
Arcan continued, "Your ancestor sealed the rift that nearly consumed this world. The Whisperers… they are remnants of that era. They've been waiting, biding their time, watching for the moment when the seal would weaken. And you—" his eyes hardened, "—are the key they've been waiting for."
Yujin felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice cracked.
Arcan's gaze softened. "Would you have believed me?"
Yujin fell silent.
No… probably not.
---
Outside, Kain paced under the old oak tree near the training grounds, his jaw tight, his thoughts racing.
Mira sat on a bench nearby, head bowed, fingers nervously tracing the edge of her glove.
Sylvia leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching them both.
"I should've gone in with him," Kain muttered.
Mira looked up. "He asked you not to."
"I don't care!" Kain snapped, then immediately winced. "Sorry. I just… it's Yujin."
Sylvia let out a quiet sigh. "He needs to fight some battles on his own, Kain. You know that."
"I know." His fists clenched. "But it doesn't mean I like it."
A soft rustling behind them made them turn.
Yujin stepped out of the hall, his expression thoughtful, his shoulders slightly slumped.
"Hey," Kain said softly, crossing over. "What did Arcan say?"
Yujin gave a faint smile. "That I'm apparently the key to an ancient war and the Whisperers want me alive." He let out a shaky breath. "No big deal."
Mira stood, touching his arm gently. "We'll face this together."
Sylvia gave a small, crooked smile. "You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not."
For the first time that night, something inside Yujin loosened—a small, tired laugh escaped him.
"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."
---
The next days passed in a blur of preparation.
The Academy transformed.
Training intensified, barriers were reinforced, and cadets were divided into task forces. Guild emissaries arrived daily, bringing supplies, weapons, and reinforcements.
But beneath the surface, unease stirred.
Whispers ran through the dormitories and dining halls.
The Whisperers are coming.
The last war never ended.
Lee Hajin's descendant walks among us.
Yujin did his best to focus, to train, to prepare.
But every night when he lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above, his mind returned to the Herald's words.
"You carry the weight of two worlds, Yujin. Yours… and the one you've yet to awaken."
---
One week later, the Academy bell tolled.
A signal not used in centuries.
The Whisperers had arrived.
They came like shadows across the plains—silent, swift, and countless.
Yujin stood at the front gates, his team beside him, watching as the horizon darkened with figures.
Kain gave a grim smile. "Looks like they didn't want to wait."
Mira slid her gloves on, her expression fierce. "Good. Neither do I."
Sylvia loaded her relic pistol, a quiet determination in her eyes. "Let's end this."
Yujin inhaled slowly, feeling the weight of history settle on his shoulders.
"Let's protect our home," he whispered.
And as the first wave of Whisperers surged forward, Yujin raised his blade—
And charged.
---
The battlefield was chaos.
Steel clashed against claw and fang, spells lit the sky with bursts of fire and lightning, and the ground trembled under the weight of battle.
Yujin moved like a shadow through the fray, his new eye ability—awakened during the fight with the Herald—flashing with each precise strike.
To his left, Kain danced through enemies, his sword a blur of blue light.
To his right, Mira's fists glowed with raw magic, each blow sending Whisperers flying.
Sylvia darted across the backline, firing shot after shot, her gadgets weaving shields and traps across the battlefield.
But despite their strength, the Whisperers kept coming.
Hours passed.
Bodies fell.
Magic thinned.
And then—
A ripple tore through the center of the battlefield.
Yujin spun, eyes narrowing.
The Herald had returned.
But this time, he was not alone.
Behind him rose a figure wreathed in shifting smoke and cold light—a being whose presence made the air itself shudder.
"The Sleeper," the Herald murmured, his voice carrying across the field. "The first of the Forgotten Lords."
Yujin's heart slammed in his chest.
He barely had time to shout a warning before the Sleeper raised a hand—and the ground shattered.
---
The next moments blurred.
Screams.
Light.
The taste of ash on the wind.
When Yujin came to, he was on his knees, his blade buried in the dirt, his body screaming in protest.
But he could still move.
And above him, the Sleeper loomed, eyes like twin suns, a grin splitting its ghostly face.
"You have awakened, child of Hajin," it hissed, voice like thunder and whispers intertwined. "Now let us see if you are worthy."
Yujin's fingers tightened around his sword.
Behind him, Kain rose to his feet, blood on his brow but eyes blazing.
Mira pulled herself up, teeth bared in a snarl.
Sylvia's voice crackled over the comms. "I've got one last plan."
Yujin exhaled.
"Then let's finish this."
---
The final clash was something beyond battle.
It was storm meeting fire.
Old gods against the last light of heroes.
And in that moment, as Yujin leapt, his blade aimed at the Sleeper's heart, he felt it—
The pulse of a thousand years of history.
The hopes of those who came before.
The weight of the world.
And as his blade struck true, the sky split with light.
---
When the dust settled, dawn was breaking over Star Academy.
The Whisperers were gone.
The Sleeper's body had dissolved into mist.
And Yujin stood at the center of the battlefield, surrounded by his friends—bloodied, exhausted, but alive.
They had won.
For now.
As the sun rose, Yujin turned to the horizon, his heart heavy but steady.
The first battle was over.
But the war?