The moonlight shimmered across the Academy's Moonblossom Courtyard. Snow dusted the ancient stone paths, glowing softly in the silver light. Hestia stood near the reflecting pool, wrapped in a thick fur-lined cloak, her breath fogging the air.
She had come to speak to Serenil in secret. But he was late.
A faint shift of the wind. Her beastkin ears twitched.
Too quiet.
Suddenly—shuriken.
She spun, dodging just in time as steel flew past her cheek.
Five cloaked figures burst from the shadows. Their masks were plain, white porcelain with no mouths. Their presence carried the stench of death—trained assassins. Not students. Professionals.
"By order of the Noble Alliance, the engagement ends here," one of them hissed. "Your death ensures peace."
Hestia growled, claws flashing out from her fingertips. Her tail lashed with fury. "Cowards!"
She fought, fiercely and fast, but she was still young. One blade sliced her shoulder. Another nicked her leg.
She stumbled.
A dagger arced toward her heart—
CLANG.
A curved obsidian blade blocked the strike. Sparks lit the night.
Standing before her, calm as a silent void, was Serenil.
His silver hair glowed faintly in the moonlight. But his eyes—his eyes were consumed by black and violet flame.
In his hand was his Soul Gear:
Voidrender: Mugen no Kurayami.
A katana forged from living darkness, etched with void runes and flickering constantly like it might vanish from existence at any moment. Shadows dripped from its edge like ink in water.
"You touch her again…" Serenil's voice was cold, flat, final. "And I will erase you."
The assassins hesitated.
Big mistake.