The walls of the room pulsed faintly with ancient magic.
This wasn't a normal teacher's lounge.
This was a command chamber masquerading as coffee break central.
Minerva stood at the window, watching the sunrise slice through the Bandung skyline.
Behind her, AIRA floated silently.
Asvara entered with his usual gait, deliberate, composed, slightly annoyed.
"So," he said without preamble, "another Gate?"
Minerva turned slightly.
"Yes. In Japan. Coordinates: Mt. Osorezan, Aomori Prefecture."
Asvara blinked once.
Then sipped his tea.
"Hell's Gate. How poetic."
"It opens in three days."
"I'll go," Asvara said immediately.
Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"Alone?"
"No," he replied, smiling lightly. "With my… colleagues."
Dorm Rooftop – Night Before Departure
The stars were unusually clear.
Kenji tossed a durian mochi to Riven, who failed to catch it and let it explode against his shirt.
"That's illegal in seven countries," Riven muttered.
Asvara stood near the edge, staring out.
"We're going to Japan."
"We figured," Riven said. "She called you in like some celestial courier."
"We need cover. Tactical variety."
Kenji nodded.
"Weirdly excited about this."
"Lyra?" Riven asked.
Asvara paused.
"She stays here. There's something Minerva must not see."
Flashback – Earlier that day
Asvara slipped a folded note into Lyra's literature book during class.
"When I leave, go to the Archive Chamber under Library Wing C. AIRA will guide you. Find Room V."
"And don't tell Minerva."
Lyra didn't blink. But her fingers tightened slightly.
Back to the present
"So," Riven said. "We're the pieces now?"
"No," Asvara said. "We're the shadow behind the queen."
"Meaning?"
"Minerva thinks she's moving me across the board," he explained.
"But what she doesn't know... is that this isn't her board."
Minerva's Private Chamber – Same time
She observed a projection of the globe, her fingers tracing invisible lines through ley networks.
A Sentinel Core hovered beside her.
"You will move," she whispered. "Because I allow you to."
"Because the God of Disruption still breathes through your curse."
"And because the moment you think you're ahead… will be the moment I already won."
Bandung Airport – 6 hours later
Asvara, Riven, and Kenji stood at the gate.
Riven wore sunglasses indoors.
Kenji carried exactly one suitcase, a custom seal-locked black trunk with Masamune's crest engraved in red.
Asvara wore a navy coat, hair tied back, holding a pocketwatch that didn't tick.
"This is more than a trip," he muttered. "This is a declaration."
Kenji leaned in.
"So what's the real plan?"
"Minerva sent us to stop a Gate," Asvara replied, "which means she needs it closed or wants us to believe that."
"So what do you want to do?"
Asvara smirked.
"I want to leave it open. Just a little."
Riven's eyes widened.
"You're baiting Isorropia."
"No," Asvara said. "I'm baiting the truth."
Inside Minerva's Chambers
Minerva stared into her tea.
"The difference between a strategist and a god…" she whispered, "is that a god doesn't have to play fair."
Behind her, a Sentinel glyph flickered.
But beneath her teacup… A symbol carved in the porcelain.
Not Greek. Not Roman.
Spartan.
Aomori, Japan – Arrival
Cold. Silent. Sacred.
Snow drifted like falling ash across the ancient hills surrounding Mt. Osorezan.
It was said that the mountain was a liminal space where the souls of the dead whispered to the living, and the wind itself carried the echo of those long gone.
A long black vehicle stopped in front of a crimson torii gate, ancient and cracked by time, yet proud.
The door opened with a soft hiss, releasing a puff of warmth into the freezing air.
Three stepped out.
Asvara Regalia, eternal strategist.
Riven Takarashi, death-bound immortal.
Kenji Mori, blood of warriors.
All three stood still for a moment as snowflakes kissed their shoulders.
Then the sounds of disciplined footsteps echoed from the temple stairway.
Dozens of robed retainers stood on either side of the long path, their heads bowed, eyes to the ground.
And at the center of it all stood Ishikawa Mori, the Patriach of the Mori Clan, and Kenji's father.
A man forged in the mold of ancient daimyos, yet draped in the subtle elegance of modern nobility.
His hair was tied high, streaked with silver.
His dark hakama flowed like liquid shadow.
His gaze, however, softened when it landed on only one among the three.
Not his son.
But Asvara.
He stepped forward, then bowed.
Deep. Uncompromising. Total.
"Regalia-sama," Ishikawa said, his voice cutting through the mountain air like a blade of respect. "Welcome home."
Riven tilted his head slightly.
Kenji blinked in confusion.
"Did my dad just call him sama?"
"Shut up," Riven whispered. "This is historic."
Asvara returned the bow lightly, a master gesture from someone who understood the politics of reverence.
"Ishikawa-chan," he replied, his tone like porcelain. "Your flame still burns clean."
"CHAN??!!!", Kenji almost scream if Riven doesn't hold Kenji's mouth with his hourglass
Mori Estate – Central Shrine
The trio was led through the courtyard, under hanging lanterns and stone-carved dragons.
The shrine they entered was not grand in size but in presence.
Every inch hummed with reverent silence.
At the center of the shrine stood an altar.
Upon it lay a sealed scroll wrapped in deep red silk, glowing faintly with spiritual aura.
But what dominated the room was the etched battle mural behind the altar, a massive relief carved into obsidian stone.
It depicted Asvara, clad in tattered armor, facing down an army alone and his silhouette surrounded by the broken corpses of demons.
Above him, a sword glowed in divine light: Sensō no Uta.
Kenji froze at the sight.
"You… that's you."
"That battle was 1,420 years ago," Asvara said simply. "In Tōhoku. The demon host of the Northern Abyss."
"The sword was gifted to me by Masamune after I returned with every warrior intact."
"He named it Sensō no Uta — The Song of War."
Ishikawa approached the altar and gently picked up the scroll.
"This is a Divine Message from the Aomori branch," he said. "Delivered yesterday. No courier. No message spell. It simply... appeared."
Asvara opened it without hesitation.
The ink moved on its own, forming glowing characters in midair, the spiritual calligraphy of the old world.
"To the One Who Walks Eternity — Regalia.
The Gate is forming.
Beneath the breath of Osorezan, it takes shape, but not alone.
A Named Rook guards it.
He is called Zakuro.
Once a warrior. Now a Warden.
He remembers too little, and kills too easily.
Do not strike him with steel.
Strike him with 剣心 (The Heart of the Sword).
He was one of us."— Masamune
The room fell silent.
AIRA's voice echoed in Asvara's ear:
"Zakuro. Identity confirmed. Former commander in the Fifth Division, Shadowblade Order. Status: Missing since 1428 AD."
"Soul deterioration: 78%. Memory decay: critical. Recommended approach: mnemonic reconstruction."
Kenji shook his head slowly.
"I know the stories. Zakuro was rumored to have burned down an entire region to stop a cursed Gate."
"He wasn't evil," Riven said. "He was... broken."
Asvara closed the scroll and looked to Ishikawa.
"Is the Gate stable?"
"Not yet," Ishikawa replied. "But it breathes. Our seers say it sings to the mountain."
"Then we strike before it opens," Asvara said.
"Not to destroy it. Not yet."
"But to speak to the man inside the monster."
Private Chamber – Mori Estate, Nightfall
The room assigned to Asvara overlooked a frozen koi pond.
Inside, a soft spiritual mist filtered through the paper walls.
He sat cross-legged, Sensō no Uta resting across his lap.
Its blade still sheathed in a lacquered scabbard carved with ancient runes.
AIRA hovered beside him, shimmering blue.
"He knows your presence," she said.
"Zakuro?" Asvara asked.
"No," AIRA replied. "The mountain."
"It welcomes you."
A soft knock.
Kenji entered, still wearing formal robes.
He stood quietly before speaking.
"They still tell stories about you," he said. "In our temples. In our scrolls."
"But seeing you here... with the sword… It's different."
"They see a god."
Asvara didn't respond right away.
Then he looked up — eyes calm but heavy.
"I'm not a god, Kenji."
"I'm the one who remembers what gods forgot."
"That's why the sword answers only me."
Kenji sat across from him.
"Why didn't you ever use it until now?"
"Because a song of war should not be sung lightly."
"And because… once you draw it, you promise it blood."
The silence stretched between them, not awkward, but respectful.
Then AIRA blinked red.
"Warning. Interference detected."
"High anomaly activity in the forest perimeter. Probability: 91% that it is Zakuro."
Asvara stood, the mist shifting around him.
"It begins."
AIRA's alert still echoed faintly in the room.
But before they moved, Asvara placed a hand gently on the sheath of Sensō no Uta, almost in ritual.
Kenji stood to follow him, but paused when Asvara turned slightly.
"Kenji," Asvara said without looking. "Do you know how old I was when I first held this sword?"
"Seventeen?" Kenji guessed.
"Seventeen," Asvara echoed with a wry smile. "As always."
Then silence.
Kenji tilted his head. "What's with the nostalgia?"
Asvara finally turned to him fully, eyes softer now, less like a general, more like something deeper.
Something ancient.
"I was there the day you were born," he said.
Kenji blinked.
"Wait, what?"
"Your father invited me to visit the temple that day. Your anomaly flared while you were still crying in the crib."
"You... saw my anomaly?"
"Felt it," Asvara replied. "It clung to your spirit like wildfire."
"So I told Ishikawa-chan... train him. No hesitation. No pampering. Raise him with warrior's resolve."
Kenji was silent now, staring.
"That's why he's always pushed me so hard," he muttered.
Asvara nodded.
"Because he trusted me."
"He told you I was the son of an old friend. A promise to be fulfilled."
"But you never wondered why he would bow to someone like me?"
Kenji opened his mouth, but words didn't come.
Asvara gave a faint, amused smile.
"You are the descendant of Masamune."
"But I..." he stepped forward, past Kenji. "I was the only one he ever called his rival."
And just before Asvara left the room, he added one last truth not to be understood today, but maybe someday:
"I don't just know your bloodline, Kenji."
"I've bled beside it."
Then he vanished into the corridor — shadow over snow — the strategist of ten thousand lifetimes moving once again toward war.
Liberium International – Late Night
The campus was silent, bathed in the amber glow of distant lamplights.
Crickets murmured between trees.
The wind carried the scent of old ink and whispering parchment.
In the heart of Library Wing C, Lyra Anandita moved with caution, hoodie on, phone in hand, and resolve carved deep into her steps.
"Alright AIRA," she whispered. "Where exactly is Room V?"
AIRA's voice chimed from her phone.
"Down the hall, third door to the left. It may appear locked — it is not."
"Creepy."
"Accurate."
She stopped in front of an unmarked wooden door.
Strange enough it had no handle.
But when she stepped closer, the door opened silently on its own.
Inside was cold, unnaturally so.
Books floated midair in rigid stasis, like they had been paused mid-sentence.
Faint light flowed from ceiling cracks in the form of runic patterns.
And there, at the far end of the chamber, stood a console made of obsidian and brass.
AIRA appeared as a hologram beside it and her Egyptian priestess form now rendered in full detail.
"This, Miss Anandita," she said with a calm smile, "is Room V. Archive Sector: Hidden Protocol Layer."
"And my task?" Lyra asked.
"To make Minerva think you are here to force open a gate using the data in this sector."
"But I'm not?"
"No."
"You're Zhao Yun."
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"The guy who solo-rescued Liu Bei's son during an ambush in Changban?"
"Yes."
"Asvara named this maneuver 'Zhao Yun the Great Babysitter'."
"Of course he did," she muttered, grinning despite herself.
Elsewhere – Observatory Hall
Minerva stood near a massive crystal sphere, eyes narrowed as spiritual telemetry spiked on her interface.
"Hm…"
"Energy fluctuation. Library Wing C. Room V."
A faint smirk tugged at her lips.
"So... they think they can awaken the gate remotely."
She turned to her Sentinel projection.
"Deploy passive scan. They're trying to bypass Zakuro."
"Fools."
Back in Room V
Lyra sat cross-legged beside the console, watching data pulse and spiral through spectral veins.
"You sure she's buying this?"
"Minerva is brilliant but not undefeated."
"She expects you to act impulsively. She expects Regalia to trust no one. So by acting in direct defiance of that pattern..."
"She believes it."
"Precisely."
AIRA flickered.
"This strategy is part of a larger structure — The Queen's Gambit."
"So… I'm the queen?"
"You are the move that costs the least… but seems to cost the most."
Lyra raised a brow. "That's oddly comforting."
"But every great gambit has two parts."
"The piece that dies in plain sight…"
"…and the trap that wins the war."
Lyra stared at the glowing spiral of magic before her.
And for a brief moment, just one second, she felt something stir in her chest.
Not a memory.
Not a vision.
But a pull.
Like a string from long ago had just been plucked.
And somewhere deep in her soul… a name echoed faintly.
"Yù Lán Huā…"