The world looked to be holding its breath in the quiet of the air, not the type of stillness that calms everything.
With their legs dangling over the edge, Ren and Noah were seated on the training dome's sloping top edge. Stretching distant below were the academy grounds, in silence. A handful of students passed along in the distant terrace, heads down-the sorry excuse of a frow-and no one would dare engage in eye contact today.
Ren held a plastic cup of flat cola in one hand. The cup was half-crushed. The fizz had long died—just like the taste.
Noah sipped from his own, grimacing slightly. "Tastes like regret."
Ren smirked. "You picked it."
"Yeah, and I regret it like every choice I've made since I joined this school."
They sat in silence for a moment, the sky overhead painted a clear, empty blue. Not a single cloud in sight.
Then Noah leaned back against the dome, his voice casual—but carrying something heavier underneath.
"Y'know… there's this story. They say seven stars fell to Earth once. Not just comets or space rocks—real stars. Each one searching for a human."
Ren glanced at him. "The War of Myths thing?"
"Yep. Seven divine lights, each choosing a person to carry a legendary myth. Hercules. Gilgamesh. Arjuna. Stuff like that. Whoever survives the war gets one wish granted—any wish. Absolute." He paused. "It's a cool tale. Sounds fake as hell, but I like it."
Ren leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So, it's basically a fantasy death match sponsored by the cosmos?"
"Exactly." Noah grinned.
"But," Ren added, "there are over 100,000 magicians alive right now. And not all of them are weak. The chances of us being chosen are... microscopic."
"Yeah." Noah nodded. "And even among them, only a few bloodlines can handle Myth Synchronization. We're nobodies in that pool."
Ren was quiet for a second, watching the wind barely nudge a branch.
"…Still," he said, "what if I did get chosen?"
Noah nearly spit out his drink. "You?"
Ren didn't flinch. "Yeah. Me."
Noah turned fully toward him. "Okay, first of all—bold. Second—hilarious. Third—you've never even told me what you'd wish for."
Ren didn't smile. His voice dropped an octave.
"Easy."
"Kill 99% of all magicians."
"Leave only 1,000 alive. Then… hunt them myself. Erase the bloodlines completely."
A cold silence fell. The kind that made the air taste metallic.
Noah blinked slowly. "You're actually serious…"
Ren didn't answer. Just stared at the horizon like it owed him something.
Noah sat back against the dome, eyes wide. "Dude. That's not a wish. That's genocide."
"It's peace." Ren's voice was calm—too calm. "If all the bloodlines die out, the cycle ends. No more wars. No more ego contests. Just… silence."
Noah let out a long breath. "You've really got something broken in your head, don't you?"
Ren nodded slightly. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm the only one thinking clearly."
He laid back, folding his arms beneath his head, the sun catching the edge of his face. "Most people want change. I want endings."
"…That's messed up," Noah said. "But weirdly good. Still—why? Why do you want to kill all the mages?"
Ren closed his eyes. "I don't want them to suffer from this war. I want to give them real freedom. And in my view, this is freedom. That's just what makes sense in my head."
A few seconds passed.
Noah lay down beside him, mirroring his posture. The rooftop's concrete was cold, even with their uniforms.
"Wanna hear my wish?"
"No." Ren didn't open his eyes.
"Too bad." Noah smirked. "I want real love."
Ren's brow lifted slightly. "That's… generic."
"No, not the fake kind. Not obsession or lust or that 'you complete me' nonsense. I want the real thing. The kind that stays after pain. After loss. After knowing everything bad about a person."
Ren opened one eye, unimpressed. "So… you're confused between love and attachment."
Noah groaned. "Ugh, no. I just don't know how to tell the difference. Every time I think I've found it… it turns out to be neediness. Or loneliness. Or some weird emotional co-dependency."
"Insecure," Ren muttered.
"Not insecure!" Noah pouted. "Just… emotionally confused."
"That's what insecure people say."
Noah sighed dramatically. "Ren, I swear, you are impossible."
Ren gave a tiny smirk. "And you're an idiot."
"Well," Noah grinned, "I'm the best."
"The best idiot I know," Ren said, eyes closed again.
"Thank you," Noah said proudly.
They both lay there for a while. Not talking. Just watching the sky shift to orange.
The moment held—quiet, strange, peaceful. Like the last inhale before something inevitable.
And far above them, beyond sound, beyond time—
Something had already begun.
Far above Earth, beyond satellites and stars, where the planet's rotation tilted away from Orion, something changed.
It wasn't a sound.
It wasn't light.
It was absence.
A gap opened in space—not a hole, not a rift—an erasure.
Reality peeled back like paper burned at the edges.
In its place: void.
Not dead space.
Not nothing.
Something deeper. A zone where reality had never existed.
And in that void—something pulsed.
Not energy.
Not matter.
Something greater. A force from the folds between existence and idea, in the seams of the multiverse.
A pulse.
Then another.
A rhythm, slow and cosmic. Like a heartbeat older than time.
From that pulse, form took shape.
No colour—yet it glowed.
No edges—yet it expanded.
No substance—yet it was.
A container. Forged not from atoms but from thought, will, law, and destiny—shaped by a watching force.
At its centre:
A light.
Golden. Blinding. Perfect.
From that centre, waves of thought radiated.
Not noise.
Not voice.
A summon.
It cascaded downward—
Through law and logic.
Through dreams.
Through dimensions.
Through abstraction.
Until—
It reached the bottom.
Our world.
And then—
Time stopped.
Hearts froze mid-beat.
Lungs paused.
Forks hung above untouched plates.
Birds halted mid-flight.
Words vanished mid-syllable.
The wind itself forgot to move.
The world was paused.
Except—
Seven lights.
They emerged from the void—not like stars, not like meteors.
They moved silently.
Without trail.
Without heat.
Not light—
Selection.
They were myths.
Seven.
Wrapped in echoes of forgotten legends.
Each bearing the weight of gods, kings, monsters, saints.
They split—
Scattered across Earth.
Not seeking power.
Not fame.
But resolve.
Conviction.
Potential.
Then—
One found a host.
Euler von Shila.
A young man walking to the market, thinking of nothing special.
The light struck him—
Not like lightning.
Like truth.
It pierced bone, soul, self.
Did not knock. Did not ask.
It entered.
Time resumed—
Only for him.
Birds were still. People frozen. Streets paused.
Euler laughed—
Manic. Breathless. Trembling.
"Yes! Yes's! I'm chosen! I'm the one!"
He dropped to his knees. Tears fell.
"They'll remember me… Mom… Dad… you'll see."
He chose.
"I pick the myth of Hercules."
The light pulsed—
And everything broke.
Pain. Not of body. Not of mind.
Deeper.
Limbs twisted. Skin cracked, glowing.
Twelve Labors crushed his soul.
He screamed—
But no sound came.
He saw Cerberus.
The Nemean Lion.
The Hydra.
His heart burst.
His last thought:
"I'm sorry… Mom… Dad…"
Euler von Shila died.
The myth left him.
Unimpressed.
It moved on.
Dozens more failed.
Time resumed—briefly—for each.
None survived.
Some panicked.
Some chose wrong.
Some vanished.
No names would be remembered.
Until—
Time pulsed again.
Gently.
For two more.
Ren's eyes opened.
He gasped.
The air was thick. Alive.
His hands—glowing.
He turned—
Noah stood still, eyes wide.
No words.
None needed.
They understood.
Chosen.
The War of the Stars had begun.
And they were now part of it.