At the start of the week, Sennet appeared beside Zein as if he had always been there, casually resting an arm over his shoulder with shameless familiarity.
—Hi! —he sang with an energy that seemed to know no limits.
—Hello, Sennet —Zein replied with a gentle smile.
—Good morning, Zein —Zanna greeted before heading over to Chloe.
Until then, Zein had barely noticed her beyond her unusual name, but for some reason his gaze lingered on her… or rather, on the golden curls caught somewhere between order and chaos, shining as if born from a stubborn sunny day that refused to fade. Her warm amber eyes shifted when she felt Zein staring. Zanna blinked and turned her head awkwardly, lifting a hand to her cheek to hide the blush betraying her.
Zein didn't fully understand the situation, but he did realize he might have been staring too much.
The teacher walked into the classroom, and the murmurs vanished instantly.
Sennet, as always, kept talking the moment they sat down; he seemed to have enough energy to power the entire building. Dian, unbothered, continued writing in his notebook, ignoring him with an elegance that bordered on serene.
—Mr. Sennet —said Shaundyl without even looking at him as he raised a hand—, you'd get better grades if you invested your energy in something useful instead of… whatever it is that you do.
A conjured pebble appeared between his fingers, floated for a moment, and then shot straight at Sennet's forehead with surgical precision.
—Ow! Professor! —Sennet complained, bringing a hand to his face.
—Enough distractions —Shaundyl continued calmly—. Today, you'll be focusing solely on your upcoming exams. Nothing else matters. Follow me.
The group followed him toward the academy's second level. The floating crystals in the sky refracted fragments of light that moved like tiny living mirrors, scattering colors across the polished walls and floors.
Zein felt the air grow cooler there, as if the magic of the place breathed alongside them.
They arrived at a green clearing that didn't quite fit the idea of a training field. There was overturned soil, mounds, and holes scattered around, yet every one of them was covered in grass that grew against all logic. It looked like the kind of place where nature itself was alive and watching them.
The group began talking and wandering everywhere, paying absolutely no attention to Shaundyl. Sennet was imitating the sound of the wind to see if he could make Zanna laugh. Chloe and Dian were arguing over who was going to fail first.
The professor, silently, raised a metallic cylinder toward the sky.
Zein barely had time to notice the cold gleam of the object before a brutal crash exploded through the air.
A metallic thunder cut through every conversation. Hidden birds burst out of the trees in a frantic wave.
The silence that followed was inmediate.
Zein blinked, feeling a sharp ringing stick to his ears, as if the sound had decided to take up residence there. Instinctively, he pressed a hand against his ear while trying to regain his sense of reality.
There were more of those artifacts lined up on a wooden rack, like sleeping weapons waiting for someone to wake them. They were long shafts of wood, nearly as tall as any of them, rough and heavy, with one end reinforced to rest on the shoulder. At the tip, an open iron mouth stared forward with unsettling patience.
Shaundyl, now with everyone's attention secured thanks to the blast, picked one up with the ease of someone who had repeated that process hundreds of times.
—Pay attention —he said showing what he had in his hand, -This is a musket-
On the side of the weapon, a small metal mechanism caught Zein's eye. It was a receptacle where the professor poured a fine black powder, like charcoal crushed down to smoke. It wasn't magic; the professor didn't need an arcane gesture, only friction, metal, and a spark.
When he activated the mechanism, the artifact roared.
A sharp thunder burst from within, followed by a brief flash that tore through the air. A thick puff of bitter smoke wrapped around the weapon before slowly dispersing. From that explosion, a small lead sphere had been fired, launched with a brutal speed that left the air trembling.
Zein felt his chest tighten. The sound had pierced through his ears and into something else… something that didn't belong to that place.
"Silence."
The voice cracked inside his mind like old wood splitting under the rain—rough, damp, far too close.
Zein immediately pressed his hands against his ears, breathing in short, shaky bursts.
—Did you hear that? —he asked Sennet in a low voice.
—Hear what? —Sennet grinned, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.
—I mean… did you… —Zein began, unsure.
Sennet cut him off with an excited gesture.
—Oh, yes, I heard it! Did you see that? What an incredible weapon! If you hit someone with that thing, it'd probably send them flying —he said, laughing, fascinated.
Zein went still. Sennet was talking about the thunder from the weapon. Not the voice.
Shaundyl carried on, unaware of what Zein had just experienced. The curtain of smoke was still fading when the professor reloaded the weapon with movements so precise they seemed rehearsed a thousand times.
He poured the dark powder back into the cold barrel. Then he let a lead sphere fall inside, the sound echoing hollowly as it hit the bottom. With a long, slender metal rod, he pushed the charge down until it was tightly packed, tapping the end with a single, sharp clack. Finally, he opened the small metal tray beside the trigger and sprinkled in a pinch of even finer powder.
—Good —he announced, looking at each of his students in turn—. This exercise will test your accuracy.
He raised a hand, and from his palm small spherical stone figures began to emerge, floating in the air as if they possessed a life of their own.
—These flying golems will grade you on my behalf —he said calmly.
Seeing them start to move, the whole class tensed in preparation. Nervous murmurs rippled through the group as each student grabbed a weapon, trying their best to mimic the professor's motions. Many of them had already worked with these kinds of weapons before; some even picked them up with the ease of someone handling an old, familiar tool. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed across the area, mixing with the smell of freshly burned powder. Zein, however, felt each blast like a direct hit to his ears.
He gripped the musket, trying to copy Shaundyl's movements, but the weapon felt foreign in his hands—heavy, stubborn, unwilling. His fingers trembled every time someone else's shot rang out nearby. His entire body tightened on instinct.
A few meters away, Kiomi reloaded with the ease of breathing. Her posture was firm, her gaze cold and precise. Every shot she fired punched through the center of the target as if she already knew the outcome before pulling the trigger. Even with a bow, her arrows followed the same pattern: perfect draw, perfect release, perfect impact. Kiomi moved with technical elegance, like someone who had practiced since childhood.
And then there was Zein.
He imitated the stance, the angle of the arm, the reloading motions… but every shot veered off course. Some clipped the weak wooden stand, others didn't even reach the target at all. It was as if the weapon simply refused to cooperate with him.
Zanna, who had already finished her test, watched him from a distance. She had inherited much of her skill from the hunter guild she came from; for her, holding a weapon was as natural as breathing.
She walked over as Zein attempted yet another failed shot.
—You're doing it wrong —she said calmly, leaning in slightly to get a better look.
—Thanks, I hadn't noticed —Zein replied with a tired smile.
—I don't mean missing —she added, stepping even closer.
She took his hands gently, adjusting his fingers one by one. Her touch was precise, firm but careful.
—First, your hand. Keep it away from the pan —she said, guiding his arm with practiced ease—. If you leave it there, you're going to hurt yourself.
Zein swallowed hard. The weapon felt lighter when she guided him.
—Now rest it properly on your shoulder. The kick's going there, not to your face. Trust me.
—But… what if something jumps at my face? —Zein asked, leaning back slightly on instinct.
Zanna let out a small laugh.
—Dummy. Do you think they'd give us faulty firearms? —her eyes shimmered with a mix of teasing and gentle confidence—. Keep your eyes on the target. Don't hesitate. If you hesitate, you miss.
Zein tried to focus, but something distracted him: Zanna was very close. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her, the faint scent of fresh herbs clinging to her clothes, and the slight tremor she didn't seem aware of.
Zanna noticed it all at once.
She stepped back immediately, bringing a hand to her mouth as she pretended to cough, her cheeks lightly flushed.
—Um… right… —she said as she straightened— I'll let you shoot.
And even though she had stepped away, her hands had left Zein in the perfect stance. For the first time, the musket didn't feel nearly as rebellious.
When he fired, Zein hit the target; not the center, but the impact was far better than any of his previous attempts. The recoil rattled his arms, yet he lowered the musket with a wide smile.
—I hit it! —he said, almost laughing.
Zanna looked at him with a bright expression, as if his progress pleased her more than the result of the exercise itself.
—Good! —Shaundyl shouted to gather everyone's attention—. For the rest of the day, you'll stay here organizing and cleaning the weapons. Once you're done, you may leave. I recommend getting real rest, because tomorrow's exam is going to be exhausting.
The professor walked off, followed by his floating golems, leaving the class in a constant murmur as they began disassembling, checking, and polishing the muskets. Old smoke and powder clung to the air, sticking to their clothes.
—What's the stick called? —Zein asked as he examined one of the pieces.
—This one? —Zanna said, lifting the rod with ease—. It's called a ramrod. It's used for…
The explanation stretched on without hurry. The two of them ended up talking about all sorts of things as they cleaned, their voices blending with the metallic clatter of weapons being put away by the rest of the group. At some point, most of the class had already finished, yet the two of them kept chatting as if time had slowed down just for them.
Suddenly, light footsteps broke the steady rhythm of the room.
—Big brother! —Lyra exclaimed as she threw herself into Zein's arms.
—Lyra, what are you doing here? —he asked, returning the hug gently.
—I came to get you so we can go back to the dorm —she answered with a smile brighter than the dim light around them.
—Who's she? —Sennet asked as he approached, curiosity written all over his face.
—She's my sister.
Sennet froze and stared at him, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to evaluate something only he could see.
—You haven't done anything weird… right? —he asked with distrust in his voice, drilling his gaze into Zein.
—Of course not, she's my sister.
—Hmm.
Sennet backed away slowly, still doubtful, as if expecting Zein to suddenly confess to something ridiculous at any moment.
After arranging the weapons and putting away the tools, everyone headed to their dorms. The silence in the hallway clashed with the growing tension in the air; nobody said anything, yet everyone was thinking the same question: what would tomorrow bring?
And so that day arrived.
Every year group—A, B, C, and D—had been gathered in the same place: the outskirts of a forest so dense the light seemed to barely bite its way between the trees.
The next exam was a combat trial. Not a simulation, but an actual confrontation. Each group—A, B, C, and D—could divide into smaller squads to venture into the forest. They would be provided with weapons, ammunition, and everything necessary to fight the creatures that lived there. Although the monsters weren't particularly dangerous, a single careless mistake could escalate things fast; that was why the instructors stayed alert to intervene if anything went wrong. Lucian was there as well, watching with a calmness that only made the anxious students even more uneasy.
Each monster had a specific value, and by reaching a certain score, the students would pass the exam. Zein's group of friends began gearing up: he took a simple sword, the cold metal still not quite feeling like his own; Zanna carried a musket with the effortless familiarity of someone who had lived through more than a few hunts; Sennet hefted a sturdy shield along with a mace that rested heavily in his hand; the rest grabbed whatever weapons and supplies they could carry without getting in one another's way.
Once the signal was given, everyone rushed into the forest in a chaotic stampede. Kiomi immediately stood out again: her threads shimmered like living silver, and in the blink of an eye she was already far ahead, slipping between branches and shadows in search of high-value creatures.
Zein's group moved with much more caution, hunting low-scoring monsters. Zanna led the way; her experience showed in the way she read the forest, spotting tracks the others couldn't even notice. With every precise shot she fired, another chance for points fell among the dry leaves.
At one point, they came across a creature with a considerably higher value. Zanna raised her musket slowly, taking a deep breath, aiming with the kind of precision only someone who knows how to listen to the forest's silence can summon.
—Go on, shoot it —pressed Sennet from behind, impatient.
—Shut up, I need to focus —she replied without taking her eyes off the target.
—Don't miss.
—I know.
She fired. The thunder cracked between the trees and the monster fell with a harsh cry, a grotesque mix between a gargoyle and a goblin. The bullet had pierced its leg, stopping it from moving.
—It looks awful —Sennet said, poking it with a branch as if expecting it to bite.
—Looks like you —Zanna murmured with a barely contained smile.
—Hey!
—All right, all right. Let's finish it off and look for more —said Zein, approaching cautiously while the monster writhed uselessly on the ground.
But in the span of a blink, the monster vanished from where it had been lying. Everyone froze, turning their heads in every direction as they searched among leaves and roots. Dark droplets began falling from above, marking the ground like thick ink. When they looked up, they saw it: the monster was hanging from a tree, tied up with barely visible threads and held aloft like a freshly hunted trophy.
And the one holding it was Kiomi.
—Hey! That's ours! —shouted Zein.
—Whoever finds it keeps it —Kiomi replied with a mocking smile, tilting her head slightly.
—But we found it first! —Zein insisted, pointing at her, indignant.
—Oh, really? —Kiomi said, the smile never leaving her face—. My mistake.
And without further explanation, she bolted through the trees. Zein reacted instantly and chased after her, leaving his group behind.
—Zein! —they called out, but it was useless; he was already too far, devouring the distance with ridiculous determination.
Both of them darted through the forest at such speed that not even the golems—the floating guardians left by the professors to protect the students—could keep up. They moved like shadows, branches snapping around them, the ground sinking beneath each stride, the air sliced by their ragged breaths. They ran like that for a long while, until the forest's green grew denser, darker, deeper.
Kiomi stopped abruptly.
—Hey… —Zein panted, catching his breath as he approached—. Give it back…
But Kiomi didn't answer. She stood completely still. Her eyes, which were always in motion, were now locked on a point above them, as if the forest itself had stolen her voice. Confused, Zein grabbed her shoulder roughly, trying to snap her out of it. Kiomi didn't even blink.
—What's wrong…? —Zein asked, following the direction of her gaze.
And then he saw it.
—It's a Zerfol… —Kiomi whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray her fear.
Zein felt the air grow heavier, as if the forest were swallowing every trace of sound. Zerfol were magical beasts feared even among demons; creatures that remained in their territory because only they had the means to keep them at bay. Before them, a three-meter monstrosity lifted its three heads, each one exhaling hot breaths that rolled out like the steam of a furnace.
A colossal hound carved out of pure fury.
—Damn it… —Zein drew his sword and stepped forward without thinking, placing himself in front of Kiomi on instinct.
—What are you doing, you idiot?! —she shouted, snapping out of her shock just enough to get angry—. You can't fight that thing! It's impossible!
—Maybe —Zein replied, the sword trembling in his hand—. But I can buy you time.
—Don't try to play the hero —Kiomi said, though her voice had lost its bite. She swallowed hard, lowered her gaze for barely a second, then added—: I'll help you.
—I appreciate it… —Zein answered, offering a shaky smile he couldn't quite hide.
There was no further warning.
The Zerfol moved first. One of its claws came down like a falling hammer. Kiomi's threads tightened instantly, glowing with a faint silver flash as they deflected the blow—just enough for Zein to move.
Zein ran, his sword crackling with a dim light as it struggled to enchant itself. Every step hit him with a surge of adrenaline, every breath a reminder that none of this made sense. Even so, he charged the beast and swung his blade.
It shattered.
There was no resistance. No damage. Zein's sword simply broke apart as if he had struck ancient stone.
—Zein! —Kiomi yelled, trying to rush toward him.
But one of the Zerfol's heads snapped toward her with inhuman speed. A sharp impact, a dull thud, and Kiomi was sent flying until her body crashed against a tree. Her threads dissolved into the air as if swallowed by the darkness itself.
Zein barely had time to turn. The Zerfol's paw struck him with the force of a falling log. His back slammed against a tree, and a stabbing pain blurred his vision.
Drowsiness dragged at him like a slow river. He fought it, but his eyelids weighed more than any weapon.
Just before losing consciousness, he made out a black silhouette between the trees. It walked calmly, without the slightest hint of fear. It approached the Zerfol… and stroked it. As if taming a three-headed monster were the most natural thing in the world.
Zein tries to focus, but the effort slips through his fingers like water, and the world sinks into darkness while shadows curl in on themselves, devouring the edges of his thoughts.