The Tactical Front
The dormitory was unnaturally quiet, the hum of the heater the only sound cutting through the darkness.
Himari gasped as she jolted awake, her breath sharp and uneven. Her skin was slick with cold sweat, her heart pounding violently against her ribs. Haru was gone. He must have already left after dropping her at the dorm, the room now swallowed in shadows.
Her hand fumbled blindly across the bedside table until she found the water and medicine. She swallowed the pills and drink few sip of water, barely managing to sit upright before collapsing back into the pillows .she thought damn is it a fever or curse why is not going down Sleep claimed her again—heavy, dreamless, and exhausting.
When she woke the second time, pale pre-dawn light filtered through the curtains. Her body felt marginally better, but only just. Every movement made her feel as though she might shatter, fragile and hollow.
She dragged herself into the bathroom, splashing cold water onto her face in a futile attempt to shock herself awake. Her stomach twisted painfully as she sat at her desk, a sharp growl reminding her how little she had eaten.
I'm starving… she thought, staring at the door. But I don't even have the strength to walk to the CVS. Cafeteria won't open for hours.
She clenched her jaw. Focus. Project first. Food later.
The Archive book lay where she had left it but that one forbidden book was not there—heavy, ominous. It was her assigned topic, the one no one else in the group wanted to touch she can clearly understand after reading . For hours, she worked in silence, reducing dense Restoration Magic theory and Binding Seal data into a precise tactical report. By the time she finished the final line, a dull ache had settled into her lower back and her hands were trembling.
The hunger had turned nauseating. She searched her bag and found two candies, ripping them open at once. The sugar sparked briefly through her system—just enough to stop the shaking.
The parcel on her chair caught her attention next which she just put it yesterday after picking it front of her room door know she saw it and relised what is this but as she open it there is . The official Aetherford Military-track uniform looked sharp and unforgiving. Dressing felt like waging war against her own body, but she managed it slowly, methodically.
She drank glass after glass of cold water, trying to quiet her stomach, trying to drown the fever beneath her skin.
You have to be a Tsukihara today, she told her reflection. Hungry, tired, sick—it doesn't matter. Just survive.
then she do few push ups and stretching the least she can do as don't what is awaiting at academy today
She pulled her silver hair into a tight ponytail, the strain keeping her eyes painfully open. Adjusting the high collar, she concealed the Binding Seal on her neck, checked her bag—project secured, Haru's phone safely hidden—and stepped out.
The Hallway
The click of her door echoed down the corridor.
Then two more followed.
Kiro stepped out from the left. Reian from the right.
Himari paused, fingers tightening around her bag strap. She gave a stiff bow, half habit, half necessity—her back protested sharply.
"Morning," Kiro said, eyes already assessing her posture, her pallor, the bandage at her temple.
Reian leaned forward, draping an arm over Kiro's shoulder with deliberate intrusion. "Didn't think you'd make it after whatever happened yesterday," he said lightly.
Cold panic spiked through her chest. What does he know?
She didn't answer. She walked.
Her boots struck the floor in controlled rhythm as she passed them, military precision forced through exhaustion. Once Reian moved ahead, she leaned toward Kiro.
"What was he talking about?" she murmured.
"You were marked absent yesterday," Kiro replied quietly. "DJ said you had a minor accident ."
Relief hit her so hard her knees nearly buckled.
"ooh she felt relived 'Thanks," she said evenly.
Kiro nodded once. He didn't ask questions.
The Cafeteria
The cafeteria was already loud when Himari stepped in.
Metal trays clattered, chairs scraped against the floor, and overlapping conversations bounced off the high ceiling. The noise hit her all at once, making her head throb. She paused just inside the entrance for half a second, steadying herself, before forcing her legs to move.
DJ spotted her immediately.
"Himari! Over here!" she waved, already standing up and nearly knocking her chair over in the process.
Himari joined her table slowly. DJ pushed a tray toward her without asking—black coffee, bread, and cut fruit.
"You didn't come yesterday," DJ said, quieter now. "Are you feeling ok now how is your temple and your fever is ok now . Are you sure you should be here As today u know na we have training ?"
Himari wrapped both hands around the coffee, letting the heat sink into her palms. "I can't miss today," she replied. "It's fine and i am feeling all ok thanks dj ."
DJ frowned, clearly unconvinced, but didn't push. She shifted closer instead, lowering her voice. "If you pass out or don't feel good tell me ok, I'm dragging you to the infirmary myself. Deal?"
Himari gave the faintest smile. "Deal."
Across the room, Group A sat together—too neat, too composed. Kiro spoke quietly with Maishe while Lune leaned back, arms crossed, eyes already bored. No one looked in Himari's direction.
Figures, Himari thought.The
Evaluation Hall
The lecture hall felt colder than usual. Himari chose a seat near the aisle, one that would make it easier to leave if her legs gave out she not yet realized but
The Shift Himari walked into the lecture hall feeling relatively stable. The water and the candies had settled her stomach, and the medicine had cleared her head. But the moment her boot crossed the threshold of the classroom, the air changed.
It felt like the oxygen had been replaced by thick, invisible wool. A sharp, rhythmic throb started at the base of her skull—right where the Binding Seal sat hidden beneath her collar. Within seconds, a white-hot heat began to spread down her spine.
What is happening? she thought, her hand instinctively flying to her neck. I was fine five minutes ago. As she sat down
. Jiro dropped into the seat beside her without invitation.
"You look terrible," he whispered bluntly.
"Good morning to you too," Himari muttered, resting her forehead briefly against the desk.
When the presentations began, she forced herself upright. Maishe spoke confidently at the front, her voice smooth and practiced. Himari listened, jaw tight, waiting.
When it was time, she stood and walked to Kiro instead of the podium. She placed her report in front of him.
"My topic," she said quietly. "I finished it last night. Sorry it's late."
Kiro glanced down—and froze for half a second.
He looked up at her face then, really looked, noticing the fever-flushed skin and glassy eyes. "I'll add it," he said simply.
That was all. But it was enough.
The Presentation
Professor Livent's footsteps echoed as he entered the hall, instantly silencing the room.
"Groups A and B," he announced, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students. "Today decides more than your grades. It decides your direction. Don't waste my time."
Maishe stepped forward confidently, taking control of the presentation. Her voice was calm, assured, every slide perfectly prepared. The professors nodded along as she spoke, clearly impressed.
Himari stood slightly behind Kiro, her hands clenched behind her back. As Maishe moved to the next section, Himari leaned in and tap on kiro arm and then quietly slid her report toward Kiro.
"My topic," she murmured. "The Archive analysis."
Kiro's eyes skimmed the first page—and his expression shifted. Subtly, but unmistakably. He adjusted the order of the documents and spoke up.
"Professor," Kiro said, addressing Livent, " here is all our topic ' he gave the whole material now it also had himari material Professor Livent paused. He looked up. ' okie who is going to represent
Himari felt every eye turn toward her.
but before kiro reply maishe already said i am going to do that and she start it the presentation
The professor extended his hand. "Let me see."
then kiro look at her himari face is already become gloom as she didnt got the chnace and along that prof livent didn't even ask any question related to her topic and as maishe done prof livent pick the project and flipped through the pages in silence.
"High-risk topic," he said at last. "But thorough." His gaze lingered on her pale face. "You should have submitted this yesterday." He said looking at himari
"I apologize, sir." she said
He nodded once. "Sit. We'll discuss it later."
The weight in Himari's chest loosened—just slightly.Professor Arata stepped forward before the room could fully relax.
"Everyone, listen," he said, his voice gentler than Professor Livent's but no less firm. "The presentation phase is complete. You will now proceed to the training grounds."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Professor Arata raised a hand. "Today is not only academic. Seniors from your chosen fields have arrived to demonstrate what will be expected of you. Those who selected Magic will observe. Those who selected Military will participate."
His eyes briefly found Himari, concern flickering across his face before professionalism masked it. "Gather your belongings and move quickly. Do not be late."
Chairs scraped back as students stood. The atmosphere shifted—lighter conversations dying out, replaced by tension and uncertainty.
Himari rose slowly, her legs unsteady. DJ hovered close.
"You sure you're okay?" DJ whispered.
"I'll manage," Himari replied.
Professor Arata walked past them, lowering his voice. "Tsukihara… if you are unwell, inform me immediately."
Himari nodded, even as she knew it wouldn't be that simple.The Training Grounds
The wide training ground stretched out like a steel arena, bordered by concrete walls and observation platforms above. Cold air cut against exposed skin, carrying the sharp scent of metal, dust, and ozone from lingering magic use.
A sharp whistle cut through the noise.
"Line up."
Senior officers moved with practiced efficiency, splitting the students into two clear formations.
"Magic-track students—left side," a soldier barked. "Military-track—right."
Himari stepped to the right without hesitation. and saw dj chose the magic she felt little sadness her only friend chose other filed and now they are in different groups then Kiro and Reian joined her, the three of them forming a short, isolated line compared to the larger Magic group. The imbalance was obvious. Three against many.
A low murmur spread as heavy footsteps approached.
Silence fell instantly.
Someone entered before anyone announced him.
It wasn't his face that struck first.
It was the weight.
The air itself seemed to tighten as a tall figure crossed the threshold of the training ground. Heavy boots struck the concrete with measured precision—slow, deliberate, unhurried. His presence pressed down like an invisible hand on the back of the neck, forcing spines straight and breaths shallow.
Himari felt it before she saw him clearly.
A soldier in black tactical gear, stripped of insignia and decoration, moved forward with absolute confidence. The uniform looked worn, not new—creases set by years of use, not tailoring. His gloves were scarred. His posture was relaxed in the way only dangerous people could afford.
Her stomach tightened.
This isn't just an instructor, her mind warned.
He stopped at the center of the ground.
Only then did Himari lift her gaze to his face.
Cold grey eyes.
Sharp. Calculating. Empty of hesitation.
Recognition struck her like ice water.
…Niel.
The name surfaced from memory—reports, whispered evaluations, senior warnings. A man who didn't teach. A man who filtered.
Around her, the other students stiffened as the realization spread.
"So," Niel said at last, his voice flat, carrying without effort. "This is what Arthford is offering the military now."
His gaze swept the lines, then paused deliberately on the right.
"Three."
The word landed like an accusation.
Himari's grip tightened around her sleeve. The ground beneath her boots suddenly felt unstable.
"Today," Niel continued, "we evaluate whether any of you are even worth continuing."
Haru stepped half a pace forward, his voice colder. "You will follow orders. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not hold back."
His eyes flicked once more toward Himari—warning and concern layered together.
"Begin preparations."
The soldiers moved immediately, setting the stage for evaluation.
The cold hit her first.
The training grounds were wide and bare, stone underfoot still holding the chill of the night. Students lined up instinctively when the gates creaked open.
The transport arrived without ceremony.
When the man in white stepped out, the air itself seemed to tighten.
Himari didn't need anyone to tell her who he was. His presence pressed down on her chest, familiar and unbearable all at once. She kept her gaze forward, nails digging into her palms.
"Tsukihara," he said.
Her head snapped up despite herself.
"You look unwell," Niel continued coolly. "Try not to collapse before evaluation."
Haru stood behind him, rigid. Their eyes met for a split second. He looked away first.Behind him came another figure, his presence quieter but no less commanding.
Haru.
His uniform was immaculate—dark fabric traced with muted silver insignia along the collar and shoulders. Where Niel's gear bore the marks of years of combat, Haru's looked obsessively maintained. No loose straps. No dust. Every buckle aligned as if order itself followed him.
His golden hair was pulled back neatly, catching the pale light of the training ground with every step. It wasn't showy. It didn't need to be. The brightness only made his restraint more noticeable.
His face was sharp, composed, carved into disciplined calm. If Niel felt like a blade meant to cut away the unworthy, Haru felt like a wall—unyielding, absolute, something you crashed into and did not move.
His eyes swept over the students once, efficiently. When they reached Himari, they paused for half a breath too long.
A warning.
Then the others followed.
Soldiers in black and grey tactical armor, scarred and mismatched from real use. Some carried old burns along exposed skin. Others bore visible prosthetics beneath fabric—metal joints moving as naturally as flesh. Their faces were hard, eyes empty of curiosity or mercy.
These weren't instructors.
They were survivors.