Return to Sentinel Academy

Classes A, F, and C had been transported back to the Academy. Quite a few students still needed medical attention, while others sported bandages and bruises.

Contrary to Quill's expectations and the novel's original plot, there hadn't been any dropouts. Despite the injuries, the students seemed invigorated, almost excited by their ordeal.

Some had witnessed the fight between the three professors and Erisa, which only deepened their admiration for Hunters.

Others were simply proud to have participated in the battle, having glimpsed their own potential.

The most common sentiment, however, was the collective hope ignited when the blue glowing ice had turned the tide of the battle.

This ice, with its radiant blue glow, had become a symbol of strength, unity, and the students' will to survive.

Yet, nobody knew who this Gift User was.

Those known to possess freezing powers or similar abilities denied being responsible. The unknown hero was dubbed "Reaping Arctic."

Quill found this development unsettling.

It added more unknown elements to an already complex situation.

Originally, quite a few students had dropped out due to the trauma of that night, but now, with this newfound motivation, things had taken an unexpected turn.

Sighing, Quill sat in his sanctuary, his room he had genuinely missed. His thoughts were scattered. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.

"Find a path that brings you joy and forgive yourself..." Quill muttered, looking up at the ceiling painted a beautiful wine red, echoing Liliane's words.

'...I should have given her a hug... Just one last time... Even if it wasn't real...'

Part of him considered asking Silas for the same potion, this time to willingly fall back into that dream.

But he knew it was foolish.

He didn't know how much of Silas's potion he could consume before facing the side effects and becoming addicted.

Besides it was a risky path that could damage his mental health even further.

He had to slowly accept reality and stop mourning, as Liliane had asked.

Forget about revenge, forget about everything. But what would that mean? Should he stay here? Survive? Maybe he should just end it all here and now; he hadn't got any goal regardless.

His thoughts grew darker. He needed fresh air.

Deciding to clear his mind, he left his room.

/||\

Evening was approaching, with clouds shrouding the sun.

The campus was alive with activity—students running, walking, reading, playing, or studying.

The expansive grounds provided spaces for everything a student might need.

There was even a sizable mall center, though Quill had yet to visit it, having no need so far.

His black suitcase, a gift from Quill's grandfather, still held more than enough packages of threads.

Most students from other classes remained oblivious to the events of the first field trip, simply accepting that theirs got delayed.

There had been no formal announcement from the academy, and while it wasn't forbidden to talk about the incident, it wasn't widely discussed.

Classes A, F, and C were given three days of rest—no classes—as a reward and time to recuperate.

Quill was certain that many families would be outraged and complain about the incident, but the academy maintained a strict policy on cutting communication with the outside world.

It was virtually impossible for anyone outside the academy to know about the incident unless they were part of it.

Even the professors had no way to communicate with the outside world except during the week-long holiday after each semester.

Lost in thoughts of the future, Quill sat on a nearby bench, gazing at the meticulously placed plants that never seemed to wither despite changing weather conditions.

He felt someone sit next to him on the bench, making him think, 'There are, like, a dozen other benches...'

But he didn't bother to look or speak, wanting time alone.

"...Thank you."

Quill recognized the soft voice. Turning to face the speaker, he saw a familiar pair of purple eyes and a handsome face framed by dark brown hair.

"Emrys?" Quill said. "...What are you thanking me for?"

He already had his guesses. Aside from Erisa, who had deduced it herself, Emrys was the one who witnessed him as the supposed "Reaping Arctic."

'What a dumb name... seriously.'

"For your effort against the Spawns, for giving hope to those who had lost it that night," Emrys said, his gaze drifting upward to the sky.

Quill followed his gaze, watching the clouds form a beautiful, shifting sea.

"There's no need for thanks," Quill replied.

"That's just your opinion," Emrys said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

A comfortable silence settled between them, neither feeling the need to fill it with words.

"...So, it seems you didn't tell anyone about it," Quill remarked, breaking the quiet.

"You mean the fact that you're the Reaping Arctic?"

Just hearing 'you are' and 'Reaping Arctic' in one sentence sent a wave of cringe over Quill. "Please don't ever refer to me as that," he said, shuddering.

"Why not?" Emrys asked, genuinely curious.

Quill looked at him as if he was stupid. "Reaping Arctic? Really?"

"...Well, at least it's not something ridiculous like Freeze Lord."

"That's... Wait, no, that's actually a valid point," Quill conceded, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile.

Another silence followed, lighter this time, punctuated by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

"I didn't tell anyone. If you stayed silent, why shouldn't I?" Emrys began.

"...So, you came all this way just to say thanks?" Quill asked, skepticism lacing his tone.

"Well... I just happened to spot you sitting on the bench. You seemed a bit down, and I thought I might be able to cheer you up."

"We're not exactly close for you to feel that way," Quill said, eyeing Emrys.

"Do we need to be?" Emrys retorted. "Sometimes it's easier to open up to strangers than to those close to us."

Quill remained silent, almost feeling like an idiot for the sentence he was about to say, "Have you ever found yourself completely lacking the motivation to do, well, anything?"

Knowing Emrys Caster was the protagonist, such a question seemed absurd. If there was anything a hero should have, it was the will to achieve what they aspired to.

"I'm sorry, I can't fully understand what you're going through, but remember, there are plenty of fish in the sea."

All the seriousness Quill just felt diminished, giving him a stern look. "What are you talking about?"

"Ah... Looks like I'm not that good at keeping secrets. Don't mention it to him, but Silas told me—and several other people—about Weiss."

'...What? He did? Were there others involved in that scheme against Quill? Emrys was always neutral to me, even kind... But then again, that's just his nature... Does he also have a personal grudge against me? Am I missing something?'

"What do you mean, exactly?" Quill pressed.

"Your confession."

"My—sorry, my what?" Quill's confusion deepened.

"I understand it might be embarrassing—actually, no, I don't since I never did one myself. But anyway, it probably feels awkward to discuss, but it doesn't have to be. You went for the hardest challenge; almost anyone would have been declined by her."

"...I have no idea what you're talking about," Quill stated, his irritation growing.

"...Is this what denial looks like?" Emrys wondered aloud, his head tilted in genuine confusion.

Quill became a little irritated, "You could stop being so cryptic and just be straightforward."

"Fine, if you want me to spell it out, stop looking so down just because Weiss Licht didn't accept your love confession!" Emrys's voice grew louder with exasperation.

Quill looked at him as if he were looking at something baffling, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find words.

His sudden laughter made Emrys flinch.

"Haha, that's the dumbest thing I've heard since I got here, haha." Quill's laughter was genuine and hearty, catching Emrys off guard.

For some reason, Emrys felt very irritated at Quill's response, gritting his teeth but staying patient. "Well, people told me you were... complicated, but this is just plain rude."

"Thanks." The sudden gratitude took Emrys by surprise, looking at him with a question showing on his face. "I think I really needed a good laugh."

Quill acknowledged a realization that he had suppressed within himself.

'The Purple-Eyed Prince' was his favorite book.

It had everything he loved — the story, the world, the characters, and their journeys.

He really forgot for a minute where he was, even if living through it.

If this was his favorite world, why would he want to leave it? Sure, it has its... deadly flaws, but so what?

His world wasn't all happy and peaceful either. Death comes to everyone, no matter who you are or where you live.

The only thing he wished he had was to visit the graveyard where Liliane was buried.

But he knew he couldn't continue to dwell on that.

In a strange way, despite his readiness to give Silas a beating if he repeated that stunt again, a small part of him felt thankful for that dream or whatever it had been.

It helped him find some closure.

'Well, I wasn't satisfied with the final chapter... Why not create my own ending?'

Emrys watched as Quill clapped his hands on his knees and stood up, his earlier darkened expression giving way to a renewed determination.

"If you don't mind," Quill asked, "how about we hang out sometime?"

Emrys didn't expect this direction. His open mouth turned into a genuine smile.

He stood up and extended his right hand, his eyes shining with camaraderie.

"Sure. Let me reintroduce myself. I'm Emrys Caster; I hope we get along great!"

Quill looked at the outstretched hand, a small, sincere smile forming on his lips.

He could feel the warmth and sincerity in Emrys's gesture. '

'Yeah... Yeah, I'm aware,' he thought to himself, shaking the hand firmly. "Quill Nocturne, ... and I hope for the same."

/||\

Slash Slash

In the personal training room of the Eclipse Dorm, where the top ten ranked students resided, a young woman with white hair tied in a ponytail slashed through holographic robots.

Weiss Licht was currently in the Simulation Capsule, a spacious, spherical chamber that provided her with realistic holographic enemies to fight and train against. 

Though only holograms, the simulation felt entirely realistic.

Every attack felt as if she were striking a real opponent, and each hit she took mimicked the sensation of a genuine wound.

While she wouldn't be physically sliced by any weapon, the sharp, piercing pain was something to be avoided.

She was testing her new weapon, not yet used in real combat because she hadn't mastered it.

A Hunter-to-be needed complete control over her weapon and Gift; otherwise, she wasn't fit to fight against Reapers.

She summoned the Zweihander, a large two-handed sword engulfed in light.

The weapon was heavy, reducing her agility—one of her strengths—but its attacks were the most powerful she could execute.

Summoning such a massive weapon was taxing on her stamina, which was why she hadn't used it against the Reaper; not that she had needed it.

Against Erisa, however, it would have been useless.

Erisa would close the distance before Weiss could even lift the heavy sword.

Imagining Erisa in front of her, Weiss knew she needed to get stronger.

Erisa was a role model for Weiss—youngest to achieve the Hunter Defender rank, yet humble and disciplined.

But Erisa's loyalty was to the man Weiss wanted to destroy.

A confrontation was inevitable if they were in the same vicinity.

Weiss didn't fully understand the hierarchy of the Nocturne family.

It was possible Erisa was assigned as an assistant professor in Sentinel to watch and protect Quill, but she might also have been genuinely seeking the experience.

Either way, it would be a while before she could even attempt anything since she had made a deal with Quill. 

He had promised to help her gain a position of power within the Licht family—something she couldn't achieve alone, much as she hated to admit it.

But as the son of the Nocturnes' Head, he had influence.

This meant she had to withhold her anger and work with him until she got what she wanted.

She held the Zweihander, slicing through the holographic robots.

Five more appeared. She slashed at another, the remaining four pestering her with punches from all sides.

She was noticeably slower and had to adjust. With a whirlwind attack, she hit every single target.

Her breathing grew heavy. Looking at the Zweihander, she saw it start to flicker.

"Already?" she murmured, watching as the flickering grew faster and more intense until the weapon completely vanished.

Bzzzt Bzzzt

The vibration of her scroll cut through the hum of the training facility.

Weiss paused mid-stretch, the name "Silas" glowing on the screen. She swiped to answer.

"Silas? Yes?" 

"Weiss, we need to talk." His tone was grave.

"In person?" she inquired, heading toward the locker rooms, her pulse quickening.

No... I can't bear to tell you this in person."

Sensing the importance, she waited for Silas to continue.

"I—I can't continue with our plan."

She froze, her expression unreadable. "Why?" The single word hung in the air.

"Quill knows who I really am. And... you can guess the rest."

Weiss's brow furrowed. "How?"

"I don't know! Even if he investigated me before the academy, I can't fathom how even the Nocturne family would discover it, but he knows."

Weiss resumed her walk. She remained silent, processing.

"Weiss, I'm— I'm sorry. I kno—"

"No need," she interrupted. "It's an unforeseen situation... I can't blame you. In fact, I want you to stay out of this."

Silas fell silent, uncertainty palpable through the connection.

"I wouldn't be able to use your help anyway. Another opportunity has come up. There's a ceasefire with Quill."

"...I don't understand."

"You don't need to. More information would only burden you. Once you're a Hunter, I hope you'll—" she hesitated, the words catching in her throat. "No, Silas. I've involved you too much already."

"What are you talking about?! After I graduate, I'll—"

"Don't. Oscar wouldn't want you to throw everything away once you've achieved it. I will handle it and bring justice."

"...Oscar wouldn't want you to dedicate your life to revenge, or justice either."

"The difference between you and me is that I'm selfish and undeserving of a good life. Silas, I'm ending the call now. ...Thank you."

With that, she closed her scroll, her fingers trembling slightly.