Petra

  Night arrived on the second last day of the Clash of Dawn. Petra spent most of her day discreetly patrolling the premise of the Academy campus closest to the Nautilus. Aside from the incident between Emil and Prince Rory, there was nothing out of the norm that caught her eye.

  Somehow, he ended up being in the center of another strange event.

  Petra shook her head with an exasperated sigh. News of Emil being ambushed by His Highness Rory was spreading like wildfire. The royal family had tried their best to suppress the rumors, but with the powerful elites of Ardair in attendance, there was little they could do to stop the news from proliferating.

  Whatever. He should be fine at least. Director Hortensia’s training wouldn’t have allowed him to die to a pathetic injury like that. Whether or not he’ll be able to put up a fight against the Ice Maiden is a different story, however.

  Not that it particularly mattered—with his qualification to the finals, Emil had accomplished his objective of gaining access to the Consortium. Despite her gripes with her junior, Petra couldn’t refute his immaculate ability to get results. Not wanting to be outdone, she began her own mission for the night.

  She was currently in Azure City’s second district, located in the northwestern quadrant of the city. Conveniently, it also happened to be the district closest to the Nautilus. Based on her intel from the information broker the previous night, the Gharian, the Eastern foreigner, and a group of unaffiliated interlopers had been spotted frequently in this area at night.

  The proximity of their sightings near the campus had ominous implications. With the Clash of Dawn nearing its end, Petra was keen to determine if these interlopers were dangerous or not.

  She stood atop of one of the many multistoried buildings overseeing Azure City. She positioned herself in the shadows of the moonlight and sat down cross-legged. She scanned the vicinity until she spotted a murder of crows perched by a rooftop.

  “Little one, please lend me your will,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.

  Mana swelled out of the Azurite pendant over her neck. Her mind trembled. A brief sensation of vertigo washed over her as she felt her consciousness spiral out of control. When the whiplash finally settled, she opened her eyes.

  The scenery changed. Suddenly, she was beside the murder of crows. She turned her head, glancing back. Her own body was slumped against the wall atop of another building, lifeless. Her Gift, Animal Sibyl, allowed her to temporarily possess the consciousness of a nearby creature. Petra took a few seconds to flap her wings, tilt her head, clench her talons—trying to get familiar with the mechanics of her new body.

  Once she was ready, she took to the skies. The night air was calm, eerily still. Her beady eyes darted around, scanning the streets and alleyways in search of the Gharian and Eastern swordsman.

  After twenty minutes, she finally spotted them. The pair was walking down a narrow alleyway. It was the Eastern swordsman that she found first—the foreigner’s imposing physique and the long sword indiscreetly protruding out of his cloak made him impossible to miss. The Gharian woman was beside him—tiny, clinging to the shadows of the walls. The two suddenly exited the corridor onto a side street before entering an establishment around the corner. The building had no windows. No open doors. In the crow’s form, she couldn’t get a glimpse of what’s going on inside.

  Release.

  Her mind shook as if it was being forcefully pulled by some metaphysical force. Her head rattled, engulfed by an intense wave of nausea. The agony lasted for just a second before she pried her eyes open.

  She was back in her body.

  Luckily, the establishment wasn’t too far from her. Quickly, Petra descended to the ground and rushed towards the building where the pair had entered. Hopefully they haven’t left yet. Swallowing her hesitation, she pushed open the door.

  She was immediately assaulted by a strong meaty fragrance.

  “Welcome to the Seven Stars! Congratulations esteemed guest! You’re our 500th visitor for this month!”

  Cheers suddenly erupted around her. Confused, Petra almost got into a fighting stance, until she realized she was dealing with servers of this establishment.

  This was a restaurant.

  Pulled by the servers’ enthusiasm, she was escorted to a table. Plates of food, freshly made, steaming with an irresistible aroma, were suddenly placed before her. Before Petra could protest, she found a pair of utensils pressed into her hands and a piece of cloth gently wrapped around her neck.

  “Please enjoy this complimentary meal offered by the owners themselves! Fortune truly favors you, young miss! We were just about to close our doors to prepare for the Clash of Dawn banquet tomorrow!”

  Banquet?

  Petra shook her head, overwhelmed by the influx of information. The servers finally left her to own devices after another minute of fanfare.

  As the confusion wore off, she remembered that the Academy often outsourced the banquet’s food to famous establishments within the First Sector of the city. She recognized the restaurant’s name. The Seven Stars was quite popular amongst the nobles who visited Azure City. It was a logical choice for it to be selected for this year’s catering.

  Finally able to breathe, Petra scanned her surroundings. The restaurant was full with guests. Noisy chatters filled the air. There was a person speaking loudly to a chef across from her table, seemingly trying to interrogate all of the chef’s secrets and recipes while paying in lip service. There was another guest talking with a kitchen staff—the two of them were gesturing excitedly over the results of the Clash of Dawn.

  Amidst all of the distractions, Petra tried to look for the Gharian and the Eastern swordsman. The swordsman at the very least should have been impossible to miss.

  Dammit, I don’t see them. She was about to rise from her seat when the server returned.

  “Oh, esteemed guest? I noticed you haven’t taken a single bite of your food yet. Was the flavor not to your liking?”

  The establishment suddenly grew silent. Petra felt the entirety of the restaurant’s gaze on her. Eyes of scrutiny crawled down her face, narrowed with hostility. Evidently, the guests were quite protective of their favorite restaurant’s honor and she was just about to offend everyone in the building.

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  “N-No. It’s great!” she said, taking a spoonful of the nearest dish to prove her point. It was very delicious.

  “Oh, thank goodness. I would have had to speak sternly to the chefs if you were displeased,” the server said, smiling with only their mouth.

  Out of nowhere, they pulled out an expensive looking bottle of wine. Unprompted, they began pouring it into an empty glass beside Petra.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake. Petra groaned silently, lamenting her lopsided luck.

  She had lost her mark.

  Emil

  The bright morning rays caressed his cheeks as Emil exited the contestant’s mansion and into the corridors of the Nautilus. His final match against Liesel wouldn’t start for another two hours, yet already there was a frenetic energy buzzing in the vicinity of the Nautilus entrance. Nobles, wealthy business owners, members of the Academy, and Azure City residents lucky enough to procure a ticket were all clamoring in excitement at the prospective match.

  Emil stepped into the contestant section of the Nautilus. His mind was surprisingly empty, absent of the usual spiral of miscellaneous thoughts.

  As he tried to settle in, he spotted a familiar face walking up the hallway. He fought the urge to wince as a wave of mixed emotions swelled to his chest.

  It was Melody Lain, the second-year student at Exalted Academy who also served as the commentator for the Clash of Dawn. The person who made his job in the preliminaries excessively difficult.

  Unlike her usual energetic self, she looked pensive, almost forlorn as she had a distant gaze in her eyes. It was a rare sight for her to be brooding over something. During all of Emil’s encounters with her, she had always been carefree and bubbly without a single worry.

  Just as Emil debated what to do, Melody suddenly raised her head.

  “Oh, Emil? You’re here early.”

  The sullen look on her face instantly faded as they made eye contact. Her voice rang with her usual mischievous tone. The transformation was so sudden that Emil almost questioned if he had been mistaken.

  “…I suppose I am,” he replied with an air of indifference.

  “Don’t be so cold! You’ve made it to the finals! This should be something to celebrate!” she said wide-eyed with the energy of a child, “Nervous?”

  “Surprisingly, no.”

  “Good!” Melody gave him a few gentle taps on the back, “Liesel will be your toughest opponent yet, but you didn’t need me to tell you that. If it helps, just know that I’m rooting for you, my dear protagonist. You’ve done nothing but surprise me so far. So do try to surprise me once more, will ya?”

  “I’ll try.” Emil smiled at her encouragement. “Any tips as the previous winner of the Clash of Dawn?”

  “Hmmm…” Melody mumbled as she glanced toward the ceiling, deep in thought, “Just…immerse yourself in the experience. Have fun. Leave everything you have on the stage. Make this fleeting moment something that you will never forget. Because one day you’ll look back and wished you had done more.”

  Emil blinked, stunned by the unexpected answer.

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  Melody giggled, “Surprised? I can get serious too, you know? Now then, anymore advice and I might get scolded for playing favorites. Good luck!”

  With that, the whimsical second-year skipped down the corridor towards the commentator booth. Emil let out a deep breath.

  I never know what to expect when speaking with her.

  Before he could process what just happened, another person emerged from the hall accompanied by a butler.

  This time, he froze. It was another familiar face, albeit one that shouldn’t have been.

  With pristine snow-white skin, a pair of emerald jewels for eyes, and hair neatly draped to her back, Princess Aoife walked down the corridor with a regal air. Her posture was straight and proper; her face dignified and elegant. The perfect image of a royal princess. Emil, however, knew her as someone else.

  Yeah, it’s unmistakable. It really is Lisha.

  The expensive daughter who came to his aid in the slums of Lower Dannan when he was undercover in Nostra. With an appearance as breathtaking as hers, Emil doubted that there could be someone else in the kingdom who would look similar.

  Should I say something? He hesitated, still gripped by indecision. Soon, their eyes met. I’ll play it safe for now.

  He kneeled and lowered his head with respect, “Good morning, Your Highness.”

  “Good morning. Emil, was it?” Princess Aoife said.

  When she spoke his name, the edge of her voice quivered with a slight playfulness. Emil glanced up. The princess had a subtle, knowing smile across her face.

  “Yes, that’s right,” he replied, trying not to break his mask.

  “Then I wish you good luck. Perhaps after this event is over, we can have a small chat at the banquet,” she said, still grinning as she ventured towards the commentator’s booth.

  Emil nodded uneasily. Although her tone was gentle, he couldn’t help but interpret her request as an order from a member of the royal family.

  Good grief, what did I just get myself into?

  ***

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the finale of the Clash of Dawn!”

  The energy within Nautilus was tantalizing. The audience screamed at the exciting prospect of witnessing the final showdown. It was a legendary match between the Ice Maiden of Belle and the protagonist of the preliminary rounds. Of course, part of the anticipation came from the incident between Emil and Rory, which generated a significant amount of buzz about the former’s status.

  None of that mattered to Emil as he stepped onto the stage. Thunderous applause rang. The sound of his name echoed across the crowd, being chanted with a steady cadence. The air of the stadium vibrated with an incessant fervor, almost as if the Nautilus was a mythical creature roaring awake from a long-awaited slumber.

  Despite all of the fanfare, his mind remained tranquil. Still. No perturbations. Perplexed by his own calmness, he took his position on the field. Across from him, wearing a determined smile, was his opponent.

  Liesel von Belle. The Ice Maiden. The one who held the current title of Prodigy within Ardair.

  Life sure is strange.

  He was the son of a merchant family.

  Then he lost his parents.

  He built a community of orphans for his friends.

  Then he lost that too.

  On the verge of death, he miraculously survived and became a Steiger Cleaner after his body was twisted by cruel experiments. That should have been the end of his story—a phantom that was not allowed to die, fated to pay off his debt in servitude to this wretched kingdom.

  And yet, somehow, he found himself sharing the spotlight with one of the most coveted person in this kingdom.

  “Contestants, ready! Fight!”

  The horns of combat blew, resounding in the air with a triumphant roar. But rather than rush into the fray, both Emil and Liesel calmly walked towards the center. Their eyes remained locked onto each other. There was an implicit understanding in their sunken gazes—a mutual desire for conversation.

  Liesel spoke first.

  “I’ll admit it. When this event was announced, I did not expect you of all people to be standing across from me in the finals. I had some inkling that you might make some splashes in the preliminaries or even reach the knockout rounds, but the finals? This was a shock.”

  “I had favorable matchups,” Emil replied. Those were his honest feelings. If he had faced Anna or Liesel earlier in the tournament, it was very likely that he would not be standing here.

  “Ouch. Gaius and Rory won’t be happy to hear that.”

  “I already got stabbed in the back once. How much worse can it get?”

  Liesel laughed. It was a genuine and hearty laughter, one befitting of a noblewoman who would one day reign at the top of the Exalted world. Her amusement reverberated against the silent stadium. The audience was listening keenly to their conversation, holding their breaths, not daring to interrupt this tense exchange.

  “I spoke with Charlotte,” Liesel suddenly declared, “Your goal for this event was to gain access to the Consortium. You’ve accomplished that the moment you qualified for this stage. In order words, there’s nothing left for you to gain here.”

  “You’re right,” Emil said.

  Liesel narrowed her eyes, smirking. “Then explain. Why do you have that wicked smile on your face?”

  The question thundered in his head.

  …Wicked smile?

  He traced his fingers over his mouth. The corners of his lips were curved upward, quivering. The skin on chin and cheeks were taut. His teeth bared like a vicious hound.

  Am I really smiling?

  “I see. You don’t even understand yourself,” Liesel hissed, shaking her head.

  The hair on Emil’s arms suddenly shot up. Alarms blared in his skull. His throat itched with a frenetic buzz. The air was suddenly tense, thick with a nauseating bloodlust. Liesel was just five steps in front of him, her regal face twisted into a murderous snarl.

  “Fight me with everything you’ve got! Lose yourself in this once-in-a-lifetime moment!” she yelled, beckoning him to advance, “Only then, will you be able to grasp this incongruity!”

  Emil’s eyes went wide as Liesel lashed out with a right hook. Her hand glowed a brilliant blue as mana cackled down the length of her arm.