In this world, we are the last bastion of humanity.

  Beyond Arcadia’s walls, monsters stalk the ruins—Eidolons, abominations born from a rogue AI hell-bent on erasing us.

  But Arcadia still stands, fighting back against this threat.

  Our hope… our heroes…

  The Stars of Arcadia!

  “We are live at the scene of another major Eidolon attack!” The female announcer’s voice crackles through my holo-screen, bright and full of energy. “And the Stars of Arcadia have already been dispatched to defend the Aokumo Colony!”

  I sit cross-legged on my bed, holo-screen hovering inches from my face. My snack bag lies forgotten beside me, crumbs scattered everywhere. Posters of Idols line my walls, but the one right above my bed—Reina Narumi, silver hair, calm eyes, perfect composure—shines under the ceiling light like she’s watching over me.

  The broadcast switches to live drone footage, and I bounce on my mattress, hugging my pillow tight. A squad of girls races through the colony streets, their movements sharp, fluid, beautiful. Sparks fly as metal claws clash, their augments flaring with color—sleek limbs, glowing boosters, glinting blades cutting through steel.

  I can’t help gasping, twisting on my bed even though the holo-screen floats right in front of me. “Yes! Take them down!” My voice comes out high and breathless. I kick my legs, feet thudding against the mattress.

  The screen splits—close-ups of each Idol, every face glowing under combat light.

  “Yes, these brave young ladies are humanity’s greatest hope!” a man’s voice booms over the feed. “And this—this is our newest Rising Star! First-year student Reina Narumi!”

  The camera zooms in—

  Reina.

  Her dark silver hair sweeps neatly behind her, pale blue eyes sharp and calm as ice. She soars above the battlefield with a sleek jetpack, her rifle gleaming in her arms. Each shot she fires is perfect—fast, clean, precise—cutting straight into the Eidolons’ weak points and shutting them down in bursts of light.

  Even with those monsters towering over her—five times her size, maybe more—she doesn’t flinch. No fear. No hesitation.

  My heart slams against my chest. I squeeze the pillow so tight I can hear the seams stretch. “Yeah, Reina! Take them out!”

  The announcer’s voice climbs higher, almost singing with awe. “Reina is doing amazing out there! Her Sync Rate is averaging in the high seventies—a rare feat for a first-year Idol!”

  “Of course!” the male commentator laughs proudly. “She was scouted for her high AC and she’s been working tirelessly to maintain that Sync Rate.”

  Glowing stats flash across my holo-screen—heart rate, Sync Rate, AC level—all climbing. My pulse matches every number as if I’m the one syncing with her.

  “Her peak Sync Rate during her last mission was an outstanding eighty-three percent,” the announcer continues. “Do you think she’ll break that today?”

  The man chuckles. “Haha! While we want our Idols to thrive in every mission, pushing for those peaks can be dangerous if they go too far—”

  “Wait—!” the woman cuts in, her tone snapping sharp. “We’ve just received confirmation—a Butcher-Class Eidolon has entered the battlefield!”

  The feed jerks to an aerial shot, and my breath catches in my throat.

  The monster stomps into view—massive, at least stories tall, shaped like some nightmare samurai carved from armor and hate. Jagged plates overlap across its frame, and a glowing red visor burns through the dust. It drags a giant Masakari axe that splits the street every time it swings, each blow sending quakes through the city.

  “Oh no…” I whisper—then yelp, leaning so close to the holo-screen my nose almost bumps it.

  The drone feed shakes as the Butcher’s steps rattle the ground. Smoke fills the sky. Soldiers scatter, trying to guide civilians away while the monster marches straight through their lines.

  “What are the Stars of Arcadia going to do?!” the announcer cries. “A group of first-years can’t possibly handle an Eidolon that size!”

  In the background, the male commentator’s voice cracks. “Hello—yes! You’re watching this, right? Send in backup now!”

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  The feed snaps back to Reina’s squad. The three other girls are frozen, panic flashing in their eyes. One shouts over comms, “That thing’s way too big for us to take on! What do we do?!”

  But Reina…

  She doesn’t even blink. Her eyes flash with faint digital glyphs—the telltale shimmer of Ocular Implants coming online.

  “Evacuate the civilians,” she orders, her voice steady, clear, and terrifyingly calm. Her gaze locks on the approaching giant. “I’ll take this thing down.”

  My breath catches. The announcers gasp. Even her teammates freeze.

  “What?!” we all shout at once—me, the commentators, everyone watching.

  But Reina’s already moving.

  Her jetpack ignites with a sharp fwssh! and she rockets into the air, rifle in hand.

  She can’t fight that thing! It’s too big! It’ll kill her—!

  The Butcher roars, swinging its axe with a metallic shriek that tears through my speakers. The blade carves an entire row of buildings clean in half. Towers collapse like paper. The drone feed shakes so hard the image blurs.

  Reina dives through the chaos like a streak of light—dodging falling debris, skimming through clouds of dust and flame.

  “What is she doing?!” the male commentator yells, his voice cracking.

  Missile pods snap open along the Butcher’s shoulders. Dozens of rockets launch at once, smoke trails twisting like ribbons as they lock onto her.

  “Reina, look out!” I scream, half off my bed now, knees digging into the sheets.

  But she moves with perfect grace—rolling, spinning, weaving through the missiles like she’s dancing with them.

  Then—she dives. Straight at the Butcher’s chest.

  She slips into the narrow gap between its armor plates, pressed so close that the monster’s sensors can’t track her. The axe swings again, missing her by a breath.

  The missiles, though—they don’t lose her. Their lock tones scream higher, faster, louder.

  At the last possible second, Reina kicks off the armor, her jetpack flaring orange as she bursts away in a sharp arc—

  Ka-BOOM!

  The missiles slam into the Butcher’s chest, the blast tearing through its armor. Chunks of plating rain down across the streets, sparks and dust filling the air.

  When the smoke clears, the monster’s chest is laid bare—cables snapping, pistons grinding—and at its center, a glowing core pulses like a mechanical heart.

  “She just blew its chest plate clean off and exposed the core!” the announcer cries, her voice trembling with awe.

  “Yes! Go, Reina!” I yell, bouncing on my bed, fists clenched so tight my knuckles ache.

  “It’s not going to be that easy for her!” the male commentator argues. “Eidolons learn and adapt—they won’t leave that core vulnerable for long!”

  As if on cue, the Butcher lets out a deep metallic roar. Its armor flares blue, energy veins crawling across its frame. The glow wraps around its chest, forming a blazing shield over the exposed core.

  Reina hovers back, rifle steady, her movements razor-sharp.

  “She’s taking the shot?!” the announcer gasps.

  “Her sniper’s not strong enough to pierce that shield!” the man shouts.

  But Reina doesn’t even flinch. She just floats there—silent, calm, unshakable.

  I can’t breathe. My pillow squeaks in my grip. “You can do it, Reina…” I whisper.

  The Butcher swings its axe again, shockwaves ripping through the colony. Missiles burst from its back and scream toward her in every direction.

  And then—

  Reina closes her eyes.

  “Disable safety protocols,” she whispers, voice barely audible through the comms. “Activate Overdrive.”

  Her augments react instantly. Her jetpack erupts with light—blinding, white-hot. Circuit patterns flare to life across her limbs, glowing brighter with every heartbeat. The air around her hums, vibrating with raw mechanical power.

  “Her Sync Rate’s climbing!” the announcer screams. “Seventy-nine… eighty-one… eighty-three—she’s reaching her last peak!”

  Reina explodes forward—faster than sight, weaving between missiles, blasting a few out of the air mid-flight. She lands on the Butcher’s swinging axe, sprinting up the blade as sparks rain down beneath her feet.

  The monster swings again, but she launches herself off it—flipping through the smoke, hair trailing silver streaks of light.

  She levels her sniper. A deep, glowing pulse runs through the weapon as the coils heat up, humming with lethal energy.

  “Eighty-four percent—she’s pushing even higher!”

  The battlefield goes quiet. Everything—missiles, smoke, fire—just stops.

  Reina opens her eyes.

  “Checkmate.”

  Ka-BANG!

  The shot splits the air. The Eidolon’s shield shatters like glass, the bullet ripping straight through to its core. For one blinding heartbeat, the light inside the Butcher swells—and then…

  BOOOOM!

  The Butcher bursts apart from the inside—explosions tearing through its armor one after another. Flames roar, metal flies, and the whole thing collapses in a storm of sparks.

  “Her Sync Rate just hit eighty-eight percent!” the announcer screams, half laughing, half crying.

  The smaller Eidolons freeze. Their sensors flicker in panic before they scatter—climbing over debris, vanishing back into the ruins beyond the colony wall.

  Reina’s squad doesn’t waste the moment. Their weapons blaze as they chase the retreating shapes, cutting down what they can before the rest escape.

  Then the sky clears.

  Reina drifts down through the smoke, her jetpack whispering soft hums. When her boots touch the ground, her teammates rush her with arms wide, laughing and crying all at once.

  But she slides past them with effortless grace—sidestepping their hug like it’s an attack pattern she’s seen a thousand times. One girl stumbles past her, another laughs it off, the rest shuffle awkwardly around the silence she leaves behind.

  The feed cuts.

  Suddenly we’re back in the studio—and it’s chaos. Holo-screens flicker with static, papers cover the floor, one chair’s on its side. The male commentator trips over a cable trying to stand. The female host frantically pats down her hair before forcing a bright smile.

  “Ahem!” The man coughs, his voice cracking. “Th-that was our Rising Star, everyone—Reina Narumi!”

  The woman practically shoves him aside. “Professor Hoshikawa! Reina just hit a peak Sync Rate of eighty-eight percent! That’s almost unheard of for a first-year—especially after she already broke her previous peak last mission!”

  “Uh, well…” Professor Hoshikawa adjusts his glasses, still visibly shaken. “I’m just as impressed as you are, honestly…”

  But I’m not listening anymore.

  I switch the feed back to the drones. Reina sits inside her transport, lit by the soft glow of emergency lights. Her breathing’s steady now, her face unreadable—calm, composed, untouchable.

  I can’t move. My heart won’t slow down.

  She’s perfect. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be—strong, fearless, beautiful even when the world around her burns.

  She is… she is…

  My Idol!