"Come on, we have to leave," Cloe complained, her arms crossed tightly over her chest,

frustration sharpening her voice. Her foot tapped impatiently against the cobblestone path, the

morning sun casting long shadows behind her.

"Relax, I was on time today," Vall replied, waving a hand dismissively. Her tone was light, almost

teasing, as if Cloe’s impatience was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"Next month, I have to leave. I won’t be here to help you," Cloe stated, her voice firm but tinged

with something heavier.

Vall stopped walking, her boots scuffing against the ground. She turned to face Cloe, one

eyebrow li

ed in disbelief. Her hands slid into her pockets, and her usual carefree expression

hardened into something more serious.

"Again?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yes, again," Cloe answered, her tone clipped.

She didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer the explanation Vall was clearly waiting for. Instead, she turned

and started walking again, her pace quickening as if to outrun the conversation.

Vall stood frozen for a moment, her gaze fixed on Cloe’s retreating figure. The redhead’s

shoulders were tense, her steps deliberate, and Vall couldn’t help but notice the way Cloe’s

fingers twitched at her sides, as if itching to claw at something—or someone.

"Let’s just go. We’re going to be late, Vall," Cloe called over her shoulder, her voice carrying a

note of finality. She didn’t look back, but Vall could feel the weight of her words.

Vall hesitated, then jogged to catch up, her boots crunching against the gravel. She fell into step

beside Cloe, her hands still buried in her pockets. "You never explain anything," she muttered,

her voice light but edged with frustration. It wasn’t an outright accusation—but it hung in the

air between them.

Cloe heard her but chose to ignore the remark. She didn’t have the energy for it, not with

everything else weighing on her mind. Right now, all that mattered was getting to class on time.

Vall, however, seemed determined to linger in her own world, her pace slowing as she dri

ed

into thought.

Cloe glanced back, her green eyes narrowing when she saw Vall lagging behind. With a sigh, she

turned and marched back, her movements sharp and deliberate. She grabbed Vall’s arm, her

claws digging into the fabric of her sleeve. The touch was firm—almost too firm—and Vall

winced as the sharp points pressed into her skin.

"Ow—Cloe!" Vall protested, but Cloe was already pulling her forward, her grip unrelenting.

"Move," Cloe snapped, her voice low and urgent. They hurried through the academy gates, their

footsteps echoing in the empty courtyard. By the time they reached the classroom, the door was

already open, and Miss Mcholly stood at the front, her ruler tapping impatiently against the

desk.

"You two are late. Sit down now," the teacher said, her voice stern and unyielding. There was no

room for excuses, no patience for their usual antics.

Cloe slid into her seat, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She shot

Vall a glare, her green eyes blazing with silent reproach. This is your fault, the look seemed to say.

Vall, for her part, slumped into her chair, her mind already wandering as Miss Mcholly began

her lecture. The teacher’s voice droned on, filling the room with the dry recitation of history.

"A

er the Great War," Miss Mcholly began, her tone heavy with the weight of the past, "humans

took over everything. They seized lands, forced the Gaians to bow, and stripped them of their

rights as the first children of Mother Nature. The human admiral showed no mercy,

slaughtering Gaians without hesitation. From then on, a new rule was set: no rights for the

Gaians. They were banished to the other side of the border, forbidden to cross."

The room was silent, save for the so

rustle of pages turning. Vall’s gaze dri

ed to the window,

where sunlight streamed in, casting golden patterns on the floor. She wasn’t really

listening—until a question broke the monotony.

"How did the humans win the Great War?" a student asked, his voice cutting through the

stillness.

Miss Mcholly paused, her lips pressing into a thin line. She set her book down and looked at the

class, her expression unreadable. "This book," she said, holding up the thick, leather-bound

volume, "was written by humans. It’s not the original story."

The room seemed to hold its breath. Vall’s attention snapped back to the front, her curiosity

piqued. Even Cloe, who had been staring at her desk, looked up, her green eyes narrowing as she

studied the teacher.

Miss Mcholly’s gaze swept over the students, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "The truth is

far more complicated than what’s written here."

Before she could continue, a sharp knock at the door interrupted her. Principal George stepped

inside, his face pale and his breathing labored. The tension in the room shi

ed, all eyes turning

to him.

"Miss Mcholly," he said, his voice strained, "start all the military exams tomorrow."

The teacher blinked, her composure faltering. "Sir, what’s going on?" she asked, her voice

trembling.

"It’s time," the principal replied, his gaze steady but grim. "We may need to send troops to the

border again."

Cloe’s stomach dropped. She exchanged a glance with Vall, whose blue eyes were wide with

shock. The room felt suddenly colder, the weight of the principal’s words settling over them like

a storm cloud.

"But... they are just children," Miss Mcholly protested, her voice breaking.

Principal George’s expression didn’t so

en. "Consider it as an order ," he said, his tone leaving

no room for argument. He turned and le

, Miss Mcholly followed a

er him, the door closing

behind them with a finality that echoed in the silence.

"Hey, Cloe?" Vall turned her head toward Cloe’s table, but the redhead didn’t respond. Cloe’s

green eyes, usually sharp and focused, now looked distant and clouded, like emeralds lost in

mud. She was somewhere far away, her mind adri

in thoughts Vall couldn’t reach.

"The hell now!" a student screamed, his voice cutting through the classroom like a knife.

"I’m going to kill all of them," came another voice, low and guttural, followed by the sound of

nails scratching against wood. Vall’s curiosity piqued, and she turned to see who was causing

the commotion. Her gaze landed on Klerk, his face twisted in anger as he glared at a girl sitting

a few rows back.

"What are you looking at?" Klerk snapped, his eyes narrowing as he caught Vall staring. The girl

he’d been insulting didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the same spot as if she hadn’t heard him at

all.

"Fucking weirdo," Klerk muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with disdain. His fists

clenched at his sides, the anger bubbling inside him as he realized the girl was one of the

unmarked ones. The thought of sharing a classroom with them made his skin crawl.

Vall heard him loud and clear, and the words stung more than she cared to admit. Her jaw

tightened, her hands gripping the edge of her desk as she fought to keep her composure. But the

insult lingered, gnawing at her pride like a persistent itch.

"What did you say?" Vall stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Her blue eyes

burned with defiance as she faced Klerk, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Klerk smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "You heard me. I said fucking weirdo," he repeated,

his tone mocking. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, daring her to do something

about it.

Vall didn’t think twice. Her temper flared, and before she could stop herself, she grabbed the

chair she’d been sitting on and hurled it at Klerk with all her strength. The wooden chair flew

through the air, and for a moment, time seemed to slow.

Klerk’s eyes widened, but he moved quickly, dodging the chair with a practiced ease. He caught

it mid-air, his grip tight as he growled, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The classroom erupted into chaos, students scrambling to get out of the way as the tension

between Vall and Klerk reached a boiling point. Cloe, jolted out of her daze by the commotion,

stood from her seat, her green eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.

"Calm down, Klerk," Cloe warned, her voice low but commanding. She stepped between Vall

and Klerk, her presence alone enough to make most students think twice about escalating the

situation.

But Klerk wasn't like most students. He glared at Cloe, his canines bared in a snarl. "Back off,

Cloe. This isn’t your fight," he spat, his focus still locked on Vall. He dropped the chair to the

floor with a loud thud, his claws extending as he prepared to teach Vall a lesson she wouldn’t

forget.

"Klerk, I’m gonna say it again—that’s enough," Cloe said, her tone firm. She didn’t raise her

voice, but the authority in her words was unmistakable. Her green eyes bore into Klerk’s, daring

him to challenge her.

Klerk hesitated, his claws twitching as he weighed his options. He didn’t want to back down, not

in front of the entire class, but Cloe wasn’t someone he could easily dismiss. His teeth ground

together, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he struggled to contain his anger.

BANG!

The sound of a powerful slam echoed through the room, silencing everyone in an instant. All

eyes turned to the source of the noise, and the tension in the air thickened as the class waited to

see what would happen next.

The classroom froze, the air thick with tension as all eyes turned to the figure standing in the

doorway. No one dared to move, let alone speak. Even the faintest sound—a chair creaking, a

pencil rolling off a desk—seemed deafening in the silence.

Cloe’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, unsure if she was seeing

clearly, but there was no mistaking the person who had just entered. Her face flushed a deep red,

her usual composure slipping as emotions she couldn’t quite name surged to the surface.

Vall turned her head toward the door, her blue eyes narrowing as she recognized the intruder.

Her heart sank. "Nix?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Nix stepped into the room, her presence commanding and undeniable. She wore a sleek,

armored chest plate adorned with the symbols of her rank, the metal gleaming faintly under the

classroom lights. Her casual black pants and sturdy military boots completed the look, practical

yet imposing. Her shoulders bore the full markings of a Gaian warrior, a rare honor that spoke of

her unparalleled strength and connection to Mother Nature. She was a legend in her own right,

the leader of the strongest troop, and someone no one dared to cross.

Klerk, who had been so bold moments ago, now sat frozen in his seat, his throat tightening as he

struggled to swallow. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Nix’s gaze, his earlier bravado

crumbling under the weight of her presence. All he could think about was how much he wished

he could be part of her elite Black Horns troop.

Nix’s sharp eyes scanned the room before landing on Vall. She strode forward, her boots echoing

against the wooden floor, and stopped in front of her younger sister. For a moment, she simply

stared, her gaze piercing as if she could see straight through Vall’s defiance.

"Come with me," Nix said, her voice low and hoarse, leaving no room for argument.

Vall’s stomach churned. She knew that tone—it never meant anything good. "No," she said, her

voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound firm. "I have to stay in class."

Nix’s expression didn’t change, but the air around her seemed to grow colder. "I’m not asking

you," she said, her voice calm but edged with steel. In one swi

motion, she grabbed Vall’s arm

and yanked her closer.

"Let go!" Vall screamed, her voice echoing through the classroom and into the hallway beyond.

She thrashed against Nix’s grip, her teeth clenched as she tried to pull free, but her sister’s hold

was firm.

Cloe watched, stunned, her mind racing but her body frozen. She wanted to intervene, to stand

up for Vall, but something about Nix’s presence kept her rooted to the spot.

Klerk, meanwhile, kept his head down, his earlier behavior replaced by a quiet awe. He didn’t

dare look up, didn’t dare draw attention to himself. Nix was a force of nature, and he knew

better than to get in her way.

"I said let go, Venix!" Vall shouted, her voice cracking as Nix dragged her toward the door. Her

arm ached, her struggles growing weaker as numbness set in. She shot a desperate glance at

Cloe, but her friend could only watch helplessly as Nix pulled Vall out of the classroom and into

the hallway.

The other students stared at them, the tension in the room slowly dissipating as the door swung

shut behind Nix and Vall. Cloe finally found her voice, but it was too late—they were already

gone.

Outside, Vall’s protests grew louder, her voice carrying through the academy grounds as Nix

marched her toward the gates. "Stop fighting," Nix said calmly, her tone almost bored. "Save it

for the match."

Vall’s eyes widened as she felt herself being li

ed off the ground, her legs kicking uselessly in

the air. "What—?" she gasped, her head spinning as Nix hoisted her over one shoulder like a

sack of potatoes.

Before Vall could process what was happening, Nix leaped into the air, her powerful legs

propelling them both onto the highest branch of a nearby tree. The forest loomed ahead, dark

and endless, and Vall’s heart pounded as she realized there was no escaping what came next.