"Come on, Loki. Let's go to class," Amara insisted, her tone carrying the edge of a familiar frustration. "The teacher's going to lose it if you keep skipping." Her voice softened slightly at the end, as if to admit she wasn't truly angry. She knew he'd score well on any test, attendance or no. But it wasn't the grades that bothered her. What truly irked her was how secretive he'd become, slipping away without explanation, giving her vague excuses or, worse, dodging her questions with a joke and a grin.
Today was no different. Loki only shrugged, falling in step beside her with an amused smirk, the kind that made her sigh and roll her eyes. He kept his secrets well—too well, she thought, stomping down the hallway with a huff. A small part of her wondered if he was hiding something big. Maybe even something dangerous.
Loki watched her march ahead, his eyes catching the way her shoulders tensed. He knew exactly why she was upset, and part of him hated that he couldn't tell her. They'd been close since they were kids, and she was one of the few people he genuinely cared about. But if she knew the truth, knew what he did outside these walls, he was certain she'd worry herself sick.
They walked in silence, the familiar sound of students filling the academy hallways. But as they passed by the TV screens lining the walls, a breaking news segment caught Loki's eye. He froze, watching the footage of a recent monster attack, just a few blocks from the academy grounds. His heart sank. He knew that creatures breaching the city's outskirts were becoming more common, and each time he'd feel the same tugging responsibility to step in.
Noticing his distraction, Amara turned to face him, a frown creasing her brow. "Loki, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice softer now, her frustration momentarily forgotten. He didn't answer, his attention glued to the screen. She followed his gaze, the news showing a live feed of an Ascendant arriving at the scene—a woman with striking red hair flowing over her shoulders, her figure silhouetted against the smoke and chaos of the attack. She wore a black combat suit that hugged her frame, two crimson daggers strapped at her sides. It was Valeria Stormrider, an A-rank Ascendant and one of the city's best. Loki's worry eased as he recognized her; if anyone could handle the threat, it was Valeria.
Meanwhile, at the docks, Valeria raced through rows of towering shipping containers, her boots pounding the ground with a rhythm as fierce as her resolve. The unmistakable metallic scent of blood tinged the air, and she could hear the screams of frightened civilians fleeing from the monster's rampage.
She'd only come to Novalith City to escape her guild duties for a while, hoping to catch a rare break from missions and the endless strain of battles. But just as she was about to relax, her phone pinged with an emergency alert—an active monster attack just blocks away. She sighed, feeling her brief escape slip through her fingers. There were no other responders close by, and she knew that waiting for backup wasn't an option. Without hesitation, she had abandoned her rest day and sprinted toward the scene.
A bitter thought crossed her mind as she imagined the tedious report she'd have to write after the fight. Those damn reports always took forever, and the thought alone was almost enough to make her reconsider. Almost.
Crack!
Valeria skidded to a halt as she reached the port, leaving long cracks on the ground where her heels dug in. Her gaze locked onto the creature towering before her: a monstrous hybrid of man and beast, standing three times her height. It had the thick, hairy arms and legs of a bull, yet its head was a grotesque fusion of fish and horned demon, with bulging eyes that fixed on her with a chilling intensity. Its massive hands slammed into a nearby container, leaving a cratered dent before it hoisted the container and hurled it toward a ship docked nearby.
Boom!
The container crashed into the side of the ship, its metal frame crumpling on impact. The vessel rocked violently, struggling to regain its balance as waves rippled outward from the point of collision.
"Run away from there!"
"Wait! Someone's still trapped inside!"
"You'll die if you don't leave now! Come on, let's go!"
Amid the chaos, the panicked cries of people filled the air as they scrambled to escape the monster's deadly reach. Valeria took two quick breaths, her mind sharpening, assessing the situation in seconds. The monster was relentless, tossing containers like toys, and any misstep from her could lead to more casualties. Without another thought, she bolted forward, aiming to catch its attention.
"Hey, big guy! Over here!" she shouted, her voice firm and unwavering as she threw a sharp whistle to grab its focus. The monster's head whipped toward her, its massive horns gleaming under the harsh dock lights, and a low, guttural growl vibrated in its throat.
Valeria's gaze narrowed as she prepared for its attack, her fingers hovering over the hilts of her twin daggers. The creature lunged at her with surprising speed, swinging one of its massive arms down. Valeria dodged to the side just in time, feeling the wind of its strike graze her cheek. She darted in close, her daggers flashing as she slashed across the monster's thick, leathery hide.
From her vantage point, she could see the monster's ugly, twisted expression—a mixture of rage and pain—as her blades bit into its skin. But her attacks, though swift and precise, were only making it angrier. She knew that if she didn't finish it quickly, the people around would be in even greater danger.
Back at the academy, Loki's gaze was still fixed on the TV screen, a mixture of worry and awe crossing his face. Amara noticed the change in his expression. "You're worried about that monster, aren't you?" she asked, her voice holding an unexpected gentleness. "Don't be. There's an A-rank on the scene, so everything should be fine." But even as she spoke, she felt a twist of worry deep down. She didn't want to show it, but something about Loki's silence made her uneasy.
Loki turned to her, the worry in his eyes softening. He leaned close, lifting her chin with a smile that was as reassuring as it was unguarded. "Even if anything were to happen, you don't have to worry, Amara," he said, his voice low. "I'd always protect you."
He expected her to blush, maybe look away, but instead, she caught him by surprise. She moved closer, her gaze steady, and brushed her lips close to his cheek, a soft warmth against his skin. "I know you would," she murmured, her breath just a whisper in his ear. "My little hero."
Then, with a sly smile, she spun on her heel, heading down the hall. Loki stood there, taken aback by her unexpected boldness, until he noticed the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she walked. Amara wasn't as innocent as she let on, and that realization only made him grin.
"Hey! I mean it," he called after her, jogging to catch up. "I could really protect you, you know."
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sure, sure, Void Prince," she teased, using the name that the city had given to the mysterious Ascendant who fought monsters unseen and unknown.
Loki's smile faltered slightly at the mention of his alias. It was true—he was the Void Prince. But it was a title he wore in secret, masked behind a void he cast to blur his features or the full mask he wore when needed. Unlike other Ascendants who basked in their fame, he preferred anonymity. Even as a young Ascendant, Loki wanted a normal life, one where he could be with friends, laugh, and live free from the weight of expectations.
"Hey! Are you coming, or am I going to have to leave you here?" Amara's voice pulled him from his thoughts, snapping him back to the present.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he jogged to catch up, his heart lightened by the sound of her laughter echoing in the halls. Whatever secrets he held, whatever burdens he bore, at least he had this—moments like these where he could just be Loki, the boy she knew, without the weight of the Void Prince.
But as they reached the classroom door, a lingering thought tugged at him, a silent whisper of the promise he hadn't kept: that one day, he'd tell her everything.