The backstage of the Starfall Auditorium.
Sonia stood there, staring at the cue cards and rehearsing her lines under her breath. But no matter how hard she tried, her feet seemed magnetized to the back door.
Lois spotted her creeping toward the exit and quickly intercepted. "The restroom's not that way!"
"I think I'd rather take the warning!" Sonia blurted out.
"What happened to all that determination from earlier? Didn't you make up your mind?"
"That was before I realized I'm not nearly as confident as I thought! I'm terrified!"
Just then, a young man in a deep-blue formal suit approached, his polished demeanor radiating ease. He offered a polite nod and a warm smile.
"Good evening, Miss Servi. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Good evening, Mr. Cage," Sonia replied automatically, then quickly added, "Actually, yes. Please hold my roommate Lois back. She's stopping me from escaping!"
The young man—Arsenal Cage—chuckled lightly. A second-year wind sorcerer and dubbed the "Bladegrass" of his class, he was the kind of handsome that made female students form unofficial fan clubs. If it weren't for Felix's godlike intervention, he'd undoubtedly be the most envied male on campus.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Arsenal replied. "A gentleman doesn't interfere in a lady's affairs." He then shifted his tone to businesslike. "Professor Librome asked me to remind you that the gala begins in ten minutes. Please wrap up whatever personal matters you need to and join me backstage. This is our first time working together, and if I make any mistakes, I hope you'll forgive me. I also hope we can become friends after tonight."
Sonia shook her head and gave him a strained smile. "Don't worry. I guarantee I'll create a mess you'll never be able to fix. Just don't end up hating me after tonight, okay?"
Arsenal blinked, his smile wavering momentarily. "Miss Servi, you certainly have... a unique sense of humor. Well, I'll see you on stage."
As he left, Sonia turned back to Lois with pleading eyes.
"Please let me go, Lois! My heart's pounding so hard it might burst! I just know I'm going to ruin everything!"
"No way!" Lois shook her head vehemently. "What about your dreams? Don't you want to be the next Daedalus? Are you really okay with just being a swordsmaster for the rest of your life?"
"I know all that! I know I'll regret leaving! But I still want to run!" Sonia wailed.
Their struggle was interrupted by Adelle and Ingulite bursting in through the back door.
"There's a falling star outside!" Adelle gushed. "You guys have to see it!"
Ingulite glanced at Sonia, noting her near-tears state. "What's with her now?"
"She's panicking and wants to bolt," Lois explained, exasperated.
Ingulite tilted her head, then snapped her fingers. "Oh, I get it. Sonia's the type who performs better the more pressure she's under. We just need to shove her onto the stage."
As Sonia's self-proclaimed biggest fan and witness to her meteoric rise, Ingulite's suggestion carried weight. With unanimous approval, the girls hauled Sonia to the backstage prep area.
Professor Librome stood waiting with the other staff. Seeing Sonia arrive, he gave a small nod and addressed the crew. "Raise the curtain. Let's begin."
At this point, there was no escape.
Sonia took a deep breath, smoothing the creases on her gown. She glanced at Arsenal, who was standing poised and ready.
"Try to hog the spotlight as much as you can," she told him. "Avoid interacting with me too much. Trust me, the less I talk, the fewer disasters we'll have."
Arsenal raised an eyebrow.
Last year, his co-host had been a relentless spotlight-stealer, constantly cutting in and adding unnecessary theatrics. He had feared he might face the same problem this year.
But here was Sonia, actively stepping back.
Was she just not interested in the opportunity? Maybe she had only joined the selection process as a favor to a friend and ended up winning by accident?
Though puzzled, Arsenal nodded politely. "I'll do my best to accommodate."
Librome stepped forward. "Ten seconds to curtain. Everyone in position. The stage is yours."
As Arsenal strode onto the stage, Sonia took one last look at the spotlight, her nerves strangely calming.
"Observer, are you there?"
Of course, there was no reply.
Yet, somehow, she felt a surge of courage, a faint smile gracing her lips.
Observer... are you fighting alone too?
If I screw this up, you owe me big time.
The orchestra struck up the opening notes, the lights brightened, and the curtain rose.
Facing the expectant gazes of students and professors from both universities, Sonia stepped into her role.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening," Arsenal's smooth voice carried across the hall. "I'm Arsenal Cage, your host for tonight's gala."
"And I'm Sonia Servi, your co-host."
Back at the Fractured Lake Prison, Ash's Cell.
White-haired hunter Gerard sat casually on the edge of Ash's bed, flipping through a dense textbook titled Introduction to Simulated Lightning Spells (3rd Edition). It looked like the sort of book Ash had once tried and failed to comprehend in his college days.
Across the room, Ash leaned against the wall, engrossed in a manga titled It's My Fault I Fell for a Married Woman.
The contrast couldn't have been starker.
Gerard glanced over at Ash, eyebrows raised. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to read romance manga."
Ash grinned, holding up the book. "Want to borrow it? Highly recommend it. The emotional depth is incredible—transcends race, time, and culture. But I warn you, it'll leave you grinning like an idiot or sobbing uncontrollably, so it's best read alone."
Gerard smirked. "I thought you were just putting on an act. Hard to believe someone like you reads love stories."
"And how do you see me?"
"Someone constantly scheming, plotting the downfall of the Blood Moon itself. Honestly, I expected you to be reading The Crowd Mentality, How to Start a Mystical Abyss Uprising, or maybe even The Penal Code for some light bedtime reading."
Ash shrugged. "Told you already, I've got amnesia. I'm just trying to live a quiet life now. A little peace and ocean views, you know?"
Gerard chuckled. "Interesting. You don't seem scared of me. I thought you'd avoid your cell entirely tonight."
"Why would I be scared? You're not going to do anything."
"Oh?" Gerard's fingers brushed the hilt of his sword. "Unlike you prisoners, I'm not bound by any rules. No restrictions. I could kill you right here and now if I wanted to."
Ash didn't flinch. "All the more reason not to worry. If you wanted me dead, you'd have done it already. I can't run. Might as well die in my own bed, with some dignity."
Gerard's grip on his sword tightened, then relaxed. "True. There's something poetic about watching you rot here instead. Squeeze every last drop of value from you before you die."
"That's fine by me. As long as I'm not a permanent resident," Ash quipped.
Gerard's eyes glimmered red as he leaned closer. "You're awfully calm. Almost like... you've got a plan to escape."
Ash's pulse quickened. "Escape? I'm just waiting for you guys to admit you caught the wrong person."
Gerard burst into laughter, his blade flashing forward. It stopped a hair's breadth from Ash's throat.
"I didn't think so at first," Gerard said, "but now I'm sure of it. You do have a way out, don't you?"
Ash froze.
"Someone tipped me off about you," Gerard continued, his voice low. "Said you were planning to escape. They asked me to stop you at all costs—and even used a massive favor to ensure I'd come."
Ash's heart pounded.
"Who?"
"Schilling Dor," Gerard answered, his tone icy. "He said scum like you can't be allowed to live. For the glory of the Blood Moon... Ash Heath must die."