Time remained frozen, the world around them locked in a distorted grayscale haze. The skies hung dim and motionless, as though even light had forgotten how to move. The buildings, the classroom, the halls—all suspended in a cold, monochrome silence. Timeo, Leo, Marin, and Souta stood alone in this unnatural realm, isolated from the world they once knew.
There was no clock to mark the seconds. No students to fill the halls. No air shifting between one moment and the next. This was not reality, but something twisted between illusion and truth—a dimension without time, where the only movement came from the rolling waves of the ocean behind the school. That distant sea, undisturbed and persistent, seemed the only thing that continued to breathe.
And yet, that single detail was enough to remind them they weren't dreaming. They were trapped—suspended in a fracture between the lie they'd lived and the truth that had clawed its way to the surface.
Souta finally broke the silence, his voice low, edged with a venomous calm as he stepped forward, the fragments of his shattered mask reflecting faintly in the air.
"I understand it now," he muttered, his tone calculated and composed. "You're able to move through this timeline because you reject everything I've built. You stand against the rules I've written, the order I've imposed, the image I've carved into this school."
He turned slowly toward them, the lifeless light casting deep shadows across the contours of his face.
"But here's what you don't get… I couldn't care less about your defiance."
Timeo's gaze locked onto him, unwavering, eyes sharp and steady as blades.
Souta took another step forward, voice rising as his mask of politeness peeled away.
"You want to know what I see when I look at students like you?" he said, each word soaked in disdain. "I see tools. Pawns. Slaves. That's all you've ever been. This school—this system—was never about learning or growth. It's about control. Applause. Obedience. And I've mastered it."
He spread his arms wide, almost as if addressing a crowd that wasn't there.
"The staff hangs on my every word. The students worship the ground I walk on. I don't need to convince anyone of anything—I speak, and they believe. I act, and they justify. That's real power."
His lips curled into a twisted grin, arrogance flooding every syllable.
"And you three?" He gestured dismissively. "You're nothing but broken gears in a perfect machine."
His eyes darkened as he leaned forward slightly, the tension in the air tightening like a cord ready to snap.
"But that ends now. I'm going to rip the resistance out of you, one nerve at a time. I'll break your defiance. Your hope. Your will. And when I'm finished…"
He paused, letting the words hang in the air like a blade over their heads.
"You'll understand who the real king of this school is."
"There's no way in hell we'll let you control us!" Timeo's voice rang out through the frozen world, sharp and unwavering. His eyes locked onto Souta's, burning with purpose. "We choose our own paths. We'll live our lives the way we decide!"
He raised his arm and pointed his blade forward, the steel flickering with residual fire. The flames from earlier rekindled around the hilt and edge, breathing life into the weapon with every word. His stance widened, grounded and fierce.
"Legion!" he called out, his voice thunderous against the still air. "Let's make him regret every word he just said!"
Behind him, Legion took the same stance, perfectly in sync, but this time… it spoke—its voice deep, cold, and resonant, like a distant thunder rolling across a battlefield.
"Very well, Yamamoto. I shall grant you my power to oppose anyone you so desire."
The moment the words fell into silence, Legion's form shattered into thousands of glowing sparks—embers of phantom fire that swirled around Timeo and infused into his blade, his limbs, and the very breath in his lungs.
Timeo's aura flared—bright, wild, and alive.
Suddenly, without a sound, Souta dropped from above.
He had leapt from the third-floor window like a hawk diving for prey, his blade already raised and cutting downward in a ferocious arc.
Their blades met midair with a deafening clang, the force of the collision splitting the air and rippling outward in a wave of heat and pressure.
Timeo's feet ground into the scorched pavement, the fire coursing through his limbs making every movement sharp, explosive. He spun low, dragging his flaming blade in a wide arc that sent a horizontal wave of fire surging toward Souta. The flame hissed violently across the stone, cutting a path straight for him.
Souta launched upward in a burst of speed, the fire chasing beneath him as he twisted midair, flipped once, and came crashing down with his blade aimed for Timeo's skull. Timeo lifted his sword in time—steel crashed against steel—the blow driving him to one knee, stone cracking beneath his heel.
Timeo's blade pulsed. Fire erupted upward from the ground, a vertical jet of searing heat that shot through the space between them. Souta jumped back, flipping again with perfect balance, boots skidding along the pavement as sparks rained down around him.
Timeo surged forward—a blur of speed—his sword trailing flame. He slashed upward, a second cut already following behind the first. Souta blocked the first, but the second cut grazed his shoulder, tearing through fabric and sending a burst of fire spiraling around him.
Souta retaliated with a wide horizontal sweep, aiming to cleave Timeo down from the waist. Timeo ducked, rolled under the blade, and burst upward with a fiery uppercut slash that exploded into a column of flame. Souta was forced to leap back again as the fire snapped toward the sky.
Timeo didn't stop moving. He launched after him with a barrage of slashes—left, right, upward, spinning low then rising with another arcing strike. Flames followed every motion, wrapping around his arms and blade like a second weapon.
Souta finally clashed swords again—sparks and fire exploded at the contact—but this time, the heat burned his hand, and he gritted his teeth as the force pushed him backward.
Then Timeo twisted his foot, pivoted, and brought his sword down like a crashing hammer—the impact blew open the ground beneath them, sending shards of pavement skyward in a plume of fire and ash.
Still, neither of them yielded.
Souta vanished and reappeared behind him in a blink, his blade already swinging—but Timeo spun, his sword glowing white-hot, and the two blades met again in a savage explosion of power, flames curling upward like wings between them.
Both fighters skidded backward from the clash, fire licking at the air, the battlefield scorched and cracked.
Timeo gripped his blade tighter.
The next strike would decide everything.
Timeo came to a sudden halt—feet planted wide, both hands tightening around the hilt of his sword. The flames around him didn't rage—they settled, drawing inward, coiling around the blade like living breath held in restraint. His silhouette stood firm, the wind pressing against his coat, hair shifting gently over his eyes.
And then—
Everything changed.
The world around Souta twisted.
The flames dimmed.
The sky blackened.
The ground beneath him rippled like liquid shadow.
His breath caught in his throat as the space around Timeo darkened, not with the absence of light—but with the presence of something else. Something older. Something watching.
He blinked.
And suddenly, he was alone.
No courtyard. No school. No sky.
Just darkness.
And standing before him—Timeo.
His figure wreathed in slow-burning embers and thin tendrils of shadow. Legion hovered behind him now—formless, vast, only its burning eyes visible through the void.
Souta's fingers twitched on the hilt of his sword, but his body refused to move.
This wasn't an illusion.
It was a presence.
A cold dread seeped into his limbs, paralyzing him. His mind reeled with the sensation of something ancient crawling into his thoughts, pressing down with a weight that had no shape—no sound—just fear.
Timeo raised his blade.
But he didn't move.
He didn't have to.
Souta staggered backward, vision flickering between the present and this crawling nightmare. Shadows curled around his feet. He felt them tighten. Pull. Whisper.
A voice—not spoken aloud, but etched into the inside of his skull—slithered forward:
"You walk with power… but you stand alone. You raise your hand as king… but you rule only fear. Now feel what you've given… and know what waits in the dark."
Souta gasped, snapping his eyes open—back in reality—but stumbling slightly. The blade in his hands shook for the first time.
Across from him, Timeo stood exactly as before. Silent. Focused. Blade steady in his grip. But now…
Souta feared him.
Not for his flames. Not for his swordplay. But because something inside that boy had stared into the abyss—and made it follow him back.
Souta stood frozen.
His blade trembled in his hand, knuckles pale, body stiff with the lingering aftershock of the nightmare that had seized his mind. His breath came in short, ragged draws, but he couldn't move. The phantom images—the suffocating darkness, Timeo's burning silhouette, the voice that wrapped around his soul like a curse—they still echoed behind his eyes.
Timeo saw it.
And without hesitation, he raised his sword again.
The air thickened.
From behind him, sparks ignited mid-air as Legion reformed—its towering shape solidifying in a storm of ember and shadow. It moved in perfect synchronicity, lifting its massive scythe, mirroring Timeo's stance like a reflection in black fire.
Then, both swung.
Timeo's flaming blade roared forward, slicing through the air with a streak of heat and pressure. Legion's cleaving strike followed a heartbeat later, its scythe creating a phantom echo of the same blow, amplified with raw force.
Souta lifted his weapon in panic—just in time.
The blades collided with his.
And the world exploded.
An eruption of fire and shock ripped through the courtyard. The impact shattered the earth beneath their feet and flung Souta off his stance, his body sent hurtling backward. He flew through the ruined school doors, crashing through them with a violent slam that echoed like thunder through the empty halls.
But before Timeo, Leo, or Marin could react—before they could even process what had just happened—
Everything snapped.
Like a camera shutter blinking shut.
Suddenly, the fire was gone. The ruins were gone. Legion was gone.
And Timeo stood… back in the classroom at his desk. He breathed heavier, eyes wider.
Leo sat across the room, hands on his knees, drenched in sweat. Marin stared blankly at the chalkboard, chest rising and falling like she'd run for miles.
Everything around them was perfectly normal. The desks were clean. The windows unbroken. The school untouched. The only thing left behind was exhaustion. Fatigue in their bones and a deep, unexplainable ache.
Souta stood at the front of the class, back turned as he wrote on the board with his usual sharp script.
"Alright, now," he said casually, as if nothing had happened, "take out your notebooks. We're reviewing stances before we begin practical drills."
Timeo blinked. His hands trembled lightly beneath the desk. He looked at Leo—who stared back at him in quiet disbelief. Marin looked over next, mouthing a silent, "Did that just happen?"
Timeo slowly nodded.
Leo leaned closer, whispering under his breath, "No damage. No blood. No broken glass. What the hell was that…?"
Marin gripped the edge of her desk, voice barely audible. "It's like the whole thing rewound…"
Timeo sat back, eyes heavy, heart still pacing inside his chest. Legion was gone. The flames extinguished. And yet, the three of them remembered everything. Every word. Every strike.
Reality had reset. But the truth remained. They weren't dreaming. And nothing was the same.
Timeo gradually regained control over his breathing and calmed the fire still smoldering in his chest. With a slow exhale, he adjusted his posture and decided—at least for now—to participate in class like a normal student. He shifted back into his usual reserved demeanor, casting a subtle glance toward Leo, silently signaling him to follow suit.
Leo caught the message. With a brief nod, he slouched back into his seat and opened his notebook, playing along with the rhythm of the class as if nothing had happened. Around them, their classmates remained calm and composed, each of them exactly as they had been in the moment before time fractured—as though none of them had noticed anything at all.
But there was one detail that disturbed Timeo more than anything.
He could still feel the weight in his limbs. A dull ache lingered in his muscles. His hands were slightly stiff, his body sluggish with fatigue—he remembered the fight. His body remembered too.
And yet, Souta—at the front of the class—stood unbothered, completely unmarked. Not a bruise, not a tear in his clothing. He moved with professional ease, teaching as if the duel, the fire, the fall… had never happened.
Marin and Leo, though shaken, were physically untouched—understandable, since neither of them had directly engaged. They followed the class in silence, each casting the occasional side glance at Timeo, clearly sharing the same unspoken questions.
There were no answers. Only silence.
So for now, the three of them chose to keep the day's events to themselves—hidden beneath the surface, behind their eyes and in the spaces between their words. Even Souta, who should have remembered everything, behaved like nothing was out of the ordinary. His reactions betrayed nothing.
And so, the lesson continued.
As if time had never broken. As if nothing had happened. But they knew the truth.
And they would not forget.
To be continued...