The Astral Wing Mini hummed softly as it cut across the sky, suspended on elegant threads of magic and propulsion runes. Inside, the air was calm—too calm. Just below the floor's transparent slats, clouds drifted lazily beneath them, tinted silver by the rising sun.
The ship's interior resembled a polished observatory: sleek rows of cushioned seats, curved glass panels wrapping the cabin, and flickering runic displays pulsing gently in the center aisle. It felt less like a warship, more like a dream. Which only made the tension worse. No one spoke for a long while.
Even Rajieru, who usually couldn't go two minutes without some ridiculous commentary, was silent—lounging upside down in his seat with his arms folded across his chest, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Sanae sat near the front, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of a mission dossier. She'd read it five times already. It still didn't feel real.
"Verdenholt Fortress," she whispered to herself, eyes scanning a sketch of the outpost's silhouette. "Abandoned after the War... limited access due to unstable ley lines... why send students now?"
She didn't have an answer. But something in her gut felt twisted.
Zoltan was strapped in across from her, one leg crossed over the other, gaze fixed on the changing terrain below. Mountains had begun to rise from the mists—sharp, jagged, like the fangs of something ancient trying to bite the sky. Black pine forests stretched endlessly around their bases, dense and unmoving.
"This isn't a place people live," he muttered.
Kiyoshi stood toward the rear of the cabin, eyes distant. He didn't sit. He hadn't since they'd boarded. He kept to himself—one hand loosely gripping a support beam, the other hanging by his side, clenched. The wind outside shifted. A sudden jolt rattled the ship—soft, but jarring. A few students straightened in alarm.
Kayuki, sitting lazily in the co-pilot seat, turned his head with a dramatic wave.
"Oooh, turbulence. Don't worry—it's just the ley lines trying to mess with our flight path. Happens every time you pass over ancient, cursed terrain. No big deal."
He said it with a grin, but even his voice had lost some of its usual theatrical flair. Reuel, always observant, adjusted the focus on a side crystal-pane and narrowed his eyes. "Something's wrong with the air here."
Haruki, seated near the rear weapons cabinet, glanced up. "What do you mean?"
"The mana density. It's—" Reuel paused, exhaled. "It's thicker than the readouts predicted. Like we're flying through a syrup of magical interference."
Kotaka pressed a palm to the glass beside him. Frost bloomed instantly across it. "It's colder too," he murmured. "Even for this elevation."
Celosia, seated near a row of sealed spirit capsules, had been quiet for most of the flight. But now, her gaze turned slowly toward the window.
A soft pulse of light blinked near her shoulder. One of her spirits—an old one—shivered mid-air before disappearing completely. Just vanished, like a candle snuffed out.
She gasped.
"My companion—" she whispered, trembling. "It retreated. That's never... never happened."
A sharp ping echoed through the cabin. A projection flared to life near the central aisle—an old magical map, flickering slightly with interference. A voice—Kasede's, relayed through the ship's core—began to speak in a deep, steady tone:
"Astral Wing Mini approaching Veilpoint airspace. Descent to Verdenholt sector commencing. Mission parameters: Observe, record, avoid engagement. Maintain group cohesion. Do not split unless absolutely necessary."
The map zoomed in on the area. A ruined fortress perched like a crown atop a fractured cliff face. Below it, a small Asgardian settlement, marked by glowing sigils of residential wards and mana wells.
Then something else. A faint red pulse blinked just beyond the fortress—a distortion ripple, too steady to be natural.
"That's new," Sanae whispered, eyes narrowing.
Manjiro leaned over behind her seat. "Maybe it's a glitch, Or a warning."
The ship slowed, shifting its angle to begin descent. The sound of engines softened, but the cabin's tension sharpened. Kiyoshi, still standing, finally spoke. "Don't drop your guard."
Everyone turned toward him.
"Something's waiting down there," he added, voice low, unreadable. "I don't know what. But... it's not happy to see us."
The class fell into silence. Outside, the mountainous spires of Verdenholt loomed like broken swords stabbed into the clouds. The ship descended into shadow.
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As The Astral Wing Mini dipped lower through a curtain of thin, gray clouds, the silence in the cabin stretched taut. The only sounds were the low hum of mana engines and the occasional flicker of runes across the reinforced glass.
Everyone was lost in their thoughts—some bracing, some doubting, some... just pretending not to be afraid.
Then—
"Okay, so," Rajieru said, leaning forward with his chin in his palm, "if any of you start seeing ghostly children asking to play tag in the woods, I'm not following them."
A few heads turned.
Manjiro snorted quietly. "I'm pretty sure you are the ghostly child, Raj."
"Yeah," Rin mumbled from the back, "just don't be the first to die, you dramatic idiot."
Rajieru sat back with a grin, satisfied. The tension eased—if only slightly.
Sanae let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Zoltan smirked faintly. Celosia glanced sideways at Kiyoshi, who hadn't moved much, but gave her the smallest nod.
He was watching the trees. Always watching.
Then, as the ruins of Verdenholt finally came into view through the clouds—dark stone jutting from frostbitten rock like forgotten teeth—Professor Kayuki's voice came in crisp through the cabin's comm-crystal:
"Welcome to Verdenholt, Class D. Gear up. Stay sharp. And remember—this is a test, not a picnic. So no wandering off for souvenirs."
The transport engines shifted into descent mode. A gentle vibration ran through the floor. Outside the window, the forest bowed in the wind, ancient and quiet and holding its breath. Down below, something unseen opened its eyes.
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