Location – Heaven Dawn Café, 6:30 PM.
The sky outside was stained in gold and lavender, the last light of day filtering through windows etched with old runes that shimmered faintly. From the upper terrace of Heaven Dawn Café, the warm glow of sunset spilt over marble tables and velvet-backed chairs.
Down below, the fountain bubbled quietly. The hum of light jazz floated up from the café's crystal speakers, mingling with the clink of mugs and quiet conversations.
Nestled at the heart of Glory Academy's East Wing, Heaven Dawn was the academy's unofficial heartbeat. Students, instructors, and even visiting alumni passed through its doors.
At one of the best corner tables on the second floor—slightly tucked behind a curtain of floating ivy and soft privacy wards—four students lounged in various stages of comfort and caffeine consumption.
Giuseppe, Daniel, Tandav and Arthur sat at their usual claimed table.
Multiple holographic screens floated between them.. Above their table, a spinning cube hovered in midair, projecting glowing symbols and countdown numbers.
[Mind Line—Round 5]
[Target: Player King_Arthur]
[Topic: Literacy]
"Ah, fuck," Arthur muttered, leaning back in his chair, taking a small sip of his iced tea.
The cube flashed:
["Which of these is NOT a real line from the Book of Echoed Ends?"]
[A) "All flames return to Solas."]
[B) "The hourglass drinks stars in reverse."]
[C) "Even gods fear a silent end."]
[D) "He who can kneel when needed, conquers heaven."]
[Time: 15 Seconds]
"Well, boys. I'm cooked," Arthur says resignedly, not even bothering to read the full question, just side-eyed Daniel, who was sipping his tea with a smug little smirk.
Of course, Daniel knew the answer.
And of course, he wouldn't say a word until the timer ran out. Just to be a little shit.
Arthur sighed. "B, then."
He threw it out like a coin into a wishing well.
[Correct! +2 points to player: King_Arthur]
"Fuck off!" Giuseppe barked in anger.
"Lucky bastard," Daniel scoffed, nearly choking on his tea.
"We got a little Gacha Gremlin among us," Tandav muttered, shaking his head.
[Score Update – King_Arthur: 8 | TheRealPharaoh: 10 | DannyTheGoat: 26 | BucketHatOnMyHeadLikeABoss: -50]
"This is absolute bullshit," Giuseppe growled, giving the table a light kick. "I keep getting all the rigged-ass questions. Like—how the fuck am I supposed to know who won World War III? Basically, no one did! The world fucking exploded. You want me to name a winner? Bro. Come on."
"Technically," Daniel said, annoyingly helpful, "it was considered a pyrrhic victory for Ital—"
"Oh, shut up!"
"How do you even get negative points in this game? That takes some serious skill," Arthur's grinning face only seemed to anger him further.
"Gentlemen," Tandav interrupted, sipping his drink without looking up, "the floor beneath you is getting very slippery from all the salt."
Giuseppe's face turns deadpan while the others laugh.
Just then, a shadow fell across the table.
"Well, well, motherfucking well," Giuseppe drawled, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "Look who finally crawled out of his crypt."
The others glanced up as Marcus approached, looking like he'd been through an exam, a brawl, or both. He dropped into the empty seat with a sigh.
"My bad," Marcus muttered, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "Got held up."
"By what? The concept of time?" Giuseppe shot back. "We were two minutes away from filing a missing persons report with the Judes."
"I thought you hated the Judicators," Tandav said dryly.
"Exactly. That's how long he kept us waiting."
Marcus gave Giuseppe a flat look. "You? Really? You don't get to talk about being late. How many times have you said, 'Let's go watch this movie,' and then ghosted 'cause you overslept?"
Arthur let out a low whistle, nodding. "Man's got a point."
Giuseppe opened his mouth, paused, then waved dismissively. "Okay, bro. That was like, one time."
"Four," Daniel corrected, eyes still on the cube. "And that's just this semester."
Marcus leaned back, smirking faintly.
Daniel finally looked up and gave Marcus a slight upward nod of acknowledgement. "Anyway, you missed the dumbest question in game show history. Something about a guy called Lord Screams-into-Bananas."
Marcus blinked. "That's… not a real person, right?"
Giuseppe threw his hands in the air. "Thank you! Finally, someone sane!"
Before the debate could reignite, a tray floated over on a rune-etched platter, settling gently at their table. The scent hit immediately—spicy, savoury, and a little sweet.
Giuseppe perked up like an animal hearing a treat bag crinkle. "Oh—finally."
He pulled the tray toward him like it was a sacred offering. "Marcus, I swear on my mother's ashes, you have to try this."
Marcus glanced at the plate. "What is it?"
Giuseppe stabbed a piece with his fork and held it up dramatically. "This… is Heaven Dawn's Crimson Fire Chicken Bao. Fried in chilli oil from one of the floating provinces, and blessed by a guy named Uncle Wei who's legally not allowed to serve it to children."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Is it supposed to be glowing like that?"
"It's not glowing. It's radiating flavour," Giuseppe said, already chewing.
Arthur leaned in with mock concern. "No joke, it made a guy from year 2 hallucinate last week."
"Amateur can't handle a bit of spice," Tandav smirked.
Giuseppe pushed the tray toward Marcus. "C'mon, man. One bite, and I promise you. You will slap your mother in her face for not giving this to you earlier in life."
Marcus hesitated, then sighed, "If I die, I'm haunting your ass."
He took a bite.
The group watched eagerly.
He chewed. Slowly. Paused. Then blinked a few times.
"…Oh damn."
Giuseppe leaned back triumphantly. "Exactly."
Just as Marcus reached for another piece of chicken, a new shadow lingered across the table.
Someone had approached, quiet as a whisper.
Giuseppe glanced up mid-sip of his black coffee, his brows twitched. "You do realise that you weren't invited, right?"
Evelynne stood there, calm as a still lake.
She wore a loose-fitting, black, cropped sweatshirt that hung just right off her shoulders, the long sleeves slightly oversized. The cut revealed a glimpse of her toned midriff—bronzed skin tight over muscle.
Her black high-waisted pants hugged her form.
A thin gold necklace draped from her collarbone, glinting faintly under the café lights like a relic from another life. It swayed gently with her breath, catching the eyes without effort.
Her long, wavy hair spilt freely down her back like ink.
"You're… Evelynne, right?" Daniel asked, his tone cautious but curious.
She nodded. "That's right."
Arthur blinked. "Oh, yeah. From the arena."
Tandav nodded. "Right…"
She said nothing. Her gaze flickered across them with familiarity and barely hidden amusement, but when her golden eyes met Giuseppe's black irises, something changed.
Just for a moment, then she spoke.
"I'm here to learn," Evelynne said, voice even. "You should know how dangerous the script is. If I want to live through it, I need to learn from the top fighters in our year. That being, you people."
Marcus raised a brow, sipping his tea like it was the finest entertainment he'd seen all week. "So your plan is to... what? Trail us like some kind of intern?"
"If I must," she replied simply. No hesitation.
Her eyes flicked to Giuseppe again. There was something behind the golden fire of her gaze—an ache that had no name, a ghost of something long buried. She looked at him like he was supposed to know her. Like he had, once.
But Giuseppe didn't blink. He met her stare with casual amusement, like she was just another bold girl with a death wish and no concept of personal space.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, then. Get on your knees and beg," he drawled lazily, like it was a joke only half in jest. "Might accept your offer if you grovel hard enough."
The group collectively groaned.
"Seriously?" Daniel sighed.
"How tactful," Tandav muttered sarcastically.
But then their eyes widened as Evelynne actually stepped forward, lowering slightly, her expression unreadable.
"Wait—wait, wait, what the hell—" Arthur leaned forward, eyes wide.
Even Giuseppe's smirk faltered. He hadn't expected her to take him seriously. No one did. But there she was, about to kneel without a hint of hesitation.
He blinked—just once—and for a moment, something unfamiliar stirred inside him. Like déjà vu.
"…You're really gonna do it? Don't you have any dignity?" he asked, voice low now.
Evelynne tilted her head, gaze still locked on his. "You said you might accept. My life is worth more than my dignity."
Giuseppe blinked—once. Something in him stuttered. Her words shouldn't have meant anything.
But they did.
"…Tch." He looked away. "Fine. You're in. No kneeling required."
Evelynne stood up. Smoothly. Like she had never intended to stay down long.
She simply nodded once and took the final empty seat beside Giuseppe.
The others exchanged glances. Confused and slightly impressed.
Giuseppe leaned toward Marcus and whispered, "New lackey acquired."
Four smirks passed around the table like a game of cards.
The group's attention was brought back to the spinning cube of light at the centre of their table.
[Mind Line – Final Round]
[Target: Player BucketHatOnMyHeadLikeABoss]
"Well that's just fucking fantastic," Giuseppe groaned.
[Topic: Geography]
"Ugh."
["What is the capital city of Aurago, the storm-torn continent known for its raw surges of mana in the form of seasonal mana tides?"]
[A) Virelia]
[B) Drenn's Holdona]
[C) Thassor-Venn]
[Time: 1 Minute]
"The game sure is being awfully generous with the time, maybe it's 'cause you have been losing so damn bad," Arthur mutters, to which he was ignored.
Giuseppe stared blankly at the floating glyphs.
"…Aurago?" he repeated. "Is that the one with the weird trees or the screaming sky?"
Tandav shook his head. "The screaming sky. We trained there last semester."
"Yeah, well, clearly I didn't memorise the street signs," Giuseppe snapped.
Evelynne raised a brow. "You're seriously telling me you don't know the capital of the place you almost got struck by lightning twelve times?"
"I remember the lightning," he said defensively. "Not the name of the place that tried to kill me. And how the fuck do you even know that?"
Daniel sighed. "Just because she recently joined our group, doesn't mean she didn't exist until this morning."
Marcus took a slow sip of his tea and laid a hand over Giuseppe's shoulder in mock encouragement. "I believe in you. Not in your answer. Just... you, as a concept."
The cube pulsed.
Giuseppe looked up, serious now. "Okay, final answer: New Caelwyn."
[Incorrect!]
"Piss off!"
[Correct answer: Virelia]
[Updated Score: BucketHatOnMyHeadLikeABoss – -60]
"Of course it's Virelia," Giuseppe muttered. "Sounds like a brand of overpriced water."
Evelynne looks around the table in confusion, 'What was he expecting? New Calwyn wasn't even an answer on there.'
She felt like she was losing brain cells just being in Giuseppe's presence.
[Mind Line — Final Round]
[Target: Player SecondChance]
The cube of light floated to the centre of the table, and the others leaned in instinctively, eyes flicking to the screen.
Tandav let out a low whistle. "Alright, mystery girl's up."
"So it seems," Daniel added.
Giuseppe glanced at her username and smirked. "How dramatic…"
Evelynne didn't look up. "You're one to talk. Yours sounds like a child made it up."
"Go fuck yourself." He snaps.
"Fuck me yourself, you coward." Evelynne shoots back.
Arthur slowly turned to Tandav. "Did she just—?"
Tandav blinked. "I believe she did."
"Has he finally found someone who can match his freakiness?" Marcus says in astonishment.
Daniel clutches his hands together in a deeply contemplative position.
Giuseppe just stared at Evelynne, half-annoyed, half-impressed. And maybe a little bit of something else.
[Topic: Literature]
The group refocuses their attention on the cube.
["In the historical epic Tales of the Lost Cycle, which character was revealed to be a temporal echo—an existence born from a paradox in the Thread of Return?"]
[A) Idran Solmere]
[B) Calithra Vex]
[C) The Hollow Keeper]
[D) Lira of the Sundering]
[Time: 15 Seconds]
Marcus frowned. "Isn't that book banned now? Some problems with the laws in the author's country?"
Tandav scratched his head. "Yeah, I think so."
"The story got too dark and graphic, so it got banned by the Virelian government. At least that's what is stated officially. But there is speculation on whether or not there was a deeper reason," Daniel clarifies.
Giuseppe stayed silent; he knew for a fact that he hadn't ever read the story before. But for some reason, he felt like he knew the answer.
'I think it's…C.'
Evelynne tapped the table once, then said evenly, "C. The Hollow Keeper."
[Correct! +3 Points to Player: SecondChance]
The cube pinged and pulsed green.
Giuseppe looked strangely at the cube with an unreadable expression, his thoughts unclear.
Arthur blinked. "That was fast."
Evelynne shrugged. "I read it a while ago."
"I dropped that shit after I read a whole chapter narrated by a fucking talking mirror," Tandav states.
Giuseppe watched her for a moment. "Are you an avid reader?"
She gave him a deep look, calm—almost serene. "I like stories where people get a second shot, to change things."
***
The sky over Glory Academy was a deep, endless navy, streaked with the soft glow of campus ward-lights humming to life. It was just past 9 pm when the group finally parted ways outside the plaza.
"Try not to die before breakfast," Tandav yawned, stretching like a cat as he nudged Arthur toward the male dorms.
"No promises," Arthur replied, giving a lazy salute. "But I'll haunt you if I go."
Marcus and Daniel gave a simple wave before walking in the same direction.
Giuseppe lingered a little longer, hands buried in his pockets, gaze briefly flicking toward Evelynne—then away just as fast.
"Tomorrow, then," he muttered, before turning to follow the others down the winding path.
And just like that, she was alone.
Evelynne stood there for a moment, under the soft pulse of the plaza light. The air was cold, but still. Quiet. The kind of quiet that wraps around you when the world's about to shift.
She began walking, the heels of her boots clicking against the stone tiles as she made her way toward the female dorms.
Tomorrow is New Year's Day.
Not the kind with confetti or fireworks—but the kind that marked the beginning of everything. The first step into the Foundational Scripts. A rite of passage that turned students into Storywalkers—or killed them trying.
No resets. No mercy. Death in the Script meant death, for real.
But it wasn't fear she felt. She had felt that in the past, but no more.
She'd been waiting two whole lifetimes for this.
Beneath her coat, her fingers curled into fists. Her golden eyes took on a brighter shine, a touch of determination, and a beautiful amount of hope resided in her eyes.
She looked up, eyes locking on the moonlit spires of the Library Tower in the distance—the place where every Script began.
Then she exhaled softly.
"…I won't waste your sacrifices."
She stepped into her dorm room, still surprised that the academy had the audacity to call them "dorm rooms." These were more like luxurious apartments.
The higher the rank, the better the living quarters. The school had plenty of crafty little rules like that, designed to encourage 'competitiveness' among the students.
Being the top-ranked of her year in the female category, Evelynne's room was naturally one of the finest.
The white marble floors gleamed under soft blue lighting embedded in the walls.
Multiple doors led to other rooms, but they failed to tempt her. Guided by her tired body, she walked into her bedroom,
Her bed was a minimalist piece with a marble headboard, dark satin sheets, and matching pillows. A white desk sat against a wall, with only a holographic display and a few small plants adorning it. The screen still showed her notes from earlier in the morning.
The large window offered a view of the campus below, but the tinted glass dimmed the light pollution, letting only the stars shine through at night. A black leather lounge chair in the corner provided a space to relax, while the ceiling's adjustable lighting set the room's mood.
Evelynne shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes without a second thought, then sank into the plush comfort of her bed with a tired, careless grace.
Slowly, her eyelids turned heavy, and the call of the dream realm slowly became too loud to ignore.
…
White robes draped around her like silk woven from light itself, their hem fluttering in the airless silence. The chamber rose like a cathedral carved from forgotten time—an impossible fusion of divine geometry and ancient magic. Above her, the colossal pillar pulsed with fiery sigils—burning languages older than thought itself. Runes spun like constellations, orbiting the core with impossible grace. She could feel each symbol carving itself into her soul.
Dozens of blue orbs floated in still formation above and around her, humming softly like a choir on the edge of weeping.
Figures surrounded her in a wide circle—she felt that she knew them, but their identities eluded her as the grey fog covered their faces.
Beyond the chamber walls, she could feel it—reality tearing at the seams. Stars screamed. Galaxies collided like dying gods. Great celestial beasts were born and devoured in the same breath. Black holes burst like glass bubbles under pressure.
The ritual was already underway.
One of the figures took a step forward, "Gemini."
Evelynne's golden eyes bore into the hooded figure, "Aldric, do you think it will be successful?"
"There is no guarantee, since we are not just going into an alternate timeline. But we are reverting every single reality back in time. There is a drastic difference in scale."
Another three hooded figures walk towards the centre. Evelynne turns her gaze towards them, but their faces become obscure the longer she stares at them.
"How long do we have before He notices?" Evelynne asks them, she felt like her mouth moved on its own, like her body was not her own.
"Too late."
The voice wasn't one of them.
A malevolent voice slithered in and entered Evelynne's ears, deep and cold. Yet it carried a kind of sick amusement in his voice.
She turned to see the entrance of the chamber. Bloodied corpses littered the halls, a severed head rolled through the doorway. A lone figure stood in the hallway.
He was tall, his long white hair flowing like moonlight over a frame that radiated power. His body was lean, graceful in the way predators were graceful. A wicked smile curved over his lips, his pale white eyes, made all the more prominent by his black sclera, gleamed with evil.
Despite the massacre behind him, he walked without a rush, draped in white robes lined with jagged gold—an imitation of holiness that only made him more profane. The sacred had never looked so blasphemous.
Evelynne stared at the figure; she couldn't see past the fog that covered his face, just like the others. But she remembered that voice, though it was tainted now with a darkness that sent shivers down her spine. Those eyes that always looked at the world with hatred and malice, but they always held a certain kindness, in their own way. But now, they were devoid of that.
Replaced by a single malevolent desire, to see everything return to red.
Slowly, a single red crown began to form over his head—but it didn't seem fully formed just yet.
"I'm here to ruin your day," he said casually.
Silence followed his words. Not stillness, but held breath.
Evelynne didn't flinch. Instead, she turned her head slightly, eyes meeting another hooded figure across the chamber.
"How long until it is complete?" she asked, shockingly calm in such a situation.
The black-robed man blinked, startled—not just by the question, but by her tone. Everyone else was still frozen. He hadn't expected her to be so composed.
The invader tilted his head, mildly amused.
"If he wanted to kill us," Evelynne continued, "he would've torn this dimension apart without ever stepping inside."
"But… he did say he's here to ruin our plans," one of the acolytes stammered.
The invader's voice cut in, sharp but almost playful.
"What's your image of me, exactly? You think I have to kill you to ruin you? Do you think I'm some kind of violent maniac?"
The room shifted—uncomfortable.
"You'll have to forgive us," another voice replied smoothly.
Aldric Malchus Hadi stepped forward, his presence calm and measured, even in the face of disaster. "Your reputation precedes you, Violent Buddha. Taebaek."
The white figure, now known as Taebaek, simply stood there with what Evelynne assumed was a smile.
Then the air split.
A white fissure tore across space—a jagged wound of blinding brilliance. From the rift, two figures emerged, cloaked in resplendent light. Evelynne couldn't make out their features, but she felt the pressure of their presence. But it felt reassuring; she knew that these two were allies.
One raised a gleaming sword, pointing it at Taebaek with unwavering resolve.
"Stay where you stand," the figure commanded.
He stepped forth clad in black onyx armour that shimmered like dragon-scale, a white mantle draped over his shoulders and a plain silver sword with a white hilt adorned his waist.
Taebaek looked up slowly.
"That sounds optional."
And then, he moved.
Unhurried. Unbothered.
The swordsman vanished from his spot, reappearing in front of Taebaek in less than a breath, his blade already descending like a guillotine.
But before it could strike, Taebaek lifted a single finger.
A dim red light pulsed from its tip.
Instantly, both figures who had arrived through the portal froze. Their composure shattered.
"How dare you use that!?" roared the second figure, his voice cracking like thunder as he appeared beside them in a golden blur.
A spear of radiant light materialised in his grip, forged from pure force, trembling with fury.
Taebaek looked between the two of them, genuinely entertained.
"Well, now. Isn't this funny? I'm the one using Wrath Force, and yet here you all are. Even angrier than I am."
He laughed—that same amused, cruel laugh that didn't echo in the chamber so much as infect it. It slithered through the silence and left a bitter aftertaste in the air.
Suddenly, his amused face changed abruptly. He stared at the people in the chamber like they were a bunch of insects.
"I didn't come here to kill anyone," Taebaek said, his voice smooth—almost warm, as if offering mercy. "Not today, anyway."
He paused, letting his pale gaze drift across the chamber.
"But you know how it goes… the more friends you have, the more dead friends you end up with."
His cold white eyes scanned the room, lingering just a moment too long on each figure. "And I'm seeing a lot of potential corpses."
There was no movement. No one dared to speak. Then, without shifting his tone, Taebaek continued, almost conversationally:
"So… how long until your little ritual is done?" His gaze slid to Evelynne like a blade, sharp and unflinching. "I'd hurry, if I were you."
"You're not going to stop me?" Evelynne heard herself ask.
Taebaek tilted his head, amused by the question, but chose not to answer it directly. Instead, he spoke softly, almost to himself.
"There's a quote I quite like." He stepped forward. The room felt smaller with every footfall. "The willing are guided by fate. The reluctant… dragged."
As if responding to his presence, the very air tightened, dense, unmoving. The others tried to step forward, to speak, to raise weapons—but their bodies no longer obeyed.
Taebaek stopped just in front of Evelynne, looking down at her like an emperor addressing a kneeling subject.
"Don't worry," he said, lips curling into a polite smile that somehow made her feel cold. "The last thing I want to do is kill you."
A flicker of relief passed through her, but it never reached her lungs.
"Don't get too comfortable," he added, almost gently. "It's still on my list."
He leaned in close. Close enough that she could feel the unnatural chill radiating off him—close enough for his whisper to echo in her mind long after the sound faded.
"Death," he whispered, "will be the kindest thing you receive from me."
***
Giuseppe walked in silence alongside the others, their footsteps echoing softly down the empty path back to the dorms. The night air was cool, laced with the scent of distant rain and the quiet rustling of trees. Words were exchanged around him, but he wasn't really listening.
He stopped
Marcus, Daniel, Tandav and Arthur continued for a few steps before realising, turning back to face him. Giuseppe didn't look at them—his gaze was unfocused, lingering on nothing in particular.
"I'll stay out a bit longer," he said softly, his voice distant. "You guys go ahead and get some sleep."
Marcus paused, glancing over his shoulder. "You sure?"
Giuseppe nodded, eyes distant. "Yeah. I just need to clear my head."
Daniel gave him a look—part concern, part understanding—then offered a small, wordless nod.
"Don't stay out too late," Arthur said, adjusting the strap of his bag. "You can't afford to miss tomorrow. None of us can."
"You better not be late tomorrow, okay?" Tandav added, his voice lighter but no less sincere.
Giuseppe managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll be there."
With that, the group continued on, their silhouettes fading slowly. Giuseppe stood in place a moment longer, then turned and began walking aimlessly in the opposite direction, letting instinct guide his steps.
Eventually, he found himself at the edge of a still, dark lake nestled in the academy's outer grounds. The moon sat high above, casting silver streaks across the water's surface. He stepped up to the metal railing, its chill seeping into his skin as he leaned forward slightly, arms resting on the bars.
His reflection greeted him with a quiet, empty gaze.
Giuseppe could hardly recognise the face staring back at him, he had never seen that expression on his face.
His eyes were like two black pools of darkness.
Slowly, another reflection came into view. The man looked just like him, though slightly older—and kinder.
"Do you remember what I always used to tell you?" the man asked, his voice low and gentle.
"The more I live on this planet, the more I understand why roosters start their day screaming," Giuseppe replied.
"Exactly."
Giuseppe raised an eyebrow. "So, what's that supposed to mean? Why bring it up now? What's the point?"
"No point," came the response with a casual shrug. "Sometimes, people just do things without reason. Like you, out here, staring at the sky for no reason at all. And that's fine. People forget, but there's a freedom in accepting that not everything needs to be justified. Sometimes, the simplest actions carry the deepest truths, and the most complex decisions could have come from the briefest of whims. It's when we try to force meaning into everything that we lose sight of what's right in front of us."
Giuseppe stayed silent, looking out over the horizon.
"The world's a strange place, Giuseppe. And it's full of people trying to make sense of every little thing. But in the end, it's those who can sit with the unknown, who can simply be, that understand the most." The man concludes with a serene expression on his face.
Giuseppe turned his head, finding not a single person next to him, but he didn't appear shocked. With a small exhale, he turned, his footsteps slow as he made his way back to the dorm.
"Goodnight, Vincenzo."
_____________________________________________
Author Note: ;)