“Monster! S-she’s one of them…!”
“Oh gods, please don’t tell me it’s one of those skinwalkers I’ve been hearing about..”
“Ah, I don’t want to die! Where are the heroes!?”
“Mom, Dad, I’m scared!”
“Hush now. Stay quiet. Don’t catch its attention, or we’re all dead.”
Humans feared the unknown. It was only natural for them to recoil in terror at the sight of the thing before them.
That thing… that thing standing atop another of its kind. A monster. The creature everyone feared, towering over them. It stood upon a centipede-like void creature. Dozens of segmented, glossy black legs, each one twitching in frantic, erratic motion. Its body was riddled with hundreds of eyes, blinking and shifting independently, a chaos of panic. The end of its tail was tipped with a scorpion-like stinger, but those black, glossy legs—those legs were crushed. The creature’s body was covered in countless wounds.
Disgusting black blood poured from the creature, pooling in the streets where the humans stood.
And yet, despite the horror they faced, the true terror lay in the creature atop it.
That creature, which they had called a void creature, was in the form of a little girl.
A little girl who, in another world, might have been considered one of the most adorable children ever. If not for the nightmare unfolding before them.
The little girl stood atop the writhing centipede, bathed in the soft glow of the stars and moonlight, her silver hair gleaming like molten metal.
And those eyes…
The people’s hearts froze as they locked eyes with her. Her grey eyes, shining too brightly, with the clarity and brilliance of diamonds.
But those eyes—those eyes that terrified them—betrayed nothing but hurt and confusion.
Then—
All the humans fell unconscious at once.
The centipede beneath the little girl’s feet collapsed, dying without a sound.
In the next moment, she blinked, her gaze meeting the eyes of someone whose eyes mirrored glowing sapphires.
A man. White hair, like snow.
Without warning, the man moved, appearing in front of the little girl in the blink of an eye.
She looked up at him.
“Father… why… why does my chest hurt? I’m not injured, but it hurts. Why did they all look at me like that..? I… I only tried to save them… but… why were they so mean?”
Her voice betrayed nothing but genuine confusion and sadness.
The man’s expression softened with sorrow. He gently caressed her silver hair, ignoring the pools of black blood staining her.
“Because… we humans are stupid creatures.”
*****
Checking herself in the mirror one last time, Celestina adjusted her academy uniform and nodded in approval. Everything about her appearance was flawless.
Still, a tired sigh escaped her lips. Proper sleep had been elusive, but it wasn’t just exhaustion weighing her down. What consumed her thoughts the most these days was the formation of her faction—the Frost Faction.
The academy was home to countless factions, but with the children of the Great Clans enrolled, three stood uncontested: the Dusk Faction, the Crimson Faction, and the Nebula Faction.
That was, of course, until Celestina arrived.
Time had passed since then, and the academy had finally opened the doors for students to join factions. Unsurprisingly, the competition was fierce, with most students aiming to align themselves with one of the Great Factions—especially the undefeated Crimson Faction or the newly established Frost Faction.
It was natural for the Crimson Faction to attract the most attention. Jasmine Crimson, even stronger than the Nebula Prince and serving as the student council president, was a force to be reckoned with. Students flocked to her faction not just for protection but for the opportunity to curry favor with the Crimson Heiress herself.
And then there was the Crimson Prince.
Azriel Crimson’s battle against Neo Genesis had become a legend, spreading across every corner of Asia. The allure of joining the brother-sister duo in the Crimson Faction was irresistible.
But much to their disappointment, neither Jasmine nor Azriel were currently at the academy. Until Jasmine returned, the Crimson Faction’s members refused to accept any new recruits.
As for Azriel Crimson? He wasn’t officially part of the faction yet, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. When that moment came, the Crimson Faction would become untouchable.
Then there was the second most popular faction—the Frost Faction.
Despite its growing popularity, Celestina found herself growing increasingly frustrated with it.
Most students saw the Frost Faction as the weakest among the Great Factions, even with its current momentum. The Dusk Faction, though without the Dusk Prince, still commanded respect thanks to his backing from outside the academy. The Nebula Faction retained its strength through sheer influence and pedigree.
The Frost Faction? It was different.
Many of its would-be members didn’t join out of loyalty or ambition. They came to impress Celestina, to catch her attention, or worse, to manipulate her into believing they were assets. Their efforts were laughable at best and infuriating at worst.
Some even had the audacity to claim she only needed them to compete with the other Great Factions.
Needless to say, none of it worked on her.
Still, she had managed to find a few capable members. They weren’t incompetent, but they were far from enough.
The Frost Faction needed to be taken seriously—by the students and by the academy. Somehow, Celestina had to make that happen.
Honestly, Celestina’s biggest concern right now was the Crimson Faction and the Dusk Faction, and how they might try to suppress her influence in the academy.
The Dusk Faction carried themselves with an air of confidence and arrogance, bolstered by the Dusk Prince’s looming presence outside the academy. The Crimson Faction, on the other hand, had its strength rooted in Jasmine and Azriel.
But it wasn’t Jasmine who worried her.
No.
It was Azriel.
He was the one Celestina was most cautious about.
She had seen things others hadn’t during the void dungeon expedition. She’d witnessed it all with her own eyes—the heavy injuries Azriel had sustained, injuries that would have incapacitated anyone else. And yet, even then, he didn’t seem weak. Not in the slightest.
She remembered the way he stood over the limbless Heptarch while she and Vergil could only watch from the sidelines, frozen with fear.
The way he coldly ordered Solomon to tear off the Heptarch’s head.
And the way Solomon obeyed without hesitation.
Azriel hadn’t flinched as he picked up the severed head, his expression unreadable as he stored it in his ring.
And then there was Solomon Dragonheart.
Celestina knew exactly who Solomon was. Everyone did.
The mere thought of Azriel commanding Solomon was absurd—unbelievable, even. Solomon Dragonheart, the infamous Clown, didn’t take orders from anyone. Not from the Great Kings, not from the heirs of the Great Clans. No one dared to fight him, let alone control him.
And yet, Solomon had obeyed Azriel.
Celestina couldn’t shake the anxiety gnawing at her over their relationship. Whatever bond Azriel and Solomon shared, it was dangerous. That connection alone made Azriel far more powerful than anyone realized.
He had the ability to make the Clown listen.
He had the ability to orchestrate the downfall of a Heptarch.
Despite being the heiress to the Frost Clan herself, Jasmine being the heiress to the Crimson Clan, and Caleus the heir to the Nebula Clan, it was Azriel—the only child of a Great Clan who wasn’t an heir—who stood out as the most dangerous.
Azriel wasn’t just strong. He was smart. Ruthless. Capable of things that sent shivers down her spine.
‘If he ever started his own faction,’ she thought, ‘he could easily compete with the rest of us.’
She wasn’t sure if that idea scared her more, or if it was the fact that she couldn’t truly predict his next move.
Still, despite all of this, she couldn’t bring herself to see him purely as a threat. What Azriel had done in the void dungeon had unsettled her, yes, but she still considered him a friend.
In truth, the only two people she truly thought of as friends were Jasmine and, now, Azriel—though she wasn’t as close to him as she was to Jasmine.
But friendship didn’t matter.
It wouldn’t matter.
For the sake of the Frost Faction, Celestina wouldn’t let anything, not even her friendships, get in the way.
Sighing once more, Celestina reached the door to her room—or rather, her luxurious suite. She opened it, stepped out, and closed the door behind her.
“I need to find some capable members. If not among the first years, there have to be some second or third years today who are useful… hopefully.”
The clock was ticking.
Yes, the influence gained by leading a faction was crucial. But there was something else—something more pressing.
Something that gave Celestina only three days to prepare.
Her lips tightened into a thin line as she stepped forward, her boots clicking softly against the pristine floors of the dormitory hall. Reaching the elevator, she pressed the button, letting out another soft sigh as she waited for the lift to arrive.
The doors slid open with a soft chime.
“Ah…”
A faint sound escaped her lips, as her eyes widened in surprise.
Inside the elevator stood two familiar figures—a boy and a girl.
The boy, had an expression tinged with guilt. His crimson eyes darted toward the girl beside him, but she refused to meet his gaze, her lips pressed into a pout as she stared at the wall.
And then, simultaneously, both of their crimson eyes turned to Celestina.
She blinked in surprise but quickly composed herself. Without a word, she stepped into the elevator with them.
The doors slid shut behind her.
In that small, confined space, three individuals stood side by side—the Frost Heiress, the Crimson Heiress, and the Crimson Prince.