I woke up to sunlight burning through my eyelids and a weight on my chest that definitely wasn’t blankets. Celeste had draped herself halfway across during the night, her silver-white hair tickling my chin. She slept with her lips slightly parted, looking younger and far less intimidating than the ice princess everyone feared.
mories of last night’s encounter with Maki flooded back. My familiar had ambushed for a quickie while Celeste slept inches away. And like the scumbag I was, I’d gone along with it.
You’re welco for the entertainnt, Nel chirped in my head.
Fuck off, I thought back.
A soft knock at the door interrupted my morning guilt spiral. I carefully extracted myself from Celeste, who made an adorable little noise of protest before burying her face in my pillow.
I slipped on sweatpants and a t-shirt before cracking open the door. Isabelle Okoye stood in the hallway, already dressed in full battle gear—black tactical pants, reinforced chest plate, her spear collapsed to transportable size and strapped to her back.
"Nakano. You’re alive. Good." She spoke with that regal cadence that made everything sound like a royal proclamation.
"Barely. What ti is it?"
"Seven-thirty. We need to talk."
I glanced back at Celeste’s sleeping form. "Give a minute."
I quickly brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face before stepping into the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind .
Isabelle’s crimson eyes assessed with that penetrating gaze that always made feel like she was cataloging my weaknesses. "You look less dead than yesterday. Impressive recovery."
"Thanks for the dical opinion, Doc."
"Your sarcasm remains intact as well. How encouraging." Her lips quirked slightly. "Walk with ."
We headed downstairs in silence. For soone carrying a collapsible spear, Isabelle moved with eerie grace—like a queen gliding through her castle. The common room was mostly empty except for Juan, who had sohow managed to fall asleep standing up against the wall again, and Marco brewing coffee with the intensity of a man performing brain surgery.
Isabelle led outside onto the back porch overlooking the forest. Morning mist still clung to the trees, giving everything an ethereal quality.
"I need your assistance," she said without preamble.
"With?"
"A Gate run."
I blinked at her. "You want to do a Gate? Now?"
"Precisely." She leaned against the railing. "My usual team wishes to rest. Sothing about being traumatized watching you nearly die on live broadcast."
"Fair enough."
"But I cannot afford to waste a day." She turned those red eyes on . "Neither can you."
"Why specifically?" I asked, already knowing I’d agree. Isabelle never asked for help. This was basically a once-in-a-lifeti opportunity.
"You proved yourself capable yesterday, despite your... unorthodox thods." She studied her nails, which were painted a deep wine red. "And it seems we haven’t had much ti together with you so busy with your... won."
"They’re—" I started automatically, then caught myself. "Fine. What’s the Gate?"
"C-Rank Blue in the eastern district. Standard clearing operation." She straightened up. "The VHC expects minimal resistance, which ans we should prepare for anything."
"When do we leave?"
"Twenty minutes. South dock."
"I’ll be there."
Isabelle nodded, then hesitated. "One more thing, Nakano."
"Yeah?"
"Bring your bat." Her mouth curved into sothing almost like a smile. "It seems to be surprisingly effective."
She turned and walked away, her posture never dropping an inch. Even in casual conversation, Isabelle carried herself like royalty in exile.
I headed back upstairs to grab my gear, wondering how I’d explain this to Celeste. Or worse, Natalia. My mind raced through possible scenarios, none of them ending well.
You could just... not tell them, Nel suggested.
That’s your solution to everything.
Because it works.
When I opened my door, Celeste was sitting up in bed, hair mussed and eyes still heavy with sleep. She looked at , then at my hand on the doorknob.
"Going sowhere?" Her voice was soft but alert.
"Gate run," I admitted. "With Isabelle."
"Isabelle?" Her eyebrows rose slightly. "That’s... unusual."
"Her team’s taking a rest day."
Celeste nodded slowly. "And you’re not?"
"I heal fast."
"Yes," she agreed. "Unnaturally so."
The mont stretched between us. Celeste was too smart not to notice the inconsistencies in my stories, in my abilities, in everything about . I wondered how long before she put it all together.
She slid out of bed, still wearing my oversized t-shirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs. "Be careful, Satori. C-Ranks can still kill you if you’re careless."
"How did you know it was a C-Rank?"
"Because that’s what’s available today according to the Guild board." Her smile was slight, delicate, like the first snowfall of winter settling on glass. "I do pay attention."
She crossed the room with unhurried grace, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor, and kissed softly. The gesture was simple, chaste even, but the warmth of her lips lingered like the phantom heat of sumr sunlight after dusk. "Co back in one piece."
"That’s the plan," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
Her fingers remained on my arm for a heartbeat longer than necessary, the touch light as snow yet sohow weighted with unspoken concern. "Natalia will be upset."
"I know."
"I’ll handle her." Celeste moved toward the bathroom, her hair swaying like liquid moonlight with each step. Before she disappeared through the doorway, she glanced back at over her shoulder. "You owe for that."
"Add it to my tab."
I quickly changed into combat gear, each piece of equipnt snapping into place with the practiced efficiency of routine. The regenerator brace went beneath my shirt first, the tal cool against my skin, then the reinforced vest, the arm guards, the knee and shin protection. Finally, I grabbed my bat. The weight settled into my palm like an old friend returning ho—familiar, balanced, perfect. The damn thing had been through hell with . Multiple Gates, the Hydra, Reyna’s lightning, Celeste’s ice. It wasn’t fancy or magical, didn’t glow with divine power or hum with arcane energy. But it worked, and that was enough.
After one final check of my gear, I headed downstairs again, my boots thudding softly against the wooden steps. The common room had filled up slightly since I’d first passed through, the morning energy of the Hounds slowly building as students erged from their rooms. The sll of cooking drifted from the kitchen—butter, vanilla, sothing sweet and warm that made my stomach twist with hunger I didn’t have ti to indulge.
Emi stood in the kitchen doorway, her blue hair pulled back in a ponytail that made her look younger sohow, more innocent. She wielded a spatula in one hand like a weapon of dostic warfare, and her face lit up like soone had flipped a switch the mont she spotted .
"Satori!" Her voice carried that perpetual note of sunshine that sohow never grated on my nerves the way it should have. "I’m making pancakes!"
"Can’t today. Gate run."
The brightness dimd imdiately, her smile flickering like a candle in a sudden draft. "But... you just fought yesterday. You should rest." Her brows knitted together, genuine worry creasing her features. "You could get hurt if you’re tired."
"I’m fine." I didn’t have ti for the full Emi worry cycle, the spiral of concern that could trap you for fifteen minutes if you weren’t careful. "Save so for when I get back?"
"Of course!" She nodded so eagerly her ponytail bounced. "I’ll make extra blueberry ones. Those are your favorite!"
I wasn’t aware I had a pancake preference, but I nodded anyway. "Thanks."
"Who are you running with?" Skylar’s voice ca from behind . She lounged against the wall, headphones around her neck, wearing black leggings and an oversized purple hoodie.
"Isabelle."
Skylar’s eyebrows shot up. "The queen asked you? Interesting."
"Probably just desperate."
"Or smart." She tilted her head. "You do have a habit of surviving impossible situations."
"It’s just a C-Rank."
"Everything is just a C-Rank until it isn’t." She pushed off the wall and walked past . "Try not to die. You still owe dessert."
I made it to the south dock with two minutes to spare. Isabelle already waited there, her back straight, her wine-red hair catching the morning light. She’d added forearm guards and a utility belt since I’d last seen her.
"You’re on ti," she noted, sounding mildly surprised.
"Don’t act so shocked."
"Most n I know operate on their own schedules." She turned toward the waiting boat. "Let’s go."
The ferry ride to the mainland was quiet. Isabelle stared out at the water, lost in thought, while I ran through my available abilities. Lightning Rod would be useless unless we encountered electrical monsters. Steel Body gave ten seconds of invulnerability, but the cooldown was brutal. Kinetic Absorption would help in a sustained fight. Shade Cloak for mobility.
Not a bad toolkit, but not ideal for unknown threats either.
When we arrived at the eastern district docking area, a VHC representative t us with paperwork. He wore the standard black and gold uniform, complete with the overly stiff posture they all seed to share.
"Guild affiliations?" he asked without looking up from his tablet.
"Onyx Hounds," I replied.
"Onyx Hounds," Isabelle echoed, which surprised .
The rep looked up then, recognition dawning. "Wait... Okoye? "
"I’ve made a temporary arrangent." She signed the digital form with a flourish. "The Gate location?"
"Warehouse district, section E7. Follow the markers." He handed us both tracking bands. "Standard protocol. Extraction team is on standby."
We headed toward the warehouse district, moving through the gradually waking city. Morning commuters gave our combat gear a wide berth, so taking photos with their phones. After the Hydra incident and the duel with Reyna, I was becoming recognizable. Not a good thing for soone with as many secrets as .
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