"Huh? Isn't it supposed to be this way?"
"No, Master. We were meant to veer right after that singularly tall tree."
"Are you sure?"
"Painfully."
They cut through the sky like misplaced arrows, Xierra's broom slicing through layers of cloud that crowded together in thick, woolen masses. White swallowed the horizon. Up, down—direction itself felt offended by their presence.
Xierra hovered midair, boots drawn close as she grappled with a folded map that had long since abandoned any pretense of usefulness. The parchment bore the marks of a hard morning—creased beyond mercy, smudged by careless handling, and faintly damp at the corners from an unfortunate encounter with her rushed cup of coffee before departure. Its inked paths bled into one another, indistinct and accusing, until a single red circle glared back at her, smug and unhelpful.
Inari perched on her shoulder as he always did, his black fur unruffled despite the wind's persistent prodding. Held close by his own magic, he kept himself perfectly poised, tail drifting with lazy precision. The map was pinned between one claw and the press of his foreleg, golden eyes narrowing as he peered at it with the restrained disdain of someone forced to read a menu written by a fool.
"I would like to remind you," Inari remarked dryly, tail flicking once near her shoulder, "that I did suggest asking Rhein or Leopold for directions. Preferably one of them. Both of them, even. Instead, you accepted a map from a sleep-deprived Randall who was operating purely on coffee and misplaced optimism."
Xierra squinted at the markings, tilting the parchment as though the ink might rearrange itself out of guilt. "You said he looked reliable."
"I was being kind."
The clouds thinned, unveiling land below—rolling greens interrupted by uneven stone, rivers that bent without warning, forests clustered too tightly to feel welcoming. None of it looked familiar.
They slowed, circling once. Then again.
Then a third time. Fourth and fifth times the charm, she supposed. They were getting nowhere and seeing nothing of their destination.
A creeping unease settled between them, not loud enough to name, but heavy all the same.
With no seasoned Magic Knights to guide them—no Rhein with his infuriating sense of direction, no Leopold pointing ahead with unearned confidence—the world stretched wide and uncooperative. Xierra's travels had always been tethered to the places she knew: Hage's worn paths, the Crimson Lion Kings' towering stone halls, routes she could walk with her eyes half-lidded and still arrive where she meant to be.
This—this was different.
"If only Rhein were here," Xierra breathed, dragging a hand through her hair. Snow hues clung to the strands, tangling them into something unruly and wild, as though the sky itself had taken offense at her neatness.
Inari released a long breath. "Perish the thought. I rather enjoy moments when I am not compared unfavorably to a walking, talking compass."
Despite the jab, his gaze swept the terrain below with open scrutiny. Even he looked uncertain now, golden eyes narrowing as though the land had personally wronged him.
"Forget Rhein," he continued. "How did we manage to arrive here, Master?"
She glanced down, then behind them, then back to the map. The answer refused to present itself.
"You tell me," she replied. "Captain sent us out. We just followed the directions."
"In the loosest interpretation of the word."
Xierra sighed and leaned back slightly on her broom, shoulders slumping. "Leo and Rhein were reassigned. Urgent mission, apparently."
Something in her voice dulled as she said it. The air felt colder for it.
Inari noticed. He always did.
"A pity," he noted, tone lighter than his eyes. "Though I must admit, it's refreshing to see you without your usual safety net of loud boys and louder confidence."
She shot him a look. "You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
Despite herself, a corner of her mouth twitched.
"A newly discovered dungeon," Inari recalled, glancing at the map. "Found by a traveler with far too much curiosity and not nearly enough self-preservation."
"It's not like he could control what he would discover, Inari."
Xierra hummed under her breath as she folded the map again, the tune wandering without direction, light, and unbothered—much like her optimism. It filled the space between them, a quiet habit she slipped into whenever uncertainty crept too close, as if music alone could steady the air around her.
"That said," she added, glancing toward the horizon where the land dipped into unfamiliar contours, "a dungeon, huh?"
Leopold's voice surfaced in her memory—animated, earnest, explaining with wide gestures and too much enthusiasm. A place where mana pooled unnaturally. Where monsters emerged. Where the land itself rejected the rules of the surface.
Where danger waited patiently.
Inari let out a low, amused chuckle and shifted his weight, padding lightly across her shoulders to settle on the other side. His dark fur rippled as he moved, tail flicking once before curling neatly behind him. Though his posture looked relaxed—almost lazy—there was a keen focus in his golden eyes, every sense quietly trained on their surroundings.
"Well," he drawled, scanning the forest, "on the bright side, Master—if we perish, at least it will be somewhere dramatic."
She exhaled through her nose. "You're terrible at encouragement."
"I find honesty far more effective."
Xierra tightened her grip on her broom, then loosened it again. Her heart beat louder here, each thud pressing against her ribs. Fear stirred, yes—but so did something else. Curiosity. Resolve. That quiet pull toward the unknown she had never quite shaken.
She fastened her hold on her broom.
Inari glanced at her, something softer flickering beneath his sarcasm. "Do try not to fall headfirst. I would hate to explain that to the Captain."
.
.
.
Earlier that morning, Leopold had been more than willing—eager, really—to explain every last detail of the mission to her. He had seized the role with both hands, stepping into it with a fervor that bordered on combustible. Fuegoleon, with the calm foresight of a man who knew exactly what would happen, had graciously passed the responsibility to his younger brother. Leopold, in turn, had looked like someone had been handed permission to set something on fire and called it leadership.
"You're asking me what a dungeon is?!" Leopold repeated, eyes blazing as he leaned forward, fists braced on the desk. "You know—ancient ruins, sealed dangers, forgotten magic, and traps nasty enough to singe your eyebrows clean off. Those dungeons." He barked out a laugh, the sound tearing free before anyone could cut him off.
Xierra blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sheer force of his enthusiasm.
Before Leopold could spiral further, the door to Fuegoleon's office creaked open. Rhein slipped inside with a crooked grin, mud streaking the hem of his robe. He paused the moment Fuegoleon's gaze lifted, sharp and unamused.
"Sorry," Rhein offered, entirely unapologetic, already tugging the garment free and folding it over his arm. He gave Leopold a casual pat on the shoulder as he passed. "Slipped."
"You did not slip," Leopold snapped back, though the edge of a grin betrayed him.
Rhein turned, reclaiming the room without ceremony. "All right, all right. Back to your topic, dungeons," he began, tone relaxed, hands lifting as if sketching the idea in the air. "Old places. Buried deep. Full of things people probably should've left alone—but didn't." His lips twitched. "History's bad habit."
"That was supposed to be my explanation!" Leopold boomed, jabbing a finger toward him.
Rhein sidestepped just in time to avoid a retaliatory kick, laughing as Leopold's boot met only air. "And sometimes," Rhein continued, undeterred, "they're packed with ancient magic, relics worth kingdoms, and items so strong they make modern spells look like children's tricks."
Leopold lunged again, aiming an elbow this time. Rhein ducked, grabbed the back of Leopold's collar, and shoved him upright before he could topple into a chair.
Xierra let out a small laugh, unable to help herself. The room was already alive with noise and motion, the Vermillion brothers colliding like sparks struck from flint. Even Inari, perched on her shoulder, cracked one eye open before letting out a weary sigh.
"Leo, why are you so excited anyway?" Rhein teased. "Xierra's the one heading out, not you."
"Because it's a dungeon!" Leopold threw his head back and laughed, hands planted firmly on his hips. "People back then didn't just lock doors—they built nightmares!! Magic traps, sealed guardians, barriers meant to chew you up and spit you out if you weren't ready." His grin sharpened. "That's the best part. Perfect for training."
"Oh?" Xierra asked, curiosity flickering despite herself.
"It's so no one could misuse what's inside," Leopold answered, nodding vigorously. "Power like that attracts the worst kinds of people."
"I see," she replied, absorbing his words.
Fuegoleon's office glowed in warm gold, sunlight slipping through tall windows and settling across polished wood and crimson banners. The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, threaded with residual magic. At the center of it all, Fuegoleon worked quietly, quill gliding across paper with steady intent.
Over the past couple of weeks—ever since Rhein and Xierra officially became Magic Knights of the Crimson Lion Kings—the office had somehow turned into a secondary gathering ground. The training fields claimed first place, the library a distant third, though the latter rarely tolerated their presence for long. Randall, perpetually exhausted and fueled by coffee alone, would shoo them out the moment voices rose. Senior knights silenced them with glares. Others simply sighed.
Fuegoleon had tried to enforce order. He had failed.
Not since the entrance exam had his days been so loud—or so full.
Xierra leaned back into the velvet chair, fingers absently brushing the edge of her silver grimoire as Leopold wrapped up his explanation. She listened closely, the weight of the mission settling in her chest.
With a grin, Leopold tapped her forehead. "And you're part of the group chosen directly by the Wizard King himself!"
Rhein nodded. "Pretty wild, huh?"
"Speaking of which," Leopold added, turning back to her, "you ever met him?"
She rocked gently on her heels. "I don't think so? Not that I remember. And I think I would, considering he's the Wizard King."
"That's expected," Fuegoleon replied without looking up. "He rarely appears beyond public duties."
Rhein hummed and glanced back at Xierra. "So—where did the captain say this dungeon was?"
She answered without hesitation. "Near the border of a hostile country. He said it had to be handled cleanly, before anyone else got there."
Fuegoleon gave another quiet nod of approval, still focused on his work, attention split in half between the paper in front and the conversation filling the room.
Rhein sighed, leaning against the wall. "Maybe I should also work on my memorization skills. Might help with mission details."
"In the past," Leopold returned, arms crossed, "some people walked out of dungeons with magic strong enough to reshape the world. Others unlocked ultimate spells." He grinned widely. "But you'll be fine! Gahahah!"
Xierra smiled back, half-amused, half-overwhelmed.
Rhein shook his head fondly. "You're impossible, Leo."
Inari curled his tail tighter around her shoulder and closed his eyes again. "The morning has barely begun," he muttered. "All of you, spare me the liveliness."
.
.
.
Xierra found herself smiling before she quite realized it, a quiet sound slipping past her lips at the memory of the morning's chaos. The briefing, the noise, Leopold's booming enthusiasm, and Rhein's easy grin—all of it still clung to her thoughts like warmth by the hearth. They had parted soon after, each bound for separate duties, though not before pressing a rolled map into her hands with the sort of confidence that assumed reading it would be effortless.
It hadn't been.
The parchment now felt like an adversary rather than a guide—creased from being folded and unfolded too many times, its corners worn thin. The red marking stood out, bold and mocking her. No matter how long she studied it, the lines refused to settle into sense. Every turn she took felt right until it wasn't, every landmark familiar until it abruptly wasn't there at all.
She tried not to let it bother her. But the longer they drifted across unfamiliar skies, the more the world below twisted into a puzzle she couldn't quite solve.
And then—there.
Between the rolling green and the jagged rise of stone, something broke the natural flow of the land. Her gaze sharpened, breath hitching as recognition stirred. Nestled among thick foliage and fractured terrain stood a shape that did not belong, its presence heavy even from a distance. She slowed instinctively, hovering as realization settled in.
The dungeon.
Not just any dungeon, either. From what she had been told, two other squads had been dispatched to the same location—the Black Bulls and the Golden Dawn. The thought gave her pause. A strange coincidence that all three paths should cross here. Her childhood friends stood among those ranks now, while she wore the mantle of the Crimson Lion Kings. Was this coincidence born from careful planning, or the Wizard King's quiet hand nudging fate into alignment?
Xierra exhaled, letting the thought pass. Speculation wouldn't bring the structure any closer.
"Inari," she asked, tilting forward on her broom as the forest canopy thickened below, "do you think that's the dungeon? It looks dungeon-y enough to me."
The fox roused from his brief rest atop her shoulder, stretching before following her line of sight. His eyes narrowed, assessing the land with measured interest. "Hard to say," he replied after a moment. "But it certainly has the look of something people were never meant to find twice. Shall we investigate, Master?"
She nodded once. "Yeah, let's."
They descended together, the air growing cooler as shadows from towering trees swallowed the sunlight. Her boots touched the ground with practiced ease, broom dissolving into motes of magic at her side. The forest fell silent around them, as though holding its breath.
What stood before them was less a single structure and more a scar upon the land.
Broken towers jutted from the hillside at odd angles, stone swallowed by earth as if the ground itself had grown tired of resisting them. Walls melded into roots and soil, brickwork threaded through with vines and pale lavender grass that shimmered faintly under the open sky. Trees, long since dead, stood like sentinels stripped of purpose, their bark cracked and gray.
It was unmistakable.
Inari surveyed the ruins, tail flicking once. "This is it?" he asked, tone edged with mild disappointment. "I was expecting something with a bit more menace."
Xierra glanced at him, incredulous. "You want something more menacing?" Her gaze swept the broken stone, the unnatural stillness. "This is already unsettling enough. I don't need it to glare at us, too."
He gave a low laugh. "Where's your sense of adventure? A little danger keeps life from growing dull."
That remark struck something old and familiar, tugging loose memories of relentless training and his merciless standards. She stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant fondness, words failing her for a brief second.
Inari noticed—and laughed again, clearly pleased with himself.
Before she could retort, the sound of approaching footsteps cut through the quiet.
"...Xierra?"
Her breath caught.
She turned slowly, heart stuttering as a familiar voice reached her ears. The forest seemed to lean in, watching as recognition dawned.
Yuno studied her with the same steady calm she remembered, head angled just enough to suggest quiet assessment rather than suspicion. His expression barely shifted as he spoke. "What are you doing here?"
A pause followed, brief but deliberate, as if pieces aligned behind his eyes. "Ah, I see. You're with the Crimson Lion Kings."
"Yes," Xierra answered. The word left her easily, though the rest of her thoughts tangled behind it. There was little else to add that wouldn't feel unnecessary.
"Are you alone?"
The question came quickly, and that alone startled her more than the words themselves. Yuno was rarely this forward. She almost commented on it, then decided against it, letting the moment pass without remark.
"More or less," she replied, lifting one shoulder. "Captain Fuegoleon figured that with two other squads present, I'd manage fine on my own. My partner was assigned elsewhere, so we couldn't coordinate." A small smile curved her lips as she glanced at her shoulder. "Besides, Inari's with me. We'll be all right."
Yuno gave a short nod, acceptance settling in without ceremony. His gaze drifted past her then, toward the two Magic Knights standing just behind him. Xierra followed the motion, already preparing a question—
"You're the one they sent?"
The interruption came sharply.
The blue-haired mage stepped forward, fingers snapping his glasses higher along the bridge of his nose. His tone carried an edge that made Xierra stiffen before she could stop herself. She took him in properly then—the precise cut of his uniform, the rigid line of his posture, hair neatly swept aside as though disorder itself offended him.
She hesitated, then nodded.
His eyes locked onto hers, bright fuchsia and unyielding. The color reminded her of oleander blossoms—vivid, regal, and quietly lethal. There was no warmth in that stare, only scrutiny sharpened to a point.
Xierra shifted back a half-step, hands curling at her sides. Words felt dangerous now, as though any response might strike flint against steel. Was it displeasure? Doubt? Or simple resentment that the Crimson Lion Kings had sent a single Magic Knight while the Golden Dawn stood three strong?
The question went unanswered.
Inari moved before she could.
The fox stepped forward, placing himself squarely in front of her boots, fur bristling as his form subtly expanded. His presence pressed outward, small yet commanding, golden eyes fixed on the mage with unmistakable warning.
"Yes, it is," Inari replied coolly. "And what concern is that of yours, human? For someone lacking authority here, you show remarkable discourtesy toward someone you just met."
The blue-haired mage stiffened, clearly prepared to retort—
"Senior Klaus," another voice cut in, light yet firm. "That's quite enough."
The third member of the Golden Dawn stepped between them with practiced ease. Vermillion, Xierra noted instantly. That shade of hair was unmistakable, a flame-touched hue she had seen often enough to recognize without introduction.
"Let's not start this on the wrong foot. We're allies here," the woman continued, offering a conciliatory look toward both Inari and Xierra.
"I apologize for him," she added, turning fully to Xierra with an apologetic smile.
Xierra inclined her head slightly in response, relief loosening the tension in her shoulders. Nobility clung to the pair like a second skin—refined posture, measured speech, pride woven so deeply it shaped their instincts. Klaus, at least, bore it like armor. The other wore it like sunlight.
Her attention lingered on the woman: graceful curves framed by her uniform, vermillion hair cascading in soft waves, golden eyes bright and open. House Vermillion, without question. The resemblance to Leopold and Fuegoleon was unmistakable, though rounder at the edges than sharp. Genetics truly worked in strange ways, Xierra mused—Rhein being a notable exception with his mussed brown hair.
"I'm Mimosa Vermillion," the girl introduced herself, smile widening as she gestured back toward her companion. "And that's Klaus Lunettes. It's very lovely to meet you!"
Xierra blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sheer warmth of it. She stepped forward and offered her hand. "Ah—pleased to meet you. I'm Xierra—"
"I know!"
Mimosa's delight burst forth without restraint. She clasped Xierra's hand with both of hers, shaking it eagerly. "Yuno's told me so much about you!"
"Oh—" Xierra let out a small, nervous laugh, cheeks warming as she glanced helplessly toward Yuno. "Thank you... I think?"
Her gaze flicked back to him just in time to catch the faintest upward curve at the corner of his mouth. Her thoughts promptly dissolved into internal screaming.
Xierra shot Yuno a look that blended mock fury with open desperation, a glance sharp enough to cut and pleading enough to border on theatrical. It was a silent cry for rescue—help me—as Mimosa continued to beam and bounce at her side, fingers still clasped around Xierra's hand with unwavering enthusiasm.
She had the strangest, creeping curiosity about what Yuno had told the Golden Dawn. Whatever it was, it had clearly elevated her from acquaintance to spectacle, judging by the way Mimosa hovered as she'd stumbled upon a celebrity instead of another Magic Knight.
Yuno noticed. Of course, he did.
He kept his face composed, but a restrained curve tugged at his lips, betraying him. He weighed the decision with visible calm—step in, or enjoy this just a moment longer? His shoulders shifted in what barely qualified as a shrug, and he chose the latter.
Inari, traitor that he was, let out a quiet snort of amusement.
Xierra's shoulders slumped. Betrayed. Completely, utterly betrayed.
Yuno's eyes flicked back to her, a faint, infuriating spark of humor in their amber depths. The look he returned seemed to ask, Should I? without a single word exchanged.
Her answer came immediately in the form of another glare, sharper this time, paired with a warning tilt of her head.
That did it.
With a restrained breath, Yuno stepped forward and reached out, fingers brushing Mimosa's shoulder with gentle precision. "Mimosa," he cut in evenly, "you're shaking her too hard."
"Oh!" Mimosa startled, hands releasing Xierra at once. "I'm so sorry, Xierra!"
A thin sheen of sweat traced down her temple as she bowed her head slightly, brows pinched in worry as she waited for forgiveness.
Xierra flexed her fingers once, grounding herself, then offered a small, reassuring smile. "It's fine," she replied, voice light. "Really."
Relief bloomed instantly across Mimosa's face. "That's good," she chirped, only to brighten a heartbeat again later as she slipped her hand back into Xierra's—this time with far more restraint. "Then, let's head inside!"
Inari let out a long, weary sigh and leapt neatly from Xierra's shoulder to Yuno's, claws careful as he settled himself across the boy's mantle. "I know it hasn't been that long since I last saw you," he muttered, tail flicking, "but how do you survive being near that ball of sunlight for extended periods? I feel like I'm being roasted and blinded alive."
Yuno released a quiet breath through his nose, adjusting his stance to accommodate the fox. "...Who knows."
The group began to move, Mimosa and Xierra leading the way, their steps aligned as they approached the darkened threshold. Klaus followed behind with visible reluctance, his displeasure radiating with every stride.
"Tsk. This is a waste," he scoffed, eyes narrowing as they lingered on Xierra's back. "Three Golden Dawn Magic Knights reduced to babysitting another squad. We could have cleared this dungeon alone."
The disdain sharpened as he continued, voice laced with superiority. "Sending a single knight from the Crimson Lion Kings feels careless. Or desperate."
Inari's ears flattened.
From Yuno's shoulders, the fox turned his head slowly, golden gaze locking onto Klaus with unmistakable hostility. A low hiss slipped from his throat, enough to draw immediate attention.
Klaus halted, teeth clicking in irritation as he shot a glare upward. "What's your problem, fox?"
The word fox carried weight—dismissive, reductive. As if Inari were nothing more than an accessory, a pet dragged along on a noble errand.
"I'm hoping for silence," Inari replied coolly. "Now keep walking, four-eyed human."
Klaus stiffened. "Four—?!" His hand flew up to his glasses. "That is not how you address a nobleman!"
Inari bared his teeth in a grin far too sharp to be friendly, eyes glinting with mischief. Yuno's posture tightened beneath him, already regretting every choice that led to this.
"Well," Inari added lazily, glancing forward again, "at least you proved the guess accurate, Master. A nobleman, he is."
Xierra let out a strained laugh without turning around. "Right..."
"Four-eyed," Inari repeated, savoring each syllable and dragging them as long as he could with a grin gracing his face.
Klaus snapped. "You dare—! You insolent creature!"
Voices clashed, tempers flaring as sharp words flew back and forth, each louder than the last. Yuno found himself squarely caught in the crossfire, shoulders tense, hands raised just enough to ward off escalating disaster while trying not to lose his balance under Inari's animated movements.
Xierra glanced back, eyes bright with amusement. Through their meeting gaze, her voice brushed against Yuno's discreetly exasperated look, teasing and light. "This is payback for earlier, you know."
His gaze narrowed. "But I saved you."
"After teasing me."
"It was one tease. Please help me."
She closed her eyes briefly, biting back laughter. "No."
Mimosa giggled beside her, covering her mouth as she watched the chaos unfold. Despite Klaus' sharp edges, Xierra found herself reconsidering her hasty judgment. Perhaps he wasn't cruel—just rigid, shaped too tightly by expectation and pride.
As they crossed fully into the dungeon, the last threads of daylight thinned behind them. Stone walls swallowed the glow, shadows stretching long and uncertain across the ground.
"Oh..." Mimosa slowed, eyes adjusting. "It's getting harder to see now." She turned toward Klaus. "Senior Klaus, what should we do?"
He paused, annoyance fading into reluctant thought. "We should have prepared better," he admitted, flipping through his grimoire. "A light-based spell would be ideal. Otherwise, we proceed carefully."
"Don't worry, I've got one," Xierra spoke up, fingers brushing her own grimoire as she glanced toward Inari. The fox nodded once.
"Astral Creation Magic: Binary Stars."
The words left Xierra with calm resolve, neither rushed nor hesitant, and her grimoire answered at once. Silver-edged pages fanned open in a smooth arc, glyphs igniting one after another like constellations being traced by an unseen hand. The air around her shifted—lighter, clearer—as if the dungeon itself had taken notice.
From the heart of the spell, two four-pointed stars took form.
They were not harsh or blinding. Instead, they glowed with a tempered brilliance, white shot through with faint violet veins, bound together by an invisible pull. They hovered near her shoulders, drifting in perfect synchrony, their swirling movements deliberate and aware. When the breeze from the entrance brushed past, the stars responded with a gentle sway, scattering fine sparks that dissolved before they could touch the stone.
They served as guides, their glow stretching forward and pouring into the darkened passage in soft layers, outlining carved stone, fractured pillars, and creeping moss that clung to ancient brick like a second skin. Shadows withdrew where the light passed, reluctant yet obedient.
The dungeon seemed to breathe differently under their presence.
Xierra exhaled slowly, shoulders easing as the spell settled. She lifted her gaze, watching how the stars adjusted their height and angle as if responding to her intent alone. There was comfort in that—control, familiarity, a reminder that this was her magic and her responsibility to carry.
Inari studied the spell with half-lidded eyes, tail flicking once in approval. Even Klaus fell quiet, his scrutiny sharpening as he took in the precision of the casting. Mimosa's expression softened with awe, while Yuno simply observed, attentive as ever.
Klaus stepped forward, boots brushing against stone now clearly visible beneath the glow. He glanced back at the group, his voice steady and inviting.
"All right," he said, pushing his glasses back. "Let's move forward."
.
.
.
The corridor had narrowed the farther they went, stone pressing in from both sides until the path felt more like a carved artery than a passage meant for people. The Binary Stars drifted ahead of them, their paired glow brushing against uneven brickwork and revealing faint scratches where time had worried at the walls. Dust lay undisturbed beneath their boots, fine and pale, settling into shallow seams between stones. The air carried a stale coolness, neither damp nor dry, just old.
Eventually, the path ceased to offer them anything further.
Before them stood a solid stretch of brick, uninterrupted and unadorned, the masonry stacked with deliberate care. No archway. No opening. Just a wall that looked as though it had been there since the dungeon first drew breath.
Mimosa slowed to a stop beside Xierra, her steps faltering. She leaned forward slightly, fingers hovering near her chest as she tilted her head, bright eyes tracing the surface from top to bottom. "A dead-end?" Her brows knit together, concern slipping through her gentle composure as she glanced back toward Klaus for reassurance.
Xierra's mouth pressed into a thin line. She studied the wall, then the space around it, the stars casting light across every seam. "This isn't good," she admitted, her voice low but steady.
Mimosa shifted closer to her, instinctively lingering near the light. "Senior Klaus," she asked, folding her hands together as if bracing herself, "what should we do now?"
Klaus stepped forward at once, confidence settling over him like a well-worn cloak. He adjusted his glasses and approached the wall, eyes sharp as he examined each brick. He dragged his fingers along the lines between stones, slow and methodical, as though expecting the dungeon to confess under pressure alone.
Time passed in quiet seconds, broken only by the faint scrape of fabric and stone. Nothing yielded. Nothing reacted.
Inari watched him for a moment from Yuno's shoulders, ears flicking once.
Then, with a soft huff of understanding rather than impatience, the fox shifted his weight and leapt down. He landed with light precision and, without hesitation, bounded up onto Klaus instead, claws finding purchase on the man's shoulder as if it were the most natural place in the world.
"Wh—?! What are you doing, you fox?!" Klaus snapped, stiffening in surprise.
Inari ignored the outburst. He crouched low, tail swaying once as his gaze narrowed on the wall. His paw lifted, hovering just above the brickwork as if feeling something unseen. "Quiet," he muttered, irritation edged with familiarity rather than malice. "You're pacing around like you've got all day. Let me work."
Before Klaus could protest further, Inari pressed his paw against a brick no different from the rest. The stone shifted beneath the pressure with a muted slide, sinking inward. A narrow seam split along the wall, stone folding away to reveal a concealed doorway hidden in plain sight.
"Oh," Xierra breathed, surprise melting instantly into pride. She stepped closer, one hand lifting instinctively as if to steady the twirling stars. Her smile curved warm and genuine as she looked at him. "Good job, Inari."
The fox straightened atop Klaus' shoulder, chin lifting just a fraction as if basking in the praise, eyes gleaming with quiet triumph.
Klaus stared at the opening, mouth parting despite himself. His hand hovered inches from the wall, fingers twitching as though he needed to touch it again to believe it. "How did you—?" He shook his head, bewilderment breaking through his usual composure. "They were all the same. Every brick..."
"Only if you rely on your eyes alone," Inari replied, hopping down with a flick of his tail. He padded forward, nose lifting as though the air itself told him secrets. "Stone has a scent, and mana leaves traces. Learn to detect the density in the bricks."
"Don't order me around," Klaus scoffed, lifting his chin. "I'll have you know that I am a nobleman!"
Inari shot him a look, ears flattening. "Wonderful," he drawled. "Then walk like one—and stop blocking the door."
Mimosa covered her mouth, laughter slipping free despite her attempt at restraint. Xierra met her gaze, the shared amusement blooming into something easy and unguarded. It surprised Xierra how natural it felt—to laugh with another girl her age, to share a moment without weighing every word first.
Yuno watched the scene from behind them, arms crossed. His eyes followed the way the group had begun to move as one, mismatched yet functional. Strange, he thought. But not unpleasant.
As the concealed door opened wider, light spilled forward, and Xierra let the stars dissolve into sparks that faded without fuss. She closed her grimoire and secured it at her waist, fingers brushing briefly against the mask she carried—a good luck charm of sorts, a quiet superstition she never spoke aloud.
They stepped through together.
Inari and Klaus resumed their bickering almost immediately, voices overlapping as they pressed ahead. Xierra observed Klaus from behind, noting the stiffness in his posture, the practiced arrogance woven into every step. A noble, through and through—sharp-tongued, easily offended, especially when forced to stand beside peasants and orphans like herself and Yuno.
Still, she withheld judgment.
Beneath all that bluster, there was diligence. Awareness. Perhaps even care, buried beneath pride.
The chamber beyond stole her breath.
Doors lined every surface—walls, ceiling, corners that defied sense—each carved with ancient markings dulled by age. Greenery had claimed the room in patches: moss clung to stone, vines curled around pillars, and small trees had taken root where light somehow reached. It felt less like a ruin and more like a place the world had decided to reclaim to the surface.
"This place..." Xierra began, awe threading through her voice as her gaze met Yuno's.
"...is full of mana," he finished.
Klaus nodded, expression turning serious. "The ambient mana here is far denser than outside. The space itself has been altered."
Mana was the unseen energy that threaded their world together—an invisible force that settled in living bodies, seeped into stone and soil, and gave shape to every spell ever cast. It was not merely power; it was presence, pressure, a quiet insistence that the world was never truly empty.
Here, it revealed itself without shame. Flecks of light drifted through the chamber like suspended dust caught in sunlight, moving at a languid pace, brushing against walls and skin alike.
Xierra watched them closely, blue eyes narrowing as she followed their paths. Leopold had warned her that dungeons were perilous, riddled with dangers and old malice—but places like this, swollen with mana, always hid something more. A purpose. A secret. She had never been one to obsess over theories of mana or its flow, yet magic itself had always held her attention. Standing here, surrounded by it, she realized she would need to understand it better—far better—if she intended to survive places like this.
Inari stiffened.
His ears angled forward before the rest of him followed. With a smooth motion, he pushed off Klaus' shoulder, ignoring the startled protest that came with the sudden weight shift. He landed ahead of the group and grew subtly larger, his stance widening as his gaze swept the chamber. His tail stretched out behind him, cutting across Klaus' path like a deliberate barrier.
"Why did you stop so suddenly?!" Klaus barked, adjusting his glasses with an irritated snap.
Inari didn't turn to look at him. "You should be thanking me for keeping you alive, Four-Eyes," he replied, tone edged with impatience. One paw lifted mid-air, pointing just ahead of them. "There's a trap right in front of us. And several more woven into the area."
"A trap?" Klaus' frown deepened as he focused, senses sharpening. He nudged his glasses up again, eyes tracing the floor and walls. "Now that you mention it, there's a dense concentration of mana in multiple points." His jaw tightened. "We'll need to move carefully."
Inari huffed under his breath. "That's not entirely wrong," he muttered. His eyes flicked deeper into the dungeon, narrowing. "But the further in it goes, the thinner the mana becomes." His tail swayed once, slow and certain. "Someone's been quite busy dismantling the traps."
"Could it be Asta?" Xierra wondered aloud, her gaze drifting upward as she rested a finger against her chin. "The Black Bulls were the third squad assigned here, weren't they?"
Inari's tail gave a slow, thoughtful sway. "It wouldn't surprise me. That kid has a habit of charging ahead before anyone can stop him."
Mimosa tilted her head, concern softening her features as she folded one hand to her cheek. "If that's the case, then they might have already gone inside."
Klaus let out a sharp breath, frustration tightening his shoulders as he shoved his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose—an instinctive gesture, one Xierra was beginning to recognize.
"Reckless," he snapped. "Marching in without proper coordination is exactly how things always go wrong."
She inclined her head in quiet agreement, eyes sweeping across the vast chamber with sharpened interest. The space felt unsettled, as if it had not yet decided whether to welcome them or swallow them whole. Mana hung unevenly in the air, pooling in some corners and thinning in others, and that alone set her nerves on edge.
Yuno remained close at her side—not hovering, but attentive—his presence a silent reminder for her not to stray away from the group. Between the creeping vines threaded with faint light and the half-buried markings etched into shattered stone, one careless step could mean disaster.
The group moved as one, their progress slow and deliberate. Klaus' sharp observations paired surprisingly well with Inari's instinctive awareness; despite the barbs they had traded earlier, their warnings overlapped seamlessly. A raised paw here. A sharp gesture there. A halt just before a patch of rubble that hummed with restrained magic. The dungeon tested them not with sudden violence, but with the promise of it, coiled and waiting beneath every surface.
They had just reached the mouth of another corridor—its entrance narrower, its walls etched with unfamiliar symbols—when the air split with a scream.
Xierra froze.
She knew that voice well.
Her breath caught as recognition struck, sharp and immediate. Noelle Silva. The last squad—the one they had yet to encounter. She exchanged a glance with Yuno, and no words were needed. The Golden Dawn and the Crimson Lion Kings broke into motion at once, boots striking stone as they surged toward the sound.
Another cry rang out before they reached the turn. Higher this time. Tighter. Panic edged every note of it, and Xierra's chest tightened in response. Whatever was happening ahead of them was spiraling fast.
Then came the name—raw, desperate, and unmistakable.
"Asta!!!"