One week after the events of Arc 1.
A radio turns on on a shelf. The static echoes throughout the dark room, lit only by the faint glow of the fireplace. A male silhouette with long black hair sits in front of the flickering flames, a half-empty glass of wine in his hands.
— It's about time you got up. It's almost time, and everyone is waiting for you, Théodore!
A voice is heard, coming from the radio with a playful and amused tone.
The wine is slowly poured into the fire, which weakens before disappearing. The man runs his hand through his long brown hair, which falls down to his shoulders. He walks through the door and closes it behind him.
Capital of the Kingdom of Garion.
The capital sparkled brightly on this gentle day. The city hall was full of activity, its inhabitants living in joy.
Today was the day of the selection to become a Leader.
The title of Leader is given to 50 candidates out of 500 who qualify. With this title, these individuals become elite warriors, directly serving the 20 Generals. They are usually assigned missions across the world, and their status grants them a considerable privilege: they can enter a kingdom even if its borders are closed, or access forbidden sites.
But despite belonging to a hierarchy, they are allowed to act completely independently, as long as they do not endanger the mission assigned to them.
Our protagonist, Atela, climbs the snow-white stairs of the city. Noa, meanwhile, stares at the map he is holding.
— If I become a Leader, it might allow me to continue my research more easily…
His fingers tighten slightly on the paper.
— And I'll finally be able to find him.
A faint memory returns to him.
When he was still 3 years old.
It was pouring rain in the forest.
He remembers the mud, the cold, the dampness… but especially those people.
The memory is blurry, and yet those two silhouettes are perfectly engraved in his mind.
They stood under the rain, respectively wrapped in black and white veils.
The one in the white veil wore a white skeletal mask, revealing no part of his face, only a golden light emanating from his eye sockets.
He spoke.
— Are you sure you want to leave him here… Hadès?
The one in the black veil, wearing a black skeletal mask, turns toward the young boy, weak and trembling from the cold. A deep red light emanates from his eye sockets.
His memory becomes completely blurred at that moment.
Coming out of the thought, Noa scratches his neck…
His blue eyes light up with a pale, dark glow. Words begin repeating inside his mind, growing louder like an endless cacophony.
— FIND THEM! FIND THEM! FIND THEM! KILL! KILL! KILL!
He injures his neck from scratching too much.
Atela, walking ahead without suspecting anything, her hair gently floating in the wind, keeps thinking about that dream that appeared to her at the gates of death.
The stars… that attraction… her hair turning from blue to red… Noa's spectral form… and the crystal.
No matter what, she keeps reliving that dreamlike experience in her mind.
She has already asked Noa several times, but he has no memory of it.
She is the only one who remembers.
— Noa…
Her expression returns to neutral and slow.
Atela notices his small injury.
— But… where did those scratches come from?!
— It's nothing, I scratched myself a little too hard.
— It looks more like you tried to tear your skin off, if you ask me!
He runs a hand through his hair. The reflection of a red-haired girl, with a face almost identical to Atela's, briefly crosses his thoughts.
— And there's that too…
He raises his head, looking at Atela, bathed in the radiant sunlight like a deity, her naturally royal posture unmistakable.
— I need to find the link between this woman I see in my dreams… and Atela.
Two children playing briefly descend the stairs, catching his attention.
A few hours later.
The two stand in front of a massive white gate with golden upper edges.
Noa tightens the bandage on his right arm and prepares himself.
Atela relaxes, and at the same time releases the pressure she had been maintaining in her aura since meeting Noa.
Her soft red energy flows out of her body.
A red halo, resembling a translucent ring, appears, partially revealing her angelic nature.
— Your halo? I've never seen it before… I had heard that angels could form it by manipulating light… but this is the first time I've seen one…
— I used to hide it to blend in, when I was still the Guardian of the Ava Corrector.
She ties her hair into a ponytail with a small elastic band.
Noa watches her without saying anything.
— But now that no one remembers me anymore… there's no need to hide it.
Noa turns his gaze toward the gate.
The two open the massive door… and are shocked to see that there are far more participants than they expected.
At least 700 teenagers from all over the world are gathered in this enormous dark hall.
All different from one another.
— It feels really strange coming back to this room… There are so many people this year… and only 50 will manage to become Leaders…
A man steps onto the podium, dressed in a black suit and a white shirt.
He runs a finger through his brown hair, brushing it back with a warm but completely detached smile.
— Hello everyone. Allow me to introduce myself, Devi Harman. I am a Class S Leader. I am in charge of this year's selection.
Next chapter: First Qualifying Round