CELESTIA
CHAPTER 98 — "WHAT AM I?"
The night was silent.
Inside one of the rooms reserved for the Crown of Ash participants, moonlight filtered through the half-open curtains. Beyond the windows, New York stretched beneath the night sky, its thousands of lights forming a glittering sea in the darkness.
Nefaria was sleeping on her back, motionless beneath the sheets.
Her long, light-brown hair spread across the pillow, a few strands falling over her face. Even in her sleep, she maintained the serious expression that made it seem as though she were constantly thinking about something.
But behind her closed eyelids, her mind was far from peaceful.
At first, there was only a sound.
A metallic noise.
Then came voices.
Distant, muffled voices that seemed to come from a place she had forgotten.
"Subject Romanov. Prepare yourself."
Nefaria frowned.
She didn't move.
"Subject Romanov, look at me."
The voice grew closer.
"Do you understand what you have to do?"
A white light appeared in the darkness.
Nefaria opened her eyes.
She was no longer in her room.
She was standing in a corridor she didn't recognize. The walls were white, the ceiling lights emitted a cold glow, and metal doors lined both sides. An unpleasant smell lingered in the air, but her mind refused to identify it.
She lowered her gaze to her hands.
They were trembling.
Why were they trembling?
She tried to move, but her body felt foreign to her. Her legs carried her forward without her having to think about it, as though they were obeying an order she could no longer hear.
At the end of the corridor, a door opened.
A man appeared.
He wore a white lab coat. His face was partially concealed by a mask, but his eyes were perfectly visible behind his glasses.
He looked at her with satisfaction.
"Excellent. She's operational."
Nefaria stopped.
"Who are you?"
The man didn't answer.
Behind him, several figures began running.
An alarm blared.
Red lights swept across the walls.
Then something changed.
Nefaria felt her body move.
Too fast.
She saw men turn around, hands reach for weapons, mouths open to scream. She wanted to stop, but her memories were already beginning to distort.
A door exploded.
Figures fell out of her field of vision.
Screams echoed through the corridor.
She caught glimpses of terrified faces. Hands trying to push her away. Uniforms she couldn't distinguish.
Then the floor became covered in shadows.
And she understood.
She had killed them.
All those people.
She had done it.
"No…"
The word escaped her lips before she even realized she had spoken.
The corridor began to shake.
The walls warped, as though the entire building were dissolving around her.
She tried to remember what had happened, to understand the sequence of events, but every time she attempted to focus on a detail, the image disappeared.
A face.
A scream.
A hand reaching toward her.
Then nothing.
"No, no, no…"
She stumbled backward.
The man in the lab coat appeared again at the end of the corridor.
This time, he was smiling.
"You were created for this, Nefaria."
She shook her head.
"Shut up."
"You were never an ordinary child."
"Shut up!"
"You are our success."
Nefaria pressed her hands against her ears.
"STOP!"
The corridor disappeared.
In its place appeared an enormous room filled with blinding lights. Figures stood behind glass panels. Some were taking notes. Others watched screens displaying data she couldn't understand.
A young girl stood in the center of the room.
She looked like Nefaria.
The same pale skin.
The same face.
The same empty expression.
But this other Nefaria wasn't trembling.
She stood perfectly straight, her eyes fixed on the people observing her.
A man spoke from behind the glass.
"Her emotional response is insufficient. Increase the pressure."
The young girl slowly turned her head.
Then she smiled.
Nefaria took a step backward.
"Who are you?"
The other girl didn't answer.
She simply raised her hand.
The room filled with light.
A deep rumble echoed through the chamber.
The glass panels shook.
And every face behind them disappeared in a blinding flash of white.
Nefaria tried to scream.
But no sound came out.
The last image she saw was her own reflection in a shattered window.
Her face was covered in dust.
Her eyes were cold.
And she felt absolutely nothing.
Nefaria woke with a violent start.
"AAH!"
She sat upright in bed, gasping for air.
For several seconds, she couldn't understand where she was.
Her eyes darted around the room, stopping at the walls, the door, the window, and the furniture. She was breathing rapidly, her fingers clenched around the sheets.
Moonlight illuminated her face.
She was at the Academy.
In her room.
Not in that laboratory.
Not in that corridor.
Not among those people whose faces vanished from her memory whenever she tried to picture them.
She pressed a hand against her forehead.
"It was a dream…"
Her voice was weak.
She tried to convince herself.
A dream.
Nothing more.
Yet her heart continued to race.
She looked at her hands.
They were still trembling.
Nefaria clenched them until her fingers stopped shaking, then inhaled deeply.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She had learned to control her body. To master her emotions. To analyze situations before acting.
But how could she analyze something when she had no reliable memories of it?
She closed her eyes.
And the images returned.
A metal door.
A man in a white lab coat.
Screams.
A blinding light.
And that young girl who looked so much like her.
Nefaria's eyes snapped open.
"That's impossible…"
She got out of bed.
Her feet touched the cold floor. She walked toward the mirror beside the wardrobe and stopped in front of her reflection.
Her long, light-brown hair framed her face. Her mismatched eyes—one pale blue, the other green—looked even stranger in the moonlight.
She studied her face as though she hoped to find an answer there.
Who had she been before the Academy?
Did she ever have a family?
Had she known anyone before becoming what the scientists wanted her to be?
And above all…
Had the people in her dream really existed?
She placed her fingers against her cheek.
"I don't remember anything."
Her voice faltered slightly.
She hated this feeling.
Uncertainty.
The inability to control her own thoughts.
She could lift enormous weights, fly, and withstand attacks that others would never survive. Her body was a weapon that even she didn't fully understand.
Yet she couldn't answer such a simple question.
Who was Nefaria Romanov?
She stepped away from the mirror and walked toward the window.
New York stretched out beneath her.
The streets were almost empty at this hour. Cars still traveled along the major avenues, their headlights drawing long lines of light between the buildings. Some windows remained illuminated in the surrounding towers, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed before fading into the city's rumble.
Nefaria placed a hand against the glass.
Then she saw her reflection.
For a second, she saw the other girl again.
The one who didn't tremble.
The one who had watched people disappear without showing the slightest emotion.
Nefaria abruptly pulled her hand away.
"No."
She stepped backward.
Her breathing quickened again.
She didn't want to see those images anymore.
She didn't want to hear those voices.
She simply wanted to understand.
But suddenly, the room felt too small. The walls felt too close. The air felt too heavy.
She opened the window.
The night wind swept into the room, lifting her hair.
Nefaria looked up at the sky.
Then she took a running start.
In a fraction of a second, she launched herself upward.
BOOOOM!
The ceiling shattered.
A shock wave swept through the room as Nefaria blasted through the roof and soared into the sky. Chunks of concrete rained down onto the upper terrace, and an alarm began blaring throughout the building.
But she didn't stop.
She kept climbing.
Ten meters.
Fifty.
One hundred.
The city grew smaller beneath her feet.
She passed through a thin layer of clouds, carried by a power she barely seemed to need to consciously activate. The wind struck her face, her hair whipped against her shoulders, and New York's lights became smaller and smaller.
She climbed higher.
Until the sounds of the city had almost completely disappeared.
Only then did she stop.
Nefaria hovered high above New York.
Beneath her, the metropolis resembled an enormous circuit of lights. The avenues formed geometric lines between the buildings. Bridges connected the riverbanks like threads stretched across the water. Skyscrapers pierced the mist, while illuminated windows formed thousands of tiny points in the darkness.
The city was beautiful.
Alive.
Every light might represent a person.
Someone returning home.
Someone waiting for a phone call.
Someone laughing with their family.
Someone sleeping peacefully without wondering whether they had ever hurt strangers.
Nefaria watched them for a long time.
She didn't know what those people felt.
She didn't know what it was like to have happy memories to hold on to.
She didn't even know whether her own memories were real.
Her eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't identify.
She slowly lowered her head.
"What am I?"
Her voice disappeared into the wind.
She waited.
As though the sky might answer her.
But there was only silence.
Nefaria remained suspended above the city, alone in the vastness of the night.
Then, very slowly, she descended.
She still didn't know who she was.
But she knew one thing.
She didn't want to become the girl from her nightmare.
The following morning, the Academy was buzzing with activity.
The corridors were filled with participants, staff members, and spectators authorized to enter the facilities. Conversations overlapped in every direction.
The quarterfinals of the Crown of Ash were about to begin.
After the previous rounds, the remaining participants had gathered in the great arena. The giant screens displayed the tournament's emblem: a dark crown surrounded by flames.
Thousands of spectators filled the stands.
Conversations spread throughout the crowd.
Some were still discussing Ranmaru's victory over Blanche. Others were debating Kai's abilities or Zayn's transformation into Crystal Edge during his fight against Akamaru.
But one name kept coming up more often than the others.
Loyd.
Several participants were wondering how he had managed to reach the quarterfinals without fighting in the previous round.
Nobody seemed to have a satisfactory explanation.
Near the arena, Zayn walked alongside Yojuro, Ranmaru, and Nefaria.
Zayn had regained his usual energy. He gestured wildly as he discussed the upcoming fights, as though he were already certain he would win every single one.
"Okay, let's sum things up. Kai is probably going to break something, Ranmaru is going to pretend he planned everything in advance, Yojuro is going to stay silent like some mysterious character, and me…"
He placed a hand against his chest.
"I'm going to win."
Yojuro glanced at him.
"You forgot Nefaria."
"No. I'm saving the best for last."
Nefaria walked without responding.
She had managed to sleep for a few hours after returning to her room, although she had been forced to explain the damage to the ceiling to the Academy staff.
She hadn't told anyone about her nightmare.
Not even Zayn.
Yet every time she caught his eye, she remembered the previous night.
She wondered whether she should have told him what had happened.
But she didn't know how to explain something she didn't understand herself.
Above them, the announcer's voice boomed through the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Participants in the Crown of Ash! Please take your places. The moment you've all been waiting for has finally arrived!"
The crowd erupted in applause.
The screens went dark.
A figure appeared in the center of the arena.
The head judge, dressed in a black uniform bearing the tournament's insignia, held a tablet in one hand. He waited for the noise to subside before speaking.
"The previous phase is officially over. The eliminated participants have been recorded, the results have been validated, and the final qualifiers have been confirmed."
He paused.
"We are now entering the quarterfinals of the Crown of Ash!"
The stands exploded with cheers.
Zayn threw his arms into the air.
"FINALLY!"
Yojuro simply crossed his arms.
Ranmaru, meanwhile, watched the screens carefully. His left eye showed no visible sign of his miracle, but he nevertheless seemed to be calculating the different possibilities that lay ahead.
The judge raised his tablet.
"Here are the four matchups that will determine our semifinalists!"
The screens lit up.
Four panels appeared in succession.
The first displayed two names.
QUARTERFINAL — MATCH 1
KAI VS RANMARU
Strength and energy absorption against the Eye of Orientation.
The crowd reacted immediately.
Kai, standing near the fighters' entrance, looked up at the screen.
Ranmaru blinked.
"Seriously?"
Zayn abruptly turned toward him.
"WHAT?! THAT'S AWESOME!"
"For you, maybe," Ranmaru replied.
Kai approached them, wearing a relaxed, almost enthusiastic smile.
"This is going to be interesting."
Ranmaru looked at him.
"You say that as if you already know you're going to win."
"No. I say it because I'll finally get to see what your eye can really do."
Ranmaru gave him a faint smile.
"Then keep your eyes open."
Kai burst out laughing.
The second panel appeared.
QUARTERFINAL — MATCH 2
YOJURO VS ECHO
The Kairos Eyes against an unpredictable opponent.
Yojuro raised his eyes toward the screen.
A few meters away, Echo was also watching his name appear.
Unlike Kiran, Echo didn't seem interested in intimidating anyone. He looked more like he found the situation amusing.
He turned toward Yojuro with a grin.
"So, you're my next opponent?"
"Looks like it."
"I hope you're ready."
"I could ask you the same question."
Echo laughed.
"I like your style. But don't expect me to make things easy for you."
Yojuro looked at him calmly.
"I wasn't expecting you to."
Echo rubbed his hands together, his grin widening.
"Perfect."
The third panel appeared.
And this time, Zayn stopped smiling.
QUARTERFINAL — MATCH 3
ZAYN VS NEFARIA
Borealis against the Academy's anomaly.
An unusual silence settled between the two teenagers.
Zayn looked at the screen.
Then at Nefaria.
Then back at the screen.
"…Wait."
Nefaria said nothing.
"No, no, no. Hold on a second."
He pointed at the panel.
"Why is your name next to mine?"
"Because we're supposed to fight each other."
"Yes, thank you, I'd noticed! I'm asking why the tournament decided to ruin my day!"
Yojuro turned his head slightly to hide his smile.
Ranmaru burst out laughing.
"She makes a good point."
"Traitors! Every last one of you!"
Nefaria studied Zayn.
"Are you afraid of losing?"
Zayn turned toward her, looking offended.
"Excuse me? Me? Afraid of losing? I'm an artist of victory. I'm a legend in the making. I'm—"
"You were sleeping on a couch yesterday."
Yojuro looked away to conceal his smile.
Ranmaru laughed even harder.
"She's got a point."
"Traitors! All of you!"
Nefaria watched Zayn.
Under normal circumstances, she would have found this conversation ridiculous.
But for a reason she couldn't understand, being able to talk to him so naturally brought her a certain sense of relief.
He didn't look at her as an experiment.
He didn't look at her as an anomaly.
He looked at her as an opponent.
A person he would have to fight.
Strangely enough, that felt simpler.
Zayn eventually crossed his arms.
"Fine. Whatever. I'll fight you, beat you, and then we'll go get something to eat."
"You're already assuming you'll win."
"Obviously."
"Why?"
Zayn opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
For a fraction of a second, he remembered the deep voice that had overlapped with his own the previous night.
His smile faltered slightly.
Nefaria noticed.
"Zayn?"
He blinked.
Then his usual expression returned.
"Because I'm the GOAT."
Nefaria almost froze.
She remembered the lights in the room, the echo of that voice, and the inexplicable sensation that had passed through her.
Zayn didn't seem to notice her reaction.
But she hadn't forgotten.
The fourth and final panel appeared.
QUARTERFINAL — MATCH 4
KIRAN VS LOYD
Two determined fighters. One place in the semifinals.
The noise in the stands changed.
Several spectators exchanged glances. Both names were familiar, but seeing them paired together made the final matchup particularly intriguing.
Kiran stood near the entrance to the arena.
He studied the panel, then looked at Loyd.
Loyd, meanwhile, showed no surprise. He kept his hands in his pockets, his face calm and almost indifferent.
But when his eyes met Kiran's, he stopped.
Kiran gave him a brief nod.
Loyd didn't respond.
Zayn, who had just read both names, abruptly turned toward the judge.
"WAIT!"
The judge looked down at him.
"Yes, participant Zayn?"
"How is it Kiran versus Loyd?"
"That's the fourth quarterfinal."
"NO, I UNDERSTAND THAT! Why is Loyd qualified?!"
He pointed at the bracket.
"That guy hasn't even fought in the previous phase! I saw him! Everyone saw him! He hasn't competed in a match!"
Several participants nodded.
"That's true!"
"How did he qualify?"
"There has to be an explanation!"
The judge raised a hand, calling for silence.
"The displayed results have been validated by the organizing committee. Loyd's qualification has been confirmed in accordance with the decisions made for this edition."
Zayn stared at him, dumbfounded.
"…That's it?"
"The rules and decisions of the committee apply to all participants."
"But that's not an explanation!"
"Participant Zayn, please return to your place."
"I'm not returning to my place! I want to know how someone can reach the quarterfinals without fighting!"
The judge didn't immediately respond.
And that silence only made things worse.
Zayn turned toward Yojuro.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yes."
"He hasn't even fought!"
"I know."
"Then why are you so calm?!"
Yojuro shrugged.
"Because shouting won't change the bracket."
"That's exactly the kind of line a side character says right before he dies!"
Ranmaru burst out laughing.
"Did you seriously just say that?"
"I'm being serious!"
Kai, who had been watching from a distance, approached them.
"It is strange," he admitted. "If Loyd hasn't fought, there should be an official reason."
"Exactly!" Zayn exclaimed. "Thank you, Kai! Finally, someone reasonable!"
Kai continued.
"But if he qualified through a committee decision, we can't simply cancel his result because you think it's unfair."
Zayn's smile disappeared.
"…I take back what I said."
Nefaria was still looking at the bracket.
She didn't seem as surprised as the others.
She had heard about Loyd. She knew he was dangerous, and she remembered what Zayn had told her about him.
Yet the question remained.
Why had Loyd been qualified without fighting?
The judge resumed speaking.
"All four matchups are now official. No changes will be made to the bracket unless the committee issues an exceptional ruling. Participants must prepare accordingly."
He raised his tablet.
"The dates and times of each fight will be announced within the next few minutes. The quarterfinals will determine the four semifinalists of the Crown of Ash."
The crowd applauded again.
But Zayn wasn't clapping.
He was still staring at Loyd's name.
"Something's wrong," he muttered.
Yojuro crossed his arms.
"Maybe."
"No, not maybe. Something is definitely wrong."
He glanced toward Loyd, who was still standing at the other end of the arena.
The boy's eyes were fixed on the screens.
Then, as though he had sensed someone watching him, he turned his head.
His gaze met Zayn's.
Loyd didn't smile.
He made no threatening gesture.
He simply looked at him.
And in that silence, Zayn realized that Loyd's qualification didn't necessarily mean he had avoided danger.
Perhaps the danger, this time, lay somewhere else.
Perhaps Loyd had a reason for not fighting.
Or perhaps the committee knew something the participants didn't.
Zayn finally looked away.
"Fine," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Either way, I'm winning my fight."
Nefaria looked at him.
"You just spent five minutes protesting about Loyd's match."
"Yes, but I have an excuse."
"Which is?"
Zayn gave her his most arrogant smile.
"I'm Zayn."
She stared at him for several seconds.
Then, unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared on her face.
"You're truly unbearable."
"And yet, you keep talking to me."
She looked away.
"Don't flatter yourself."
Zayn laughed.
But the laughter didn't last long.
Because when he looked at the four panels again, one thought settled in his mind.
Kai versus Ranmaru.
Yojuro versus Echo.
Zayn versus Nefaria.
Kiran versus Loyd.
Four fights.
Eight participants.
And only one place for each winner in the next stage of the tournament.
The Crown of Ash was about to become much more difficult.
Zayn still didn't know why Loyd had qualified without fighting. He didn't know what Nefaria had seen in her nightmare. He also didn't know what had produced that second voice when he had shouted that he was the greatest.
For now, he had only one certainty.
The quarterfinals were approaching.
And this time, he wouldn't be able to simply sleep on a couch and wait for everything to sort itself out.
The Crown of Ash had yet to reveal its true stakes.
But it had just set all eight participants on a course from which none of them would easily be able to turn aside.