And so, after a night that stretched like winter’s shadow, the Academy Ranking Tournament finally stirred to life.

At six in the morning, with mist like rice steam rising from the streets, almost every student had gathered at Arena Square. They lined up by class like neat rows of tiles, or ate breakfast in the ring of restaurants around the plaza like birds pecking at dawn grain.

We were no exception, though Xinuo still slept in her nest of blankets, her breakfast tucked in a warm box like a pocket of hearthfire.

“Whoa, this plaza’s huge,” I breathed, the open space swallowing people like a calm sea without a ripple of crowding.

“I don’t think so, Boss,” Hill chirped, her words quick and straight as an arrow. “It’s only one percent the size of the Lunar Forest.”

I could only smile; Hill always said what popped into her head, blunt as a clean-cut stone, and that bluntness was half her charm.

“Exactly,” Eastern Moon Aixue laughed, her eyes bright as frost in sunlight. “Coming from you, Yumigawa, that has zero weight—your family owns the entire Central Continent, after all.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Faya agreed, her grin flickering like a lantern’s flame.

In her ever-present kimono, Yuyi Mengliu sipped tea, steam curling like morning fog, and spoke with a soft clink of porcelain. “Now that you mention it, Lady Yumigawa Sumeragi, your Mizumi Clan is a behemoth—the kind that spans the world like a mountain range.”

For the record, we sat with me and Faya facing each other like two pieces on a go board, while Eastern Moon Aixue and Yuyi Mengliu settled at my left and right like bookends. As for Hill—same as class—she perched on my lap as if my thigh were her assigned seat, her habit settled like a nesting bird.

“Mm, fair point,” I admitted, watching a shaft of light slide across the floor like a blade. The Central Continent felt empty as a wide plain; even vast land can’t match the reality of a square crammed with ten thousand bodies. Truth was, this plaza wasn’t even as big as one garden back at the Mizumi Clan, a garden broad as a lake.

“All right, let’s head back,” Eastern Moon Aixue said, dusting crumbs like fallen petals from her fingers. “Teacher Stellar’s here.”

I followed her finger to see Stellar Rosa just arriving, talking with a few students under a hanging sign that swayed like a wooden moon.

“Got it,” I said, checking the clock above the door, its hands crawling like ants. “An hour till the ranking starts.”

I lifted Hill off my lap and stood, the chair scraping like a drawn breath.

“Yeah, breakfast’s gone, so let’s go,” Faya said, pushing up in a smooth arc like a wave.

“We should prep properly, then face the Ranking like steel meets flint,” Yuyi Mengliu added, her sleeves whispering like reeds.

“Mm, Boss, I’m a little sleepy,” Hill tugged my skirt hem like a kitten tugging yarn, rubbing her eyes that shimmered like wet amber.

No surprise. We’d risen at five-thirty, an hour earlier than usual, and a juvenile dragon’s drowsiness rolls in like afternoon rain.

“Okay,” I said, letting the softness come first, then the motion. “Sleep a bit before it starts.”

I scooped Hill up in a princess carry, arms a cradle and warmth a small hearth, and her weight settled like a trusting pup.

“Hee-hee, Boss is warm and smells nice, like fresh sun,” she murmured, and then she drifted off, breath steady as a tide.

“So jealous,” Faya whispered, eyes fixed on the curve of Hill’s smile like a moth on a candle.

“Hm? Jealous of what, Faya?” I asked, tilting my head like a curious sparrow.

“It’s nothing! Let’s hurry,” she blurted, color blooming on her cheeks like a sudden sunset, and she strode toward our class line.

“Is that so? How odd,” I muttered, then told Eastern Moon Aixue and Yuyi Mengliu, “Let’s go,” and followed Faya, our steps ticking like beads.

“Yumigawa is really dense,” Eastern Moon Aixue sighed, her voice a breeze under a fan.

“Her Excellency speaks true—Lady Yumigawa Sumeragi can be a touch dense,” Yuyi Mengliu agreed, her smile folding like silk.

Whatever that meant—driftwood in the stream—I let it pass.

We returned to our class spot, tuned our breath like strings before a performance, and an hour slipped by like sand through fingers until the Ranking’s opening bell.

“Students,” the host called, voice ringing on the arena platform like a bronze bell, “today matters—our annual Academy Ranking, which falls on the same day as finals. So this term’s finals are canceled, and the Ranking stands in their place. Your Ranking results are your final grades. Give it everything, like drawing the last arrow from your quiver, and bring back victories. Now, the rules and notices will be brief…”

Dean Merusha stood above us, words steady as a drumbeat, laying out the laws of the field.

A sour chill rose in me like a storm fog. Since dawn, a bad premonition coiled in my chest, and it wouldn’t burn off under the blue-glaze sky.

“What’s wrong, Boss?” Hill blinked up from the crook of my arm, worry shimmering like dew.

“It’s nothing,” I said, shaking my head like shedding rain. I didn’t want her to carry that cloud. I didn’t expect it to burst so soon.

A few minutes later.

“All right, that’s everything. From here on, it’s your stage. I now declare the tournament—”

Before Dean Merusha could strike the match, several girls’ voices cut through the sky like knives through silk.

“Sky-Blanketing Array—activate!”

At once, black smoke rose around Egisia Academy like ink in water, and the veil fell, swaddling the entire campus in a choking shroud.

The clear sky above turned slate-dark in a breath, a lid pressed down like a millstone.

“How can this be?!” Dean Merusha’s face went pale as paper as she murmured, the words quick as beads on a rosary. “Egisia Academy has been isolated from the Academy Isle. Whatever happens inside, no one outside will know.”

Panic rippled through the students like wind through wheat.

“What? Is someone targeting Egisia Academy?”

“What do we even do? This is way above our heads.”

“Yeah, and we might get caught in it!”

It was hard to blame them; most were sheltered ladies and princesses, untested by storm squalls, and fear breaks like a wave when the sky turns.

But the moment for panic ended the instant six women stepped into the empty air, their figures coalescing like mirages above hot sand. One of them was Di Yue’er. Her face and shape had changed like a mask swapped at a festival, but her aura burned in my memory like a brand.

Their leader bit a lollipop between her teeth, black-violet flames licking around her like nightflowers in bloom.

She leveled a skull-tipped wand, its eye sockets dark as wells, and spoke in a hoarse drawl that grated like rust.

“Open—the Gate of Hell.”