Chapter 13: A Stranger's reflection.

Vanta's heart thudded like a war drum as he stepped out from the thorny thicket, leaves crackling under his boots. There was no use hiding now—whatever that thing was, it had already seen him. With each step he took, his thoughts spiraled through a storm of options: fight, flee, bluff. The forest's hush pressed in on him, the scent of damp earth thick in his nose, tinged with the faint metallic tang of the nearby stream. The water's surface remained too still, like a pane of glass hiding claws beneath.

He plastered on a grin, hoping it might throw the creature off. "Ahh, you can talk. What a remarkable feat for a monstrosity such as yourself," he said with forced bravado. "Perhaps you're feeling generous enough to let me walk away? I'm not one to initiate violence."

The figure didn't flinch. Its burning eyes drilled into him, not with rage—but recognition. A long, silent moment passed. Then the black miasma began to unravel, retreating like mist burned away by sunlight. Vanta braced himself for horror.

But what stood before him wasn't a beast.

"You're still staring," she snapped, her voice sharp as a thrown blade.

It was a girl—about his age, maybe a little older. Raven-black hair framed her face, glinting like polished obsidian in the waning light. Her eyes were black, darker than midnight, and her skin, though pale, looked like it had been carved from porcelain. She was average in height, but there was nothing average about her. Her beauty was raw, striking—but cold. Like a statue sculpted by someone who had forgotten what warmth meant.

"Ehmm, sorry," Vanta stammered, scratching the back of his neck. "I was just... surprised."

She ignored him and turned her attention to the stream, cupping the water into her hands. The stream didn't react. Its stillness remained unnatural. Vanta kept his distance, noting the leather armor, gloves, and boots she wore—identical to his own.

Another examinee. Or maybe something else.

"Careful," he warned, nodding at the water. "There's a monster in there."

"I saw," she said flatly, her tone devoid of fear or interest.

Vanta approached, crouching beside her, dipping his hands into the stream though he didn't drink. Just an excuse to be near, to learn more. Something about her tugged at his gut, a pull he didn't understand. A familiarity laced with unease.

"So, um... how exactly were you able to do that?" he asked, voice low. "The thing with the miasma—I mean."

"It's part of my ability," she replied simply.

Vanta blinked. "Your ability? But... the exam—my book said our powers were locked."

She shrugged, wiping her wet hands on her thighs. "Who knows. Mine were never restricted."

His jaw tightened. Either she was lying, or the rules didn't apply to her. "I guess the exam's playing favorites," he muttered under his breath.

He stood up, brushing dirt from his knees. "By the way, I'm Vanta Black. What's your name?"

She met his gaze, and for a heartbeat, something shifted in her eyes. Recognition? Pain? It was gone as quickly as it came.

"B—Black?" she echoed, voice suddenly brittle. "You're from the Black clan?"

"Yeah. Why?" Vanta stepped closer, heart racing.

"I don't—I don't really know," she said, her voice trembling. Her hand rose to her head, fingers curling as if trying to drag out a memory. "My name is Ash Black."

Vanta froze. The air seemed to still.

"That... can't be true," he whispered.

The Black clan—his clan—had been shattered during Iridia Chroma, the war that ripped the continent apart ten years ago. He had no memories of his parents, only fragments and rumors. To find someone from the same bloodline now, here, on day one of this madness—it felt too sudden, too convenient.

His emotions surged—joy, suspicion, grief. Hope. A dangerous hope that maybe she held answers to what had happened. But he didn't rush. He couldn't afford to scare her off. He had to know the truth a d to do that...

"Where have you been all these years?" he asked quietly. "Do you know what happened to our people? What caused the war?"

She squeezed her temples, sweat glistening on her brow. "I can't remember," she murmured, her voice cracking. "All I know is... the war's lasted longer than they tell us."

Her body trembled. Her eyes—already dark—grew hollow, shadowed. Her skin turned ghostly pale. Vanta's breath caught. She looked less alive with each second. Like a walker, a soulless remnant of Iridia Chroma.

"You okay?" he asked, stepping closer. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," she snapped, the mask slipping back over her features like a veil.

He didn't buy it.

"Ehm... can I ask one more question?" he ventured. "Why are you in Blueblood? Shouldn't you be... I don't know, recovering somewhere safe?"

She turned away, walked to the base of a gnarled tree, and sat. Her posture slumped. Vanta followed and sat beside her, the bark rough against their backs.

"I don't know," she said, her voice soft. "It just feels right."

'Perfect', Vanta thought. 'This girl is hopeless.'

He exhaled. "Well... I'm trying to figure out what happened to our clan—why it's all buried. Why don't you come with me? Maybe we'll find something that helps your memory. Maybe something that makes all of this make sense."

She stood without a word, brushing dirt from her armor. "Suit yourself," she said, already walking.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a cave nearby," she called over her shoulder. "It should provide shelter for now."

"Oh, umm... no problem." He jogged to catch up.

They weren't close, not yet. But knowing she shared his name gave him a fragile sense of peace.

In their world, every color was a clan, and the most powerful nine were monarchs of their own lineage. Seven still remained. The Black clan had been among the strongest. Until the war. Until everything shattered.

They found the cave tucked against a rocky outcrop. The stench hit them like a physical blow—rotting meat, dried blood. Bones lay scattered, yellowed and cracked. Crimson smears streaked the stone. An abomination had made this its home once.

Vanta gagged. "This place is a slaughterhouse."

Ash didn't flinch. They got to work, hauling out remains, scraping moss against the bloodstains, carrying stream water in cupped hands. It wasn't clean, but it was habitable. They built makeshift beds with branches and leaves, placing them side-by-side in the cramped shelter.

Night bled into the forest, darkness pooling like ink outside the cave's mouth. They spoke little after that—only when necessary. The ration cards in their guidebooks provided one final meal. Tomorrow, they'd need to hunt.

"I'll take the first watch," Vanta said.

Ash didn't protest. She looked like she needed the rest.

No fire. Too dangerous. The cold was brutal, biting through their armor.

Vanta sat at the entrance, twin blades across his lap, eyes fixed on the trees. His thoughts spun—the exam, Ash, the war. The weight of secrets buried beneath silence.

Then, faintly, a glow lit the cave. His guidebook floated before him, its runes pulsing.

"Huh?" He leaned closer.

**Exam Guide:**

**Name:** Vanta Black

**Age:** 14

**Main Objective:** Acquire the Xue Sense

**Abilities:** Locked

**Storage:** 2 items

**Health:** Undying

**Day 1 out of 365**

Returning: 0 hours 1 minute 23 seconds**

**Xue Sense achieved by students: 3/967**

Vanta's brows knit together.

' Returning? What did that mean?'

He watched the timer tick down.

Three... two... one.

Zero.

The runes flared. The page refreshed. A new countdown began: 12:00:00.

Then came the pressure. Like a storm pressing against his skin. The trees stilled. No rustle. No birds. Not even wind.

"This can't be good," he whispered.

He looked back at Ash, asleep, her skin waxy pale, lips barely moving.

Whatever was coming—it wasn't just an exam. It was a reckoning.