The moon slowly rose, its pale silver light stretching across the horizon, washing over the School of Cristae like a quiet signal that the day was about to begin again.
Back in the ruined classroom, the aftermath of the battle lingered in the air—dust, broken desks, the faint metallic scent of blood. For a while, neither of them spoke.
It was Marlowe who finally broke the silence.
"Clyde… something about your hollow eyes looks different." His gaze narrowed slightly. "And your Lunar Ichor… it feels more stable."
Clyde paused.
Just for a moment, the truth hovered at the edge of his lips. The Firmament. The ascension. Hollow Severance.
He could say it.
He could explain everything.
But instead—
"…Maybe I just learned how to control it better after that fight," Clyde replied, keeping his voice steady, almost casual.
It sounded believable.
But it wasn't the truth.
Marlowe held his gaze for a second longer, as if trying to see past the answer. Then he exhaled and gave a small shrug. "Yeah… maybe."
He didn't push further.
"Let's get back. You look like you're about to collapse."
Clyde gave a faint nod and followed.
As they walked through the dim hallways, the world felt… off. Not physically—but internally. Clyde's mind kept drifting back to what he had seen.
The gray world.
The altar.
The thirty-five empty slots.
And the one card that wasn't black.
Hollow Severance.
Then the fountain.
The silence.
The Firmament.
It didn't feel like a dream.
It felt like something waiting.
Ahead, two figures appeared at the end of the corridor.
Aurelian and Eira.
Aurelian was the first to react, his sharp eyes immediately scanning their condition—the blood, the torn fabric, the exhaustion written all over them.
"Tough fight?" he asked, though the answer was obvious.
Clyde let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Don't mention it. We almost died."
Eira's expression tightened slightly, while Aurelian raised a brow. "Then we should report this to Mr. Aldric."
Clyde nodded. "Yeah. We should."
Without wasting more time, the four of them turned toward the library. Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked deeper inside, the atmosphere shifting from tense to strangely nostalgic.
Clyde's eyes moved across the shelves.
This place again…
Something about it felt familiar in a way he couldn't explain.
When they reached the back corner—the red book resting where it always was—Clyde suddenly slowed.
Someone was already there.
A girl.
Standing quietly, as if she had been waiting.
Clyde's chest tightened.
Her…
The same girl. The one he couldn't shake off. The one who felt wrong—not in appearance, but in presence. Like she didn't belong to the flow of everything else.
She looked at him.
Just for a second.
But in that second, Clyde felt it—like threads pulling, like something unseen tightening around him.
Recognition.
Then, without a word, she stood and walked away.
No hesitation.
No explanation.
"…That's her," Clyde said quietly.
The others exchanged brief glances, but didn't question it. Instead, they stepped forward together and placed their hands on the red book. With a soft click, the mechanism activated, and the bookshelf slid open, revealing the hidden room behind it.
Inside, Aldric sat calmly on a sofa, flipping through a newspaper as if nothing unusual ever happened in this world.
He looked up.
"How is it?" he asked. "Any clues?"
Aurelian stepped forward. "Yes. We suspect a mysterious girl is behind the recent incidents."
Aldric nodded once, thoughtful.
But Clyde had already drifted again.
The Firmament…
The fountain…
The cards…
Was that truly his power?
Or something beyond it?
Aldric noticed immediately. "Clyde," he called, his voice steady but firm, "do you have anything to add?"
Clyde blinked and straightened slightly. "Ah—right…"
For a moment, doubt crept in.
Was it all just coincidence?
Then he remembered.
The card.
Without another word, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "I found this after killing a mutated Howling."
The moment the card was revealed—
BOOM.
A loud crash echoed from the hallway, sharp and sudden.
All heads turned.
Seconds later, Soren stepped in, composed as always, though his eyes immediately locked onto the object in Clyde's hand.
"…Is that an Astral Card?" he asked.
Clyde nodded.
Soren approached and took it carefully, examining every detail with precise attention. The room fell silent as he studied it.
After a moment, he spoke.
"This isn't a normal Astral Card."
Clyde frowned. "Then what is it?"
Soren exhaled slightly. "Let me rephrase. It is an Astral Card—but a forced one. Under normal conditions, your Lunar Sigil bonds with a Divine Ichor. Once that fusion stabilizes, it forms a proper Astral Card."
His gaze sharpened.
"This one… was formed without a Divine Ichor."
A subtle tension filled the room.
Clyde's grip tightened slightly.
Without a Divine Ichor…?
Something wasn't right.
He activated his hollow eyes again and focused on the card.
His heartbeat skipped.
There—etched into its surface—was a symbol.
And beneath it—
"…Noxella."
The word left his mouth quietly, but it hit the room like a shockwave.
Everyone froze.
Except Aldric.
"This," Aldric said calmly, "is likely connected to a cult."
Clyde looked up. "A cult?"
"The Cult of the Bleeding Moon."
Confusion crossed Clyde's face. "What is that?"
Aurelian answered. "They're trying to bring about the descent of Noxella—the Moon Goddess."
"And why would they want that?" Clyde asked.
Eira's voice was softer this time. "A thousand years ago, there was a cataclysm. They believe it was purification. They want to recreate it… to cleanse the world."
Clyde felt something cold settle in his chest.
Aldric continued, "The Bleeding Moon Cult specializes in six types of Divine Ichor. We've identified four—Carapace Ichor, Lament Ichor, Aether Ichor…"
Clyde suddenly interrupted. "Then Noxar… he's part of this cult?"
Aldric nodded. "Yes."
A brief silence followed before he added,
"And the most dangerous… Reverie Ichor."
The weight of that name lingered.
The girl.
The card.
Noxella.
None of this was random anymore.
Aldric stood. "You four—continue investigating the girl. Soren and I will study the card."
"Yes, sir," they replied.
They left the hidden room and walked back toward the dorms, the tension still hanging between them, heavier now with understanding.
Then suddenly, Aurelian spoke.
"Clyde… what drives you to become an Ichorborn?"
Clyde didn't even think.
"The salary. Thirty pounds."
Aurelian stopped walking. "That's it?"
Clyde shrugged slightly, a faint smirk appearing despite everything. "What about you?"
He glanced at him.
"What made you become an Ichorborn?"