– Short Prologue –
In the shadows of the ruins of an old city, in a damp, iron-smelling basement, a girl stood in a pool of blood. Her age was unclear. Maybe eight, maybe ten. But her eyes—those eyes had no age. Empty. Dead. Hollow.
In her hand, a long sword with old carvings—still dripping fresh blood from the neck of the man she had just cut. The man groaned one last time, his eyes pleading… but there was no mercy.
No orders. No hesitation.
The girl simply slashed.
And stood.
Silence.
"You have no name," said a masked man standing behind her. "You are only a tool. You live only to kill. And every weakness… will be punished."
The girl did not answer. But the old wounds on her back seemed to answer for themselves. Wounds that would not heal. Wounds from whips. Wounds from chains. Wounds that made it impossible for anyone to believe they were on a child's body.
"Now, clean your sword. The next victim awaits."
Without a word, without a complaint, he walked. His voice was inaudible. But behind his silent steps, the world cried.
---
– Back to Ars Storia –
The time showed 1:00 p.m. The bell rang for recess, and the cadets began to disperse from the classroom.
Ars Storia stood up from his chair, took his notebook, and walked quietly towards the academy's main cafeteria. Around him, the other children laughed, chatted, bragged about their new magic, and talked about the mecha units they saw this morning.
But Ars didn't talk to anyone. He just watched.
He knew—most of them were children of nobles who had never touched suffering. But not all. There were also commoners. And… maybe more than that.
Ars's steps stopped right in the hallway to the cafeteria.
SREK!!
A scream. Sharp. Shrill. Full of fear.
Followed by the sound of glass breaking and objects falling from the second floor of the east wing building. All the cadets fell silent. Some ran toward the sound. Some backed away in fear.
Ars didn't move. But his heart was beating fast.
"What was that...? It wasn't just an accident."
He walked slowly toward the source of the sound. As he rounded the corner of the hallway, he saw it. A girl—thin, dirty, with long hair covering her face—stood with a small knife in her hand. Her uniform was tattered. Her breath was ragged. And blood... was flowing from her left hand.
Around her, four cadets—two lying unconscious, two more backing away with frightened faces.
Ars couldn't look away. The girl's gaze... was like his own gaze.
The gaze of someone who had lost everything.
The gaze of a tool... not a human.
The nurse and the guard soldiers came shortly after, trying to calm the situation. The girl was immediately handcuffed, but she didn't struggle. She just stayed still... and cried silently, her body trembling.
Ars clenched his fists. Something felt like a stab in his chest. He didn't understand who the girl was... but the pain was like an echo of his own past.
"This world... eats its children."
"And I... am one of them."