A heavy silence settled over the Area.
The spiky haired student could not bring himself to attack after being reminded the situation they were in.
Then—
Soft footsteps.
From behind the boulder, a girl emerged.
Short messy black hair. Pale blue eyes dulled with pain.
Blood stained the sleeve of her uniform, soaking through a thick white membrane wrapped hastily around her arm.
Mimi.
Behind her walked a boy—taller, broader—his sharp gaze locked onto Sion and Dara like a shield raised high.
The wound on Mimi's arm wasn't bleeding, but the gash was ugly—raw flesh exposed beneath the strange white film. The makeshift barrier held, but just barely.
She stopped a few meters away.
Introduced herself simply.
"Mimi Sarron. Second Year. Team leader."
Her voice was steady, but Sion's senses caught the way her stance faltered slightly with every other heartbeat.
She didn't waste time.
"We were on a hunt and retrieve mission. Our aircraft got shot down midair by a Third Year."
She glanced briefly at her teammates.
"He didn't kill us. Just destroyed our transport... stranded us here."
Her hands curled into fists.
"He gave us an ultimatum. Surrender within seven days—or die."
Silence.
Even her own team stiffened hearing it said aloud.
Then—
Mimi bowed slightly.
"Please," she said, voice cutting clean across the stale air.
"We need your help."
The words shocked the Second Years more than Sion and Dara.
"You can't be serious," Rasher said sharply, stepping forward.
"They're first years! Outsiders!"
"Outsiders or not," Mimi said calmly, "we lost the right to choose when we got shot out of the sky."
The protests died on their lips.
Mimi turned her full attention to Sion and Dara.
Sion didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced sideways at Dara—silent question in his eyes.
Dara smiled.
She knew.
This was the stupid "something" Sion's instincts had warned about.
And she had dragged them straight into it, eyes wide open.
"I want to see," she said lightly, "how a Third Year falls."
The decision was made.
No ceremony.
No hesitation.
Sion simply shrugged—he was cool either way.
Dara nodded at Mimi, she then stepped closer.
Without warning, she placed her hand gently over Mimi's wounded arm.
Mimi stiffened instinctively—but didn't pull away.
A soft green glow bloomed from Dara's palm.
A tiny flower grew—delicate, translucent—and floated down onto Mimi's injury. It sank into the wound like a drop of morning dew.
The white membrane cracked.
And slowly, the torn flesh beneath began stitching itself together—new, unblemished skin blooming over the injury.
Mimi watched, wide-eyed.
"You knew?" Dara asked quietly.
Mimi nodded.
"Most royalty," she said, "learn to turn their powers toward healing. Survival first."
She added, almost apologetically:
"Even if your gift wasn't suited for it... you would have been trained to carry a high-grade healing artifact."
Dara smiled faintly. "Royal life is stressful."
Mimi smiled.
The Second Years looked on in stunned silence.
Not just at the Dara's efficiency.
But at how smoothly the strangers had become allies.
Standing by Mimi, Rasher's eyes narrowed at Sion.
Who are you people?
He could feel it — if he so much as twitched toward the pink-haired girl, he would be dead before taking two steps.
What was more strange was, he did not get the threat from the boy but from the girl—she was stronger than him. But he could also tell, the boy was stronger than the girl.
A while later.
The rocky field had settled into a strange kind of calm.
A couple feet away from the group, Dara was sitting comfortably on a fallen stone, chatting animatedly with Mimi's team.
She had a lightness to her, an easy rhythm to her words as she explained—half seriously, half jokingly—how she and Sion had ended up dropped randomly into the Outer Edge thanks to a teleportation scroll.
Mimi and her squad listened with a mix of amusement and disbelief, their guards lowered around her.
Meanwhile, Sion stayed apart from it all.
He lay stretched out on top of a large boulder, arms folded behind his head, face turned lazily to the sky like none of this concerned him.
If anyone cared to look closer, they'd realize he wasn't sleeping.
He was listening. Watching.
Mimi glanced up once and caught sight of him, a slight frown tugging at her lips.
Still, she turned back to Dara, continuing the conversation.
---
"So... just a scroll," Mimi said, half-disbelieving. "And it dropped you here."
"Yep," Dara said, popping the 'p.' "Random as hell."
Must be new academy-tech. Mimi chuckled softly, but her face turned a little more serious.
"You two are lucky," she said. "This part of the Edge isn't even the worst."
She shifted her injured arm slightly, wincing. The flower Dara had planted earlier had sealed the wound almost completely, leaving only a faint scar.
"You should know—the Academy's Outer Edge is massive," Mimi said, voice quieter. "Even my set... we never fully explored it."
Dara tilted her head. "Then how do you guys even move around?"
Mimi smiled tightly.
"We don't. Not without aircrafts. Or portals, when you can find them."
She hesitated, then added: "Missions and expeditions are the only reason most students even come out this far."
"And missions get you what again?" Dara asked casually.
"Points. Coins. Status," Mimi listed off. "Fail too many times, lose too much... and you fall behind."
"Sounds stressful." Dara leaned back, stretching her arms.
"You get used to it," Mimi said dryly. "Or you die."
The group laughed weakly.
Mimi watched Dara for a moment, then leaned closer, dropping her voice.
"So... why's your boyfriend sitting all the way over there?"
Dara froze.
Then snorted.
"Probably because you guys crashed our date."
Mimi stiffened immediately.
"Ah—I'm sorry. I didn't know—"
Dara waved her hands frantically, laughing harder now.
"I'm kidding! We're not actually dating!"
Mimi blinked, confused.
...Right. Random teleportation with a boy to an isolated part of the Outer Edge.
Totally not dating.
She kept her thoughts to herself.
Dara wiped a tear of laughter from her eye.
"But seriously," she said, sobering slightly. "I don't know why he's hanging back."
She cupped her hands around her mouth and called toward the boulder.
"Hey, why are you brooding over there?"
Sion shifted slightly, his voice drifting lazily down to them.
"If I get too close, your concealment technique breaks."
"What?" Dara called.
Sion sat up halfway, resting on his elbows.
"The space-type gift," he said, tapping the side of his head. "I can feel the way it folds. If I walk in, it collapses."
Mimi's brow furrowed. "Wait, how do you know that?"
Sion shrugged. "I just know."
Rasher, Mimi's brother, exchanged looks with a few others.
This wasn't normal.
"And you're okay just staying outside it?" Mimi asked, worried.
Sion stretched like a lazy cat. "He won't sense me."
"Who won't?" someone muttered.
Dara grinned. She was waiting for this.
"By the way, of our batch..." she said casually, "he's Second Rank."
Mimi's team collectively stiffened.
They all turned their heads slowly to stare at Sion.
Sion, for his part, simply offered a small shrugged.
"...You're kidding," Rasher muttered.
Dara laughed under her breath.
"Nope."
Mimi shook her head, mind spinning.
The top three of any batch are always monsters...
Especially, the new batch that have the most royalty and nobles recorded in the history of the Academy....
And he didn't even act like it.
Dara perked up suddenly.
"If you can sense him," she said, "can you lure the Third Year over?"
Sion tilted his head, thinking.
A slow smile curved his lips.
"Sure."
He stood on the boulder, rolling his shoulders. The golden glow in his eyes deepend slightly.
Then—
He clapped once.
A sharp crack split the air.
A sonic pulse rippled outward, distorting the ground, the rocks, the very air itself.
The boulder beneath him trembled.
Birds scattered from unseen nests.
Even Mimi's team flinched back instinctively, shielding their eyes from the sudden rush of pressure.
The pulse faded almost immediately.
Silence.
Only the distant wind whispered now.
Sion sat back down casually, resting his chin on his palm.
"Now," he said, smiling faintly, "we wait."