Thunderous cheers rolled across the arena, crashing like waves against stone. The crowd was still drunk on the beauty of what they had just witnessed.
At the center of it all, Sora and Chella stood locked in a warm embrace, unmoving, as if the world around them had paused out of respect.
From the edge of the arena, Ozaki watched them. His gaze lingered on the spectator seats—faces lit with awe, excitement, and divided loyalty—before returning to the two girls.
He stepped closer, leaning in just enough for his presence to be felt.
"It's time," he said quietly. "Time to declare the winner."
Chella and Sora released each other and moved to Ozaki's sides.
Ozaki turned to the crowd and raised his voice.
"Let's be calm."
The response was immediate.
The arena fell silent—so completely silent that the whisper of wind brushing past stone could be heard. It felt less like an audience and more like a graveyard waiting for a verdict.
Ozaki lifted Chella's hand.
"Students. Teachers. Even our headmaster," he said, his voice steady. "Today, we witnessed something beautiful. A performance worthy of praise. Magnificent, without question."
A brief pause.
"I know many of you wished for Sora to be the victor." His eyes swept the stands. "But this battle was not formed for strategy, or restraint, or intent. It was formed to find a winner."
He raised Chella's hand higher.
"And with all due respect—Chella is the winner."
Chella burst upward in excitement, her feet leaving the ground even as Ozaki still held her hand. She landed lightly and waved to the crowd, her joy infectious.
The silence shattered.
Cheers erupted—loud, joyful, and approving—as the arena came alive once more.
Ozaki turned toward Sora. "Don't give up hope, you—"
His words were cut short.
Sora smiled and gently patted his hand.
"Ooooh no," she said softly. "I haven't lost hope. If anything… I've gained more."
She pointed toward the stands.
"Those two are my back," she said, her eyes locking onto Yamato and Lumei. "They never give up on sheltering me. On caring for me. So I can't give up either—not after everything they've done for me."
Ozaki followed her gaze.
Lumei? No.
His eyes narrowed.
It has to be Yamato.
Ozaki studied him more carefully now.
I'm sure he's the one behind their progress.
Yamato noticed.
The smile slipped from his face, replaced by something colder. "You could've said that another way."
Beside him, Lumei spread his arms wide, basking openly in the attention and praise. His grin widened as his eyes met Yamato's, who was clearly trying to slip out of focus.
My turn to be praised, Lumei thought. I'll take it.
Sora leaned toward Ozaki, lowering her voice. "Go train your student," she whispered. "I'll train with Lumei and Yamato. When we meet again, I'll be strong enough to stand beside whoever you raise."
Ozaki burst into laughter.
"Hahaha… hahaha!"
He wiped a tear from his eye. "Then it's a bet."
His gaze drifted back to Yamato.
Just who is that kid?
The day faded into routine—teaching, training, work, and movement flowing through the academy like a living thing.
By nightfall, students filled the dorms and courtyards. Laughter echoed through hallways. Stories of the battle were retold again and again, each version more dramatic than the last.
Inside Lumei's room, the air was thick with a sweet, lingering scent.
Sora lay flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Yamato stood by the window, one hand resting on the hinge. Moonlight poured in, casting silver shadows across the room and across his face.
"Yamato," Sora called.
He didn't turn.
Lumei looked from her to Yamato.
"How did you know," Sora continued, raising her hand into the air as if trying to grasp an invisible thread, "that saying God Form with their numbers acts as a Limiter?"
Her fingers closed on nothing.
"Especially when you don't even have Divine Energy."
Lumei stood and walked over, tapping Yamato's back. "You're staring at the moon again."
Yamato smiled faintly. "I heard her. The Limiter question, right?"
"Yes," Sora and Lumei said together.
Yamato finally turned to face them, leaning both elbows against the window hinge.
"I figured that would be your question," he said. Then paused.
"You think it's because I'm just recovery-ranked."
He shifted, pulling his arms away. Faint lines marked where they had rested.
"Sora," he said.
She sat up.
"I've met people with water attacks far more dangerous than your Water God Arrow," Yamato continued calmly. "They weren't Vessels. They weren't Divine Kings."
"They were human."
He sniffed. "But hey—what do I know? I'm just a recovery-ranked adventurer."
The sarcasm was sharp enough to cut.
Lumei returned to the bed and sat down. "Recovery missions get painted as low-level," he said. "But they're just as dangerous as extreme missions."
He pushed himself back and landed flat on the bed, bouncing once.
"Phew."
"I've been on one," he added. "And all I can say is—Yamato's insane for coming back without serious damage."
Sora's smile vanished.
Her expression turned cold—like someone who had just watched a brutal execution and couldn't look away.
"Lumei doesn't lie," she said slowly. "So you're saying it's that dangerous."
She looked straight at Yamato.
"Lumei, the same person who called an S-rank mission child's play."
Her voice dropped.
"Why do you keep tying yourself to recovery missions?"
Outside, the moon hung silently above the academy.
Inside the room, the night deepened—
and so did the questions.