Chapter 14: Journey to Paradise: The Other Side

The collapse of the ruined building sent dust spiraling into the air, separating the team into two groups.
Kamito and Sera were swallowed by the smoke of destruction—
while Mikoto Hikari and Natsume Airi were thrown in the opposite direction, forced to retreat down a cracked boulevard toward the coastline.

The sky darkened as Gouma Gyuryū’s roar vibrated through the skeletal remains of the city.

“Airi—this way!”
Mikoto grabbed her arm, dragging her across a fallen highway sign as debris continued to rain down.

“I know! But keep your head low—its senses are sharp!”

They sprinted through a forest of collapsed concrete until the scent of saltwater filled the air.
Ahead of them was the shoreline—dead, quiet, littered with shipwreck fragments and rusted cargo containers bleached by years of magical storms.

A half-destroyed boathouse stood at the edge of the coast.

A shelter.

Temporary.
Fragile.
But enough to hide them from the monster’s patrol.

Once inside, Airi barricaded the warped door with broken planks. Mikoto collapsed onto a dusty bench, breathing heavily.

For a moment, there was only silence—
the heavy, suffocating silence of Kuronami-jima.

Mikoto tightened her fist over her chest.

“Kamito-kun… Amanai-san… I hope they’re safe.”

Airi sat across from her, expression colder than the sea breeze that slipped in through the cracked wall.

“Worrying won’t help. They’re strong. And that idiot Kamito… somehow, he always survives.”

Mikoto let out a faint, tired laugh.

Then silence again.

Until Mikoto broke it.

“Airi… can I ask something?”

Airi glanced sideways.

“What is it?”

“Why did you join the Magical Academy? Truly?”

Airi blinked—caught off guard.
For a moment, her usually guarded expression softened.

Mikoto lowered her gaze.

“For me… it was justice.”

Airi raised an eyebrow.

“Justice?”

Mikoto nodded.

“Yes. I joined because I wanted to stand for those who can’t use magic.”

Her voice trembled slightly as memories surfaced.

“I saw how young mages treated non-mages… how they bullied them, humiliated them, acted untouchable. And the adults did nothing. Someone had to stop it. Someone had to draw a line.”

She clenched her palms tighter.

“If the world kept pretending it was normal… then someone like me had to change it.”

Airi listened quietly—her eyes no longer sharp, just thoughtful.

Then she spoke.

“You know… I was bullied too.”

Mikoto’s eyes widened.

“You?”

Airi looked toward the broken window where moonlight cracked through.

“Yes. And I would’ve stayed weak forever… if not for a boy.”

Mikoto leaned forward slightly.

“A boy?”

Airi nodded.

“He stepped in for me. Defended me. Even though he had no magic… he still fought those bullies. And he got hurt—badly.”

Her voice trembled, though her face remained composed.

“Watching him bleed because of me… something snapped inside. I refused to stay helpless. So I fought back. And for the first time… I won.”

Mikoto’s expression softened.

Airi continued.

“That boy and I trained together afterward. Learned magic. Learned to survive. Side by side until we were teenagers.”

A faint smile touched her lips—a rare expression from Natsume Airi.

“But one day… he disappeared. No warnings. No goodbye. Nothing.”

Her smile vanished.

“…And I was alone again.”

The boathouse creaked under a chilling wind.

“It felt like losing my warmth. Like a pillow without a blanket. That’s how cold it was.”

Mikoto remained silent, allowing Airi’s story to spill freely—gently, painfully.

Airi exhaled.

“Then Masahiro Yuki appeared.”

Her tone changed—firmer, yet filled with gratitude.

“During the First Ground Wave, she saved me. Brought me back from despair. Gave me a purpose. And from that moment, I swore to protect her.”

She looked down at her gloved hands.

“I became her right hand. Her guard. Her shield. Because I knew something… the people closest to you are the ones who betray you the easiest.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly—hardening at old memories.

“So I became cold. Distant. I pushed everyone away. Even those who meant well.”

Then her voice softened again.

“But after fighting Kamito… after seeing him in Noa Mode… I realized something important.”

She placed a hand over her chest.

“Words are prayers.”

Mikoto blinked.

Airi continued:

“The things we say shape our fate. The things we curse become our chains. And the things we hope for… become our path.”

Her voice trembled—not from fear, but sincerity.

“And Kamito—whether he knows it or not—he cares about Masahiro Yuki.”

Mikoto inhaled softly.

Airi stared at the floor.

“I don’t know his real intentions. I don’t know his secrets. But I know this: he and Yuki share a dream. A childhood promise. To become the strongest together.”

She closed her eyes.

“Even if Kamito had to wait years… he still tries.”

A faint warmth touched her usually cold expression.

“So I thought… maybe I should have a dream too. Just like them.”

She looked up—gaze steady, resolute.

“A dream to be someone useful. Someone who can protect others. Someone who can stand beside those who believe in hope.”

Mikoto’s eyes shimmered.

She whispered—

“Airi… that’s beautiful.”

Airi scoffed lightly, turning away.

“Don’t get sentimental. We’re still in enemy territory.”

But her cheeks—slightly red—betrayed her composure.

Mikoto smiled warmly.

“Still… thank you for telling me.”

Airi crossed her arms, pretending not to be flustered.

“Whatever. Just don’t repeat it to anyone.”

Mikoto giggled softly.

The sea was unnaturally still.

No waves.
No wind.
Only distant footsteps—heavy and dragging—echoing along the destroyed shore.

A massive shadow passed through the fog.

Gouma Gyuryū was still searching.

And the night of Kuronami-jima had only begun.