The roar of the motorcycle engine sliced through the morning mist clinging to the asphalt. Neither the biting dawn chill nor the harrowing events at the White Mist Valley meadows seemed to weigh on his mind today. Arata was singular in his focus, fixated on a challenge he deemed one of the most perilous of his life:

  Returning Sora's lunch container.

  Since the first light of dawn, he had been desperately trying to scrub away the lingering, putrid stench from the container. But alas, Jole, Fero, and Mire possessed no magic to aid him in such mundane chores. The three of them merely watched from the corner of their spectral dimension as Arata's efforts proved utterly futile.

  Mire: "I fear we have chosen the wrong human." (Her voice dripped with pessimism)

  Fero: "I'm inclined to agree." (He sounded hesitant)

  Jole: "I still believe this boy is the one we can rely on."

  Mire: "Yes, well, I hope your faith isn't misplaced. Given Zili's power, even the three of us were pushed to our limits."

  Fero: "Look at him. I haven't the slightest clue what he's been doing for the last hour, but it clearly isn't working."

  Jole: "He is unrefined. He needs training. I will need both of you to hone his skills."

  Mire: "That won't be an issue."

  Fero: "Then let us begin!"

  Jole: "Not yet. We have yet to interact with him directly, and I fear time is a luxury we do not have." (He glanced toward the summit of a distant skyscraper, the others following his gaze). "Cov is relentless in his surveillance. And I still have no word on the whereabouts of Zed and Nox."

  Mire: "I can hardly contain my urge to tear Dixor apart!" (She growled, her essence flickering with fury)

  Fero: "We cannot wage war in this realm; we lack physical forms."

  Jole: "We can still manifest our energy as long as the Vault remains in that boy's possession." Mire and Fero: "True..." (The three of them turned their gaze back to Arata, who was still frantically scrubbing the container).

  Jole: "For now, we stick to the original plan: protect the boy."

  Mire and Fero: "Understood."

  The thrum of the motorcycle died as it pulled into the school parking lot. Hurried footsteps soon echoed through the corridors. The usual morning chorus of laughter and chatter in front of the classrooms had vanished; the hallways were ghost-quiet. Lessons had already commenced.

  "Argh... late again," Arata muttered, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  He stood before the classroom door, quickly smoothing his clothes and raking a hand through his messy hair. After taking a deep, steadying breath, he braced himself to face the challenge behind the door.

  Knock... knock... knock... "Excuse me, Sir. It's Arata. My apologies for the delay."

  "Enter and take your seat," the teacher replied calmly. He lowered his spectacles to the bridge of his nose, his sharp eyes tracking Arata's every movement from the threshold to his desk.

  "Arata," the teacher called out firmly. "You are to clean the infirmary as punishment for your tardiness today!"

  "Yes, Sir," Arata answered, defeated.

  A wave of muffled snickering broke out among his classmates.

  "Where on earth were you?" Kato whispered, leaning in.

  "I've been trying to clean that thing since sunrise, but the smell just won't go away," Arata replied, still catching his breath.

  "Why today of all days? Couldn't it wait until after school?" Kato pressed.

  "I have work today. I'll definitely run into Sora, and I'm terrified she'll start asking questions," Arata whispered back.

  "Hey, you two! Save your discussion for after class!" the teacher barked from the front.

  The classroom erupted in laughter. "Ah... sorry, Sir!" the two of them stammered, flushed with embarrassment.

  After School

  Click!

  The infirmary flooded with light as Arata entered, lugging his cleaning supplies. He was alone; Kato, as per usual, had vanished to find his girlfriend.

  "Must be quick. Must be fast," Arata muttered, spurring himself on.

  He began to sweep with frantic efficiency. However, his mind was a chaotic swirl, leaping between the lunch container and the nightmare at the Mist Valley. His movements grew swifter, the broom a blur, until he suddenly froze. A voice resonated within his skull.

  'Arata...'

  "Who's there?" Arata blurted out.

  He whirled toward the door, but the hallway was empty, though the door remained slightly ajar.

  'Arata...' the voice called again, clearer this time.

  Flashes of memory from the Mist Valley surged forward. "This voice... it's from that time," he whispered, a chill creeping down his spine. "Who are you?"

  'Arata, close your eyes. Speak with your heart.'

  Arata squeezed his eyes shut, yet he could not pinpoint the source of the sound. Fear began to take root, but it was eclipsed by a sudden surge of adrenaline; he was desperate to find the origin of the call.

  'Speak with your heart,' the voice commanded once more.

  This time, Arata focused with every fiber of his being. He centered his thoughts until the image of his pendant shimmered in his mind's eye. Instantly, the world plunged into a profound, silent darkness. The infirmary vanished, replaced by a vast expanse of thousands of shimmering stars, as if he had been cast into the heart of deep space.

  "Where am I?" he wondered internally, breathless with awe.

  He looked around. The place felt like a dimension without boundaries—no lamps, no vents, no windows.

  'Arata,' the voice called again.

  This time, it was close. Very close. Arata spun around and gasped. The three Guardian Knights stood before him, manifesting as radiant, flickering silhouettes of pure energy.

  "Father? Mother?" Arata stammered. "Am I dead? Is that why I can see you? And... who are you?" he added, pointing at Fero. "Are you an angel?"

  "See?" Fero tossed a look of indignation at Jole.

  "I knew this would be difficult," Mire muttered, her tone bleak.

  "Arata, we are not your parents," Jole explained. "And he," he gestured toward Fero, "is no angel. Given his past conduct, he is far from deserving of such a title."

  "Hey, come on! Don't go digging up the past!" Fero protested.

  "Then... who are you?" Arata asked, his curiosity piqued.

  "We are three energies dwelling within your pendant. We lost our physical forms during the Great War in our realm. We have come to seek your aid."

  "That sounds... intense," Arata remarked casually.

  "Indeed. We failed to protect our world. It was shattered, and we must restore it, or we shall be erased from existence entirely. The reason we are here—"

  The explanation was violently cut short.

  Thwack!

  Arata's body crumpled. A stinging slap landed squarely on his cheek. He was thrown to the infirmary floor, his hand still white-knuckled around the broom.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Wake up!" the voice rang out again.

  Slap! Another strike landed on the opposite cheek.

  Arata blinked, his vision clearing as he stared at the ceiling. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on a figure crouching beside him.

  "Yumi? What are you doing here? Where did they go?" Arata asked, dazed.

  Yumi's hand was already back in the air, poised for a third strike. "Wait, wait! Stop!" Arata cried, shielding his face with both hands.

  "Who are 'they'? Are you possessed or something?" Yumi demanded, her eyes blazing. "You were standing there like a statue holding that broom. Instead of cleaning, you were daydreaming. I called your name three times, and you didn't even blink!"

  "Why are you here?" Arata asked, confused as Yumi helped him up. "And I wasn't daydreaming! I was working!"

  "I came to get some medicine. And what about you? What are you doing?" Yumi countered.

  "Oh, that... I'm cleaning this place," Arata said, straightening his uniform. "Punishment for being late. Have you been here long?"

  "Just a few minutes. You?"

  "I came straight here after school to get it over with," Arata replied.

  "Well, if you keep spacing out like that, you won't be finished until tomorrow evening," Yumi said curtly. She walked over to the infirmary bed and perched on the edge.

  "I told you, I wasn't daydreaming! And why are you still here?" Arata grumbled.

  "Just clean. I'll wait here. In case you turn into a statue again, I'll be here to snap you out of it," Yumi said nonchalantly.

  "I wasn't daydreaming, I was—" The words died in Arata's throat as he looked at her.

  Yumi was watching him with a look of intense, quiet curiosity, as if waiting for him to finish the sentence. Arata chose silence instead. "Actually... maybe I was just tired," he said quietly, returning to his task.

  "Doing what?" Yumi pressed. "Come on, tell me. You were frozen, completely unresponsive. I had no choice but to slap you."

  "You... what? You slapped me?" Arata stopped and gingerly touched his face. "Ow!" he winced as a sharp sting radiated through his cheek. He touched the other side and let out another yelp.

  "Why do they both hurt so much!" he hissed, rubbing his face.

  "You should be thanking me," Yumi said coolly.

  "But why are both my cheeks throbbing?"

  "I did it once, but you didn't wake up. So, I did it again on the other side."

  "You're unbelievable!" Arata protested.

  "Be grateful. Otherwise, you might have ended up in the hospital," Yumi replied casually.

  "That's an exaggeration! There had to be a better way than that!"

  "What, did you want me to hit you with the broom instead?" Yumi challenged.

  "What? You're a total psychopath!" Arata grumbled, still nursing his sore face. He went back to sweeping while Yumi unwrapped a lollipop and began to eat it, reclining lazily on the infirmary bed.

  While Arata worked and Yumi lounged, the three knights continued their conversation within their hidden realm, invisible to the two teenagers.

  Fero: "I see a trace of Mire's aura in that girl's soul."

  Mire: "Watch your tongue, Fero!" (She snapped)

  Jole: "It seems she is indeed the 'Mire' of this dimension." (He remarked casually)

  Fero: "I agree. But the boy... he truly does remind me of you, Jole. He has that same earnestness you had in your youth."

  Jole: "Perhaps. Yet, I find myself worrying about the Vault's choice..."

  Mire: "I've told you a thousand times—"

  Jole: "The Vault chose him, not us. Besides, you were the one who cast the Vault into this realm."

  Mire: "And was there any other choice given how little time we had?" (She countered)

  Jole: "True. But look, the Vault is synchronizing with him. Perhaps he just needs a little more time to truly be ready."

  Mire: "And what if Dixor and the others strike before then?"

  Jole: "That is the trial we face."

  Fero: "We must teach him how to open the portals. He can fight there, and we can provide our aid."

  Mire: "Pray that your plan works, Fero."

  Fero: "Oh, come now. Don't be so dismal. It's worth the attempt."

  Jole: "Fero is right. We shall begin his training in the forest once his shift at the workshop ends."

  Mire: "I wish you luck in convincing him..."

  Fero: "If that girl hadn't interrupted, he might have already understood our purpose—and the danger that follows him."

  Jole: "Indeed, her presence is... disruptive. But at least Arata has accepted us. He didn't flee in terror."

  Fero: "True. He seems to have a stout heart."

  Mire: "There is a fine line between bravery and recklessness. Being reckless without understanding is just plain foolish." (She said flatly)

  Fero: "Hey... give the kid a chance. Why so cynical?"

  Jole: "Enough. Let us return to the Vault."

  At Jole's command, the three vanished back into the pendant. Arata felt a faint, warm vibration against his chest.

  ---

  "Are you going to stay here all day?" Arata asked, snapping Yumi out of her daze.

  Yumi sat up. "Finished?"

  "Yeah. I need to get to the workshop. What about you?"

  "Going home," Yumi answered simply.

  The two of them left the room. Arata locked the door and hurried to catch up with Yumi, who was already several paces ahead. They walked together through the empty school hallways, their footsteps echoing against the silent classrooms. A few students were still visible on the sports field.

  Arata watched Yumi's back as she walked ahead of him. What a terrifying girl, he thought, recalling the sting of her slaps and his surreal encounter with the three Guardians.

  "Be careful on your way," Yumi said without looking back as she reached her classroom.

  "Yeah, thanks. You too," Arata replied.

  She didn't answer. Yumi stepped into her classroom without a backward glance. Arata caught a glimpse of her through the window as she began packing her bag.

  Arata quickened his pace toward his own classroom. Time was slipping away; he had to get to the workshop. But his mind was still a mess. How was he supposed to tell Sora? Should he be honest, or weave some elaborate, dramatic lie to escape her wrath? Though, try as he might, he couldn't quite imagine what a girl as gentle as Sora would look like when truly angry.

  "My Lord, the boy has begun to interact with the three of them."

  A communication channel flickered to life atop a jagged skyscraper.

  "Curses. The situation grows more complicated by the hour," Dixor 's voice crackled from the other end. "Keep him in your sights. Conduct a probe—a minor strike when he is isolated. But do not overextend if the three Guardians intervene."

  "As you command, my Lord," Cov replied without a hint of hesitation.

  He unfurled his wings once more, taking flight toward the workshop. He perched upon a high vantage point, eyes fixed, waiting to track Arata's every move.