🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋Â
Day 4 of Aether Clash
The buzz across Division IX was electric. Yesterday's matches had left their mark, and everyone was still riding the wave.
No one was talking about who won or lost in general—they were talking about the moments. The clashes. The rivalries. And most of all…
The Vosk Sibling Duel.
It had been the most anticipated matchup of Match 7: Team Rat vs. Team Rabbit.
A brother and sister—both descended from the legendary unsealed, Asimov Vosk—facing each other on opposite ends of the battlefield.
The screen in the common hall looped the highlights as students clustered around.
Elena Vosk stood tall for Team Rat—her short white hair glinting with a blue tint, her fists encased in TechLogia's standard-issue training gauntlets, glowing faintly with Aether. Her style was close-quarters, explosive, and confident.
Across from her was Alexander Vosk of Team Rabbit—calm, precise, and cold, wielding a long, slender training sword. His movements were controlled, his posture perfect. If Elena was a storm, he was a glacier.
The announcer's voice played over the replays:
"Round 3…
Team Rat's Elena Vosk vs. Team Rabbit's Alexander Vosk—begin!"
The arena was immediately engulfed in light frost—Alexander's zoning technique was swift. Ice patches crawled across the arena floor, attempting to limit Elena's mobility. He wasn't building walls or forming grand fortresses. He was controlling the tempo.
But Elena wasn't about to back down.
She dashed forward, sliding across the slick floor as she closed the gap, her gauntlets aimed for a crushing blow. A hook. A cross. A spinning uppercut. The gauntlets flashed with each punch, every strike draining Aether on contact.
Students leaned in, holding their breath.
Alexander moved like water. His blade didn't overpower—he redirected. Every swing, every parry, was measured. He used Elena's speed against her, letting her wear herself out, her gauntlets scraping against his sword as he side-stepped and countered.
Then came the turning point.
Elena feinted left, ducked under a wide swing, and aimed a powerful haymaker toward Alexander's chest.
And he let it land.
Only—it didn't.
The moment her gauntlet hit his chest, the floor below her froze—a delayed trigger.
She slipped.
And Alexander struck.
A clean, sweeping slash of his training sword across her shoulder—Aether flooded out of her.
Aether Critical.
"Winner—Alexander Vosk!"
The common hall erupted as the highlight ended, students cheering or gasping in disbelief.
"Did he really bait her into that trap?" "Classic Alexander. Calm. Calculated. Cold."
Elena, on screen, knelt in the frost, panting, her breath steaming in the cold air. Alexander extended a hand to her—stoic, but respectful.
She slapped it away.
The match might have ended, but that rivalry hadn't cooled.
And with that, Team Rabbit stole one victory from Team Rat—a glimmer of resistance before the inevitable.
As I watched, arms crossed in the corner, I muttered to myself…
"Guess even prodigies fall when they fight their shadows."
Aside from that There were other matchups today—strong teams, impressive fights, plenty of flash.
But still, it was my match people were talking about.
Strange.
No one ever really thought I had skills. I was just the background noise in this academy, a walking storage box with a teleportation quirk. Useful. Forgettable. Replaceable.
But now… I could feel the shift.
The stares. The voices.
Some whispered.
Some watched.
Their eyes weren't dull anymore. They glittered—some with curiosity, others with suspicion. A few with something that might've been… respect?
I just brushed past it all and headed straight to where I always belonged—the library.
That place never judged me. It never expected me to fight, or win, or lead.
It just gave me silence. And stories.
But even here, surrounded by dusty spines and glowing Aether lamps, my thoughts drifted.
Where's Freya?
She's not in the apartment.
Not at the Academy.
Not even a shadow in my peripheral like she usually is.
And Grandpa?
Gone too.
I tapped the edge of my Aether watch. My thumb hovered over the emergency sigil.
If I break it… will he really come?
Then his voice echoed in the back of my mind—clear, blunt, and annoyingly honest.
"You're lazy. That's your only weakness. You've got the gift, the will—just no push."
Tch.
He didn't have to say it like that. I have feelings, you know.
Still…
That worry sat heavy in my chest. What if they went back?
Back to fight the King Beetle.
I snorted under my breath. "Crazy old man…"
My Codex Nexus pulsed slightly from the dimensional pocket I tucked it into.
It felt like it was listening.
Or waiting.
As I drifted through shelves, I popped open aether messages, hoping for any sign.
HARU:
"Training with Fujimori. She's working on a new technique again."
Typical. I smiled faintly.
ME:
"Seen Sol? Or Claire?"
The typing dots blinked… paused… then answered.
HARU:
"Nope. Haven't shown up. Not even this morning."
That gave me pause.
I leaned against a bookshelf. The pages of an old combat theory manual fanned open in my hand—but I wasn't reading anymore.
Sol's probably holed up somewhere, fuming.
But Claire… I wouldn't know. And to be honest… I don't want to intrude.
The silence of the library was comforting. It gave me time to breathe, time to think. To pretend none of this Aether Clash business mattered.
But then lunchtime rolled around, and Haru insisted we eat together.
Me, Haru, and Fujimori. Like a weird, ragtag trio.
We sat at our usual spot. The food was quiet. So were we.
But there was something calming about it. Like we were still normal, even in the middle of a competition where teams could fall apart overnight.
And then, out of nowhere, Haru turned to me.
"Hey… want to spar after lunch?"
I looked at him. Blinked.
"You… want to fight me?"
Haru smirked. "Not fight. Train. I'm curious. That's all."
I narrowed my eyes. "You just want to see if I'll trip over myself."
"Maybe." He chuckled. "But also… maybe not."
I thought about it. About Claire's silence. About Sol's anger. About the crowd shouting Taxi, taxi! like I was some kind of underdog champion.
"…Alright," I said, finishing the last bite of my rice.
"Really?" Fujimori blinked. "You're actually going to fight?"
"Don't make it a big deal."
Haru laughed. "It's already a big deal."
I sighed. "Fine. Just… don't expect fireworks."
In the back of my mind, I felt the Codex Nexus stir again.
But who knows?
Maybe a few sparks wouldn't hurt.
🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋Â
The mat was quiet.
No crowds.
No cheering.
Just the sound of our bare feet on the polished floor, and the hum of energy lamps above.
Haru stood across from me, loosening his shoulders, rolling his neck. The usual sleepy look in his eyes was replaced by a faint glimmer—like he was finally awake.
"Remember," he said, "no claws, no fur, no fangs."
"Same to you," I replied, cracking my knuckles. "No tail-whipping."
He chuckled.
We circled each other, the space between us electric.
I took the first stance. Open palm, lead foot light.
Uncle Baek's first lesson echoed in my head:
"Aether comes later. First, learn to be human. Then learn to be faster."
Haru moved first.
A blur—his speed already unnaturally fast, even without transforming. He swung wide with a right hook.
I dipped under, letting instinct take over. Palm to elbow, redirect the force.
He grunted as I slid past him and tried to sweep his leg from behind.
He jumped. Light. Nimble.
Tap-tap— his feet landed and he was already coming back with a jab, then another. His blows weren't fancy—but they were strong, and fast.
I backpedaled.
"When facing a wolf, don't try to overpower it. You redirect. You out-think."
— Uncle Baek again, while forcing me to spar with a boar demon he befriended for training purposes. (Long story.)
Haru feinted with a punch to the gut—but it was bait. I saw it too late.
Bam—! His shoulder clipped my jaw, spinning me slightly.
I stumbled but kept my footing, wiping my lip. "You've been holding back all this time?"
Haru grinned. "You think I didn't train while you napped in the library?"
Another burst.
I ducked low, then snapped my leg upward—snap kick to the ribs. He blocked it with his arm, but I felt the hit land. A small victory.
He came back with a low sweep.
I jumped.
Mid-air, I twisted—then kicked out mid-spin, landing a grazing blow to his back. He grunted and staggered forward.
We paused.
Breathing heavy. Eyes locked.
Both of us were grinning now.
This wasn't about winning.
This was the flow. Rhythm. Precision.
This was what Uncle Baek drilled into me under waterfalls and moonlight and blistering sun.
"One day you'll be out of Aether, out of options. Then it's just fists and bones, boy. And that's when we see who's still standing."
Haru struck again—this time faster.
He blurred left—then suddenly right.
A faint.
I waited for the real strike and caught his wrist, twisted, and elbowed toward his ribs.
He dropped low, used the momentum to flip me—but I hooked my leg around his and dragged him with me. We both tumbled, hit the mat hard, and rolled apart.
Both panting now.
"You're not bad," he muttered, brushing off his shirt.
"Uncle Baek would disagree," I said, standing.
Then I added with a smile: "But he'd be impressed I didn't cry."
We stood again, slowly walking toward each other—this time with less aggression, more acknowledgement.
"Another round?" he asked.
I nodded. "This time, I try not to lose my balance."
As we squared up for round two, a loud BLAG slammed through the stillness.
Haru and I froze mid-step, heads whipping toward the door.
Ms. Fujimori, still seated on the bench, tilted her head toward the source of the sound. Calmly, like she already expected it.
"…It's Sol," she said flatly.
I blinked. "He's here?"
"Yeah. He's been standing there for a while."
Haru turned his head slowly, then looked at me with an arched brow. "You didn't sense him?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
That was strange. For someone with that much Aether swelling inside him, Sol was surprisingly... quiet.
Or maybe—I was just too relaxed.
We both laughed. Not a forced laugh, not the kind you make to break tension—but the kind that said, "Welp, here we go again."
"Think it hurt his pride?" Haru asked, smirking.
I wiped sweat from my brow and shrugged. "Probably."
I didn't even need to turn around to know Sol was there, leaning on that doorframe like some brooding flame deity. Watching. Listening. Thinking.
Maybe that was it. Maybe he saw me—not the lazy bookworm, not the quiet errand boy, not the taxi or the storage guy—but the other Ryuji. The one I'd buried beneath the smiles and sleepy eyes. The one who moved like water, the one who could fight.
And maybe that stung.
But I didn't care.
I really didn't.
Not because I hated him.
Not because I wanted revenge.
But because… I didn't want to be anyone's proof of strength. I didn't want to stand on a pedestal built by beatdowns and accolades. I didn't want to be a fighter for all things good.
That kind of person… always breaks.
So I kept it simple.
I hide.
I read.
I train.
I prepare.
And when the time comes… I move.
"Guess we've got a fan," Haru teased, cracking his knuckles as we squared up again.
"Guess so," I replied.
The sun had dipped low by the time our final spar ended.
Haru was on his back, chest rising and falling like a storm-worn tide. I sat nearby, arms resting on my knees, sweat clinging to every inch of my body like armor I hadn't removed. The training mat beneath us was littered with scuff marks, dust, and the imprint of our exertion.
"No transformation… but still that fast," I muttered, glancing over at him.
Haru grinned between gasps, "You're one to talk. I can still feel your last hit humming in my ribs."
"Uncle Baek style," I said, offering a hand. "Precision over power."
"Yeah, yeah. Remind me not to underestimate the Archivus elbow next time."
We both laughed, then collapsed back onto the mat.
Moments later, Ms. Fujimori stepped onto the mat to warm up. Her movements were calm and measured, her breath in sync with every motion. Haru got to his feet, wiped the sweat from his neck, and faced her with a light bow. "Your turn," he said.
She returned the gesture, stepping into the circle like a dancer, all grace and hidden fire.
I watched from the side, drying off, still catching my breath… and thoughts.
Tomorrow was the finals.
The round robin. No random matchups. No hiding.
Every team would face each other—one after another—until the scoreboard told us who deserved the crown.
And we made it. Team Dragon. The laughingstock of the start, the underdogs with attitude problems, quiet kids, and one book-carrying slacker... now standing in the top 3.
Claire hadn't shown up today. Sol either. But I knew they'd be there tomorrow.
The only question was—what version of them would walk into that arena?
A part of me still wanted to retreat to the library. To sit in my usual corner, surrounded by the comfort of quiet pages and soft light.
But that part… was getting quieter.
Because after tomorrow, everything changes.
Win or lose, the world will know who we are.
And I'll no longer be just the storage guy.
I looked down at my hand—still red and sore from the impact of that last match.
No matter what happens… I'll write the ending my way.