The Boy Who Walks Beyond The End

The academy grounds were quieter at night, bathed in a soft silver glow as the moon hung above like a silent watcher. The stone paths between dorms were still, save for the occasional flicker of enchanted lanterns swaying in the breeze.

Zen stood in the practice courtyard alone, blade in hand. He had been repeating a particular sword form—again and again—his breath calm, his movements measured. Each swing left a faint ripple in the air, proof of the strength layered beneath his silent control.

[System: "Observation: You've repeated that swing exactly seventy-two times. Impressive. Also slightly obsessive."]

Zen exhaled slowly, ignoring the floating spirit creature bobbing beside him with its triangular glowing eyes. "Perfection requires repetition."

[System: "Philosophical. Also boring."]

[System: "Suggestion: Go talk to her. You know who I mean."]

Before Zen could reply, he felt a soft presence behind him. Familiar. Warm.

"You're out late, Zeen," Lyra's voice lilting and mischievous.

He turned, and there she was—draped in her academy cloak, blue hair catching the moonlight like strands of silk. Her hands were behind her back, a knowing smirk curving her lips.

"You're the one sneaking up on people," Zen said quietly, though a flicker of pink touched his cheeks.

Lyra stepped closer, circling him like a curious cat. "I saw you from the dorm window. Swinging your sword like you're fighting ghosts. You didn't even notice me watching." She leaned in slightly. "Or... did you?"

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

Zen's eyes flicked away.

[System: "Alert: Blood pressure rising. Condition: Blushing. Should I activate 'Emotional Stability Protocol'?"]

"No," Zen muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing toward Nex. "Stay quiet."

Lyra blinked. "Talking to yourself again?"

He cleared his throat. "Something like that."

She laughed softly, stepping beside him. "You know... you've changed. Not just the power, or the way you fight. You're more... you." Her voice grew quieter. "And I like that."

Zen glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "You liked me before?"

Lyra smirked, inching closer until their shoulders touched. "Maybe. But now I really like teasing you." She poked his cheek, earning a deeper blush.

[System: "Warning: Flirtation detected. Combat not recommended. Surrender advised."]

Zen sheathed his sword and sighed. "You never stop."

"I like seeing your serious face break a little," Lyra said, suddenly softer. "The world's heavy on your shoulders. Let me hold just a bit of it too, alright?"

Zen looked at her, eyes shadowed by memory and moonlight. But then—he nodded. Just once.

She stepped back with a twirl. "Good! Now, less brooding, more smiling. Come on, Jungle , race me back to the Nourishment hall?"

Zen gave a faint smirk. "You'll lose."

Lyra grinned. "Then you better not hold back."

And just like that, they ran—her laughter chasing his silence, the night holding their secret closeness.

[System: "Note: She's good for you, you know."]

Zen said nothing. But his eyes were lighter than before.