2025-12-15 20:33:18Asta’s eyes snapped open.
His chest was rising and falling fast, like he had been running for hours. He sat up so quickly the thin mattress on the bunk bed creaked loud. The room was small and gray. Bare walls. A tiny window high up let in cold morning light. The air smelled of dust and old wood.
An old man sat on a wooden chair beside the bed, watching him with calm eyes.
“You okay, boy?”
The old man asked, his voice rough but not unkind.
Asta blinked, rubbed his face.
“Yeah… I think so.”
He looked around again, confusion written all over his face.
“Where the hell am I?”
The old man gave a small smile.
“No need to be scared. You’re in the Labourers’ Unit. Bottom floor of the academy. This is where flameless students work now.”
Asta’s heart dropped.
“Labourers’ Unit…? How did I get here?”
The old man stood up slowly, joints cracking.
“You ask too many questions.”
He said, turning toward the door.
“When we were rounding up the flameless ones after the ceremony, we found you passed out behind the academy. You were burning with fever. We carried you here and gave you some medicine.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“That's enough for you?”
Asta swallowed hard.
“Oh… yeah. Thank you, sir. And sorry for my manners.”
The old man nodded.
“It’s alright. Get up. Come register. From today, this is your new school.”
Asta climbed out of the bunk. His legs felt heavy, like they were made of stone.
As they walked down a dark, narrow hallway, the dragon’s huge red eye flashed in his mind again. Scales. Fire and Chains burning with flames.
His step faltered. His eyes went wide.
The old man noticed.
“You okay, boy?”
Asta shook his head fast, like trying to throw the picture out.
“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”
“Walk faster then.”
They reached a bigger room with long tables. A few older students sat there, wearing gray work clothes. When they saw Asta, whispers started.
“Isn’t that Asta Xavier?”
“The one with no flame?”
“Even the Fire Lord’s son ended up here…”
The old man slammed his hand on the table.
“QUIET! All of you!”
Everyone shut up fast.
He pushed a dirty register book toward Asta.
“Write your name. From now on you work with us. Clean floors. Carry coal. Fix things. That’s your life.”
Asta stared at the page. His hand shook as he wrote his name in black ink.
The old man watched him, his voice softer now.
“Don’t look so sad, boy. You’ll get used to it. Some even say they like it here.”
Asta forced a tiny smile. It died the second it appeared.
He finished and walked toward the exit.
The hallway to the outside was long and cold. His footsteps echoed.
Then,bump!
He walked straight into someone wearing a long brown cloak. The hood hid their faces.
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
A soft girl’s voice said.
She stepped around him quickly and disappeared down the hall.
Asta blinked.
“Wait… a girl? What is a girl doing down here?”
He shook his head and kept walking.
An hour later, he stood in front of the huge iron gates of Xavier Mansion
The golden lions looked the same, but everything felt wrong.
Two new guards in black armor blocked the entrance.
“Stop right there.”
One said, his voice hard.
“By order of the new Clan Head, Cassian Xavier,you are forbidden to step foot inside this compound.”
Asta froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me… really?”
From the left side of the fence, near some trees, a familiar voice called softly.
“Young master Asta!”
Butler Grogerry stood there with a few maids and housekeepers. They were wearing normal clothes,no uniforms. Their eyes were red from crying. Some carried small bags, like they had been thrown out.
Asta ran over.
“Butler! What happened? Why are you all out here? Where are your uniforms?”
Grogery’s old face was full of pain.
“Young master… Master Cassian fired every one of us this morning. Anyone who was close to you… he said we had to leave. The mansion belongs to the strong now. Flameless have no place inside.”
Asta’s heart stopped.
“He… fired all of you? Because of me?”
The maids nodded, some crying quietly.
One whispered.
“He changed the locks. Threw our things in the street. Said the Xavier clan has no room for weakness or anyone who supports
weakness.”
Asta looked up at the mansion.
On the top balcony, Cassian stood watching, his arms folded and a cold smile on his face.
Asta stood there in the cold wind, his fists clenched and his eyes burning.
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Chapter 597
Max Voss walked out of the shadows at the tree line. The same ease. The same cloak. The same expression,the smile that had never fully left, the specific comfort of someone who had known where they would be needed and had been there before the needing.He looked at the portal.At Elara and Eren, still maintaining the chant, the portal is still growing behind them.At Asta."Not one of you steps through that.” he said. His voice was pleasant. It was always pleasant. The specific pleasantness of someone who does not need to raise their voice because volume is what you use when you are not certain of the outcome and he was certain of the outcome. "The Empress's order is the Empress's order. And the only way any of you is going through that portal tonight…" He looked at the group with the calm, patient look of someone who has done this calculation and knows the answer."...is if you defeat me first."He looked at Asta."Which you are not going to do.” He said. "Not tonight. Not in th
Chapter 596
The forest at this hour was its own thing.Not the daytime forest, not the layered light and the visible depth of it. The night forest, the closed-down version, the one that operates on different senses because the visual ones have been mostly removed. The specific sounds of it. The specific smell, the cold version of the forest smell, the one that comes when the temperature drops and the damp rises from the ground and the trees breathe their different night-breath.Asta moved through it with Flora on his left and Mira on his right.They moved in the specific way of people who need to be quiet and know how to be quiet,not the slow, overcautious movement of people trying to be quiet, the practiced movement of people for whom quiet was a thing they had learned to do properly. The camp behind them was still. Nothing had shifted. Nothing had called out.The trees thickened.And then, in the small clearing that the thick trees made between themselves,the specific organic clearing of a for
Chapter 595
The space that was not quite dark and not quite light but had its own specific quality of illumination, the source of which was the dragon himself, the vast, scaled presence that occupied the far end of it the way certain things occupy far ends, with a completeness that made the far end feel closer than it was.The Emperor Dragon was looking at him.Not the patient look. Not the measured look of their usual conversations, the look of something that has been waiting, that has been in the specific frustration of a thing that cannot move on its own and has been waiting for the thing that can to become available again."You're awake.” The dragon said."What happened." Asta said."What happened." The dragon said. "Is that a man put his hand on your throat and spoke seven words of the Dimming Incantation into you, and your body received those words and acted on them because that is what bodies do when the Dimming Incantation is applied correctly, which it was." He looked at Asta with t
Chapter 594
Not running to get there, simply there, the arrival so fast that the between had not been visible, the specific movement of something that had been given its full expression and the full expression was this.His hand found Asta's throat.Not the grip that Asta had used on Eren,something more deliberate than that, more positioned, the hand of someone who knows exactly where they are putting it and why. The specific placement of fingers that has been practiced until the practice has become automatic.And then his lips moved.Low,barely above breath, the volume of something that was not meant for anyone standing at a distance, only for Asta at the distance of the grip. The words were not language in the conversational sense, they were the older version, the incantation version, the words built for function rather than meaning. Ancient and rhythmic, the cadence of them specific, the specific cadence of a technique that required the words in a specific order at a specific pace.They took
Chapter 593
He stopped. "When I made contact with Loki directly, when I tried to reinforce Jabber's resistance and give him the leverage to push back…" He looked at his hands again. "Loki looked at me. That is all. He looked at me. And he told Jabber,in the voice that things use when they speak inside someone's consciousness, the voice that is felt rather than heard, he told Jabber to remove me."The clearing was quiet."And Jabber.” Eren said, his voice going lower."Threw me out. Not because he wanted to. Because when Loki said it with the full weight of what Loki is, the full ancient weight of a god-class dragon speaking to the vessel it has possessed,the vessel does not have the capacity to disobey. Not at this stage of the possession. Not yet."He looked at Asta."I'm sorry." He said.Asta stood there.He looked at Eren for a long moment. At the expression on his face, the genuine, specific sorrow of someone who has tried and has not arrived at the outcome the trying was for and is stan
Chapter 592
The pallor of it. The eyes, not red, not wet, not any of the conventional expressions of grief, just hollow, the specific hollow of someone who has had something taken from the inside rather than the outside, the particular empty quality of a space that was occupied recently and is not occupied now.He was looking at Eren.Eren was looking back at him.The Elf Chief's expression had the quality of someone who has been waiting for this arrival and has been carrying the weight of the waiting in the knowledge that the arrival was going to be this. The specific expression of someone who knows that something that happened was partly a consequence of their involvement and is standing in the presence of the person who has paid the most for the consequence.Asta looked at him.And then his hand came up.Fast, the specific speed of something that had been building in him the whole walk back and had arrived at the expression of itself without the mediation of decision, the body acting on what
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