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Home / Fantasy / World of Regalia / Three days
Three days
Author: Elias_Miller
last update2026-04-23 08:26:04

The ruins of the Sapphire district lay scattered beneath a sky still heavy with the memory of destruction. Dust hung in the air like a funeral shroud, catching the pale moonlight and scattering it into ghostly beams that pierced through the collapsed skeletons of buildings. The bone dome — that grotesque cathedral of interlocked skeletal remains that Cleave had built from over a hundred thousand victims — loomed at the district's center, its latticed architecture casting long, fractured shadow
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  • Trial

    The Imperial Court of City Z. A place where only two types of people were tried: those who had committed Level 3 crimes, and those who were Elite-level agents or above. The chamber itself was vast and cold — high ceilings supported by marble columns, walls lined with dark wood panels, and a gallery of empty seats overlooking the floor where the accused stood. Faint light filtered through arched windows, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor."Special Elite Agent Damian," the judge said. He was a man in a simple black suit, his eyes hidden behind dark shades. He stood on a raised platform at the far end of the room, his posture erect, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.Damian stood in front of him at the center of the trial room, his hands no longer bound, his expression composed but weary."Do you deny the accusation of murdering the victim, Joseph Parker, in an attempt to save him instead?"Damian's voice was calm. "I do not."The judge nodded slowly.

  • Murderer

    Alpha Academy. Lectures were going on as usual — the familiar murmur of teachers' voices, the scratch of chalk on blackboards, the occasional rustle of notebook pages — when all of a sudden, an explosion ripped through the silence.The entire academy building shook.Windows rattled in their frames. Dust rained from the ceiling. Students screamed, chairs scraped against floors, and within seconds, chaos had replaced order. People ran out of their classrooms — some driven by fear, others by curiosity to see what was happening. After all, not all students of the academy had awakened a Regalia. For the ordinary humans among them, an explosion of this magnitude was a genuine threat to their lives.A voice rang out from the intercom — the announcer, trying to give information about the situation."Everyone, remain calm," the voice said, strained but professional. "It seems one of our students has lost themselves to their Regalia and become an Ajuma. The school staff will quickly take care o

  • Special elite

    Back at Damian's home, he could be seen lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. What he was thinking about was something he had almost forgotten he had."Now that the money Mr. John gave me is almost completely spent," Damian muttered under his breath, "I think it's about time I look for a part-time job."More than half of the money had been used for repairs to the damage caused by Cleave. At best, he only had enough left to survive for one more week.He began to browse his phone, searching for any job he could do."Construction job," he read aloud, scanning the listing. "It pays ten Z dollars a week."A smile spread across his face. He was more than physically able to breeze through that kind of work. His expenses were only five Z dollars a week, meaning he could save half of his earnings indefinitely — provided he got the job.Just then, he felt a presence.An unsettling presence. Not like Cleave's signature — but the presence he felt was more like the absence of something. A void

  • I made it

    In an isolated place where Damian only found solace and comfort — a place he visited once a month — he stood directly in front of his grandfather's grave. A thin trail of tears lined his cheeks, catching the pale light filtering through the canopy of old trees that surrounded the small cemetery. The air was still and heavy, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and wildflowers that had grown wild around the weathered headstone."I made it, Grandpa," Damian said, kneeling in front of the grave. He placed a bouquet of flowers on the gravestone — fresh blooms he had picked on his way here, their petals still wet with morning dew. "I've gotten stronger too. If only you were here to see me."He paused, gathering his thoughts."The academy is a lot easier than I thought. Maybe it's because of the way my life has been going." A bitter smile crossed his lips. "I also found out I have a devil inside of me. Oh, and I almost got killed. That would have been sad."He looked at the gravestone — a

  • Ranks

    Alpha Academy. The morning sun cast long golden rays through the tall windows of the classroom, illuminating drifting dust motes that floated lazily in the air. The familiar scent of chalk and old books hung in the room, mixed with the faint underlying hum of Zeta energy that permeated every corner of the building.Damian walked into the classroom calmly. A few people shot glances his way, their eyes lingering for a moment before returning to their conversations. He looked toward his and Sagara's usual table — empty — then glanced around and spotted a free chair close to Austin."Can I sit here?" Damian asked.Austin spared him a glance, then nodded.The classroom fell into a brief, surprised silence. After all, Damian was probably the only person who could be considered Sagara's friend. Seeing him seated elsewhere, away from the silver-haired boy, was enough to draw quiet whispers.The time was just 8:30. Lectures would start at nine, so there were still thirty minutes before Mr. Sin

  • Mindscape

    Two days had passed since Damian began training under Hinata at the Kaname clan estate. The evenings had blurred into a rhythm of practice and correction, of blue Zeta energy flickering across his skin as he worked to master the advanced armament technique she had taught him.Boost.He had learned it. Not perfectly — he lacked actual practice due to his condition, his legs still refusing to obey — but he had internalized the procedure. The circulation, the compression, the layering of energy around skin, muscles, and bones. It had started to feel natural, almost second nature. Like breathing, but with intent.Now, Damian sat on the edge of Sagara's bed — the same luxurious bed in the same luxurious room that belonged to the silver-haired boy — with the book about channeling open in his lap. The pages were worn from repeated reading, the margins filled with notes he had scribbled in his own handwriting. The afternoon light filtering through the tall windows cast long shadows across the

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