Fiester Academy was in the middle of an ordinary morning.

  Chalk scratched against blackboards. Pages turned. Instructors lectured with measured tones while sunlight poured through tall windows and warmed stone floors worn smooth by generations of students.

  And then—

  A scream cut through the air.

  Not a cry of fear.

  Not pain.

  A declaration.

  “I AM A CHILD OF MOTHER.”

  The voice echoed unnaturally, carrying across the open grounds of the academy.

  Classes faltered.

  Students froze mid-note, mid-sentence, mid-breath.

  “What was that?” someone whispered.

  “Did you hear—?”

  “Was that magic?”

  Across the central courtyard, between the three academic buildings, a figure had appeared.

  He wore a long, hooded cloak the color of dried blood, its edges frayed and dragging across the stone. Upon his head sat a giant skull—yellowed, cracked, far too large to belong to any known beast. Empty eye sockets stared outward, hollow and accusing.

  The figure walked slowly.

  Deliberately.

  Students pressed closer to windows. Some stood from their seats. Others stared, mouths slightly open.

  “Is that… a costume?” a first-year muttered.

  “No way,” another replied. “That skull is real.”

  The man stopped at the very center of campus.

  Directly before the towering statue of the King of Fiester—blade raised, gaze carved eternally forward.

  The cloaked figure lifted his arms.

  “FIester Academy,” he roared, voice echoing unnaturally, as if the air itself carried his words. “A DEN OF FALSE STRENGTH. A CRADLE OF ARROGANCE.”

  Students gasped.

  In the first academic building, a lecturer slammed a book shut. “Everyone stay seated!”

  “Sensei, look!” a student pointed frantically.

  In the second academic building, third floor, near the girls’ dormitories—

  Miyazuki Ashen paused mid-sentence.

  Her amber eyes shifted slowly toward the window.

  “What is going on…?” she murmured.

  She stepped closer, pushing aside the curtain just enough to see.

  The skull.

  The statue.

  The gathering crowd below.

  “…Is this a joke?” a council member in the room whispered.

  Miyazuki didn’t answer.

  Her gaze sharpened.

  A cultist? she wondered.

  Or someone high out of their mind?

  Below, the man continued.

  “THIS ACADEMY WILL FALL.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A wave of murmurs rippled through the campus.

  “Hey, shut up!” someone shouted from a window.

  “You think you’re funny?!” another yelled.

  The man tilted his skull slightly upward, as if listening.

  “Mother sees all,” he said softly—then laughed. A hollow, rasping sound that crawled up spines. “Mother LOVES me.”

  A second-year clenched his fists. “Who the hell is ‘Mother’?”

  “Probably some cult nonsense,” his friend muttered. “There’ve been rumors lately…”

  In the first-year wing, a girl whispered, “Why isn’t anyone stopping him?”

  A boy beside her swallowed. “Because… no one knows if he’s dangerous.”

  The man raised one skeletal-gloved hand toward the statue.

  “You carve kings in stone,” he proclaimed, “but you forget who gave you breath.”

  Miyazuki’s expression hardened.

  This is deliberate, she thought.

  Too deliberate.

  She turned sharply to the student council member beside her. “Where is security?”

  “They— they’re being notified,” he stammered. “But he hasn’t attacked anyone.”

  “Yet,” Miyazuki replied.

  Outside, the man lowered his arms.

  “My message is spoken,” he said calmly. “Mother’s grace will reach even this place.”

  Students leaned closer to windows, tension thick.

  “Is that it?” someone scoffed nervously.

  The man turned away from the statue.

  And began to walk.

  Just like that.

  No spell.

  No explosion.

  No resistance.

  “Hey!” a third-year shouted. “You can’t just—!”

  The figure didn’t respond.

  He walked through the courtyard, past frozen students, past stunned instructors, and toward the outer gates of the academy.

  No one stopped him.

  No one dared.

  Within moments, he was gone.

  Silence fell.

  Then—

  “What the hell was that?!”

  “Did anyone recognize him?”

  “Was that some kind of threat?”

  “Mother? What mother?!”

  The academy erupted into noise.

  Miyazuki let the curtain fall back into place.

  Her jaw tightened.

  “This isn’t random,” she said quietly.

  The council member swallowed. “P-President… should we—?”

  “Yes,” Miyazuki said, already turning away from the window. “We investigate.”

  She paused at the door, amber eyes sharp with resolve.

  “Because people don’t walk into Fiester Academy,” she added, “announce our downfall… and leave for no reason.”

  Somewhere beyond the walls—

  The wind carried laughter.

  And Mother listened.