Skill-Out

Scene 1 “Static Light,”

The skyline of Railleigh glitched between broadcast and weather—half neon, half ash. Judgment towers speared the cloud cover like needles through gauze, their antennae spitting soft interference that the wind wore as a crown. Sirens kept their distance. Drones hummed low, orbiting a cordoned block where the riot had finally, mercifully, run out of bodies to throw on the fire.

"Just another day in hell," I stepped onto melted asphalt that bowed under my old boots like cooling obsidian. The puddles were thin mirrors, pixelated by drifting cinders.

I let the city’s noise pass through me—the flicker of advertisements looping with emergency bulletins, the whisper of static pressing against my ears. The pressure felt like a thumb over a pulse.

"Judgment Lead, come in. We have more riot reports slipping through the cracks, head downtown immediately." My earpiece screamed. Taking a cigarette I swish my electrified aging finger to light it. "I'm getting old... alright all forces move out! Don't let the city’s lawless get away, go go go!"

Officers ran past me like mice searching for cheese, the city's activities filled with police sirens. I nod getting a worse feeling than this morning's hangover..... Oh wait.. it's still morning.

Kaboom! Shhhhhhhh.

A large oil rig inflamed the frightening screams of every citizen before me. I tipped my officer's hat while walking slowly past the zooming bystanders, a superpowered meta human;a Celesta, unleashed his flames uncontrollably.

"Hey. You. Yeah, you. You're under arrest for property damage, terrorism, murder.... anything said will not be used in a court of law." I sidestep his fireball. "For I am the law." Striking him with immensely controlled electrical waves.

Thud. He collapsed powering down, my electricity briefly sparks through this area scanning for more trouble. I cuff the man. " A fire based Celesta Citizen ID number 8975433 was captured. Through my judgment, I declare his citizenship revoked and tagged him for execution. Do you confirm?" I reported. "Yes we do hear you commander, ID acknowledged. He is merely a stage 5 threat released from Governor Rime's maximum security ward for problematic Celestas. Ma'am, a team will be there shortly. Please continue your mission! I have the other eight leaders on call assisting in different points." He said in a hurry. I huffed. Turning my attention towards a large fire breathing Celesta. "Really?"

"We are the Gods of fire! Our gang is in charge now- oomph!" I slammed him into the ground and checked his ID. "Bellow average in everything, even failed as a career criminal, yet you call yourself a god? Kid. You're never going places in a gang of brats playing with matches. Now tell me! Who caused your release."

"Stellarisa the Cosmic Dragoness?! No! I don't wanna die! I've never committed any harsh crimes, a few thefts and," I kicked the young man. "Answer the question now!" He started crying. "Eden." His tears flowed out harshly. "She said it was time we settled our inequality problem by fighting against Leafy's racism."

Racism? Leafy is no racist. She's an alarmist building up regulations against us Celesta people who don't follow said rules.

As for Eden.... Right.. HER.

I facepalm feeling the heat build up around me, screams dance in one ear while cries larp in the other, truly a symphony of "proving the fear others place in our kind," correct.

"Where is her highness now?" I cuffed the gangsters while making their judgment. Some will receive life in prison, others will undergo a series of trials. "Traitor! Bending the knee for that human bitch! Being a fucking dog will never bring our people peace!"

"And killing innocent people will? Kids you all don't understand what consequences are. In life, you must control others so they could know true peace. Nothing so black or white. Take these fools away."

"Yes ma'am!" Officers dragged them away.

Closing my eyes from today's events led me into an alleyway at 17 years old, coming home from school in a rundown apartment room, outside in the evening winter winds of Christmas eve, coming back from my 4th job to support myself from neglectful who abandoned me for 3 years.. some man, drugged out and greedy held me at gun point. His plant ability stunned me. I opened my eyes present day at my desk groaning harshly. "Damn it... Why now?" I glanced at unfinished paperwork feeling uncomfortable. "Never again.." my trembling static hand halts after taking a couple pills.

Ending Scene - "static light"

☆

Scene 2 — “Collateral Spark”

The call hit before sunrise ever had a chance.

“Containment breach, Sector Twelve. Eden’s followers released the Stage Six inmates.”

The message screeched in my ear until I wanted to crush the earpiece.

I was already halfway there—boots scraping along a boulevard that still smelled of tear gas. The sky flickered between broadcast static and cloudfire; a half-finished dawn caught inside a television signal.

When I stepped out of the vehicle, the heat rolled over me like punishment.

Containment Ward Twelve wasn’t a building anymore—it was an autopsy. The reactor wall had caved inward; debris glowed orange like the inside of a throat that had screamed too long. Drones lay on their sides, cameras ruptured, smoke drifting upward like lost prayers.

> Control prevents harm.

Control prevents harm.

Control—

I kept repeating it until my voice sounded mechanical enough to drown the panic.

A group of escapees loitered near the breach, charred cuffs hanging from their wrists. Their cores shimmered red through the smoke—Stage Six Celestas, unstable.

I raised my sidearm. “Back in your cells. Now.”

One of them—older, burned, smiling like sin—stepped closer.

“You still serve them, Stellarisa? After what they did to your mother?”

The name hit harder than any fireball could.

I didn’t answer. Lightning peeled off my fingers before the thought existed; the burst dropped them all in one synchronized convulsion. Controlled voltage, non-lethal. Perfect.

Still, their laughter lingered.

“You cage yourself better than we ever could.”

Static bloomed in my skull, the memory bleeding through—Mom in chains, cameras flashing, government suits calling her an “asset.”

She never looked at me when they dragged her away. Maybe she couldn’t. Part of me was supposed to be happy seeing the bitch finally getting what's coming! Like that man who wouldn't protect his kids, good riddance I say.

I fired off whipping electrical energy again just to silence the ghosts. The hallway glowed white and then went mercifully black from my thermal burst of intense self-esteem... crumbling into fury. "Life doesn't work that way old timer. Not for walking disasters with no self control."

When my vision steadied once more, I was standing in the dusty plaza.

Sirens wailed out of sync; a squad of rookies were cornering civilians against a barricade.

“Governor’s orders!” one of them yelled. “No survivors—the radiation’s spreading!”

“They’re kids!” a woman cried.

My ethereal visor tagged the group: unarmed, low-core civilians. No mutations–they weren't monsters like me and the others.

>Heat signatures detected.

My visor warned.

Then the rookies opened fire.

The first scream was small. The tenth one wasn’t.

I moved without thinking—power spiked down my arms, gravity fractured, the world folded into fragmented light. Every rifle shorted at once. The rookies went rigid and collapsed like marionettes with cut strings in a single step of my overwhelming astrokinesis.

"Enough you brats! They are not the enemy."

When the light faded, I was surrounded by uniforms. My unit's talored uniforms built to withstand S-SS ability users. Not EX+

Gunmetal smoke, ozone, silence.

“Orders followed,” I muttered, but it sounded like a confession.

A sound. Soft, human.

I followed it through a corridor of waning heat signatures until I saw her.

A small girl, maybe twelve, kneeling beside the fallen.

Her hands glowed pale gold as she pressed them to a man’s wound. Skin knitted beneath her palms like dawn re-sewn.

When she looked up, her eyes were the color of mercy itself.

“I’m Brynhildr,” she whispered. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No.” My voice cracked on the single syllable. “Stay behind me.” I stuttered. Me... I of all people stuttered? This couldn't be more of a dream ever if I turned away now like nothing happened. Yet? "Sweetheart I'm gonna help you here's a candy."

She did—tiny fingers clinging to my coat like I was still worth trusting.

The convicts regrouped, voices echoing through the dust. Their power signatures flared red on my visor.

I raised my palm, and the ethereal stars manifested and answered. Astrokinesis flooded the plaza: silver orbits, meteor sparks, the hum of a thousand electrically charged suns.

They charged. I met them halfway.

Every strike landed with mathematical precision; each blast was calibrated just below lethal. I told myself I was protecting the innocent. I told myself I still believed in the system.

>Enemy survivability at 11%. Organ Failure at 68%, you are overloaded.

>Suggestion: Rest. Critical Status.

I chuckle at the astro visor of mine. "No shit. I'm literally the closest bitch to Skill-Out stage." Wiping blood from my mouth the backlash of using near divine power hurts like hell... I quickly took my prescribed medication.

Then her voice threaded through the comms—soft, mocking, divine.

“Judgment Lead, does your law taste sweet when it burns your own tongue?”

Eden. The Nine-Tail liberator.

She didn’t shout; she sang, like the words were meant for my pulse.

“Stage Seven Celestial,” she said. “Do they call you savior or slave? As i see it, you're a fallen hero who should have fought for her people.”

My focus flickered. For a heartbeat, the orbits wavered. Brynhildr touched my sleeve.

“Don’t listen,” she said. “You’re helping people. You're kind.. a little scary but nice”

Helping. Kind?

The words felt foreign—like a prayer mispronounced. I bursted out in hysterical laughter.

"Hear that fox? The adorable child is a fan of mine." Just thinking back on that day so long ago makes me hate what I've become. "I'm in my late 40s hon. Your ideals don't matter to me. You're the problem here little princess."

Leafy’s voice cut in next, crisp as a blade.

“Protocol Seventeen. Absolute cleansing. No survivors. Confirm.”

I stared at the corpses of rookies, at the living civilians still hiding behind wreckage.

If I confirmed, it would all start again.

Gunfire erupted elsewhere—other squads already obeying.

I turned off the comm and moved. The stars screamed through me; light exploded outward, ripping the barrels from rifles, melting orders into silence. When the smoke cleared, only I was still standing, blood spewing from my mouth.

"My head is killing me even more than this morning's hangover haha. You people stay hidden!"

The survivors stared, unsure whether to thank me or run.

The badge on my chest buzzed hot. I tore it free and held it up.

My reflection looked alien—eyes fever-bright, skin speckled with electro radioactive particles. "Fuck.... Great. I look stupid, that grin pisses me off!"

>Critical Status. Critical Status.

Astro wouldn't stop buzzing.

Zstt Zstt. Ssss. Zmooo. The alarm went off. Luckily only I could hear it....

“Confirm, Lead,” Leafy repeated through the dying channel. "Commander Risa."

I let the badge fall. “Negative,” I said, but no one heard. The comm was already dead.

Brynhildr emerged from cover, trembling but alive.

“You stopped them,” she said clasping her hands together.

I laughed—short, cracked. “I shouldn’t have though. But what happened, happens.”

Ash drifted around us like slow snow. The drones returned, recording, blinking red—proof that I’d broken everything I swore to protect.

Everything.....

I knelt to pick up the badge; the metal burned my fingers.

“I enforced hell long enough,” I whispered, “to forget what mercy smells like.” mother's face comes to mind when things never went my way as a little girl. "Control it eh? Dumb broad. Don't have children if you're not responsible." It makes me laugh.

My hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Static crawled under the skin, a map of guilt I couldn’t erase. Somewhere in the distance, more sirens rose, chasing the new criminal I’d just become.

Brynhildr slipped her hand into mine.

Her skin was warm. Real. Right.. this wasn't a game. This wasn't about me anymore. "We must go."

I took one last look at the shattered Containment Zone—law reduced to molten glass—and walked away before the next order could find me. I held my trembling body using the left hand laughing at life's irony. "Now I'm the very thing I was fighting against."

End Scene 2 — “Collateral Spark.”

☆

Scene 3 — “The Child & the Chain”

Two years on the run and I still wake up with the smell of burnt circuitry in my nose.

Brynhildr hums softly while she tightens the straps on her new boots—my combat boots once, before she outgrew pity and started walking her own path handling a short sword at the belt. The kid looks almost normal now: hair washed, cheeks a little full, dressed in adorable civ-wear that doesn’t scream orphan of the apocalypse.

I pull on a weather-worn coat, my badge used to sit. The pendant that used to be that badge bumps against my throat like a tiny reminder of what's important.

“Breakfast,” I mutter, handing her half a cooked potato. I added some pepper to mine, it was delicious if we consider our location isn't entirely safe.

She grins. “You actually cooked this time? Thanks Mama!”

“I just heated it. Don’t push it.”

Her laugh is light—the kind of sound that shouldn’t exist down here. We’re hiding in a maintenance tunnel beneath Zone Zero, where the walls sweat condensation and the air smells like oil and mold. Refugees sleep in alcoves. Bryn tends to them, glowing hands of a saintess knitting flesh together as if the world deserves fixing. I often watch from the shadows, pistol resting on my knee. "She isn't a mutant so how? Purification.."

>Subject Brynhildr’s Status: Normal

My visor bleeps. I nod to it's complicated diagnosis. The strange kid is adorable, end of discussion.

"Thank goodness! You're cured daddy!" One of her patients smiled brighter than the sun.

The sun.

I smile at everyone settling here once afraid now just hopeful. "This is what peace is compared to those fools burning down lives." Rubbing my hands together, I started passing out supplies we bought using whatever funds there was left. "Okay okay! Here's some freshly cooked chicken and bread. Come get your monthly box, line up. Here you go. Come on. And for you too!" I chuckled. Feeling more alive than dead.

"Mom I'm all finished here! Tee-hee. Look look! They gifted us clean water." She fluttered.

"Wonderful dear, go wash your hands before lunch is ready, we're going to the old powerplant tonight because there's clues on escaping this–bleergh!" Blood vomited from my mouth. "Mom!" Bryn ran over watching me quickly wipe it away. "I'm fine honey... I.. I am okay." But how long? I popped medicine sternly prescribed by an old friend.

"You say that everyday! You're not okay! You are dying mom, don't hide it from me!" Her pouting anger was adorable, it made me pinch her chipmunk cheeks. "You're so cute honey. Seriously! Don't worry about me, just go do your thing, okay? Mom is practically a vessel of judgment!"

Brynhildr groaned. Then growled and mumbles leaving me alone. I felt woozy. "Just a little while longer." Clenching my necklace was surreal. "I have unfinished business."

Eden’s fire hit at noon. You can always tell when she’s close—the temperature climbs, then reality starts to feel like a furnace dream.

"Man....! I just finished making barbecue grilled fish. Stupid fox.." I crossed my arms.

“Mom,” Bryn says, voice taut. “She’s here.”

“Stay behind the column. If it’s her, she’s after the wounded humans who used to persecute Celestas.”

Eden lands like a comet, nine tails of plasma flicking across the plaza. Same eyes, same smirk. Two years, not a day softer. I exasperated a long taunting sigh.

“Stellarisa,” she mocks, “still guarding the weak humans? Cute.”

“Still burning the world to prove a point? Tragic.”I shot back smiling like a wolf ready to annihilate her long overstayed prey. "You're getting old you fluff ball, didn't daddy and mommy teach you manners?"

"Is that before they died for Celestas or after your ungrateful acts of rebellion against my kingdom, traitor!"

I meet her halfway. Astrokinesis roars through me, silver storms colliding with her divine fox-fire. We move faster than the smoke knows how to rise. Each hit tears the sky open, raining shards of static, sunfire and spatial cries wanting out just like me! "Do you seriously have no life of your own?" I quip, maneuvering at near light speed matching her own agility.

She laughs between blows. “You could have joined me. We wanted the same thing.”

“You wanted a safe a fairytale kingdom. I just wanted a tomorrow.” My astro bullets shredded her nine divine flames.

We crash through the barrier of Zone Zero, power shattering old scaffolds. By the time we stop, both of us are bleeding light instead of blood. I can barely stand; she’s no better.

“Draw,” she says, raising her hand, laughing. "I can't beat a fucking astromancer not taking me serious enough.."

“Pass,” I rasp, shaking my head at this song and annoying dance we keep playing. “You’d only cheat, furball. Your nine treasures are overpowered, don't paint me as invincible here.”

We fall at the same time—two dying stars pretending they were never related.

"Arguing with you never gets me anywhere.... Risa you... ugh."

Floodlights bloom. Government insignia burns across the gritty fog.

Tranquilizer darts hiss. Bryn screams my name shaking, but my body’s already stone.

I come back to consciousness in the scent of antiseptic and hot metal.

Chains hum around my wrists—Celestial based restraints, tuned to my core. Across the chamber, Eden’s bound the same way. Her tails suppressed by an odd machine.

Leafy Rime stands behind glass, white coat crisp, smile sharper than the scalpels on her tray. Beside her—Blair Kim. My bitch mother.

I almost laugh. Of course. What the hell was this situation? Where did these rejects take me?

“Daughter,” she says like the word’s a tax she hates paying. “You always had to make things messy.”

Leafy steps forward. “Tell us about your mentor. About Skill-Out.”

“Sure,” I say. “But only if you promise not to write fan-fiction about it later.” I laughed.

The shock-rod hits before the joke finishes. Every nerve screams; the world flares white. Eden growls through her own agony, tails thrashing uselessly.

“You ever watch a protagonist of some thriller movie realize she’s an idiot?” I choke out between jolts. “That’s you two ditzes, right now.”

Blair sighs. “Still the same mouth. If only you died long ago.” She adjusts the dial. Pain becomes weather, constant and absolute. My senses were disrupted so they could prevent me from astro manipulation. The sensitivity rendered me powerless.

"Gyaaaaah! Blair!!! I won't rest until you're dead!"

Leafy groaned. "Break her. Only then we can obtain information on Skill-Out and that man's hidden search."

I stop counting the minutes, the days. Eventually even pain gets bored of me.

Somewhere in the haze, I see her—Brynhildr, barefoot, edges of her aura glowing gold. The guards are gone. The alarms mute themselves, as if mercy has hacked the system.

She walks straight through the security field; it shatters like glass around her. The torture engine shorts out in a halo of light.

“Bryn?” My voice is dust.

She kneels, small hands against the restraints. “I’m here, Mom.”

The chains dissolve under her touch. My body collapses forward, caught by arms that shouldn’t be strong enough, but are.

“You grew up,” I whisper.

“Yeah. You told me to always prepare before attempting anything hehe.”

Behind her, the facility begins to scream—alarms, klaxons, dying circuits. Eden stirs, blinking through the glow; even she looks stunned that Bryn at least turned off the restraints on her tails.

I taste iron, ozone, and something unfamiliar—hope, maybe? Oh god. Am I becoming one of those idiots who start believing in that crap, me? "This year was supposed to end peacefully..." I complained. My abilities returned like circuits winning lotteries.

Static crawls up my veins again, hotter, faster. The air shakes. I weakly activate my astro visor.

> Warning: Core instability. Approaching Skill-Out threshold. Critical Status.

"Are you kidding me? Now?! The professor told me before dying that.. wait. Maybe we can make it work!"

"Mom?" She walked me into a vehicle and slowly frowned realizing my wounds weren't healing. "Why... Why..... Why! Please work. Please, please.... she's all I have." A tear dropped on my face making me smile. "Shhhh. I'm okay honey just let me rest."

For once, I don’t fight it. I just pull Brynhildr closer and laugh, because I finally understand what control was supposed to be for.

To hold on—just long enough for someone else to live free. Free from douche bags like me pretending they're the judge, jury and choir. "Consequences of my actions can't be undone. So... I will accept them."

End Scene 3 — “The Child & the Chain.”

☆

Scene 4 — “Zero Point Flight”

Alarms chewed at the ceiling while we stumbled through the smoke.

Brynhildr’s light flickered—sometimes gold, sometimes nothing.

She kept whispering, “It’s not working, Mom… my purification—it’s not working!”

“Then stop trying to fix me and start moving,” I rasped. My lungs were full of static and old painkillers. “We’ve got one job left—get out.”

Every hallway looked the same: white tiles cracked like teeth, lab doors hanging open, the scent of metal and disinfectant clinging to skin. Somewhere above, turbines coughed as backup power failed.

> Visor: Core degradation 87 %. Recommend immediate stasis.

I ignored it.

Brynhildr pressed close, panic painting her face. “You’re burning up again!”

“Yeah,” I said, “I always did run hot.”

She didn’t laugh. Kids grow up too fast in places like this.

We reached a stairwell lined with broken monitors. For a second, my knees gave out. I caught the rail and stared at the tremor in my hands—electric filaments crawling under the skin, bright enough to see my veins glow.

Mikhail’s voice came back from years ago, soft and cruelly calm:

> “Skill-Out isn’t power, Risa. It’s the moment you stop needing permission.”

I had laughed then. I wasn’t laughing now.

Something inside me unlatched. The static in my head turned into a choir—thousands of overlapping heartbeats, each one begging to be free. The facility walls bent inward, alarms warping into melody. For one terrifying instant I saw everything: the circuitry of the world, the lattice of Quana running through flesh and machine alike.

Brynhildr screamed, “Mom—stop!”

“I can’t.”

I didn’t mean it as defiance; it was a terrible confession.

The Skill-Out surge ripped through me. Light burst from every scar; gravity folded, dragging dust upward in lazy spirals. My visor shattered, data raining around us like snow. When the storm settled, the air smelled of ozone and sunrise.

Brynhildr crouched beside me, eyes wide, trembling but alive. “You… did it.”

“Yeah,” I wheezed, “and now I’m paying the subscription fee.” my head pounded like crazy. "Honey we should go now.."

>Unstable Status

Years of experience spoke to me instinctively screaming "Escape!"

Officers flooded the corridor—black armor, visors blank. Bryn raised her hands; her glow was weak but steady. I stepped in front of her, star plasma flickering around my fists.

“Stay behind me, my angel.”

The first volley hit the floor where we’d been a second ago. I moved without thinking, time stretching thin; bullets carved rivers through air that refused to let them land. Each motion left comet trails of silver. "The new body armor sucks, huh? Haha." I shot incoming backup, parrying back attacks, spinning kicked an enormous man back into his allies. "Phew.... I'm getting old alright!" I dusted my stardust hands.

"Mom!" Brynhildr healed my superficial wounds that could be healed, "How... your skin is shedding!? Why... why.." she shuddered.

"But isn't this cool? My body skin is replaced by ethereal energies."

She gave me an angry stare.

I chuckled as enemies poured in like a wave of drawing water, my astro aura sparked.

"Come on angel, you know that was a joke. Ready. Like I taught you, concentrate on the stances and strike."

We fought together—she healed, I destroyed. For every scream that fell silent, another replaced it. The hallway became a strobe of mercy and punishment until there was no difference between the two.

When it ended, only smoke and bodies were left. My legs shook; blood filled my mouth again.

"Okay... there should be an airship not be far from here, we're almost there angel."

"Hey!" She held my arm. "Don't over do it mama, please.. I'm begging you. Your skin is falling, these glowing cracks are worrisome!"

"Honey.. I will be fine."

"Promise?"

"Totally! See? Doesn't your mom look beautiful? Of course, I couldn't hold a candle to my angel." I nuzzle her pouting cheeks. She was so adorable!

“Risa. You pathetic worm.”

Her voice. I didn’t have to look up to know.

The woman who discarded a seven year old girl for being a monster. The hypocrite who knows only self destruction.

Blair Kim stood at the far end of the corridor, immaculate as ever, flanked by drones. Not a hair out of place, not a hint of guilt in sight.

“Mother,” I said, wiping my chin. “Come to finish the job?”

She smiled—sharp, perfect. “You’ve always mistaken disobedience for virtue. Look at you—chained to a child and," she scanned me. "A dying corpse of a messy cause.”

“Funny,” I coughed feeling my throat dry from near organ failure, “that’s exactly how I’d describe your parenting. A messy cause of an old floozy.”

The drones aimed. She didn’t stop them.

“You were never meant to survive birth,” she said flatly. “A failed experiment. The government kept you because I asked for your death. My only mistake was not killing you sooner. Rank EX Celestas shouldn't exist!”

Something cracked in me that no amount of lightning could mend. Bravery? Hatred?

I stepped forward anyway. “You want failure, Mom? Let me show you what it costs.”

I felt calmed. Staring at Brynhildr’s innocent eyes briefly made me sober for once in my life.

The Skill-Out stage answered my calming rage. Space around us curved; her drones froze mid-air, their circuits whispering. I seized one between invisible vectors and crushed it until light bled out like sand.

"Don't think your toys will protect you from me, hag. A Celesta who refuses to embrace her race."

Her expression finally changed—fear and fascination knotted together.

"How did...? Skill-Out? How could could you achieve that stage!"

“Quana Cores,” I said, half to her, half to the air. “Every Celesta’s got one—tiny star pretending to be a heart. Yours? Still asleep. Mine woke up angry. Easy to follow? Good. Now. You're in our way!” I raised my trembling palm conjuring spherical energy, it shone brightly as a tiny star.

"No! I won't let monsters live! Especially the doomsday weapon in front of me."

She didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t. I aimed sharply, a concussive blast rocked the hall—Leafy’s reinforcements arriving. Blair vanished into the smoke, voice echoing, “You’ll die nameless, Risa!”

“Already did,” I muttered, lowering my palm holding Brynhildr closer. "Honey stay close"

Leafy’s broadcast filled the corridor speakers, her tone calm, sermon-sweet.

“Order must be restored. The Celesta plague ends today. Any human aiding them will share their fate.”

Her words droned on, polished propaganda about duty and purification.

While she talked, I looked down through the shattered floor grating. Below, a colossal machine pulsed—a skeletal engine meant to hunt “dangerous” Celestas. Its sensors didn’t care who bled, only that someone did. Humans, Celestas… same ash in the end. At least my visor gave me specifics.

In short: Giant machine bad.

“Bryn,” I said, gripping her shoulder, “see that shaft? It leads to the cargo bay. Air-locks, maybe an old ship.”

“You’re coming too Mom! You promised!”

I smiled; it hurt. “No. I’m the distraction. You’re the escapee.” I brushed her hair back some.

She shook her head, tears streaking grime down her cheeks. “I can heal you!”

“Your purification’s beautiful,” I whispered, “but it can’t fix time.” My arms started going numb. I hand her a diary.

Leafy’s monologue rose to a crescendo: “This is justice reborn!”

“Yeah,” I said under my breath, “and this is me not caring.”

I turned toward the sound of approaching boots, gathering the last storm left in me. Energy crackled, bending light, warping air, calling starlight. The pendant around my neck burned white-hot.

“Go, Bryn. Fly. I love you..”

Her footsteps retreated, reluctant but sure.

The soldiers appeared. I greeted them with thunder.

End Scene 4 — “Zero Point Flight.”

☆

Scene 5 — “Ashes and Orbit”

Smoke always smells different when it’s mixed with light.

I ran until the alarms became whispers, until the whole world shrank to the sound of my own breath echoing through the stairwell.

Mom’s thunder was still rolling behind me—every pulse of it shaking dust from the ceiling. Each blast meant she was still alive. Each silence meant she might not be.

I burst into the cargo bay being thrown from a recoil. The air stung of ozone and rust, but hanging in the gloom was something I’d only seen in scavenger sketches: the Aether-class Airship—the lost vessel people called Zero Point. Its hull floated a few inches off the ground, anchored by chains that hummed with dormant Quana.

I stumbled toward it, clutching the diary. “Mom, please… hold on. If I can only activate it...”

A shadow dropped from the catwalk—fox-fire flickering like dying candles.

Eden. Her coat was burned, tails dim, but her grin was somehow still intact.

“Relax, kid. I’m not here to fry you.”

“Then what—?”

She limped closer, eyes searching me. “She bought us time. Don’t waste it.”

For a heartbeat I wanted to hate her—she’d caused half this horror—but the look in her eyes wasn’t arrogance anymore. It was mourning, defeat. Are adults so complicated? She's a bad guy, how could she have a shred of emotions?

“She’s fighting Leafy’s strike unit,” Eden said quietly. “And your… grandmother.”

I swallowed hard. “Help me start this thing.”

Eden barked a laugh that turned into a cough. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“Doesn’t matter. She said it leads out.” I pushed forward shaking in fear.

We climbed the gangway together. Inside, the ship breathed—wires like veins pulsing faint blue. When my hands brushed the console, the lights awakened as if they recognized me.

> System Log: Aeroni signature detected. Quana purity—one hundred percent.

Override accepted: Brynhildr Everwind.

Eden raised a brow. “Looks like it likes you young lady. Hmhm. I wonder what an Aeroni is?”

“Who knows. Mom always said I’m too mysterious, I don't care honestly.” I frowned thinking about her safety instead.

"Oooh! There's so many bathrooms."

The floor trembled—distant explosions climbing up the shaft. The ship’s engines answered instinctively, magnetic rings spinning. Screens flickered, and a small icon blinked at the corner of mom's diary: a new message file, time-stamped 2 days ago.

I opened it.

RISA’S FINAL ENTRY — (Recovered Audio/Text Fragment)

> Hey, brat.

If you’re reading this, congratulations—you outran my bad decisions.... and I finally died.

The Skill-Out phase feels like drowning in starlight. Mikhail said I’d see everything: my sins, my victories, my awful cooking. Inner peace is an elusive bitch for your typical Celesta, doubtful they would reach stage 8.

He forgot to mention the peace. It’s quiet now, Bryn. No burn, no orders, just your laughter echoing somewhere in the noise.

Take the airship. Get above the clouds. Find someone worth saving and annoy them until they believe you, like you did for me.

Tell Queen Eden she still owes me a drink —if she lives somehow, that one is loopy.

Oh, and if the diary ever glows, that means I’m watching. Don’t roll your eyes. I earned that line!

— Risa Kim

Judgment Lead (Former)

Stage Eight :Skill-Out/ Idiot Mom

☆

The words blurred as I read them. Eden turned away, pretending to inspect the controls. “She always did have a mouth,” she said, voice rough. "Hmph..."

The tremors intensified; the hangar roof cracked open to a bleeding artificial sky. Through the split, I saw lightning—silver threaded with crimson. Then, one last flare. The thunder stopped.

I pressed my forehead to the console. “Goodbye, Mom.”

The airship rose. Chains snapped free, one by one, like the world letting go. Eden stood beside me, her injured tails glowing faint again.

“Where to?” she asked.

“Up,” I said. “Where she wanted to go.”

The engines screamed, and the ground fell away. Through the viewport, the facility collapsed inward, swallowed by its own weapon. A single column of light shot skyward before fading into the clouds—Risa’s storm, reaching orbit.

End Scene 5 — “Ashes and Orbit.”

☆

Epilogue — “Burn Bright”

The evening artificial rain here smells like copper and cinnamon. It falls straight instead of sideways—merciful for a woman who can’t bend over without her spine protesting.

I sit on the porch of our little house, wrapped in a blanket that still hums with residual fire based Quana from the heater core. The twins are inside, arguing over whose turn it is to interrogate the neighbor’s cat “for clues.” Their father swears they get the detective obsession from him. I’m not so sure... I never was the curious type, more like the one causing the curiosity. "After all, who can purify quana energy?" I blurted drinking cocoa.

On my lap lies Mom’s diary, edges worn smooth from a lifetime of rereading. The last entry always makes my throat tighten:

> “Take the airship. Get above the clouds. Find someone worth saving and annoy them until they believe you.”

I close the cover and smile. “I really did annoy the you into changing, huh, Mom?” I'd imagine she wouldn't stop making fun of me however. "Geez.."

The twins barrel out the door before I can blink—hair a tangle of curls and wild, faces smudged with dust and curiosity.

“Mom! Mom! Dad found another clue!”

“He says the thief of an old case might be from the outside!”

“Can we go next time?”

They kept speaking in synchronized words practiced dictation, knowing I was relaxing.

I drink my cocoa until they stopped. Their starry eyes almost made me smile.

“Not tonight,” I say, trying to sound stern and failing. “Homework first, world-saving later, my lovelies.”

They groan in perfect harmony and run back inside, leaving muddy prints shaped like tiny comets. "Come on! I just cleaned an hour ago.." I lean back in the chair, rubbing the curve of my stomach. The little one kicks—gentle but sure.

“Easy there, little flame,” I whisper. “You’re not late to the party yet.”

The holy sword—once my short blade—rests against the doorway, its surface rippling with faint gold light. It hums whenever the baby moves, as if the metal itself recognizes him. Maybe it does. "Wait until he's confused about being Aeroni too!" My rumbling laughter set me in merry spirits peering at the sword again. "Everwind sure is an unheard of name for sure."

Rain eases. Beyond the fields, the city lights flicker alive—air-trams drifting like fireflies, neon signs winking against the dusk. A planet modestly technological, halfway between faith and science, alive enough to raise a family in. Not perfect, but peaceful.

I place Mom’s diary on the table, fingers lingering on the officers badge-turned-pendant that marks its cover. “You’d like it here, Risa,” I murmur. “No orders. No cages. Just people learning how to live.”

Inside, laughter explodes again—tiny detectives interrogating imaginary suspects. I let the sound fill the house.

The baby kicks once more, harder this time, and a faint spark dances across my palm.

“Yeah,” I tell him, smiling through sudden tears. “Burn bright, little one. Burn so they remember where you came from.”

End of Skill-Out: Burn Yours

(The otome’ story begins next.)