On the outskirts of Almeria, on the idyllic-looking island of Exodus, scars from recent events still lingered beneath the surface.
At the heart of this green haven, nestled in a clearing, stood Genesis Academy : a massive stronghold of knowledge and power, where the future pillars of the world were being forged under great expectations.
The main building, made of white stone and stained glass, rose like a moderncastle—something between an oldfortress and a futuristic megastructure.
All around, Genesis flags flew proudly : a sky-blue circle with a white "G" at the center.
Simple, almost as if the institution wanted to ignore the complexity of the real world. But inside these walls, nothing was simple.
The gardens were silent, the benches empty, the dorms still unoccupied.
The mood was far from festive, despite the day's event : the official integration ceremony for the surviving students of the GenesisConvoy.
A convoy that, for some, never reached its destination.
The grand auditorium was packed with a kaleidoscope of personalities.
The architecture was dignified, even auster : an amphitheater of wood, massive glass panes, and chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling.
On the left sat the first-year students—the ones who hadn't lived through hell.
On the right, families, nobles, spectators...
And at the center, the convoy students. The ones who had come face-to-face with death. The ones who no longer had the same gaze as when they boarded.
Among them was young NatsukiShigeo—short black hair, black suit, clutching a notebook to his chest.
His fingers trembled and his jaw clenched. His eyes scanned the crowd, again and again.
He wasn't there.
— "Dante." Shigeo swallowed.
He couldn't accept it. Johanna, daughter of the powerful DonQuixotte family, had told him countless times : Dante wouldn't be coming.
But his heart refused to listen. It rejected the mourning people were trying to force on him.
He hoped—no, he waited. Maybe Dante would burst in at the last minute… just like when they first met.
On stage, DirectorArchonThymeris, an austere man with a noble bearing and silver-gray hair, was speaking in a calm, steady voice.
His long purple robe brushed the floor, embroidered with gold threads.
He spoke with the gravity of a wise man.
— "…What you experienced, dear students, is not a rite of passage. It is not a life lesson. It is a tragedy. But from this tragedy comes… responsibility. The responsibility to bear witness."
He paused.
Then, one by one, students were called to speak.
Haunted faces. Grim stories. Memories far too heavy for shoulders so young.
Some cried as they spoke. Others froze, reciting words they'd memorized beforehand.
Then it was Shigeo's turn.
He stood slowly, like an old man. He didn't want to go up. He just wanted to stay there, waiting for Dante.
But his legs moved on their own.
Spotlights flicked on him. He climbed the steps like a man walking to the gallows.
At the mic, his eyes searched again—nothing. No Dante. No terrifying Ginny.
Only unfamiliar stares. Expectant faces. A room full of silence.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing.
His throat was dry. His mind fogged.
— "I… I… the convoy… I wanted to say that… there were bombs… I defused…"
He was falling apart.
A worried murmur rippled through the crowd.
The director leaned into the mic with kind warmth.
— "Mr. Natsuki has endured an extremely traumatic experience. Just standing here today is an act of courage. Please, let us welcome him."
Polite applause followed as a medal was placed around his neck.
The boy stepped down slowly, drained. Eyes downcast. Shame burning in his chest.
And just then, the entrance doors to the auditorium blasted open with a kick.
A loud thud. A ray of light cut through the dim hall. A gust of wind swept in as every head turned toward the doorway.
— "Who the hell is that now…" whispered a student.
And there, framed in the light : DanteGodwin.
Messy hair, dark circles under his red eyes, dressed in an oversized hospital gown, barefoot.
Behind him, Ginny stood surprisingly upright, and Youpi… was asleep. Sprawled out on a mattress of his own.
Dante jogged in, vaulted up onto the stage, yanked the mic out of the headmaster's hands—nearly knocking him over—and let his voice thunder through the speakers :
— "WHO said I was dead?!" He yelled, making the mic screech and the crowd flinch.
The room froze.
Nobles gasped in outrage. Shocked whispers spread. A journalist dropped her tablet. Some teachers stood, alarmed. Others… smiled subtly.
In the stands, Johanna covered her mouth. Torn between fury, disbelief… and a relief she couldn't admit out loud.
Dante shrugged, and with one motion, grabbed the medal meant for him and pinned it onto his hospital gown like a badge of defiance.
Then he turned to Shigeo, who stood frozen.
He held out the mic to him.
— "Hey. You weren't done. Get back up here."
Silence.
— "Come on, Shigeo. Don't be scared of your audience. Tell them. Spit the truth right in their faces."
Shigeo… nodded and stood.
This time, climbing the steps with a pounding heart—but not from panic.
This time, it was something burning in his chest. Something he only felt around Dante : courage.
He gripped the mic with both hands, glanced at the crowd, then looked away—right at Dante.
He was standing sideways, arms crossed, a half-smile on his lips, exuding confidence.
Ginny at the door, quiet and proud. Youpi snoring in the corner, slumped against the lighting console like he owned the place.
Shigeo took a breath. His eyes scanned the judgmental nobles, the professors in suits, the anxious students, the present parents, the cameras, the flashing lights.
All the people he finally wanted to speak to.
So he spoke.
— "…My name is Natsuki Shigeo.
My voice trembled earlier… but now it's not from fear. It's trembling from anger."
A ripple in the crowd.
— "I saw students get torn apart by mitanats. I saw kids screaming in agony. I saw staff crying like children. And me—I was running around defusing bombs—while some people, maybe even in this room, were watching it on TV like it was a damn show."
The silence thickened.
— "So I'm gonna say it straight. What we went through—it wasn't just an attack. It wasn't a 'security incident.' It was a goddamn betrayal. And I'm not just talking about some outside enemy. I'm talking about this rotten world, infected by people like Doc C."
Some students flinched at the name.
— "Yeah, I said it. That 'genius,' that 'liberator' to some. That doctor you all follow online, the one some of you still defend… He's just a lunatic. A coward hiding behind you. A butcher. And if you support scum like him—you're no better."
The room tensed. A man stood to object, but sat back down when he caught Shigeo's glare.
— "People died, damn it! Friends, classmates—they had families… and all for some twisted ideology. While I was putting my life on the line, where were you?! Where was the support? Where were the apologies?!"
Shigeo was breathing hard. His voice was hoarse now.
— "You know what kept me going? What stopped me from breaking? It wasn't your medals. It wasn't your speeches. It was him."
He turned toward Dante, who stood still. A little surprised. A little moved.
— "Dante helped me. He took hits for me. He gave me strength when I had none. Him, Ginny, Helena, even Zara… Those people were more human in one night than most of you are in a lifetime."
Glances exchanged. Some students lowered their eyes.
Shigeo wiped his tears with his sleeve.
— "So yeah. I'm not scared anymore. I lived through hell, and I'm still standing. I'm gonna keep going. And I hope… you do too."
He let his arms fall.
Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled. A nervous, liberating laugh—like a weight had finally lifted.
— "Damn, that felt good."
And the room erupted in applause.
Not polite clapping. Real, honest applause. Loud and warm.
From students, teachers. Even a few nobles.
Cameras flashed, lights flared.
Two kids in hospital gowns—a fragile hero and a half-dead troublemaker—stealing the spotlight from an entire institution.
Dante held out his hand, and Shigeo gripped it tight.
— "Wasn't that hard, was it ?"
— "Thanks…"
In the crowd, Johanna wiped away a tear. She wanted to scream at Dante, slap him, call him an idiot.
But she also… smiled.