…Instructor Leo had just concluded his session on Skills and Techniques. As his final words settled over the academy, the sea of Zodicians gradually rose from their Cathedras. Conversations immediately sprang to life, echoing through the vast Leo Academy as students discussed everything they had just learned.
Some debated the possibility of awakening a Myojin.
Others argued over the difference between Skills and Techniques.
The living academy itself seemed to awaken with them. Veins of nanobots pulsed softly beneath the walls and across the towering pillars, silently maintaining every structure while repairing the tiny scratches and dents left behind by countless generations of training. Around the academy, streams of Chrono suits shifted colors as students crossed into neighboring academies, each suit adapting to its owner's location in an endless display orchestrated by the academy's nanobots.
The morning lecture had ended.
Now, most of the Zodicians headed toward one destination.
The Bibliotheca.
The academy's library held records from countless generations. Ancient tomes rested alongside modern texts, their shelves containing detailed studies on life attributes, energy pulses, aura refinement, and forgotten theories. Hidden within restricted sections were even older manuscripts that spoke of Kamons, Myojins, and techniques whose origins had long faded into history.
Chris was among those making their way there.
Instructor Leo's lecture had stirred a question he could no longer ignore.
Why did the Moonstraught Clan possess neither a Kamon nor a Myojin?
The question lingered in his thoughts as he crossed the sprawling academy grounds.
...
When the Bibliotheca finally came into view, Chris unconsciously slowed his pace.
It was colossal.
The structure stood nearly twice the size of the Roman Colosseum, its enormous circular body surrounded by an immense ring of nanobots orbiting it like a silver satellite. The countless machines revolved in perfect synchronization, occasionally splitting apart before seamlessly rejoining the orbit, silently repairing and reinforcing the ancient structure every passing second.
For a brief moment...
Chris simply stood there.
"It's... huge..." he thought.
He stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the entrance, his eyes widened.
The interior dwarfed the exterior.
Millions... perhaps billions... of Zodicians filled the Bibliotheca. Students occupied nearly every aisle, ladder, balcony and Fauteuil, their voices blending into a gentle sea of whispers beneath the towering ceiling.
If not for the academy's nanobots continuously absorbing and regulating the countless residual aura signatures lingering in the air, the combined pressure alone would have threatened the entire structure.
Towering shelves stretched farther than Chris could see, each overflowing with books, scrolls and ancient tomes. Massive ladders stood against the shelves, allowing Zodicians to reach higher levels, while countless sections branched throughout the enormous library.
Every category had its designated location.
Aura.
History.
Life Pulses.
Signs.
Techniques.
Kamons.
Myojins.
Countless others extended beyond Chris's sight.
It was said that only the Academy Director knew exactly how many books existed within the Bibliotheca.
Even the instructors had long abandoned trying to count them.
Chris drew a quiet breath before making his way toward the Skill section.
…Chris arrived at the Skill section of the Bibliotheca and looked upward.
The shelves towered above him.
His destination lay nearly three shelves above ground level.
A ladder stood at the edge of the massive bookshelf. Chris grabbed its rails and steadily climbed, passing rows upon rows of ancient tomes whose bindings varied from polished leather to metallic plates and crystalline covers.
When he reached the Skill shelf, the Bibliotheca responded.
Tiny streams of nanobots flowed from the edges of the bookshelf, weaving together into a narrow pathway that extended alongside the shelf. The suspended walkway hovered firmly in place, allowing Zodicians to browse books without balancing on the ladder.
Chris stepped onto it.
The pathway stretched so far that its end disappeared into the distance.
"This shelf alone is bigger than some libraries..." he thought.
He began walking.
Every few steps, he paused.
His hand reached toward a book.
He pulled it free, glanced at the title, then quietly slid it back into its place.
Not this one.
A few more steps.
Another tome.
Again, it wasn't what he was looking for.
The process repeated itself over and over as he moved through the endless aisle. Every two or three steps he stopped, examined another book, then continued onward, his curiosity growing with every disappointing title.
Then...
His footsteps halted.
Among the countless books resting upon the shelf was one unlike the others.
Its cover was a pale ash color, weathered by time and riddled with tiny holes. An unfamiliar emblem rested upon its surface.
Chris narrowed his eyes.
"Where have I seen that sign before?"
He strained to remember.
The symbol tugged at the edge of his memory.
It felt...
Familiar.
Yet no matter how hard he searched his thoughts, the memory remained buried beneath an unbreakable haze.
Slowly, he reached for it.
The moment he pulled the book free, its unusual appearance became even clearer.
Its rough exterior resembled the scarred outer shell of the moon.
The tome was surprisingly heavy.
Near the lower left corner rested another symbol.
A clan sign.
Chris frowned.
"I've never seen this clan before..."
He knew the emblems of every high-ranking clan by heart.
This one belonged to none of them.
For a brief moment, a thought crossed his mind.
"Could this be... an extinct clan?"
His eyes drifted upward to the title engraved across the cover.
Dark Moon.
His curiosity immediately deepened.
There were only five known clans associated with the moon.
The eighth-ranked Matrix Clan.
The fourteenth-ranked Vile Clan.
Two lesser-known moon clans whose names rarely appeared in modern records.
And...
His own.
The Moonstraught Clan.
Chris stared at the ancient tome.
The longer he looked at it, the stronger the urge to uncover its contents became.
Without another moment of hesitation, he turned back.
The nanobot pathway quietly folded behind him as he retraced his steps toward the ladder.
He climbed down carefully, the heavy tome tucked beneath one arm.
Now he needed somewhere to read.
Toward the heart of the Bibliotheca lay hundreds of Fauteuils, special reading stations erected by nanobots. Each consisted of a chair paired with an Ambry, designed to securely support books of every size, from ordinary texts to enormous ancient manuscripts.
Chris made his way toward them.
Even reaching the reading area took time.
The Bibliotheca was simply that vast.
Finally, he arrived at an empty Fauteuil.
He took his seat.
Carefully, he rested the heavy tome upon the Ambry.
His fingers slid beneath the ancient cover.
Then...
He opened the book.
…It takes Chris a while to reach the fauteuils, the sheer scale of the Bibliotheca making even a simple walk feel like a journey through a city of knowledge. Zodicians move in every direction between towering shelves, while streams of nanobots quietly maintain the enormous structure overhead.
He reaches an empty fauteuil and takes a seat.
The nanobot-crafted ambry rises smoothly before him, supporting the heavy tome as he places it down.
Chris opens the book.
Fwoosh...
A thick cloud of ancient dust bursts from the pages, drifting into the air. The book has clearly remained unopened for an incredibly long time.
He waves the dust aside with his right palm before looking down at the first page.
Ancient symbols fill the parchment.
Chris narrows his eyes, scanning line after line, but not a single character makes sense.
"...What is this?"
Slightly annoyed, he is about to close the book when curiosity gets the better of him.
He flips to the second page.
The instant his eyes land on it, his body freezes.
His clan's sign.
Every clan possesses its own sign, but only the top twenty clans are acknowledged by the world. The rest are ignored, their symbols forgotten alongside their history. Different clans bear their signs on different parts of their bodies. The Moonstraught Clan lost theirs long ago after being branded a worthless clan, possessing neither a Kamon, a Myojin, nor any unique technique. They were dismissed as a clan of worthless space.
Chris stares at the symbol.
His pulse quietly rises.
How...
How can an ancient book hidden inside the Zodiac Academy contain the forgotten sign of his clan?
He immediately turns to the third page.
Instead of ordinary writing, he finds a philology written in the Moonstraught Clan's ancient language.
His breathing grows heavier as he begins reading.
"A few were born with tainted blood and were struck down. Those few were a unique breed of existence, born with blood that reacted to the moon. They awakened a Myojin, a powerful Myojin belonging only to the chosen few..."
Chris quickly flips the page, desperate to learn more.
"The clan hunted them day and night, for their bloodline had revived the forbidden Myojin. They fled, hoping never to bring disaster upon their fellow clansmen... but the darkness had only just begun."
Questions flood Chris's mind.
His fingers immediately turn another page.
"They were stripped of everything. Day after day, hatred consumed them, while starvation devoured them from within. Their people were tortured... and slaughtered."
Chris's grip tightens around the ancient paper.
Another page turns.
"They cried because they never understood what they had done wrong. Their own clan mocked them, condemned them, and cast them aside... until the day the Moonstraught Clan's Myojin finally awakened."
Chris can barely contain his impatience anymore.
His heart pounds against his chest.
Without another moment to spare, he skips ahead and turns directly to the next chapter.
The next chapter bears a single title.
The Myojin.
Chris places his right palm against the edge of the ancient page and slowly turns it.
"The Myojin awakened through a young, disheartened child who watched his parents die before his very eyes. He cried for them to rise again... but no answer came."
The words seem to weigh on Chris's chest.
He flips to the next page.
"The child was left completely alone in a clan where everyone wanted him dead. He kept asking himself why they had to be killed... but no one answered. Eventually, the day of the child's execution arrived. He begged for his life, yet his cries fell upon deaf ears."
Chris swallows unconsciously.
His fingers tighten around the corner of the page before he turns it again.
"The sacrificial spear was unveiled, ready to draw a veil over the boy's life. As the spear pierced his body, the last thing he saw was the moon."
"Since when... had the moon become dark?"
Chris's eyes widen.
He quickly reads on.
"The boy died... but his body remained standing. At that moment, the Blood Scale Moon Eyes awakened."
An ancient illustration occupies the next page.
Chris leans closer.
The eyes possess a pale outer iris surrounding a plain white inner circle that feels empty, almost lifeless. Between both circles rests a thin white spiral, while lightning-shaped lines branch from the spiral toward the pupils, bending sharply as they climb across the iris.
A chill runs through him.
The eyes feel... wrong.
Not because of how they look.
Because of what they make him feel.
His heartbeat quickens.
Without wasting another second, Chris turns the page, desperate to uncover what happened after the awakening.
…Chris immediately flips to the next page.
"The boy's soul was long gone. All that remained was the residue of his Unique Myojin."
His eyes race across the ancient text.
"The child had already lost his life, yet his body stood, brimming with hatred. None of them understood. They believed he was still alive, so they drove the spear through his neck once again with even greater force."
Chris's breathing grows uneven.
"Blood poured from his neck like rain beneath a raging thunderstorm. His body turned pale, yet his eyes glistened with bloodlust. His life had been forsaken... but his hatred remained."
The words seem to echo inside his mind.
Around him, the Bibliotheca continues to bustle with countless Zodicians climbing ladders, searching shelves, and studying ancient tomes. Nanobots silently drift between the colossal bookcases, maintaining the endless library.
Chris notices none of it.
His entire world has narrowed to the ancient pages before him.
"His bloodlust spilled forth with the same color and composition as the moon itself."
Chris unconsciously grips the edges of the book tighter.
"From that hatred... he created a technique known as Moon Field."
The sentence ends.
Chris blinks.
The chapter is over.
"...That's it?"
His curiosity only burns brighter.
Without hesitation, he turns to the next chapter, eager to discover what Moon Field truly is.
…The next chapter is titled Moon Field.
Chris wastes no time.
He flips to the next page.
"His bloodlust carved a field around those he revered."
Chris's eyes remain fixed on the ancient text.
"The field's aura was so dense that it obliterated all who attempted to cross it, leaving not a single particle of their existence behind."
His expression slowly stiffens.
"The field existed completely under his control."
He turns the page.
"Spears forged from moonlight, aura, and energy beneath the moon's radiance were born."
Chris continues reading.
"Each spear measured over a hundred inches in length, and the aura density within every spear surpassed even that of the Moon Field itself."
A chill creeps down his spine.
"The spears descended, obliterating those who stood against him... and the clan was wiped out."
Chris freezes.
His eyes lock onto the final sentence.
"The clan was wiped out."
Silence.
The bustling sounds of the Bibliotheca fade into the background.
Millions of Zodicians continue searching shelves, climbing nanobot-crafted pathways, and studying ancient tomes throughout the colossal library, yet Chris hears none of it.
His mind replays the sentence again.
"The clan was wiped out."
"...What?"
He rereads the line.
Again.
And again.
Confusion floods his thoughts.
If the Moonstraught Clan had truly been erased...
Then why does his clan still exist?
His heartbeat quickens as countless questions surge through his mind.
Unable to make sense of it, Chris slowly turns to the final page.
It is completely blank.
…The final page is empty.
Chris stares at it in silence.
Nothing.
Not a single word.
Not a single symbol.
Only an aged, blank sheet rests before him.
"...No..."
He quickly flips it over.
Still nothing.
He checks the back cover.
Nothing.
His brows knit together in frustration.
"How can it just end here?"
Questions begin piling upon one another.
If the Moonstraught Clan had truly been wiped out...
Then who rebuilt it?
Who wrote this book?
Why was it hidden inside the Bibliotheca?
And above all...
Why had no one ever spoken of the Blood Scale Moon Eyes?
Chris closes the heavy tome and rests both palms on its cover.
His gaze lingers on the forgotten clan symbol engraved into the ancient binding.
The symbol no longer feels unfamiliar.
It feels...
Connected to him.
Around him, the Bibliotheca continues its endless rhythm. Nanobots silently repair shelves worn by time, pathways appear and disappear between towering rows of books, and countless Zodicians wander through the colossal library in search of knowledge. The academy lives on as though nothing has changed.
But for Chris...
Everything has changed.
The answers he had come searching for have only given birth to even greater mysteries.
His clan was never as ordinary as the world claimed.
Somewhere within its forgotten history...
The truth was waiting.
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