The Strongest Student of the Weakest Academy-Chapter 231: Aestrea Against The World (VIII)

The moon was full... and beautiful was ever.

And under it, Aestrea sat alone atop the cliffside that overlooked the entire camp, his back resting against a smooth boulder, the glow of his crimson eyes dimmed to a tired flicker.

Below, the torches of the military tents danced like distant fireflies, and the faint hum of patrol footsteps drifted through the cold night air.

"Haaah..."

He exhaled slowly, watching the fog of his breath fade. He was a little tired, not physically or mentally... at least, that was Aestrea thinks.

"...You’re restless again."

The voice was familiar as Aestrea had shared a meal with him just a hour ago.

"Derek..."

Nodding slightly, Derek sat down beside him, holding a bottle of warmed fruit wine.

He passed it to Aestrea without a word.

The silver-haired boy took it, and took a sip quietly.

No one spoke for a while.

The stars shone silently above.

And then...

"Did you... notice anything strange about the moon lately?" Derek asked suddenly, his voice also sounded a little tired.

Aestrea didn’t look at him, and replied.

"...No. Why do you ask?"

"Mm. Just feels weird. Kinda... heavier, you know?"

He laughed it off quickly, shrugging.

"Maybe I’m just imagining stuff."

Aestrea didn’t respond, and thinking about Derek’s words, he took a deep glance at the moon.

The moon flickered slighly, having the same silver glow as always.

The same moon that had always guided his sword art.

The same moon whose light had felt... familiar, since he was transmigrated into this place.

He didn’t care about the reason why he was here, but now... the thought started hawking at the back of his mind.

Then, without turning his gaze away, he asked quietly:

"...Hey, Derek."

"Hm?"

A pause.

A breath.

"How much do you think I’ve changed... since back then?"

Derek blinked at the sudden shift in tone. He turned his head toward Aestrea, his expression unreadable for a moment.

"From when you first came to the acaddemy?" he asked.

Aestrea gave a slow nod.

"Yeah... from when we first met. From... before all this."

Derek leaned back, letting the bottle rest between them, his gaze drifting up toward the stars.

"You know..." he began slowly, "the Aestrea I first met at the academy... he was a ltitle cold, yeah, but... also very kind."

He glanced sideways at the silver-haired boy.

"You didn’t talk much, but you helped everyone. When Maria dropped her books, you helped her pick them up. When our Senior Julius lost control of his lightning again and nearly shocked half the training field, you were the first to throw up a barrier. And from then on, you became the star of our academy, helping everyone, and gradually becoming more cheerful and all."

Aestrea didn’t interrupt.

His eyes stayed on the moon, half-lidded.

"You acted like a Hero," Derek continued. "Maybe not in words... but in how you looked at people. How you carried yourself."

He took another sip of wine before exhaling.

"But then, during our first visit to the capital... something changed."

His voice grew a little quieter.

"You were still kind. Still calm. But it felt... thinner. Like there was a wall between you and the world."

Derek looked down now, his fingers brushing the grass.

"It wasn’t something anyone could point out loud. You still smiled. Still fought for us. But the Aestrea we laughed with in the courtyard, who gave James shit for eating too many cookies... he wasn’t fully there anymore."

The wind rustled their cloaks gently.

"...I didn’t ask you back then," Derek said after a moment. "Because I thought maybe it was just stress. Or that you’d talk when you were ready."

Then, his gaze sharpened a bit, quietly sincere.

"But since we’re here now... I have to ask."

He paused slighly, staring at him.

"What happened, Aestrea?"

Aestrea didn’t move.

The silence stretched out like a breath held too long.

The moonlight shimmered faintly across his silver hair, casting gentle shadows over his pale features.

For a moment, Derek thought he wasn’t going to answer.

But then...

Came a reply.

"I don’t know..."

And something changed.

A gentle breeze brushed over the cliff, but the cold that followed wasn’t from the wind.

Aestrea’s glowing crimson eyes dulled... then dimmed entirely, fading into a soft, haunting white.

They weren’t lifeless, no.

They glowed faintly with something... pure, almost... too pure.

And then... it appeared.

Right on his forehead.

A single crescent moon, pure silver, shimmered into existence like ink drawn in starlight, gentle, elegant, and utterly otherworldly.

Derek’s breath hitched.

"Aestrea...!"

But the moment he blinked, it was gone.

The eyes, the mark.... everything.

Like it had never happened.

Aestrea turned to look at him, confused by the sudden panic on his friend’s face.

"...What was that?" Derek asked, voice quieter than before, almost scared to know the answer.

Aestrea’s expression tensed.

"...What do you mean?"

"Your eyes... turned white," Derek said slowly. "And there was this mark... on your forehead. A crescent moon, just for a second..."

He paused, looking at Aestrea with worry in his eyes.

"And it didn’t feel like you were you anymore."

Aestrea froze.

He felt his breath catch, just for a moment.

The mark... the eyes...

That prophecy.

Selene’s voice...

Aestrea flinched, very slightly, but Derek instantly noticed.

"...You know something," Derek said softly.

Aestrea didn’t answer immediately.

He looked down at his perfectly clean hands.

Perfectly still... and yet... they felt so far away.

"...It’s nothing," Aestrea said finally.

"Just a... side effect from my power... Probably."

Derek didn’t buy it, but he also didn’t push as the good friend he was.

So instead, he leaned back, placed his hands behind his head, and looked up at the sky.

"...If James were here," Derek started, a slight grin tugging at his lips, "he’d probably say something like, ’Whoa! Did you just go Super Moon God mode? That was either hot or cursed. No in-between.’"

Aestrea scoffed softly.

It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was close to it.

"And then," Derek continued, smiling more easily now, "he’d ask if glowing moon eyes came with a transformation outfit, maybe some glittering cape and thigh-high boots."

"Boots...?" Aestrea muttered, blinking once.

"Oh yeah. He’d make you into a magical boy on the spot. James doesn’t care about your trauma if it’s aesthetically pleasing."

That earned a small snort from Aestrea, and Derek considered that a win.

They stayed quiet a moment longer, the weight of the strange flicker still hanging in the air... before Derek broke it again, softer this time.

"...You know, I’ve been hearing things lately."

Aestrea turned to look at him.

"Like?"

"Whispers. About the southern seas."

Derek’s voice dropped just enough to feel like the wind might carry it away.

"Rumors say ships have started disappearing again. Not sunk, but entirely gone. Entire fleets... one guy I spoke to swears it’s because the people from the ’Sunken Nation’ are waking up again. Said he saw a figure walking across the ocean at night."

Aestrea frowned.

"Sunken Nation?"

"Yeah. It’s a myth from the western continent. A whole empire that drowned itself to keep a curse from spreading. The stories say the royal family’s still down there. Alive. Watching the tides until someone calls them back."

’Like atlantis...?’ Aestrea frowned inwardly.

"...How would they be alive?"

Derek shrugged.

"Dunno. But magic’s wild. Maybe they made a pact with something older than mana. Something even the gods forgot."

He paused, tilting his head at Aestrea.

"And that’s not all. Another rumor? From the far northeast—mountain region past the Empire’s map. People are saying something’s... singing at night. No language, just this soft melody that makes even monsters stop in their tracks."

’...Mermais?... They are still alive?’

Aestrea’s eyes narrowed.

"Who’s reporting these?"

"Merchant caravans. Wandering clerics. Exiled adventurers. Not all of them are liars, you know."

Aestrea stayed quiet.

He knew better than anyone that even the most absurd-sounding story... could be real.

"Things are moving," Derek said at last.

"Shadows, songs, blood... It’s like the world’s slowly leaning toward something. I don’t know what. But it feels like every continent is holding its breath."

Aestrea looked back at the moon...

"...I’m going to sleep, have a good night." And then abrutply sat up, and went back to his tent.

Derek tilted his head at his confusing actions, and then finished his drink.

Then, arriving at his tent, Aestrea pushed the flap aside and stepped in, letting the canvas fall shut behind him with a quiet flutter.

The night chill clung to his coat, and the faint scent of firewood still lingered from the outer camps.

He rubbed the back of his neck absently, his eyes scanning the dimly lit interior.

Same table.

Same shelf of mana scrolls and polished weapons.

Same thin sheet folded across the cot...?

No... not the same.

There was something on it.

A massive file..

Thick, bound in reinforced beast-leather, and stamped with the seal of the Empire.

It sat squarely on the center of his bedroll, as though someone had taken great care in placing it exactly there, waiting for his return.

"...Was this from Isabella?"

Aestrea’s steps were slow as he approached.

His fingers brushed over the surface, feeling that he was still warm, so someone had been here just a few minutes ago.

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened, narrowed slightly, like a blade being honed by instinct.

"..."

He flipped open the file.

The first page hit him like a breath caught in his throat.

His hand froze mid-turn, and his entire body stilled, his crimson eyes locked in place.

A moment passed.

Then another.

And slowly, the color drained from his face.

"..."

His eyes flicked left to right.

Line by line.

Word by word.

"Fuck..."