Chapter 25: Into the Anthem
The warm rays of the morning sun filtered through the white curtains of a large, wood-paneled room in the Scriptor Temple. The light danced across the floor, where a girl with sharp green eyes and green-colored hair was already fully dressed and bouncing with energy.
"Come on, come on!" shouted Era, punching the air excitedly. "Today's the day! The B-Level Scriptor Exam begins! We're going to crush it!"
Across the room, her two teammates — Alhala, the elder brother, calm and methodical, and Alfia, the younger sister, quiet and cunning — exchanged a subtle glance. They sat on the edge of their bunk, studying a parchment between them. Their voices were hushed, their eyes locked in serious planning.
Era stopped mid-jump and narrowed her eyes.
"What are you two whispering about?" she asked, a smile still on her face, though her tone had sharpened.
Alhala quickly folded the parchment, looking up with an innocent smile. "Nothing important, Era. Just going over the basics."
Alfia added in a softer voice, "We'll tell you once it's finalized. Don't worry."
Era crossed her arms, her eyebrows twitching. "We're a team. If you're planning something without me, then it is important."
The energy in the room shifted. For a moment, the excitement froze in Era's heart like a cracked bell.
But before the tension could thicken further, a bell tolled in the distance — the official call to gather at the exam grounds. Alhala stood quickly and offered her usual composed smile.
"Let's focus on the bigger picture. This exam decides everything."
Era clenched her jaw but didn't argue. She turned and marched toward the exit. "Fine. But after this… no more secrets."
---
The scene shifted across the temple grounds where hundreds of students — dressed in various Scriptor robes, scroll belts, and worn satchels — had begun gathering at a wide, open green field outside the temple wall. The grass sparkled with dew under the morning sun, and in the center stood a towering stone platform engraved with ancient Scriptor markings.
On the platform, a group of Masters stood silently in a line, observing the crowd. Among them, one man stepped forward — tall, composed, and carrying an aura of immense authority. His long robe fluttered in the breeze, marked with a distinct silver sash. His name was known to all present:
Master Yusugo.
He raised one hand, and the noise fell to silence.
From a small rise overlooking the field, Bokuro, Kitsui, and Nensudo watched the crowd from a distance, still approaching the exam site.
Bokuro's heart raced with excitement. His palms were sweaty, his legs light. "Can you believe it?" he whispered. "We're finally here."
Nensudo stretched lazily, looking unimpressed. "Let's just survive it. I'm not trying to be a hero. I'm here because I want that blue book — and a nap after."
Kitsui adjusted the collar of her dark-blue robe, her face focused. "Don't take this lightly. One mistake in the Anthem Phase and you'll either be dead… or worse — lost to your own emotion."
Bokuro nodded, serious now. He looked down at his Script Book. It was still light in his hands. Still flexible. Still unwritten in its most important page.
---
Master Yusugo's voice boomed across the field.
"Students," he began, "you have stepped into the path of something far greater than a title."
He paused.
"You are here not just to pass a test… but to face the deepest version of yourselves."
His voice echoed through every heart.
"The Anthem is not a skill. It is not a trick. It is the piece of your soul that you are willing to put into words — permanently — inside your Script."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Yusugo lifted his own script — an ancient black tome with threads of white light crawling over its surface.
"An Anthem can be defense, attack, illusion, or manipulation. But the one rule is — it must be your truth."
He pointed toward the forest behind them. Thick, dark, and wild. Crows circled high in the air, as if sensing the storm of emotions about to erupt.
"You have forty days to survive alone in the forest. You must write your Anthem and master it — not once, but to its peak. If your heart is not ready, it will break you."
A few students whispered to each other in fear.
Yusugo held up a glowing red scroll. "If at any time you want to withdraw, release this Red Script into the sky, and the Shoshajiin rescue force will retrieve you."
He looked over the crowd. "There is no shame in stepping back. But know this — those who succeed will enter Phase Two. Those who fall… will not return the same."
Then, like a cannon blast, hundreds of students raised their fists and shouted:
"YOOOO!"
"WOOOOOO!"
"LET'S GOOOO!"
Bokuro's blood roared in his ears. He turned to Kitsui and Nensudo.
"I'll see you both at the top," he grinned.
Nensudo raised his palm for a fist bump. "Don't get eaten."
Kitsui just gave a quiet nod. "Don't lose control of your heart. Your Script obeys emotion, remember that."
They turned away from one another.
One by one, the students scattered — vanishing into the forest, like ink dripping across a white page, each of them chasing something personal… something powerful.
---
Bokuro ran toward the edge of the forest, the wind in his hair, the green crashing into him like waves. As he stepped under the trees, the sunlight dimmed, the air grew still.
His heart beat faster.
In his mind, he heard Takiyu's last words echoing once again:
> "Only when you write your truth, will your truth write you."
He stopped for a moment — the jungle stretching endlessly before him. Alone now. No team. No guidance. Only his Script… and the storm in his heart.
He opened the first blank page.
The Anthem was waiting.
And he would find it.
---
To be continued...