Wake up from your slumber. 
My children, your childhood years are gone.

With fiery truth burn away the evils of the world.
With fiery truth light the darkness of the world.

Farewell, Children.
Until the day of fate.

 ✦

The teal ocean waltzed restlessly as the day kept moving forward. It clung to the sand and dragged it almost anxiously as the fated day inched closer and closer, the day where it would be decided whether or not there won’t be any beaches or sand anymore. Whatever happened, everything would change. The cracked grounds somewhere akin to a desert seemed to tremble discreetly, all alone and with no one to notice; it too wondered what would become of this vast, gorgeous, but haunting land when the fated day came. The vast field, full of rich grass and flowers, was unaware, maybe even peaceful, of the coming days. It did not know, it did not rush to know, and it waited with its beauty for whatever it was to come. The howling wind raced wildly across the field, taking with it the loose petals of all colors and textures, sending them high up in the air. They all wafted through it, floating along without a thought, slowly, up towards the blue skies trying to reach for the little white, cotton clouds there were. The clouds, gray, disturbed and hostile, were somewhere else.

Right above the dark sky of the rocky training ground those clouds bellowed with anguish when the twirling gunblade made its landing; sharp tip dug into the ground, not unlike the raindrops that crashed next to it. Its silver, sharp blade glistened with the dim light, the sun still hidden behind a mass of grayness that seemed to turn darker. It was too early in the morning.

Another crack of thunder, frightening as the first.

Too early for this, thought Irene Leonhart with jaded breath and a clean face. Smooth as a baby’s, youthful and almost innocent. The beads of sweat made her pale face glisten, it showed the hardwork she was putting into this 'training' session, if she could call it that at all. Truthfully, it stopped being training when another student attacked her with such force that broke Irene's balance and simultaneously broke a few rules in the forgotten Balamb Garden rule book. She had fallen back pitifully while the sky clamored, and her bleary blue eyes slowly focused towards the culprit, watching the blurr of colors morph slowly into a human she knew the name of. Far from her (yet not far enough) was the sardonic Seulgi Almasy, smirking at the little victory, unbothered by the drizzle suddenly getting harder and more violent all around them. Face already damp by sweat as well, nothing could stop this unpredictable monster, not even a bit of thunder and rain.

And yet, she stood there, waiting for her opponent — her rival — to stand up. It was a taunting, stupid smile; Seulgi could not be a good winner, not even in the smallest victory. It always, always, had to be the source of mockery.

That enraged the stoic Irene enough to become irrational, though with Seulgi it only took the snarkiest, disgusting looks for Irene to completely flip off the handle sometimes.

The god of thunder cracked its whip again, making Irene stand up with a spurt of new energy. This time she was motivated by annoyance, pride...

Competition.

The moment her gloved hand wrapped around the hilt of her gunblade — the grip of the revolver fitting so perfectly to her hands, the weight so familiar to her muscles — she charged on forward rapidly with her eyes planted on the target, whose smirk seemed to never fade. It would be a real pleasure to wipe it off her face.

Instead, defiantly, Seulgi lifted her own customized gunblade, pointing the tip menacingly towards Irene — and yet not moving an inch, not preparing, not tense, not even shaking. Another taunt, met with another holler from the thunder.

The fast approaching Irene was still too slow for Seulgi who could not get enough of that thrill of the battle; and so she began to run forward as well, her smirk turned into a machiavellian grin full of ill-intentions and frightening strength to back it up.

A back-handed slash was met with a straight one, the sharp edges of the blades clashed together with an almost satisfying CLANG! for the two soldiers. Two clashing personalities met eye to eye, not for the first time, and yet, for the first time in the beginning of this new era. Green eyes versus blue eyes; the eyes of a venenous snake versus those of a frightening lion waiting to be set free, both tainted with a desire to win. The slimmer, lighter blade of the Hyperion didn’t give, neither did the thicker, heavier one from the Revolver, because behind it was the force of two giants.

When Seulgi moved forth, Irene retrated. When Irene moved forth, Seulgi danced away gracefully to the side, eyebrows scrunching from concentration and yet was still taunting as she made it look so easy. When they both jumped back apart, Seulgi was the first to move forward with a frighteningly fast backhanded slash that Irene could only deflect with her blade by mere chance, stumbling backwards and retreating further with big skips. She held her breath and prepared for the attack that was to come, only to notice the oddly still Seulgi, who barely had an uneven breathing.

"You're soon to become SeeD, Irene. And you st