Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Blood Wizard System : Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

CHAPTER 51The Oni Want Their Princess BackJuly 4, 2029 – Lake Ouachita, midnightThe sky is bleeding fireworks.Red, gold, violet bursts over the water while half of Hot Springs parties on houseboats and the other half tries to pretend they don’t see the nine-tailed fox doing backflips off the dock.We rented the entire cove (Rowan’s black card is still crying).Seras is in the armor, helmet off, space buns glowing like twin lanterns while she teaches a bunch of drunk college kids how to light sparklers with their minds.Lucian is shirtless, wings half-out, letting little cousins climb him like a thundercloud jungle gym.Kayo has declared herself “Fireworks General” and is directing the show with all nine tails flaring.Remy and I are on the end of the dock, legs dangling in the warm black water, sharing a single bottle of contraband ghost-pepper mead Al Capone swore would “put hair on your soul.”Everything is perfect.Then the lake erupts.Not steam (actual eruption).A pillar of

CHAPTER 53The Tide’s First WaveJuly 30th, 2029 – Lake Ouachita, 4:47 p.m.The lake betrays us on a perfect summer afternoon.We’re out on the houseboat (rented with Rowan’s endless credit line), sun high and merciless, water the color of melted emeralds.Seras is in the armor, showing off by walking on the surface like it’s concrete, making tiny waves bow when she passes.Lucian’s wings are out, drying in the sun after a dive.Kayo’s tails are trailing in the water, catching minnows like lazy fishing lines.Remy’s shirtless, braids wet, laughing as he pulls me onto a floatie shaped like a giant blackbird (his idea of a joke).Everything is perfect.Until the water goes still.Not calm still.Dead still.The kind of still that happens right before the Gulf decides to speak.A single bubble rises in the center of the lake.Then the entire surface erupts.Not steam (actual eruption).A massive column of black water shoots two hundred feet high, and riding it like a god on a chariot is

CHAPTER 55The Road Starts LyingSeptember 6, 2029 – somewhere that shouldn’t exist, UtahThe GPS gave up three hours ago.First it spun in circles.Then it just displayed one line in glowing white text:Turn left into yesterday.Remy did.Because of course he did.We left the interstate outside Moab, followed a dirt track that wasn’t on any map, and drove straight into a canyon that swallowed the truck whole.The sandstone walls closed behind us like teeth.No signal.No sky.Just red rock, heat shimmers, and the low growl of the Chevy refusing to die.Then the canyon opened.And the world forgot how to be normal.We’re rolling slow across a desert valley that has no business existing:golden sand dunes under a sky the color of bruised twilight,ruins rising out of the sand like the bones of a city that sank before Noah even started building.Columns taller than redwoods.Bridges that loop into themselves.A coliseum half-buried but still humming with faint violet light.And in the e

CHAPTER 57First Dawn, First BloodSeptember 8, 2029 – Aerie Academy, 5:57 a.m.The dorm wakes us with sunrise poured straight into our veins.No alarm.Just the sky outside our windows turning the exact shade of Remy’s eyes when he’s half-shifted, and every oath mark on our wrists flaring like a starting gun.We’re already moving.Remy’s braids are still loose from sleep, hanging wild down his back.I’m in yesterday’s jeans and the black tank he never got back.Hellebore Mist is strapped across my spine like it never left.Sânge Furtună is under my arm, humming.The dorm gives us a door that opens onto the roof.We step out into dawn that tastes like war.The entire academy is already awake.Floating islands lit gold and crimson.Dragons doing barrel rolls between dorm towers.A phoenix the size of a city bus screaming across the sky in greeting.And waiting for us on the main plaza, exactly where the titanium half-pipe meets the void:Kael Stormrider, barefoot on his hovering board,

CHAPTER 59The First Real Day of ClassesSeptember 12, 2029 – Aerie Academy, 7:02 a.m.The campus wakes up differently.The sky is the same impossible bruised-twilight color, but now every cloud has a faint violet edge, like it’s embarrassed it ever belonged to anyone else.Our dorm has added a new wall:A living mural of last night’s battle, painted in lightning and foxfire, looping forever.The broken throne dissolves into blackbirds every thirty seconds.The Sky King kneels, stands, kneels again.We watch it while eating breakfast on the porch swing that still smells like Remy’s grandmother.Seras is in Lucian’s hoodie again, armor dismissed, hair in messy space buns, stealing bacon off my plate.Kayo is teaching Rowan how to make mochi that explodes into tiny foxes when you bite it.Remy’s braids are loose, feet bare on the warm red-dirt floor, arm around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the universe.No one mentions the war.We don’t need to.The sky already told the