Blue Archive: Requiem of Oblivion, Symphony of Regression - The second morning, the photograph on the desk

The lungs were burning. Sensei pressed his face against the desk, fighting back the hot mass rising from deep in his throat. His vision swam. His heart pounded against the inside of his ribs like a fist. His fingertips trembled, clutching the fabric of his uniform vest. He'd been dreaming. No—not a dream. That was real. He had stood there, in that place, at that moment. It happened. —The sky, swallowed by black mist. Hoshino's halo was the first to shatter, with a sound like breaking glass. She touched her head, face frozen in shock. Then Shiroko's halo. Then Tsurugi's. Then Yuuka's. One after another. He couldn't stop it. He reached out. He screamed. But his voice was swallowed by the black mist and vanished. Their bodies crumbled into particles of light. The last one turned around. He couldn't remember who. Just that she was smiling. Her face looked like she was about to cry, but she was definitely smiling, and she said: "Sensei, if we meet again." That was all. "...Ugh, ah—" Sensei couldn't lift himself from the desk. Bile crawled up his throat. His mouth tasted sour. Cold sweat ran down his back, plastering his dress shirt to his skin. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. The tears wouldn't stop. Warm droplets traced his cheeks, leaving small stains on the desk. His breathing was shallow. Again and again, he gasped for air. His heart hammered. His fingertips went numb. (They all died.) That single fact sat at the bottom of his chest like a heavy stone. (I couldn't protect them.) How long did he stay like that? Eventually, his breathing steadied. His heart slowed its rampage. Sensei opened his eyes, slowly, fearfully. Before him was a wooden desk. Old, but carefully polished. On it lay a single sheet of paper. An appointment letter. Official, bearing the seal of the Federal Student Council. Sensei slowly sat up. He turned his head. A classroom. Dusk light poured through the windows, dyeing the dust in the air gold. Neatly arranged desks and chairs. A blackboard. A teacher's podium. Lockers in the back. He recognized it. Painfully, unmistakably. (This place is...) With trembling hands, Sensei picked up the appointment letter. The characters blurred, hard to read. Not just from tears. His fingers were still shaking. "Letter of Appointment — External Advisor to the Federal Student Council, Sensei" The date. Sensei read it three times. (No way.) The date was wrong. That day. The exact day he'd arrived in Kivotos. (I've... come back.) He looked out the window. The spires of the Federal Student Council headquarters cast dark shadows against the crimson sky. In the distance, he could hear students laughing. No gunfire. No explosions. No death cries. Just the gentle sounds of an afternoon after school. Sensei looked at his own hands. An old burn scar on the back of his right hand. The tear mole beneath his left eye—he could feel it without touching. The Federal Student Council ID card hanging from his neck swayed slightly against his chest. Everything was exactly as it had been that day. "...I'm back." His voice was terribly hoarse. Then he noticed something else on the desk. A photograph. Sensei stopped breathing. He reached out. His fingers touched it. The hard texture of photographic paper. Slowly, he picked it up. What was captured there— "Ah..." A sound that wasn't quite a word escaped him. The Abydos Countermeasures Committee room. Hoshino, sitting on the old sofa. Beside her, Shiroko, her usual blank expression cracked just slightly into a smile. Nonomi throwing a peace sign. Serika turning away, embarrassed. Ayane smiling with a slightly troubled look. Above all of their heads, rings of light—halos—floated. Alive. In this photograph, they were definitely alive, and smiling. "...Everyone." His voice shook. This time, different tears welled up. Not grief. Relief. But more than that, there was a pain that gripped his chest. (No one has died yet.) (This time, I can protect them.) Sensei flipped the photograph over. There was something scrawled on the back. Trembling handwriting. Ink smeared. Traces of being rewritten over and over. "The truth is always beside you." Almost readable, but not quite. The last part was especially badly degraded. (Who wrote this?) Sensei tucked the photograph into his breast pocket. Left side. Directly over his heart. Through the fabric, he could feel its hardness. Then he checked the supplies on the desk. A portable terminal issued by the Federal Student Council. A thin silver tablet. When he powered it on, the initial setup screen appeared. Nothing remained from the previous loop. A bankbook. Monthly salary: 180,000 coins. Sensei smiled wryly. Same amount as always. Not nearly enough for an adult to live comfortably in Kivotos. But right now, that didn't matter. (More than money, more than anything.) While operating the terminal, Sensei began organizing what he knew about this world in his head. Kivotos. An academic special district where countless schools function as city-states. The Federal Student Council governs loosely, but real authority rests with each school. Abydos. Gehenna. Millennium Science School. Trinity. Hyakkiyako— In this city, the students maintain their own order and run their own administration. Because they have "halos." Sensei glanced out the window. Above the students heading home, he could see faintly glowing rings. Like angel halos—those were halos. As long as they had those, students were hard to kill even when shot. The logic of Kivotos: fatal wounds converted into "fatigue." That's why guns overflowed into everyday life here. Combat was part of daily routine. But— (In that apocalyptic moment, those halos shattered. All of them.) Sensei bit his lip. A method exists to completely destroy a halo. In the previous loop, that was what brought so many students down. (This time, I'll stop it.) Sensei stood. His legs still trembled slightly. He braced himself against the wall and took a deep breath. Three times. Four. Five. The sun was nearly set. The classroom was dyed in a mix of orange and purple. (First, Abydos.) Sensei decided. In the previous loop, Abydos was the first to collapse. Hoshino and Shiroko were the first he lost. That school, still on the verge of closure, with only five students. If it's now, I can make it in time. Sensei left the classroom. The hallway was quiet. Only his footsteps echoed, unnaturally loud. Notices on the walls. Club recruitment posters. Casual, everyday scenery. All of it was precious. (Everyday moments like these—I never knew they were so dear.) For the first time in this second loop, Sensei felt the corners of his mouth soften. He left the school building. The outside air was slightly cold. Wind passed through his sweat-soaked dress shirt. It felt good. He left the Federal Student Council grounds and headed for the bus stop. Along the way, there was a small park. A swing creaked back and forth in the wind. In the sandbox, the remains of a castle someone had built. The shadow of a slide stretched long across the ground. Sensei stopped, suddenly. (In the previous world, this park too, in the end—) He shook his head, as if to fling the memory away. Don't think about it now. Keep moving. Just a little further to the bus stop. That's when it happened. A nasty sensation ran down his spine. Cold. The air temperature plummeted. Sensei turned around. There it was. A black haze, like a sandstorm. It swayed in the middle of the road, wavering. No fixed shape. Like smoke, but something heavier. "Wh-what..." No voice came out. The haze moved. Toward Sensei. Closing in. No—wrong. It stretched. Part of the haze became a long, thin tendril, reaching toward Sensei's chest— The photograph. It was after the photograph in his breast pocket. "Stay back!" Sensei shouted and stumbled backward. But his feet tangled. He fell onto his rear. He braced with his hands, scrambling back. His heart pounded deep in his ears. The haze's tendril closed to within a few centimeters. At that moment. His chest grew hot. The photograph in his pocket burned like fire. Light overflowed. White, gentle light. The light radiating from the photograph illuminated the black haze. "—!!" The haze screamed. Not a human voice. A sound like nails on glass, piercing the ears. The light seared through the haze. The haze writhed. And then, a voice: "Your memories won't last much longer." That's what it said. The next instant, the haze scattered. Without a trace. Wind blew, carrying everything away. Sensei sat on the ground, unable to move for a while. His heart hurt. His breathing was shallow. His hands shook. (What was that?) (My memories won't last?) (What does that mean?) He touched his breast pocket. The photograph was still warm. Sensei carefully took it out. The front. The students' smiles, unchanged. The back. The last character of the scrawled message had smeared. Before, he felt like he could read more of it. But now, just that one character had become a black stain, illegible. "...Damn." Sensei muttered quietly. There was so much he didn't understand. What was that black haze? Why did the photograph glow? "Your memories won't last much longer." (But I can't afford to stand still.) Sensei stood up. He brushed the dirt off his knees. The sun had almost fully set. The sky was turning indigo. He headed for the bus stop. This time, he didn't look back. When he reached the bus stop, the bus for Abydos was just arriving. Sensei got on. He told the driver his destination. "To Abydos." "Got it." The driver replied in a sleepy voice. The bus lurched and started moving. Sensei sat in the very back seat. Outside the window, the streets of Kivotos streamed past. Neon. Signboards. Students coming and going. Gradually, the city lights thinned. Buildings became sparse. The road began to be covered in sand. He was getting closer to Abydos. Sensei took the photograph from his breast pocket once more. In the dark interior, he traced its surface with his finger. Hoshino. Shiroko. Nonomi. Serika. Ayane. All of them, smiling. "This time for sure." Sensei gripped the photograph tight. "I'll protect you. All of you." His voice was shaking. But it wasn't the shake of fear. It was the shake of resolve. The bus pressed on, down a single road through the desert. In the distance, on the horizon of Abydos, he could see a sandstorm. A great black wall of sand. It seemed to be slowly approaching. Sensei watched it, and thought: (It's beginning.) The second battle. The battle to not lose anyone this time. The bus kept running, straight toward the sandstorm.

日本語

What is Novelia? →

Episode 1

Name: Blue Archive: Requiem of Oblivion, Symphony of Regression
Author: Novelia

What is Novelia?

Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.

Learn more about Novelia →New sign-ups get 5,000pt