Gaia Chronicles: The Integral Saga

The moonlight always made her feel safe.

Hikari Synthesis 26 was born beneath a full moon, in a quiet district near the outskirts of the once-rebuilt city of Kyoto. Her mother had told her, in whispers full of reverence, that she came into the world with her eyes wide open—deep violet orbs that shimmered like amethyst under the stars.

"She doesn't cry," the midwife had said."She's… listening."

And she always did.

Even as a toddler, Hikari noticed things others didn't—the sound of wings before a bird took flight, the way the wind changed before the air turned cold. But her silence wasn't born from shyness.

It was fear.

Her powers emerged early. Too early.

At age five, Hikari fell sick with a sudden high fever. Her skin burned cold, her body writhed in unnatural spasms, and her eyes bled violet light.

Then came the shadows.

Fangs of crimson ether. Pulses of cursed blood energy.Everything she touched with her bare hands… withered.

A stray dog that tried to comfort her collapsed and dissolved into ash.The wooden walls of her bedroom darkened and cracked as if drained of time itself.Her father, panicked, wrapped her in cloth and ran to the nearby Gaia outpost.

But the whispers had already started.

"Cursed child.""She draws death.""Vampire's spawn."

She didn't understand any of it.

She just wanted to be held.

Gaia didn't abandon her.

They took her in, gave her a sealed room in their inner sanctum, and began testing her blood. What they found shocked them:

Vampire's Vessel — a dormant, forbidden power sealed within her soul.

It wasn't true vampirism. But it mimicked one. She could absorb ether from others, manipulate blood-based matter, and awaken when wounded, regenerating faster than logic should allow.

It was… monstrous.

She began wearing gloves at all times. Avoided eye contact. Stayed away from sunlight not because it harmed her—but because it made her feel like she didn't deserve its warmth.

But even in isolation, she found kindness.

Eun-Ha Synthesis 15 was the first to visit her without flinching. She said nothing at first—just sat beside her and offered a soft hand.

Later, Charlotte brought her snacks she claimed were "science-calibrated for loneliness." (They were cookies.)

Mia gave her drawings. Elaine gave her hugs. Harriet threatened to set anyone on fire who stared at her too long.

And then… there was Cyg.

He didn't pity her. Didn't scold her. He once said:

"If you're dangerous, then be dangerous with purpose."

It wasn't romantic. Not then.

But it was the first time someone didn't treat her like something fragile.

When the time came for her Artifact trial, Hikari hesitated.

She stood before the sealed gate where Sanguira, the blood-forged scythe, pulsed like a heartbeat against obsidian chains. The guardians warned her:

"This Artifact is not kindness. It is hunger. It is despair incarnate."

She said nothing.

Then stepped forward.

Her trial was not a battle. It was a mirror—one that showed her every face she feared becoming. A monster. A killer. A lonely thing.

But at the end, she whispered:

"Even monsters want to protect someone."

Sanguira responded.

The scythe unfolded in her hand, its red glow softer than expected. It didn't scream. It sighed.

And she, for the first time, felt whole.

Hikari became Synthesis 26, the Gentle Night.

She moves like silence incarnate.Her presence soothes. Her aura calms.And yet—when pushed to fight—she unleashes a storm of midnight blades and crimson waves that no one sees coming.

The battlefield calls her an anomaly.The other Knights call her "the quiet shield."

But those who know her best?

They call her by her name.

Because sometimes, the gentlest night carries the fiercest light.