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Picture this: You've just finished the emotional rollercoaster that was the Crossbell arc, thinking you need a breather. Then Falcom comes along with Trails of Cold Steel, flashing that classic "new region, new academy, surely this will be a nice, peaceful change of pace" energy. Spoiler alert: it absolutely was not.

Welcome to Thors Military Academy

Cold Steel I kicks off with all the charm of a prestigious boarding school anime—Class VII, field studies, bonding events with your classmates. The game even gives you those delightfully transparent "free day" systems where you know exactly how many bonding points you need. It's refreshingly honest compared to Persona's "did I talk to this person enough times?" guessing game.

But beneath this academic veneer lies something far more sinister. The class divide at Thors isn't just window dressing—it's a constant, palpable tension that permeates every interaction. The game tells you classes don't matter while simultaneously showing you exactly how much privilege shapes everything. It's social commentary wrapped in a JRPG bow, though perhaps not as sharp as it could have been.

The Modernization Dilemma

Now, let's talk about those controversial changes. Remember the sepith system from Sky and Zero? Gone. The intricate battle orbment lines that made you feel like a magical engineer? Streamlined into oblivion. As someone who spent hours perfecting sepith combinations in previous games, this felt like watching your favorite complicated recipe get turned into a microwave dinner.

Don't get me wrong—the new system eliminates some genuine pain points. No more desperately hunting for that one specific sepith color to unlock a spell. But there's something lost in translation here. They kept the orbment lines for... reasons? It's like keeping the steering wheel in a self-driving car—technically functional but oddly vestigial.

When things get real (Spoiler: They get VERY real)

The first six chapters of Cold Steel I follow a comfortable rhythm. Field studies, bonding, the occasional political intrigue. Then chapters seven and eight arrive like a freight train carrying civil war and giant robots.

Suddenly, you're not just learning about Erebonia's problems—you're living through them. The connections to what's happening in Crossbell during Azure become beautifully clear, creating this incredible moment of "Oh, THAT'S what was happening on the other side of the continent."

It's worldbuilding at its finest, the kind that makes you appreciate having played the previous games in order.

The cliffhanger that broke my resolve

Cold Steel I ends with the gaming equivalent of "To Be Continued..." right after the most dramatic moment possible. Naturally, like any reasonable person, I immediately installed Cold Steel II. Why torture yourself with suspense when you can torture yourself with 45 more hours of emotional investment instead?

Cold Steel II picks up exactly where its predecessor left off, which is both a blessing and a curse. The first half mirrors the field study structure of the original, but with the added spice of "everything is on fire and there's a civil war happening."

It's familiar territory with significantly higher stakes.

The Bonding Point predicament

Here's where I might have a hot take: Cold Steel II has too many bonding points. In the first game, these character moments felt essential, giving you glimpses into your classmates' personalities. By the sequel, some of them started feeling like filler content—pleasant but ultimately unnecessary diversions from the main course.

What I wouldn't give for character-specific side quests that tied into the story's current moment instead. The system works, but it's starting to show its age when your brain is screaming "THE COUNTRY IS LITERALLY AT WAR" while you're having a casual chat about hobbies.

Burst System: The Return

You don't realize how much you miss something until it's gone. Moving from Crossbell's burst system to Cold Steel's initial combat felt like losing a favorite tool. When Cold Steel II brought it back, perfectly integrated with the new partner system, it was like coming home. These games understand that combat systems should evolve, not just exist.

The Rean Issue

Let's address the elephant in the room: Rean Schwarzer, our protagonist with the emotional range of a particularly angsty piece of toast. Coming from Estelle's relatability and Lloyd's earnest cop energy, Rean feels like "generic JRPG hero #47 with a mysterious past." He's functional, he serves the story, but he's about as memorable as yesterday's lunch.

It's almost a guilty pleasure—I understand why they chose this archetype, and it works within the story's framework, but man, do I miss protagonists with actual personality quirks (Estelle my beloved).

Keeping the bigger picture

Despite my nitpicks, both games excel at what the Trails series does best: making you care about a world and its people. The emotional investment required feels almost mandatory—I found myself nearly tearing up over NPCs I'd met once. That's the kind of narrative magic that only a few series can pull off.

The interconnected storytelling reaches new heights here. References to Liberl and Crossbell are constant, not just narrative nods but integral parts of understanding what's happening. Starting with Erebonia would be like jumping into the middle of a conversation; technically possible, but you'd miss so much context.

Final Thoughts

Cold Steel I and II represent both evolution and growing pains for the Trails series. They modernize systems that needed updating while occasionally throwing out babies with bathwater. The story builds magnificently, the world feels lived-in and real, and by the end, you're completely invested in Erebonia's fate.

Just don't expect a peaceful school life. This is Falcom we're talking about—they don't do "peaceful" for very long. And honestly? That's exactly why we keep coming back.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Cold Steel III calling my name from the backlog. Some habits never change.