For the first time since Kim that he'd touched someone with no bargaining, no angle clawing at the back of his mind for another fucking ability on the Awakener screen. Just heat and breath and want.
Verity.
It was his favorite moment since the day they'd dragged him in shackled and half-starved to the 75th Penal Battalion. She hadn't asked anything from him. She hadn't needed to. He'd wanted her—not her power, not what she could give him.
Just her.
The morning was creeping in, pale and silent, and Caine laid beside her in the warm hollow of her sheets, still buried in her, still hard despite the exhaustion settling deep into his limbs. Her breath ghosted over his collarbone, slow and steady. One hand remained curled against his chest like it belonged there.
The regret had already bloomed in his chest before his feet even hit the floor.
He didn't want to go he had had such a good time but he had to.
His fingers lingered on the curve of her thigh, brushing the faint lines of old scars he hadn't asked about. He kissed her shoulder once, slow and silent, then slipped from the bed.
He moved silently he dressed without sound, pulling on the patched-up boots that still carried blood in the stitching, his belt, his coat. He didn't look back.
Not because he didn't want to, Because if he did, he might not leave she felt too good.
The window creaked under his weight as he eased it open, slipping out into the alley behind the café. The stone was cold beneath his feet, the air sharper now with dawn approaching. A thin blue haze hung at the edge of the sky, staining the rooftops. Caine pulled his collar higher, the borrowed scent of lavender still clinging to his clothes, and turned toward camp.
Each footstep was heavier than the last.
It was exhausting.
They were watching him.
He knew it before he even turned the first corner. It wasn't just a hunch—it was visceral, physical, like icewater dripping down his spine. Echo Finder a skill he gained from a prostitute ,alerted him, detecting the faint warp in the air where presence lingered—where someone observed but stayed hidden.
He paused at a narrow alley mouth and tilted his head just slightly, letting the air settle.
There.
Behind the crates. A faint scuff. Someone breathing through grit teeth. Close enough to smell the sweat of sleepless surveillance.
He didn't look. Didn't react.
Just kept walking like he hadn't noticed.
He could feel the watcher's uncertainty. Not fear,Just curiosity. The kind of curiosity assigned by command. A low-level handler or a scout from the Interior Watch. They wouldn't interfere. Just report.
The gates of the 75th camp loomed ahead, crooked towers and weather-beaten planks, guards already shifting in the watch posts above. No one said anything as he slipped back through the checkpoint—no salute, no question, just the narrowing of eyes and the subtle scrape of ink against paper as someone marked him present.
He didn't stop anywhere.
He went straight to his cot in the barracks, ducking under the rotten canvas and letting the damp smell of mold and sweat wash over him like a cruel homecoming.
Only once he sat did he let himself breathe.
And only then did he open the screen.
His fingers trembled faintly—just once—as he summoned it. The flicker of azure light formed against the inner curve of his vision, tracing the familiar screen
[Awakener : CAINE]
[Class: Passive Awakener]
[Primary Ability: Echo Thread (Passive)]Allows replication of a female individual's base awakened ability following sex . Only base-level raw power is copied. Cannot replicate advances made in awakener skill.
[Awakened Abilities Acquired: 28 Total]
Caine scrolled past the first twenty-seven entries. He'd memorized most of them by now—half-useless F-tier junk, the kind of powers you'd get from a barmaid or traveling merchant. Sock Summon, Mood Muffle, Spectral Dad Joke—that last one had gotten him elbowed in the ribs during a funeral march when someone burst into laughter at the voice in their head muttering, "I used to hate facial hair, but then it grew on me."
But further down, nestled below his more useful abilities—Echo Finder, Visual Acuity, Clean Touch, Direction Drift—was a new one. A soft glow pulsed from the last entry.
His gaze narrowed.
He tapped it open.
Caine's eyes lingered on the text. His breath was shallow but steady. Something shifted behind his ribs—like a taut string being plucked deep inside his chest.
For the first time in months, there was no clawing anxiety, self doubt ,no regret and no trauma dragging him back to Kim's death. No helplessness memories of the Academy.
Everything—the chaotic background from Sixth Sense—had finally fallen silent.
Not gone. Just… quiet.
The emotions of others still pulsed around him in faint, ambient notes. He could tell Someone's was frustrated three bunks down. A fresh recruit was trembling with nerves. The echo of a nightmare slipping out of someone's head like steam. He felt it all.
But it wasn't overwhelming anymore.
It was manageable. A trickle instead of a flood.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, slower than usual, and when the air filled his lungs, he didn't flinch.
Verity.
She hadn't given him the Calm Mind ability knowingly but She had saved him.
Not in some dramatic battlefield moment. Not with a blade or spell. But by giving what he needed. A calm that lived in now him.
He was sure as hell glad Echo Thread didn't ask permission.
Because her gift was the first thing that hadn't felt like a curse in months.
The others just added to his insanity being able to tell when one was watching him made him feel all the more crazier when he had the emotions of everyone around him and those he killed. He reached for his belt and pulled his battered sword from its sheath. The metal groaned in places where it had bent and re-bent through abuse. It was still sharp but chipped along the edge. He ran one finger along the blade's flat, then rested it gently across his lap.
And then he did something he hadn't done in months.
Not since The royal academy Veylaris.
He meditated.
Back straight. Feet crossed. Eyes closed.
He felt like the sunrose at the center of his chest—a feeling of warmth, steady, slow, like a blade cooling after being tempered in flame.Calm mind made it so he could train in knighthood again. He could study again and not forget everything with his mind going crazy.[Calm Mind – C-Tier]
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't enough to make him the strongest but it made everything easier and theoretically made him the best version of himself.
His body felt Balanced. Every part of him that had been fraying from the Sixth Sense was now reinforced. Like someone had organized wires in his head to optimize the way his brain worked.
That night, for the first time in months, Caine easily slept. No nightmares. No jolts awake with sweat clinging to his back.
Just rest.
And when the morning came, he woke before the horn sounded.
The barracks were still heavy with sleep—muffled groans, the rustle of stiff limbs, and boots thudding to the dirt floor. The familiar scent of mold and old iron choked the air. Another day in hell.
He sat up without hesitation or the fear he had from the first night when he was still normal.
He pulled on his coat. Belt. Sword. Adjusted his collar.
And then he stood in line, silent among the others.
Ready.
Today marked seven months since the day he'd been shackled and marched through the gates of the 75th. Seven long months and he felt it in his bones.
He was leaving soon.
He didn't know when nor how, but, could feel the end of this place approaching.