Code stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space. It smelled of old paper and candle wax, the kind of scent that lingered in places where time stood still. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by flickering candles that barely held the darkness at bay.
Van sat lazily on a worn velvet sofa, his face hidden behind a black silk mask embroidered with silver thread. He raised a hand and motioned for Code to approach.
"Here, take this," he said, passing him a thin golden thread. His voice, low and rough, sent a chill down Code's spine.
Code held the thread between his fingers, turning it slowly, unsure. "Um... so what do I do with this?"
Van let out a huge yawn. "Oh... yeah, cut the thread..."
Code blinked. "Cut the thread?" he echoed, half-laughing. He waited for Van to say more, but the masked man slumped deeper into the couch—and promptly dozed off.
Code stared at him, then looked back at the thread. It didn't look special. 'It's just a piece of string,' he thought, smirking. But when he tried to break it, his confidence faltered. The thread was solid. Too solid. Like it was woven from steel rather than fiber.
Frustration crept in as he pulled harder, tried tying it around a nail in the wall, even bit down on it. Nothing. Not even a dent. Then as he looked across the room, he got an idea.
'Yes, I'll just burn it!' He thought, grinning.
He placed part of the thread over the candle flame. The light flared gently, licking at the gold strand.
At first, it did nothing. Then suddenly, the flames danced up the thread with unnatural speed, racing along its length. But instead of burning away, the thread remained untouched. The flame didn't consume it—it simply lived on it, like it had found a home.
Code's eyes widened. Before he could react, the fire leapt to the papers on the table. In seconds, they were ablaze.
Panic shot through him. He grabbed a nearby cup of water, heart hammering, and raised it.
'Fire is fire', he thought. 'Just put it out—
"NO, DON'T POUR IT!"
Van's voice cut through the room like a whip. He was instantly beside Code, snatching the cup mid-motion. A single drop of water hovered between his fingers. The air seemed to freeze.
"You could've killed us all," Van growled, not quite shouting, but the weight behind his words made Code's knees wobble.
He gently turned to the fire and clapped his hands. The flames vanished like they'd been sucked into the walls, leaving nothing but singed air and shocked silence.
"You don't pour water on tenzen fire, it will trigger an explosion."
Van looked at the thread still clutched in Code's hand. He took it, then—without effort—snapped it.
Code stared. "What? How did you do that?"
Van chuckled, amused. "That's basic sorcery. Surprised you couldn't manage it."
Code flushed. "I've had a bad day, okay?"
Van leaned back, chuckling. "Right. Let's go again." He handed Code a fresh thread.
Code took it and raised it like Van had, trying to mimic the earlier gesture. Nothing.
Van tilted his head. "What are you doing?"
Code sighed. "No, seriously. How do I do it?"
Van's tone turned serious. "You infuse the thread with tenzen. Once it's saturated, it snaps." He raised a thread and demonstrated. A faint shimmer pulsed through it before it broke with a soft crack.
"Easy peasy" he added.
Code blinked. "Okay…what's tenzen?"
Van stared. "Wait. You don't even know what tenzen is? Who the hell let you become a sorcerer? That's a suicide mission!"
Code raised a brow. "You gonna explain or keep laughing?"
Van leaned forward, the flickering candlelight casting sharp angles on his masked face.
"Tenzen isn't something you can see... but it's there. Everywhere. It's the breath between life and death, the thread that connects every piece of the world. Stone, flame, time, even your heartbeat—it's all tied together by it."
Code's brow furrowed. "So, it's like… sorcery?"
Van gave a small shake of the head. "No. Sorcery's just the result. Tenzen is the cause. It's the current beneath the river. It's what lets the world move the way it does. You don't cast spells with it—you channel it, bend it, push it. If your will's strong enough, the world listens."
Code glanced at the golden thread in his hand, suddenly seeing it with new weight.
"And anti-tenzen?" he asked.
Van's tone darkened, low and steady. "It's the other side of the coin. It's not evil—it's void. Absence. But don't mistake it for nothingness. It feeds on balance, corrupts tenzen, unravels what should be."
He paused.
"That's why demons like Aidra are feared. They don't just break the rules—they undo them. Aidra carries anti-tenzen like it's stitched into his soul. And you…" Van's voice tightened. "You've got that thing in you. And yet, you're still here."
Code blinked, stunned.
"So I'm… both?"
Van nodded. "Which means you're standing on a blade's edge. You're not supposed to exist. And if you don't learn how to walk that line…" He let the words hang in the air like smoke.
Code gulped, he knew what Van's silence meant.
"Okay," he finally said, swallowing hard. "So what now?"
Van looked him straight in the eyes. "Your training to awaken your tenzen affinity will be very tough. So, do you really want to do this?"
Code didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Van gave a slow nod. "Then we train."
***
TBC