"Do you think it's really okay to just sit here?"
The voice is back. I wake once more in the middle of the burning house — surrounded by cold flames that blaze and yet stand still.
"Sitting around, doing nothing? Are we even allowed to?"
I can't move a finger. Can't blink. Can't breathe. All I can do is listen to that soft, distant tone.
"Maybe… maybe we've let ourselves go a little too much. Just postponed our problem — and then lost sight of…"
She cuts off. That voice — that nostalgic sound — disappears in an instant, leaving only an unbearable silence in its place.
Now truly nothing moves. The whole place feels dead, abandoned — as if it really had been forgotten. Or left behind.
Whatever it was, it's gone now.
Now, only I remain.
No voice. No flicker. Even the noises behind the door have vanished.
It feels like an eternity.
And yet, it must have been only a few seconds before I jolt awake — eyes open, breathing steady — and find myself in my room.
I'm lying in bed, but I'm neither drenched in sweat nor exhausted.
Instead, her words still echo through my head, as if they'd reached something deep inside me.
A few more seconds pass before I finally push the blanket aside and stretch as I climb out of bed.
Then I quietly shuffle across the floor and glance at the clock on my desk — 01:10.
Next, I open one of the three drawers.
It creaks a little as I pull it all the way out, revealing a black key that fits perfectly into the lock of the second drawer.
Once opened, I find a small box with a number pad on its lid.
0603.
I type it in immediately.
Three short beeps — and the lid springs open.
Inside, I peek down into what looks like a pile of trash: crumpled paper, scraps of newspaper, and a USB stick resting on top of the mess.
But this trash heap has value, more than it probably should.
As I reach inside, a few paper bits fall out, and I finally pull out a photograph, rescuing it from the chaos.
"Don't worry," I murmur, tracing my fingers along the image of a blond boy hugging a tree, smiling.
"I haven't lost sight of you," I add softly, crouching to pick up the fallen scraps.
'Raid in District 7', I read silently.
'Participant list stolen', reads the second scrap. I place both back in the box.
Then I crouch a third time.
And read one last note.
"The youngest talent of the Elite! Letta, the new star in the APH sky!"
It's the same name I gave him.
And beneath it — a photo.
A boy in a gray uniform, expressionless, motionless, utterly devoid of emotion.
A boy with the same hair color, the same facial structure even.
And yet… so different.
Like a completely different person.
The moment I see the headline, I flip the photo around in my hand and study the words written on the back.
"Birth: 27.04.2087. Name: Letta. Never forget this. Then one day, you'll find him. Signed—"
The rest is missing — the bottom corner torn off.
But it doesn't matter.
I already have everything I need.
So I pick up the newspaper clipping and put it back into the box.
Then, one last time, I flip the photo over and close the box with a soft smile, locking away the image of the laughing boy.
"I'll find you, little brother."
I shut the drawer, turn the key, tuck it into the third drawer, and stumble back toward my bed.
"One day. I promise."
With those words, I sink into my blanket.
After those words, my eyes can no longer stay open.
And with a faint smile, I drift off to sleep — without another nightmare.
Because for once, I was sure of something.
After all, finding him is my entire purpose in life.
I inhale.
I exhale.
Then open my eyes.
A violet shimmer races from my pupils down to my crossed legs as the aura ignites, wrapping me completely in its glow.
"So? How do you feel?"
I nod slightly as Shato's calm voice reaches my ears.
"Whatever it is you just tried to tell me," he replies, smiling faintly, while I close my eyes again.
Because I'm ready. Mentally prepared.
I know what comes next.
"Alright, then it's my turn now."
At least, that's what I thought.
My eyes snap open instantly, my head darting around the hall until I find him.
His left eye shines with a pure white light — his right eye sinks into the deepest black I've ever seen.
He jumps up from the cozy couch and stops right in front of me.
"Huh? Aren't I supposed to…?" I ask, confused.
But Shato shakes his head.
"We're moving to the next step. That's why it's my turn now. But first—"
He pauses, closes his eyes, breathes in — and out.
As if following some secret ritual, a new aura flares up around him.
Black and white intertwine, burning softly against each other.
They coexist in perfect calm — transparent like my violet veil, yet somehow different.
Somehow balanced.
As if they truly embodied equilibrium itself.
"Let me show you something."
In an instant, his pupils flare.
A flicker runs through his aura, the shimmering veil quivers.
Within the same breath, the corners of his mouth drop.
And then, suddenly, the aura expands — violently, explosively, without warning.
Before I can even blink.
Before I can understand.
The shockwave hits me like a wall. My body is dragged with it; I stumble, lift off the ground, nearly fall — then just barely manage to plant my foot back down.
By a hair's breadth.
A single heartbeat before the immense pressure could have swept me away.
I try to breathe — but my lungs feel like they're being crushed under tons of weight.
I try to lift my arms — but it's as if tree trunks are strapped to them, impossible to move.
I try to push forward — but it's useless.
My aura trembles and flickers, on the verge of fading entirely beneath the roaring surge that floods the room.
Yet… there's nothing there.
He didn't do anything.
Nothing but expand his aura. Surround me with it.
And still — I'm caught in a raging current.
I can't close my eyes.
Can't draw another breath.
Can't even stay upright.
I'm lifted.
I let go.
I fall—
And then, suddenly, I don't.
The pressure vanishes.
Gone in an instant — as if it had never existed.
I lurch forward, gasping for air, lungs burning, then lift my gaze.
Shato stands calmly before me, his aura retracted once more, gently circling his body like a quiet tide.
"What…?"
"What that was?" he finishes my question for me.
"Simple," he says, raising a finger.
"The same thing you're doing. Just—an aura."
His explanation doesn't satisfy me. My raised brows say as much.
"Didn't get it?" he asks, scratching his forehead.
"You didn't even do anything," I shoot back, trying to steady my breathing as my own aura flickers to life again.
"Then think of it as a goal," Shato replies easily.
"That's where you'll get to someday. For now—it's your turn."
He smiles, which only frustrates me more.
More questions. No answers.
"That doesn't make any sense," I mutter.
"Why not?" he asks, opening his palms. Small spheres begin to form at his fingertips.
"Because you didn't explain anything," I snap, avoiding his gaze.
My eyes are fixed instead on the tiny orbs — black and white, no larger than marbles.
"Then don't worry about it for now," Shato says calmly, as the orbs drift away from his fingers and start to dissolve into the transparent veil around him.
"You'll get there too, eventually."
Like the stars in a night sky.
"But at least give it a name or something…," I try again, but Shato just shakes his head.
"Ah… fine, whatever."
I give up — though I don't look away, because the countless little spheres suddenly drift out of his aura, floating gently through the air like soap bubbles that don't pop, but slowly fade away instead. Until not a single one remains.
"At least tell me what that was," I ask.
"Gladly," he replies. "But not now. Because, as I said — it's your turn."
"My turn for what?"
"Do you remember the first day?"
I shake my head.
"Uh… wait, so…"
Shato pauses, exhales, and shakes his head again.
"But you do remember how you tried to show off? When you had to demonstrate your aura to us?"
I think for a moment, stroke my chin — and then it hits me.
Before another word is exchanged, I drop into a cross-legged position and cup my hands together to form a ball.
"There we go," sighs Shato, as I slowly pull my palms apart.
Once again, a faint violet glow gathers between them, until a small sphere forms at my fingertips.
But this time something's different.
The sphere grows — larger and larger — until it's the size of my fist. At the same time, my violet aura flares up, brighter, stronger, higher than before.
And then, suddenly, more spheres begin to appear within it.
Five, six, seven—
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen—
More and more. I can't believe it. They multiply like tiny lights, filling my aura, doubling again and again—
Until there are too many.
Until a sharp pain shoots through my body.
Until a searing ache cuts through my wide grin.
And then my aura surges—
Only to collapse in an instant, fading completely as I crumble to the ground.
Breathing heavily. Trembling.
"Ah… I told you not to overdo it…"
Shato stops mid-sentence, leaning over my motionless body.
Because I'm smiling.
Grinning, as wide as I possibly can — eyes gleaming with light.
"You really are something special," Shato murmurs, extending his hand to me.
I take it, rise to my feet, and stare down at my palms — prouder than a child who's finally conquered their fear of climbing.
"Shato," I whisper softly.
"Hm?"
"Did you…"
I pause, before my radiant eyes lift toward him once more.
"Did you see that?!"
I still can't believe it — my voice shoots up an octave in pure excitement.
"Pah… ahahaha," Shato laughs in response.
"Time for the next step, you natural talent."
I clench my fists, trying to calm my grin, but not the glow in my eyes. Because right now, I couldn't be happier.
"Daclan mentioned physical and non-physical. You know what he meant by that?" Shato asks.
"Huh? Of course! He means that thing I do to block the cops' bullets," I explain bluntly.
"Uh… yeah, that's one way to put it," Shato replies, trying to make sense of it.
"But anyway—try it now."
"Try what, exactly?" I ask.
"I'm going to hit you, and you're going to block. Got it?"
"Wait, wha—"
Shato strikes before I can finish. Instinctively, my eyes flash, and my aura flares up almost at the same time. But this time, it's barely transparent — not a flicker of light seeps through it. Even Shato's bare fist stops dead against it, like slamming into a wall of solid concrete that surrounds and conceals me.
"Very good," Shato praises, shaking out his hand.
"But…" he adds, as the opaque barrier begins to fade, returning to its usual translucent form,
"…not enough."
"Huh? What do you mean not enough? I stopped your punch, didn't I? That's plenty," I protest.
"We're doing it again," Shato says calmly. "This time, try not to make your aura so dense."
Before I can reply, he swings again. And again, my aura bursts to life, again, the violet thickens and no light passes through it. As his punch stops dead. And he shakes his hand out slowly.
I let go of the focus a little. My aura thins, turns lighter — and that's when Shato suddenly strikes again.
I flinch, tense up—
But still, his fist halts right against my barrier.
"That's it!" Shato shouts, pulling his arm back once more.
"Now keep doing that over and over."
He hits.
Once. Twice. Five times.
Again and again.
At first, I don't understand. I don't move. I don't even dare to open my mouth.
Until after the tenth punch, when he pauses.
A pause I take to ease up, letting the violet hue fade until my aura turns nearly invisible — just as Shato's next punch stops only millimeters from my face.
I don't breathe. Don't move. Don't even tremble.
I stand there, frozen — as if time itself had stopped, while my translucent aura wraps gently around Shato's long arm.
"Aaand…" Shato draws back suddenly — both words and fist.
"Again!"
He swings.
My eyes flash.
The aura thickens.
The barrier forms.
He draws back, strikes again — I don't change a thing, yet somehow, I understand.
As he pulls back once more, I take a deep breath — and again, his fist slams into the barrier.
Only for him to ready another strike.
I exhale. Loosen my body. Relax.
And my aura begins to fade in color once more.
Shato's punch meets my violet barrier; I steady my breath — in, then out — and again, his fist stops just short of my face.
But this time, I open my eyes.
And my mouth.
And my mind.
And I speak.
"Again."
Shato smiles.
"With pleasure."
Another punch — another flare of violet.
I exhale.
His fist halts before my face once more.
I focus. One last time, Shato winds up.
And strikes. And strikes. And strikes again.
And I block. I block again.
He stops inches from my face, swings again — and again.
And I block.
And finally — I block perfectly.
My aura burns bright; violet light shimmers through it, but not so much that it blinds me.
Because I can still see Shato's smile.
And the fingers of his other hand raised in the air.
"Two!" I call out instinctively.
Shato pulls his fist back slowly.
"Correct!" he replies.
"At least tell me what that was about," I ask, easing my aura — it nearly fades away completely.
"You already figured it out," says Shato.
But this time, I just smile instead of complaining.
Because he might be the worst teacher on the planet —
and yet, he's right.
"So I made it too dense before, wasting way too much energy," I reason aloud.
"Sixty-five percent!" Shato cuts in, holding up all ten fingers.
"That's about what it was the first time. By the last strike, you were down to thirty-five."
I scratch the back of my head, grinning awkwardly.
"Uhh, yeah, wherever those percentages came from…"
"Don't worry about it. Just for visualization," he says casually.
Definitely not visualization — or at least, a terrible one.
"Anyway. You get the idea now?"
I nod, hesitantly, clenching my fists and focusing on his hands.
"Good, then—" he starts.
But before he even finishes the sentence, he's already moving.
Another flash — my aura ignites, the barrier reappears, and, just like before, his fist stops cold.
But my eyes aren't on the attack this time.
They're locked on his fingers.
On his barely visible fingers.
"Uh… three?" I guess as Shato winds up and throws another punch.
"Close — four!"
I try to relax, but flinch instead, and my barrier thickens again.
"Five!" I call out anyway, since I can't see past the violet glow anymore.
"Almost! Four!" Shato's voice calls back as he withdraws his fist.
At least, I think he does — the pressure fades from the spot, after all.
Every hit feels real. It's like the aura is an extension of my skin — part of me.
But that doesn't matter right now, because thinking about it distracts me —
and before I know it, his fist slams into the barrier again.
"Four!" I shout, guessing again, since I can't see a thing.
"Ha! Nice try — zero!" Shato laughs, pulling his arm back once more.
I exhale.
"Three!"
"Close! One!"
I relax.
"Two!"
"Not quite — one!"
I inhale, my aura thickening again.
"One!" I yell.
"Wrong — two!" Shato fires back, withdrawing his fist.
I let go.
Completely.
Every muscle, every twitch, even my thoughts — all loosened.
Well, almost all.
My aura dims, losing most of its glow.
The punch lands. My barrier holds.
And I open my eyes.
"Zero!" I shout, not taking my gaze off his closed fist.
"Wrong — four!" Shato replies.
"What?"
My voice echoes through the hall in disbelief.
"Stop cheating!" I bark back.
"Your fist is definitely closed."
I'm fuming — he's breaking his own rules — and yet, he just smiles.
"There we go," he says, laughing, pulling his hand away.
"Now we move on to the next step."
"I did it then?!" I blurt out, my barrier immediately tightening in excitement.
"Well… you could say that," Shato replies, shaking out both hands.
"Yes!" I cheer inwardly and let my aura settle again, until the barrier turns transparent.
Almost invisible.
"Alright, now that you've got the feeling down," he begins, moving straight into the next part.
"Try doing the same thing — but with the orbs."
"Why though?" I shoot back immediately.
"You wanted to know how I could send mine flying through the air, didn't you?"
I nod.
"Well, that's exactly why. Try condensing your orbs the same way you do with your fancy blades."
A grin spreads across my face as my hands flare up in violet light, wrapping around both of my favorite weapons.
"Exactly," Shato continues. "Only this time, separate them from your body. Once you can condense them that much, you'll be able to use them outside your barrier."
I'm ready to start right away — eyes closing, focus narrowing — when he interrupts one last time.
"Ah, wait. Let me show you again."
At his words, his even, white aura flickers to life, and a paper airplane takes shape in his right hand. A paper airplane — made not of paper, but of the same glowing shimmer as his aura.
Before I can even think to applaud, he flicks it forward. The tiny construct glides just above the floor, steady and smooth, until it reaches the wall beside the entrance — where it pierces straight into it with a dull thunk.
But the spectacle doesn't impress me for long. My eyes have already caught the crimson knuckles and scraped skin of his hand — the one that just moments ago was clenched in a fist.
"Something like that!" Shato says a little too loudly, shoving the same hand deep into his coat pocket, as if he's embarrassed.
But I know he's just doing it for my sake. Which means I can't let that effort go to waste.
So I start forming my own violet spheres within the haze of my aura.
Shato smiles when he sees the determination in my eyes, glowing brighter then ever, but suddenly turning away.
"Where are you going?" I ask, as a fifth orb begins to form.
"We're done for today," he replies quickly, already reaching for the door.
"Already? But we haven't even—" I stop myself as the image of his injured hand flashes through my mind.
"Yup. That's enough. Tomorrow's going to be special."
I tilt my head, confused. He hadn't mentioned any new festival or ceremony.
Though, to be fair, that's probably my fault — expecting a celebration every time he says something's special.
"Tomorrow's your final test!" Shato announces, raising his voice.
"Final… test?" I repeat, bewildered.
He glances back at me one last time, grinning wide.
"You've got the rest of the day to come up with a strategy to beat me."
And with that, he leaves me — just like that — no further explanation, though none is really needed.
It's simple: Final test.Fight.
Those were the words that lit the spark.
The words that made my lips tremble.
My fists tighten.
As the sound of the closing door still echoes through the hall, I notice the paper airplane in the wall has vanished and in its place, a violet blade now juts out.
Meters away from my shaking hands.
Meters away from my grin.
Yet as close as the rush of anticipation pulsing through my veins.
Because that right there — that was a challenge.