"Oh true son of Adam...you think your deeds go unnoticed. But we see everything yet we do not interfere, it's not our place to interfere. Do you think your choices are truly worth it? If you fail the very next time...countless worlds would cease to exist because of a choice you made....You will perish and so will everyone else you valued so much. True son of Adam...."
"...countless worlds… cease to exist…"
splash.
Ice-cold water hit his face and chest, shocking him upright with a strangled gasp.
"Wha—!?" Mark flailed, blinking through the freezing droplets as water dripped from his hair and chin. "WHAT THE HELL!?"
Across the room, Samael stood with an empty metal bucket in hand, completely unamused. "Good," he said flatly. "You're awake."
Mark shivered, his soaked shirt clinging to him. "You could've just— I don't know—shaken me? Like a normal person?!"
Samael arched an eyebrow. "You were mumbling about 'countless worlds ceasing to exist.' Sounded a little beyond a normal dream to me."
Mark blinked, trying to collect himself. The echo of that otherworldly voice still rang in his head, faint but chilling. "I… yeah. It felt real," he muttered. "Like someone was… talking to me. Not at me."
Samael set the bucket down with a clang. "Describe it."
Mark hesitated. "It called me 'the true son of Adam.' Said my choices… could destroy worlds if I failed again."
For a moment, Samael said nothing. His expression hardened — not in anger, but in deep, calculating thought.
"So she's still reaching out to you" he said quietly.
"'She'?" Mark asked, confused.
"The Abyssal Knight." Samael's tone dropped lower, his gaze distant. "That voice you heard wasn't a dream. It was probably her. And that phrase — son of Adam — it means she hasn't finished whatever she started."
Mark ran a hand through his drenched hair. "Fantastic. So I'm haunted by a psycho space demon and apparently responsible for wiping out the universe. Great start to the day."
Samael smirked. "Then it's good I woke you. You're needed in one piece."
"Could've done it with a tap on the shoulder", Mark muttered under his breath.
Samael turned, heading for the door. "Next time you talk about ending worlds in your sleep," he said over his shoulder laughing, "I'll use a whole barrel."
Mark groaned, wringing water from his shirt. "You're a monster."
Samael paused at the doorway, glancing back with a faint, knowing grin. "Better me than the ones waiting for you outside, hehehe"
"Meet me at the Zen Room in ten minutes," Samael called out as he walked away, his voice echoing down the hall.
The door slammed shut behind him before Mark could even ask what that meant.
"Zen Room?" Mark muttered, still dripping. "He couldn't have said… like, the cafeteria instead?"
He sighed and grabbed a towel off the chair, wiping his face and hair dry. His mind, however, refused to stay quiet. True son of Adam.
The words rolled around his head, heavy and strange. They didn't sound like flattery. They sounded like a sentence—something cosmic and binding, as if the voice had peeled it straight from his soul.
He looked at his reflection in the window: tired eyes, ruffled hair, still just… him. If that's what I am, he thought, then what does that make everyone else?
Mark exhaled, throwing the towel onto the bed. He changed quickly—black jacket, white undershirt, jeans still a bit damp but good enough—and stepped out into the corridor. The academy was eerily quiet this morning, the stone halls glowing with the morning's first light filtering through tall windows.
He followed the long hallway down past the training courts and library until the scent of incense met him. Faint, woody, calming—unlike the tension still clinging to him.
The Zen Room lay beyond a sliding wooden door etched with faint sigils. He pushed it open carefully.
Inside, the light was soft and golden, diffused through paper windows. Many circle of strange markings was drawn neatly on the polished floor, and the faint echo of a running fountain whispered from somewhere behind the walls.
Alden and Selena sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, deep in meditation. In front of them was a candle lit by azure flames. Behind them stood an old man holding a wooden sword, motionless but sharp-eyed, like a statue that might come alive at any second.
"Today you will learn something important Mark", Samael said, while bringing a small candle in his hand, "Channeling your aether to your body".
He snapped his fingers.
A blue flame ignited instantly, calm yet otherworldly.
"This," Samael said, holding it steady, "is a Soul Candle. It can only be lit with Aether—the essence of your soul. The markings on the floor will amplify your output. Your task today is simple…" He handed the candle to Mark. "Light it. If you can do more than that, consider it a miracle."
Mark frowned slightly. "So I just… light it?"
Samael smirked. "If it were that easy, you'd be already be a knight."
As he spoke, a flicker caught his eye—Alden's candle flame wavered.
Before he could react, the old man behind them smacked Alden's head with the wooden sword.
"OW!OW!OW!" Alden cried, clutching his head.
Mark blinked. "Did he just—"
Another smack!
Selena jerked back, snarling, "QUIT IT, YOU OLD WORM!"
Alden burst out laughing, even as he rubbed his head. "Guess you're not the teacher's favorite either, huh?"
Samael chuckled. "Don't waste your breath," he said, still smiling. "He's a puppet—animated through my Aether. Yelling at him won't do a thing."
Selena glared. "Then tell him to stop!"
Samael tilted his head, pretending to think. "No."
Alden snorted. "Character building, right?"
Whack!
"GAH—WHY AGAIN?!"
That did it—Mark broke into laughter, barely able to breathe. The tension in the room shattered instantly, replaced by a strange, chaotic comfort.
Samael let him laugh for a moment, then his tone shifted back to calm command. "Alright. Focus inward. Feel your soul respond to the flame, not your thoughts."
Mark wiped his eyes, still smiling faintly, then looked down at the unlit candle in front of him. The smoke from the wick reflected in his eyes.
He took a slow breath. Time to find out what his soul could really do.
Mark sat cross-legged, his eyes fixed on the unlit candle before him. The faint scent of wax and smoke filled the air. He exhaled slowly, reaching inward like Samael taught him—searching for that strange pulse that wasn't quite his heartbeat.
Hours passed. Nothing.
He focused harder. The world around him dimmed, the thoughts fading into silence. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed, hoping something—anything—to happen.
Then, a flicker.
Tiny blue sparks danced at the edge of the wick, faint and fleeting, before dying out again.
Mark opened his eyes. The candle sat there, unchanged. No flame. No glow. Just a dull reminder that he'd failed.
His shoulders slumped. "Guess I'm not built for this," he muttered under his breath.
Samael, still standing near the table, shook his head lightly. "Don't measure your worth by a spark, Mark. Lighting that candle isn't easy"
Mark looked up, frustration flickering in his eyes. "Then how do you do it? I felt it—just for a second—but it's like it slips away."
Samael's expression softened, though his voice carried quiet weight. "That's because it responds to soul and desire. Most people only discover their resonance or their true desire when faced with something desperate. When the mind stops thinking, and the soul starts screaming."
Mark frowned. "Desperate… like what?"
Samael met his gaze. "Like near-death. When it's do or die."
The air seemed to shift after those words—heavy, sharp. Samael suddenly turned his head toward the door, his eyes narrowing. The faint blue flames of the candles flickered once, reacting to something unseen.
He could feel it—two strong signatures outside the academy walls, radiating with powerful Aether.
The door opened. Caris stepped in, slightly nervous. "Master Lucerne," he said quickly, "there are two men from the government requesting to see you."
Samael didn't move at first. He just stared toward the distant courtyard, as if he already knew. Then, with a quiet sigh, he straightened his coat.
"I'm aware," he said. "Their Aether gave them away long before they arrived."
Caris hesitated. "Should I alert the council—?"
"No." Samael's tone was firm. "I'll handle this myself."
He turned toward his three students, his gaze steady but with a smile on his face. "Continue your training. Don't let distractions break your focus."
Without another word, Samael slid open the door and stepped out into the corridor. His footsteps echoed through the hall, calm and deliberate, even as the pressure of the incoming presence grew heavier.
When he reached the academy's front gates, the two men were already waiting.
Both in dark military uniforms lined with silver—insignias of Guardian Knights gleaming faintly under the afternoon light. Their eyes followed Samael's every move, unreadable and cold.
Samael stopped a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was calm, but it carried an edge.
"I assume you're not here for a friendly visit."
The taller of the two smiled faintly, though his eyes showed a strange hunger. "Master Samael Lucerne," he said, tone laced with mock respect. "I'm Drake Nightfall and this is my brother Kaelen. By order of Belvaria's Central Command, you are to come with us for questioning regarding the deaths of three Grade-3 government knights."
The second man's hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, his aura faintly flaring with Aether.
"The tragedy of those knights," Samael began calmly, "had nothing to do with me." His tone carried neither fear nor guilt—only a weary certainty. "An Abyssal Knight appeared on-site. One capable of stopping time I believe."
Drake tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Convenient story."
"It's the truth," Samael said evenly. "And if your investigators did their job, you'd already know the necra levels there weren't from any human being. Only an Abyssal entity leaves a trace that dense."
Kaelen shifted slightly, his hand tightening around the hilt. The faint hum of aether began to build in the air. "Are you resisting?" he asked, voice calm but edged with threat.
Samael's gaze flicked to the side, just briefly—to where Caris stood near the entrance. The faintest movement of his fingers, a silent signal: Prepare the circle.
"I don't want a fight," Samael said, stepping forward slightly, his voice steady but hardening. "I've said all there is to say. I was there to teach my students. Nothing more."
Drake scoffed. "Your words don't absolve you, Lucerne. Even apart from the knights' deaths—you broke the law."
Samael's eyes sharpened. "Oh?"
"The boy with you," he continued coldly. "He's a new Resonant. You know the rule. No academy is permitted to enroll an unregistered Resonant. All new cases are to be transferred to government custody."
He smiled faintly, like a predator scenting blood. "By taking him under your wing, you defied Central Command. You broke the law, Samael."
Samael's expression didn't change, but the Aether around him began to ripple, faint and deep."Then perhaps," he said quietly, "the law itself needs questioning."
That was enough.
Kaelen vanished from sight—then reappeared in front of Samael, his blade cutting through the air with blinding speed. The ground cracked under the force of his step.
Samael's hand moved reflexively, summoning a longsword from raw Aether. Metal met metal with a sharp clang, a burst of blue light flashing between them as both forces collided.
The duo had already closed in. Drake's gauntlet glowing with condensed Aether as he swung a brutal strike aimed for Samael's ribs.
"Now!!" Samael shouted, eyes wide.
Before the impact could land, a surge of light erupted beneath their feet as Caris thrust both hands forward, the teleportation circle flaring violently. The spell swallowed the three men whole—Samael, the two knights, and himself—in an instant of deafening silence.
The next moment, the place was empty.
They reappeared miles away—in the middle of a dense forest, the ground damp with mist and the trees whispering in the wind.
The sudden pressure of displacement made the earth tremble. Each of them staggered slightly from the shift.
Caris collapsed to one knee, gasping for air, sweat dripping from his chin. His breathing came out ragged. "Hah… I—didn't think I could… pull that off."
Samael placed a hand on his shoulder, eyes still fixed on the two knights now steadying themselves across the clearing. His tone was low, calm, but razor-sharp.
"You did well, Caris," he said. "But you should get back far away as possible now."
Caris nods and vanishes from sight in an instant, reappearing far away.
Wind surged as the three men unleashed their full strength—three towering pillars of energy that ripped through the heavens, clearing the sky of every cloud.
"Let's begin, shall we?" Samael asked while summoning 2 katanas.
No more crowds.
No witnesses.
Just the quiet forest—and three men whose power could erase it in seconds.
"SHOW US WHAT THE ANGEL IS CAPABLE OF!" the duo barked, dropping into stance—every muscle coiled, every breath measured.
The forest fell silent. Not a whisper of wind, not a chirp of life. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
A single leaf drifted down between them.
It touched the earth.
In that instant, the world exploded into motion—three blurs tearing through the trees. Kaelen's blade met Samael's katana in a flash of steel, the clash ringing like thunder. Drake flashed, came in bare-fisted, and Samael twisted, catching the strike with the flat of his other blade.
The impact erupted like a lightning storm—arcs of raw energy crackling through the air, tearing across the forest in blinding flashes. Trees shattered. The ground cracked. For a heartbeat, the whole forest burned white.
When the dust began to settle, only the sound of crackling energy remained. Samael stood unmoving in the haze, his twin blades crossed, eyes burning with calm intensity. Then—he smirked."If that's all you've got…" he said, his voice breaking through the silence, "then you shouldn't have come at my doorstep"