Even after everything we faced, our search for answers barely advanced.Every lead about the recent anomalies ended in silence — or blood.The Kokuhan we captured refused to speak. He looked at us once, a twisted grin stretching across his bruised face, and then bit through the small capsule hidden in his tooth.Within seconds, his eyes went hollow.
His team followed soon after. Each of them collapsed at the exact same moment, like puppets whose strings had been cut.
Mei said it resembled a Servant–Master pact — a spiritual contract that links one's life to another's.It can grant incredible power, but the cost is always irreversible.Few ever speak about how those bonds are formed, and fewer still understand what they truly sacrifice.Sometimes, not even the one who accepts the deal knows what they've given away.
That thought stayed with me.Kokuhans… they never bring good memories.They're like rot that never fades — selfish, cruel, drunk on the illusion of control.But to have survived a battle against one of them… maybe that means something.Maybe I really am evolving.
Even so, my goal remains distant — a flicker on the horizon that keeps pulling me forward.And yet, I trust that I'll reach it.
Mei said she'd take us back home. She had to deal with bureaucratic affairs — endless reports, official meetings, the dull machinery of politics.She always said she hated that part of her job — "paper chains," she called them — just like she hated the system that forced her to play along.But even within those rules, she helped people in her own way.She never abandoned what she believed in.
That's one of the many reasons I admire her.
— Take care and rest, my dear students — she said, smiling softly, though I could see the exhaustion in her golden eyes. — I'll be back soon… and when I do, expect surprises.
The faint smell of smoke followed her as she walked away — her aura always carried a warmth that lingered even after she was gone.
When we got home, the silence hit me first — that rare kind of silence that feels like peace rather than emptiness.Then came Stella's scream:
— Oh my GOD, THELFOS! I missed you so much!
She nearly tackled the cat as soon as the door opened.Thelfos — our fat, lazy, jet-black cat — didn't even flinch.He just blinked slowly, meowed once, and rubbed against her leg like a king allowing affection.
— Look at that, Thelfos… you've already learned how to give a proper welcome — Dan said with a faint smile, crossing his arms. His voice was calm, but his tone carried that quiet amusement only he could pull off.
Thelfos purred, curling around Stella's arms like a spoiled child. His eyes gleamed blue under the soft light of the living room.He was more than a pet — he was… presence. Warm, alive, grounding.
— Come in already. I'm starving! — I said, throwing my bag onto the couch.
— Should we order food or cook something? — Stella asked, still halfway buried in cat fur.
— Something with meat — Dan murmured, half-serious.
— Anything works for me — I laughed. — As long as it's edible, I'll be happy.
We ended up choosing the restaurant next door. The smell of grilled food leaked from the open window, already deciding for us.Our home wasn't large, but it was perfect — lived-in, warm, and filled with the kind of quiet that only comes when you're with people you trust.
I never had an easy family.But with Dan and Stella… and Mei… it felt different.It felt right.
The place had just enough: a small living room, a kitchen that always smelled faintly of coffee, three bedrooms, and a modest underground training area.But what made it whole wasn't the space — it was us.
— Tekio! You're taking forever! — Stella's voice echoed from the door.
— I'm coming! — I answered, struggling to pick between two shirts that looked exactly the same.
— You stress more about shirts than about battles — Dan teased from behind his book.
— At least I win both — I smirked.
He just chuckled.
Moments later, we were out.
— All right, everyone — Stella said, raising her hand like a commander. — Our feast awaits!
The next morning, the house felt weightless.I woke up late — the clock showed 9:07 a.m.The sunlight leaked through the blinds in thin golden lines that cut across the floor. Dust floated through the light like lazy fireflies.
Stella was probably training already — she could never stay still.Dan, on the other hand, was likely reading in the garden, where the breeze carried the smell of pine and dew.
I stretched, muscles cracking softly. My body still remembered the fight — the sharp turns, the burns, the rush.Even my hands trembled slightly when I flexed them.
Mei had ordered rest. No intense training today, she said.So I kept it light — stretches, breathing, short meditation.
My body needed recovery.But more than that, my mind did too.
After showering, I stood in front of the mirror.The reflection looked… steadier than I remembered.Some wounds were fading, others still raw, but the face that stared back no longer felt like a stranger's.
The mark on my back — the one I once called a curse — didn't burn today.Maybe that was a good sign.
I brewed coffee, the smell filling the kitchen.Turned on the TV — just static and headlines.
Another tragedy.A man had attacked people with a knife in a public square. No signs of spiritual energy — just human madness.
I sighed.Not all monsters are born from darkness.Some just live among us, breaking silently, unseen.And we… we can't always help them.Our hands are tied by the system, allowed only to act against spiritual threats.
Still, I believe in what we do.We protect the balance — stop the darkness before it swallows everything.
Later, I sat cross-legged in the small meditation room.The air was cool, quiet — the hum of my own breath echoing faintly.
Controlling one's spiritual current is essential.The more stable the flow, the sharper the body and mind become.
I don't have an element.No fire, no water, no wind or earth.Some people call that a defect — others, a blessing.
For me, it's just reality.
I rely on discipline.On control.On everything Mei, Aisha, and the others taught me.
I don't need an element to fight for what matters.
— Meow.
— Hey, Thelfos. You want breakfast too?
— Meow.
— All right, little king. Let's see what we've got.
He followed me to the kitchen, tail swaying like a metronome.Feeding him became a ritual — one I secretly enjoyed.He'd always sit and wait, as if meditating, then purr with satisfaction the moment the bowl touched the floor.
I smiled.He made the silence feel alive.
Dan passed by soon after, book in hand.He gave a small nod — his way of saying good morning.
— Check-up went fine? — I asked.
He stopped, hesitated.
— Yeah. The doctor says my current's stabilizing. Slowly, but… better than before.
I nodded. He smiled faintly — that quiet, unreadable smile that never quite reached his eyes.There's something heavy in him, something he carries in silence.Maybe one day I'll understand what it is.
By afternoon, Stella came back — her voice echoing even before the door opened.
— THELFOS! Where's my baby?!
He sprinted toward her instantly, tail high like a flag.Her laughter filled the whole house — loud, sincere, contagious.
That's Stella — a force of nature wrapped in warmth and lightning.Her hair caught the sunset light, glowing like fire as she hugged the cat.Even when exhausted, her energy never fades.
— You trained again, didn't you? — I asked, pretending to sound disapproving.
— Of course! You think a legend takes a day off? — she winked.
Dan shook his head, amused.
That's how it always was with us — chaos, peace, and laughter somehow coexisting under the same roof.
As night fell, I cooked.Simple meal — rice, vegetables, a bit of chicken.But it felt right.
— All right, everyone. I gave it my best — Tekio's Special, version one-point-something.
— Smells amazing! — Stella cheered.
— Agreed — Dan said quietly, pulling a chair.
We sat down together.
And for a moment, I looked at them — Stella laughing with her mouth full, Dan watching silently, Thelfos sleeping on the counter — and something in my chest warmed.
This was family.Not by blood, but by choice.And I'd do anything to protect it.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring.But I know that moments like this —these fragile, ordinary, golden moments —are worth every battle, every scar, every breath.
And that's enough reason to keep fighting.
To be continued...