With every kilometer we left behind, I felt further away from everything I had ever known.
Outside, the city blurred past the windows — gray, monumental, silent.
Inside, there was no sound except the low hum of the engine and the faint buzz of the surveillance tech that tracked my every breath.
I could feel the cold bite of the inhibitor band on my wrist — a constant reminder that I still wasn’t allowed to let my rancor spill.
I couldn’t risk losing control again. Not here.
The commander sat beside me. Rigid.
He didn’t speak, but I knew he knew everything — the explosion that erased two kilometers of land, the soldiers, the silence… and the fear that had paralyzed me ever since.
He didn’t look at me with hatred. But his gaze was sharp, like he was measuring what was left of me.
And still, I couldn’t fail him.
Even if he didn’t expect me to trust anyone.
Not even myself.
A few days ago, when it all happened, he knelt in front of me.
He spoke with a voice so calm it felt unreal — like something soft trying to survive inside a man built for war.
He spoke to me like I was still human.
And in that moment, something inside me flickered.
Something that looked like hope.
“Lyssandra,” he finally said, not turning his head.
“This isn’t punishment. It’s your chance.
Here, you’ll learn to control the rancor that’s consuming you—before it destroys you, and everyone around you.”
I wanted to answer.
Tell him I didn’t know if I could.
That I was afraid of what I might become.
But his words left no room for breath.
The vehicle stopped in front of the academy’s main gate.
Its towering fa?ade was cold, severe — a warning of what awaited inside.
As the door opened with a soft metallic hiss, a chill ran down my spine.
I stepped out with slow, uncertain movements.
My heart pounded against my ribs, torn between fear and something far more fragile: the tiny hope that maybe—just maybe—I could learn to tame the fire inside me before it consumed everything I had left.
Then the door closed behind me.
And just as I was about to walk forward without looking back…
His voice stopped me.
“Lyssandra,” he said again, firm but not unkind.
“This is just the first step.
I know it’s terrifying.
But this is your chance.
Here, you’ll learn to take what you are—
and make it your strength.”
His words —harsh, but honest— gave me a moment to breathe.
I took a deep breath, clenched my fist with the inhibitor bracelet still on my wrist, and walked toward the main entrance.
The building loomed tall and imposing, but inside, the atmosphere felt almost deserted.
The wide, cold hallways were eerily quiet. I knew this wasn’t an ordinary place.
This was a sanctuary for the goddesses — a space reserved for those who could control power, and for the few authorized to serve them.
A soldier waited at the end of the hallway. His expression was professional. Distant.
Without a word, he motioned for me to follow.
Every step echoed against the polished floor. My body trembled slightly, but some part of me —small, stubborn— knew this was the beginning of something inevitable.
The commander walked behind me the whole time, his shadow a constant presence.
A silent reminder that I wasn’t alone, even if it felt like this new world could devour me at any moment.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
The room inside was simple, but clean: two beds, two desks, two wardrobes.
In front of one of the beds, I saw small personal items — figurines, neatly folded papers, a piece of clothing draped over a chair. There was also a door in the middle of the wall connecting another pair of beds, somebody else lived here.
I didn’t.
The escort stopped at the threshold.
—This will be your dorm. Shared. Your roommates aren’t here at the moment.
He handed me a small flexible-screen device.
—Map of the facilities. The testing chamber is already marked. You’re expected in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.
I took the device without answering. He was already walking away.
When I sat on the empty bed, I noticed a small metal box resting on the desk.
A label read: “Retained Personal Effects — Classified — Recoverable.”
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a single item: a tarnished ring, blackened in places, as if it had been burned from the inside out.
I picked it up with trembling fingers.
It had no aesthetic value. No jewels. No shine.
But I recognized it immediately.
I had worn it on the day of the incident.
It was my mother’s.
The metal stung —or at least, it felt like it did.
I closed my eyes. My pulse quickened.
The uniform had been neatly folded on the bed, along with polished black boots and a second bracelet — the emergency inhibitor.
No instructions. None needed.
The fabric felt heavy to the touch. Dark, with silver trim.
It had a ceremonial weight to it.
On the right shoulder gleamed the emblem of Seravenn’s Magical Girls: a seven-petaled flower crossed by a spear.
On the left, the insignia of my newly assigned squad: Shadows of the Crown — a black crescent moon on steel-gray fabric.
I began to undress slowly.
It wasn’t modesty. It was… discomfort.
In the mirror of the small adjoining bathroom, I saw what I’d been trying to ignore since the awakening.
My figure had changed — violently, without permission.
The awakening hadn’t just twisted my mind.
It had reshaped my body.
My breasts were large — too large — and stood out even under looser clothing.
My hips and thighs curved in ways that felt alien to me.
The tactical skirt fit unevenly, clinging where it shouldn’t.
I was an adult.
But my body felt like it spoke a language I hadn’t learned.
One that made people stare.
When I raised my arm, I saw it.
A thin scar — subtle, but impossible to ignore — ran vertically from the center of my chest down to my abdomen.
It wasn’t grotesque. But I still avoided looking at it when I could.
I had no idea how I got it.
Only that it appeared after the awakening.
Maybe it was a side effect of my magic.
Or maybe… it was the price of surviving it.
I pulled the inner shirt over my chest, trying to forget how the fabric strained across it.
The buttons of the uniform jacket resisted slightly.
The sleeves, though snug, still allowed for movement.
I fastened the belt. It pressed tight against my waist.
It was functional.
And imposing.
But I didn’t feel either.
I looked at myself one last time in the mirror.
What stared back at me was an image crafted to inspire respect. Or fear. Maybe faith.
And yet…
“This is your perfect chance.”
I remembered the commander’s voice.
I inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower.
Then made sure the squad insignia was straight and visible.
I stepped out of the room.
The hallway outside was empty — clean like an operating room.
The map hovered over my wrist like a small blue flame: Initial Testing Chamber.
The point of no return.
I kept walking.
Each step echoed against the walls as if something invisible waited at the end of the corridor, ready to decide whether I deserved to keep existing.
The corridor was sterile. Dead quiet.
Only the sound of my boots accompanied me, a metronome of nerves.
Then, a metallic click.
A radio panel embedded in the wall —old, but still functional— lit up with static.
The voice that followed crackled through interference, but it was unmistakably military.
I froze.
A part of me wanted to keep going.
Another —more curious, or maybe just more afraid— stayed and listened.
[Transmission – Internal Military Channel, Classification: Aurora-Esk 4]
“Black Tower unit, this is Central Bastion. Confirmed deployment of heavy artillery from the western front.
The squad designated as Umbrae has been deployed to coordinates Sierra-Three-Six-Delta.
They report direct contact with Eiswacht forces.”
“Requesting aerial sweep with siege drones, model R-9.
Tracking signals indicate presence of hostile class Alpha.”
“Active call sign: Lumina Umbrae.
Confirmed operating under celestial mode.
Members: Zero-Twenty-Hope, Zero-Fifteen-Rage, and Zero-Twelve-Malice currently in motion.”
“Confirmed: unit Hope leading the vanguard.
Reported elimination of three enemy squads in six minutes.
No allied casualties.”
“…Transmission closed for security.
Command out.”
The radio gave one last low hum, then died.
The silence returned… but it wasn’t the same.
That transmission —
It was the first time I heard the name Lumina Umbrae.
And the mention of Hope...
That hit different.
A positive emotion?
In the middle of a battlefield?
What if I wasn’t the only one?
I shook my head.
Not the time to think about other goddesses.
So I kept walking.
Initial Testing Hall — Seravenn Academy
The automatic door slid open with a soft whisper as I approached.
Beyond it, a hexagonal chamber revealed itself — high ceilings, inactive monitors hanging from above, and tactile panels lining the walls. At the far end, three figures.
Two of them stood talking quietly.
The third sat in the center — as if the entire room revolved around her.
As I stepped in, all three turned toward me.
Their eyes scanned me from head to toe.
Not with lust… but like one would assess a potential threat, or a newly forged weapon.
The seated figure stood up slowly —
But her movement carried authority.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fragile.
It was calculated. Lethal.
I recognized her by the insignia on her left shoulder: a black moon over a gray background.
The squad commander.
Her presence was exact, sharp as a blade.
Dark gray uniform with crossed straps over the chest, combat gloves, polished boots, and a short cloak bearing the emblem of Seravenn embroidered in black thread.
On her belt, two daggers crossed under the hem.
The collar of her uniform held a brooch shaped like a closed eye — the mark of command in covert operations.
She stopped one meter in front of me.
Her eyes, cold as the steel of the northern territories, showed neither disdain nor warmth.
Only calculation.
—Lyssandra, she said firmly.
—Visual confirmed. Class S activation. Emotion: Rancor.
—Classified as Active but unstable. Is that correct?
I nodded silently.
—Perfect. Welcome to the squad Shadows of the Crown.
—I’m Caelia Vorn, your direct commander and in charge of your stabilization process.
She turned slightly toward the other two.
—These are your immediate companions.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
—Neyra Solvine, magic analyst — the girl with dark hair and sharp eyes gave a restrained nod, like she was holding back a more dramatic gesture.
—And Velka Aurel, advanced logistics and support.
The more relaxed-looking of the two gave a slight head tilt.
Her eyes had a strange softness… almost human. But not quite.
Caelia turned back to me.
—You’ll face calibration tests: emotional, endurance, tactical sync.
—Don’t expect compassion, Lyssandra.
She paused.
—But if you survive this room... you might begin to understand what it truly means to be a goddess in Seravenn.
The pneumatic door sealed behind her with a soft but final hiss.
The air inside the room was tense — a fragile calm before the storm.
The three were already at their stations.
Caelia stood by the console, reviewing something on a holo-panel without lifting her gaze.
Velka sat on the back of a chair, chin resting on her hand, watching me like gravity didn’t apply to her.
Neyra held a folder full of reports — though she wasn’t reading.
She was watching me.
The silence only lasted a few seconds.
—Looks like the uniform wasn’t made to fit — Velka quipped with a sharp grin, breaking the ice.
It didn’t sound cruel. Just... blunt.
—Though I guess there’s no standard pattern for newbies with a two-kilometer crater to their name.
I didn’t answer.
I lowered my gaze for a moment.
The military coat’s stiff hem squeezed at my chest, and the tight fabric around my hips didn’t help.
The Magical Girls’ crest burned on my shoulder like a weight.
—Don’t take it personally — Neyra added softly.
—She’s like this with everyone. It’s how she checks if you’ll bite.
Caelia finally spoke, still not looking up:
—It’s not just that.
She pressed something on the console.
The lights shifted to a colder hue.
—Your emotion is rare, Lyss.
—We’ve never had anyone fueled by Rancor.
—It’s… persistent. It doesn’t fade. It doesn’t redeem.
I looked up, a spark in my eyes I hadn’t shown until now.
—Is that a problem?
Caelia held my gaze.
—Not sure yet.
—But it changes the rules.
—So we’ll see how well you perform under pressure.
Velka hopped off the chair and walked over, stopping one step away from me.
—We’re not here to scare you.
—But if you want to survive with us...
—You need to understand us. And trust.
—She doesn’t need to trust — Caelia interrupted.
—She just needs not to fail.
Silence again. A heavy one.
I gave a single nod.
Neyra walked to the secondary door, which slid open with a sigh.
—Come. I’ll show you the test chamber.
—And you, Velka, try not to mouth off just yet.
—We haven’t even started warm-up.
The doors opened before me with a metallic breath.
The corridor was narrow and spotless — like it led directly into a surgical needle.
Velka walked at my side, just half a step ahead.
She didn’t talk much. But she didn’t seem uncomfortable with the silence, either.
Just… observant.
I was the uncomfortable one.
My mind was stuck on something else.
—Still wondering where you are? —she asked suddenly, not turning to look—
—Or are you already searching for an exit?
—The radio —I said before thinking—
—The one playing in the hall. They mentioned an operation, codes... something about a squad.
Velka tilted her head slightly and gave a grin — one of those expressions I was never sure was mockery or sympathy.
—Ah. Got caught up in military jargon.
—Caelia, want to do the honors?
—Operation Umbral Fog — Caelia replied without stopping, her voice measured and firm.
—Western front. Recon patrols reported movement near an abandoned crater.
—They were storing arcane charges.
—Arcane charges?— I repeated.
—Ammo enhanced with magical cores— Caelia explained.
—Sometimes recovered from bodies… other times, extracted.
Her eyes brushed mine, just for a second.
—We couldn’t allow them to reinforce their lines with that.
I swallowed.
—And which squad did they send?
—Lumina Umbrae. Alpha rank.
Specialists in breach, containment, and cleanup.
They move like a shadow.
What you heard was the contact signal and clearance to eliminate the cache.
They completed it in exactly thirteen minutes.
Velka whistled under her breath.
—You didn’t mention that part.
Caelia only nodded.
—It wasn’t necessary.
But Lyss asked.
I dared take one more step forward.
—Who leads that squad?
This time, the silence grew heavier.
It was Velka who answered — but without her usual teasing tone.
—Reia, the Spark of the Dawn.
They say her magic was born from pure hope.
We’ve never seen her…
But no one doubts what she can do.
Reia.
Hope.
The word burned softly inside me.
The complete opposite of what I was.
Caelia stopped in front of a reinforced gray door.
—Now it’s your turn,— she said.
—Not to compare yourself to them. Or anyone.
Just to prove you can walk this field... without turning it to ash.
The door opened.
The testing chamber was circular, marked with glowing containment runes etched into the floor.
In the center, a polished metal platform.
The lights were cold — almost surgical.
I felt a light touch on my shoulder.
Velka.
—Don’t think about Reia. Or what you did— she said.
—Just breathe.
And if everything explodes… —she gave me a mischievous smile
Make sure it does with style.
I smiled.
For the first time since I had arrived.
Brief. A tiny crack.
And I stepped inside.
Meanwhile, in the heart of the Palace of Laments — Seravenn’s capital…
Light filtered through the stained glass windows, dyeing the war chamber’s stone floor in hues of blood and violet.
The air was solemn.
At the center, seated on a throne of obsidian that looked forged more than built, the Queen of Seravenn sat straight-backed, her face veiled by shadow.
She wore her ceremonial armor:
Black as midnight, angular plates inscribed with ancient runes.
Ornamental spikes jutted from her shoulders and forearms — symbols of power and her constant readiness for war.
Her crown, integrated into the helmet, rose like a headdress of obsidian thorns.
A reminder to all that the queen didn’t just rule.
She fought.
On her chest, the emblem of Seravenn gleamed:
A burning rose wrapped in seven stylized veils.
A whisper moved through the room as one of the Crown’s Daughters, Princess Altheara, stepped forward with a firm gesture, offering the report.
Her uniform was less aggressive but still spoke of rank:
A fitted tunic with metallic trims, her family crest embroidered in crimson thread.
Unlike her mother, Altheara carried a carefully kind presence —
A mask that hid the strategic engine behind her mind.
—The protocol was improvised on-site,— she said.
—No one expected an activation with that level of devastation.—
Her voice was clear, though soft —
The kind of voice used by those who never needed to raise it to be heard.
The Queen flipped through the report without haste.
The name on the first page glowed with enchanted ink.
Lyssandra Velcrux.
A tense silence fell as the monarch read:
The emotional detonation.
The scorched terrain.
The failed containment.
The emergency activation of the suppression band.
Even the pages themselves seemed to groan under the weight of it all.
—The first of her kind…— the Queen murmured, barely audible.
—Awakened by rancor.
A pure emotion. Volatile. Rarely dominant.
She snapped the report shut.
—She could be... useful,— she conceded at last.
—Or a death sentence to us all, if not handled with surgical precision.—
Altheara nodded.
—She’s been assigned to Shadows of the Crown.
General Tharek is observing her directly.
His reports are... consistent.—
—And the Council of the Seven Veils?—
Altheara barely blinked.
—They’ve called a meeting tonight. Closed doors.
Only the Veilbearers are allowed inside.
But... they mentioned her name.—
A very faint smile traced the Queen’s lips — a curved shadow painted in dark crimson.
—She unsettles them.
Good.
They should be unsettled.—
Her gaze turned toward one of the stained glass panels — recently repaired after an aerial strike.
—No one must suspect that we fear her...
Even if we do.—
Her fingers, gloved in blackened steel, tapped the throne in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
The sound echoed in the chamber — the only noise that remained between them.
For a moment, mother and daughter shared one certainty:
Lyssandra Velcrux might change everything.
Training Chamber – Seravenn Academy
The door closed behind me with a metallic sound that echoed louder than expected.
A deep resonance — as if the room itself was breathing.
The space was wide, almost circular, with walls of polished obsidian gleaming under suspended white lights.
Symbols were etched into the floor — circles, crosses, curving lines that pulsed faintly, as if alive.
In front of me, Caelia stepped forward. Her stride precise. Her presence swallowed the room.
Velka and Neyra stayed on the elevated platform, watching from behind reinforced rails.
And at the far end… a translucent crystal wall revealed the other side of the chamber, where a dozen observers were already noting and recording my every move.
Caelia’s gaze held mine — calm, but calculating.
—Remove the band,— she said.
Then she reached toward a panel I hadn’t noticed before, activating it with a long, needle-like magical key. A sharp chime rang out… and the inhibitor on my wrist vibrated.
My heart froze for a moment.
With trembling fingers, I pressed the release. The straps snapped open, and the device fell to the ground with a dry clink.
Immediately, I felt the absence of weight.
And at the same time… something surged back in.
Like a current — returning home.
—Now,— Caelia said more softly.
—Think of it. Your emotion.
How it protects you. How it burns, how it pulses, how it never leaves you.
Imagine embracing it — no longer fearing it. Let it out.—
I blinked.
And then I felt it.
Rancor.
That hot, coarse ache pulsing at the center of my chest.
The kind of rage that doesn’t scream or explode —
It stays.
Quiet.
It builds walls inside.
It wasn’t hatred.
It was more intimate.
A betrayal that never healed.
A wound that refused to close.
I closed my eyes.
The room disappeared.
Everything turned to darkness —
And I didn’t fear it.
She was there.
That emotion that had awakened me.
That had saved me.
And now, I let her all the way in.
Then it happened.
Not an explosion of fire —
But a bloom of black fragments, like ash suspended in the air.
My body was wrapped in shadow threads that coiled and intertwined, forming the silhouette of something new.
I felt my skin chill — then burn — as every fiber was reconstructed… refined.
The pressure in my chest, hips, and thighs compressed with ceremonial precision, as if someone was assembling me piece by piece.
A violet glow lit beneath my feet.
I caught my reflection in the crystal wall.
It wasn’t me.
And yet… it was.
My battle uniform was a fusion of armor and living fabric.
A dark corset with metallic undertones molded to my torso, revealing the scar that traced my abdomen — a mark ancient, almost sacred.
The lower part was an asymmetrical skirt of flowing black layers edged in violet, like solid smoke set ablaze.
Angular pauldrons.
Gauntlets to my elbows with claw-like tips.
And thigh-high boots, each etched with softly glowing arcane runes.
A short veil floated behind me, caught in a wind that didn’t exist.
My hair, usually falling messily, now floated with its own gravity — as if suspended in black water.
My eyes… had become liquid mirrors, pupil-less.
Only a white spiral gleamed at the center of amethyst oceans.
A faint murmur rose from behind the crystal.
Then Velka’s voice, distant but unmistakable:
—Night gods… she is weird.—
Caelia stepped forward, gaze still locked on me.
—You’re ready.—
I was breathing hard.
But beneath it all…
I smiled.
Yes.
I was ready.
Caelia didn’t look away for even a second — not even when the console behind her sparked to life.
—Very well, Velcrux,— she said firmly.
—Now comes something… more tangible.—
—Manifest your emotion.
Your rancor.
Make it real.
In whatever form your instinct chooses.—
I swallowed.
A tingling spread down my arms — like soft static.
I didn’t think of shapes or names.
I thought of what had kept me afloat after the awakening.
How my anger wasn’t noise, but precision.
How I needed a cold eye — to see the ones who had failed me. And remind them from afar.
Then I felt it emerging.
The energy condensed in my right arm.
The air trembled — compressed — and from that tremor, a structure was born.
Dark. Sharp. Dense.
The metal wasn’t metal — it looked like it had been torn from the night sky.
Black, with violet veins pulsing like living threads.
It took shape: a rifle.
But not just any rifle.
It was long. Heavy.
Elegant in outline, yet menacing.
A sniper’s weapon with no bolts or traditional ammo — its core pulsed with my thoughts.
The scope was a single crystal tear, and from the barrel seeped a thin smoke — like poisonous mist.
Velka let out a low whistle from above.
—Did she just pull that out of nowhere?—
—Focus, Lyss,— Caelia interrupted.
—Three projected targets. Look up.—
I did.
From the ceiling, three floating drones descended — metallic spheres with glowing runes.
They spun, shifted direction — alive.
I inhaled.
Dropped to one knee.
Aimed.
The rifle responded. Not like a weapon.
Like an extension of my will.
I pulled the trigger.
A muted blast — like a deep whisper.
The first target burst into light.
But the other two were already in motion — fast.
Too fast.
I repositioned, tried to adjust my scope — cursed silently.
Second shot. Missed.
Velka called out:
—C’mon, rookie! Give ‘em some love!—
I ignored the heat in my cheeks. The sweat running down my spine.
Third shot.
Then fourth.
Second target down — spiraling.
The last one ducked behind a moving panel.
I waited.
Counted the seconds.
Fired —
Right as it emerged.
Silence.
All three targets were down.
Caelia gave the faintest nod.
—Acceptable for someone with no combat training. Now… the most important part.
Show us your power. The real one.
The one that sleeps in your emotion.—
I hesitated.
—What if… what if I lose control?— I asked quietly.
—Then you’ll reclaim it,” she replied without missing a beat.
—We’re not here to contain you. We’re here to see how far you can go.—
I swallowed hard.
I stood, lowered the rifle, and opened both hands.
The rancor returned — but this time, I pushed it outward.
I let it gather in my palms, spinning in invisible spirals, blooming from my fingertips like ink spilling into clear water.
And then…
I let go.
A blast of violet energy struck the floor.
At first, it seemed to do nothing.
Then the metal… groaned.
It oxidized.
Blackened.
Turned to ash.
And then — dust.
The protective runes on the ground sparked and warped.
The defense system struggled to recalibrate.
I heard a low-priority alarm.
A section of the wall cracked.
And one of the ceiling lights — just collapsed.
—ARE YOU INSANE?!— Velka yelled from above.
—That was like acid on steroids!—
Neyra said nothing, just stared at the remnants of what had been reinforced steel.
Caelia, however, smiled.
Just a little.
—High destructive potential. Emotional stability… still developing.
Not bad, Velcrux. Not bad at all.—
I exhaled, feeling the energy slowly fade from my fingertips.
The rifle vanished in a soft flicker — dissolving into thick air.
The observation glass darkened. A side panel slid open.
Two operators entered. One carried a tray of emblems, bands, and pins.
The other approached with a device that clipped onto my shoulder.
—Time to make it official,— Caelia said.
—From this moment on, you are issued your standard combat insignia.
You are no longer a recruit, Lyss.
You are officially part of the Shadows of the Crown.—
I felt the weight of the band on my left arm — a patch bearing the crest of Seravenn.
And beneath it, a pin: a black wilted flower.
Our symbol.
The ones born of emotion.
The ones who never had a choice.
The ones who survived… to avenge.
The doors opened with a soft mechanical sigh.
Cool air from the outer corridor kissed the skin of my arms and legs —
And I realized, too late, that I was still transformed.
My boots echoed against the black ceramic floor.
Each step unsure.
The corridor light reflected off the living fabric of my battle uniform — a suit that seemed to know more about me than I did.
Velka was the first to approach.
She gave me a slow once-over, eyebrow raised.
—Well, well… the quiet one’s got curves.—
I froze.
Blinking.
—What?—
—Your suit, Velcrux.—
She smirked. “It’s like your magical self wants the world to stare. Tight, short, subtle transparencies… don’t tell me that’s coincidence.—
I looked down.
And saw it.
Yes, the uniform was beautiful — majestic, even.
The black-ink and violet tones flowed like smoke caught in silk.
But it was also… revealing.
Short at the thighs. Tight across the chest.
My abdomen — fully exposed. Truly exposed.
As if my body were a statement.
And that…
That hit me.
My first instinct was to cover up.
I crossed my arms, hunched over, heat flooding my face.
—W-What the hell?! Why this?!—
Shame bit into my chest.
My need to hide was so strong — the magic reacted instantly.
Like a curtain falling at the end of a scene, the suit dissolved into a burst of violet sparks.
My regular clothes returned — opaque, gray, modest.
—Hey, hey, relax,— Neyra said gently, seeing my face.
—Wasn’t trying to tease,— Velka added, tone softer now.
—It’s just that, well… for someone who covers everything, that outfit really doesn’t match.—
Caelia approached, but stopped just short of invading my space.
—It’s normal. The suit doesn’t only reflect your emotion…
It also echoes something deeper.
A piece of your soul. Even if your mind denies it.—
I bit my lower lip.
—I don’t like how it looks…
But something in me… does.—
No one spoke.
That’s when I noticed — they were all staring at my stomach.
And I remembered why.
My shirt had ridden up slightly.
Just enough to reveal…
That mark.
The thin scar, impossible to ignore, running diagonally just below my chest.
Like a surgical cut. Or… something worse.
Neyra was the first to speak.
—What’s that?—
—Were you hurt?— Velka asked — no sarcasm now, just concern.
—Is it… from before your awakening?— Caelia added, her tone clinical.
I stared at the scar.
Touched it with two fingers, as if that would trigger a memory.
Nothing.
Not a single image.
—I don’t know,— I admitted.
—I didn’t even know it was there…
I didn’t make it.
I just… woke up with it.
Like it had always been.—
Silence again.
Not awkward.
Something else.
Like they all understood… this was important.
Strange.
Dangerous.
Caelia broke the tension.
—Noted. We’ll follow up.
For now… physical training, Velcrux.—
—You’ve had a good first day.—
A good day?
I’d fired a living weapon.
Corroded reinforced steel.
Nearly collapsed a testing chamber.
And now had to face the fact that my own soul wanted to be seen…
Even as I wished to vanish.
A good day.
Maybe for a Shadow…
It really was.