The training hall was older than the Guild itself.
Stone walls etched with spell-scars. Floors cracked and reforged so many times they barely remembered being smooth. The air smelled like iron, sweat, and old magic that refused to fade.
Kuro stood at the center of it.
And felt very, very small.
"…This is where you're starting?" he asked quietly.
Mika nodded. "This is where people stop pretending power is gentle."
Lucien squinted around. "I once tripped here and broke three ribs."
Kuro looked at him, alarmed. "Why are you allowed back?"
"I bring personality," Lucien said proudly.
[And poor life choices.]
Rule One: Control Before Strength
The Guildmaster stood at the edge of the hall, arms folded behind his back. Several high-ranked instructors watched from the shadows—but none stepped forward.
They were watching Kuro.
Waiting.
"Rule one," the Guildmaster said. "You do not reach for all your power."
Kuro nodded quickly. "I won't."
"You can't," the Guildmaster corrected. "Not safely."
Kuro swallowed.
"Today," the Guildmaster continued, "you will learn awareness. Not spells. Not attacks."
Lucien blinked. "No explosions?"
"No."
Lucien looked devastated.
[Worst training arc ever.]
Mika stepped forward, standing a few paces from Kuro. "You feel it, don't you?"
Kuro hesitated—then nodded. "It's… buzzing. Like something wants to move."
Mika drew his sword halfway from its sheath.
The metal sang.
"Good," Mika said. "Now don't listen to it."
The buzzing intensified.
Kuro's breath hitched.
{It's loud…}
[Because it wants attention. Ignore it. Like Lucien.]
"Hey!"
The First Crack
"Close your eyes," Mika ordered.
Kuro obeyed.
"Breathe," Mika said. "Don't push. Don't pull. Just… notice."
Kuro inhaled.
The world sharpened.
He felt the stone beneath his feet.The air brushing his skin.The mana threads in the room—thin, glowing lines weaving through everything.
And deeper—
Something vast.
Cold.
Watching.
His breath faltered.
The air around him trembled.
"Mika—" Lucien started.
Mika's hand snapped up. "Not yet."
Kuro's chest burned.
The fragment stirred.
Let me help you.
The words slid into his thoughts like silk over glass.
Kuro clenched his fists.
"No," he whispered.
The floor cracked.
Mana surged—violent, uncontrolled.
Several instructors stepped back instinctively.
"Enough," Mika said sharply—and slammed the flat of his sword into the ground.
A wave of suppressive force rippled outward.
The pressure vanished.
Kuro collapsed to his knees, gasping.
Mika was there instantly, gripping his shoulders. "Hey. Stay with me."
Kuro nodded weakly. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"I know," Mika said firmly. "That's why this matters."
[Wow. Ten seconds in and we almost nuked the building.]
Failure Is the Lesson
The Guildmaster approached, studying the cracked floor.
"…Impressive," he muttered. "And dangerous."
Kuro bowed his head. "I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize for what you don't yet understand," the Guildmaster said. "You stopped yourself. That is progress."
Lucien crouched beside Kuro. "For what it's worth, I've seen mages twice your age lose control faster."
Kuro looked up. "…Really?"
"No," Lucien admitted. "But it sounded encouraging."
[He tried.]
Mika helped Kuro back to his feet. "You didn't fail."
Kuro frowned. "I almost lost control."
Mika met his eyes. "And you didn't."
Silence settled.
The fragment did not speak.
For once, it watched.
A Line Drawn
The Guildmaster turned away. "We continue tomorrow. Short sessions. Constant supervision."
Mika nodded. "I'll be here."
Lucien raised a hand. "So will I. Probably."
The Guildmaster paused. "You will not leave the headquarters without escort. Both of you."
Mika didn't argue.
Kuro didn't either.
As they left the hall, Kuro glanced back once—at the cracked stone, the lingering mana, the proof of what lived inside him.
His hands trembled.
Mika noticed.
"You did good," he said quietly.
Kuro hesitated. "…Even if I'm dangerous?"
Mika answered without slowing."Especially then."
[Wow. If I had lungs, I'd sigh dramatically.]
Ahead of them, the corridors stretched on.
Training had begun.
And far away—
Something ancient marked the moment.
Not with anger.
But with interest.