Darkness.
Weightless.
Cold.
Arin couldn't tell if he was asleep or dead. The silence was too perfect—too endless.
Then, faintly, came footsteps.
Soft. Slow. Echoing through the void.
Arin opened his eyes.
He stood barefoot on a black reflective surface stretching into infinity, a crimson sky swirling above like slow-burning fire. His reflection stared back, fractured, alive when he wasn't moving.
"…Where am I?" he whispered.
A voice answered from behind.
"Inside yourself."
Arin turned sharply.
A man stood there—tall, calm, barefoot like him. Eyes deep crimson, a faint aura coiling around his shoulders like smoke. His smile was thin, knowing.
"You…" Arin muttered. "Kalkin."
Kalkin tilted his head. "Finally using my name again. I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."
Arin's jaw tightened. "You made me lose control."
Kalkin blinked once, then smiled—not cruelly, but almost… amused.
"Lose control? No, boy. Not this time."
Arin frowned. "Don't lie to me."
Kalkin took a slow step forward, his reflection rippling under him. "You think every time you break, it's because of me? That I pull your strings and make you snap?"
His voice deepened, calm yet sharp.
"I was silent this time. You were the one who broke."
Arin's heart pounded. "That's not—"
"It is," Kalkin cut in softly. "The rage wasn't mine. The fear wasn't mine. It was you. You wanted to fight, to protect, to stop being powerless—and you let it consume you."
Arin shook his head, backing away. "You're lying."
Kalkin chuckled lowly. "I don't need to lie. You felt it—the satisfaction when they fell to their knees, when the air itself bent under your will."
He leaned closer. "For a moment, you enjoyed it."
Arin's breath hitched. "Stop."
"You called it losing control," Kalkin whispered, "but deep down… you wanted it. You wanted to feel strong."
"Shut up!" Arin shouted, voice echoing across the void.
The surface under them cracked like glass. Red light flared through the fractures.
Kalkin straightened, watching the cracks spread beneath their feet. "You're terrified of me because I'm everything you try to bury. But I'm not your enemy, Arin."
He paused, eyes narrowing faintly. "You are."
The words hit like a blade through his chest.
Arin stared, trembling, trying to find words—but the world around him began to crumble. Shards of black glass floated upward, the red sky splitting apart.
Kalkin's form began to dissolve in the light.
Before vanishing completely, his voice echoed one last time, calm and distant:
"Next time you break… don't blame me."
The world shattered.
Arin gasped awake in the containment chamber, drenched in sweat. His chest rose and fell sharply, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
Alarms beeped faintly. His reflection in the glass trembled.
But for a heartbeat, he saw something impossible—
his reflection smiled back, even though he didn't.
Beep… beep… beep…
The monitors spiked. Red warnings flashed across the containment screens, bathing the room in pulsing light.
Inside the chamber, Arin sat upright, gasping like someone pulled from deep water. His pupils shifted between their usual blue-green and a faint, flickering crimson.
"Commander!" one technician yelled. "Arin's vitals just surged!"
Before the man could finish, the door hissed open.
Shivani and Om Sai stormed in, both tense, eyes darting to the containment glass.
"Arin!" Shivani shouted. "Can you hear me?"
He turned his head slowly toward her voice. His eyes were unfocused at first—distant, hollow—then gradually sharpened.
"…Shivani?"
Relief flashed across her face for a split second before she caught sight of his reflection in the glass behind him—its faint smile, moving a second slower than he did.
Her breath caught. "Om Sai…" she whispered.
"I see it," Om Sai muttered, his usual calm replaced with grim focus. "That reflection's… lagging. Something's off in his spiritual field."
Arin blinked, unaware. "What's happening?"
"Easy, kid," Om Sai said, stepping closer. "You were out for hours. You had another surge."
Arin shook his head weakly. "No… this time it wasn't him."
"Him?" Shivani frowned.
Arin hesitated. His throat felt tight, dry. "Kalkin. The voice… inside me. He said—he wasn't the reason I lost control."
His hands trembled. "He said it was me."
Silence filled the room.
Om Sai's expression darkened. "…That's not something you say casually, kid."
Shivani's eyes softened slightly, though her stance stayed guarded. "What do you mean, it was you?"
Arin looked down. "He's right. When it happened… I wasn't thinking. I wasn't even angry. I just—didn't want to feel weak again. And for a moment, I didn't."
He clenched his fists, the faint crimson veins under his skin pulsing once, then fading.
"…It felt good."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Om Sai's jaw tightened. "That's exactly how it starts. Power feels right—until it eats you alive."
Shivani took a slow breath, then gave a sharp command to the techs behind the glass.
"Lower the suppression field to thirty percent. Keep him calm but conscious."
"Ma'am, that's risky—"
"Do it," she snapped.
The hum around Arin softened. The room's pressure lightened. Arin exhaled shakily, head lowering.
Shivani walked closer to the containment glass, stopping just a meter away.
"Listen to me," she said quietly. "You're not a monster. You're not losing control—you're learning what's inside you. The only question is whether you'll command it… or let it command you."
Arin slowly raised his head. His eyes were clearer now, the red fading away. "…How do I control something that feels stronger than me?"
Shivani didn't answer right away. She looked at him through the glass, her reflection overlapping with his.
"You start by not running from it," she said softly. "And by remembering who you are."
Om Sai crossed his arms, still watching Arin's readings on the side monitor. "We'll need to run a full resonance scan. Whatever this power is—it's evolving."
The lights dimmed slightly as the machines stabilized.
Arin sat back slowly, breathing calmer now, though his mind still echoed with Kalkin's voice.
Next time you break… don't blame me.
He looked at his reflection again.
This time, the reflection didn't smile.
But its eyes still glowed faintly red.