Chapter 8: The Instinct of Sound
The air in Saikono had grown teeth. A strange, biting wind swept through the wide market street, carrying a cold that felt older and deeper than a simple autumn chill. It whipped at loose shutters and snatched the warmth from the golden lanterns, making them flicker like nervous eyes in the dark. The people of the village, drawn by an irresistible gravity of impending violence, had gathered in a wide, silent circle. They stood in clusters, their shoulders hunched against the cold, their breath misting in the air, their whispers snatched away by the wind. A palpable sense of dread and anticipation hung over them all, as thick and heavy as the low-scudding clouds that veiled the stars.
Fulan stood alone in the center of this arena, a solitary figure planted in the path of the coming storm. He was a distance away from the bench where Valerius still sat, a silent statue of resignation. The night wind toyed with his straight black hair, sending strands of it dancing across his face, and tugged at the hem of his simple tunic. But Fulan himself was still, his body relaxed but rooted to the spot, his dark eyes focused and unwavering.
The collective gaze of the crowd was fixed on the far end of the street. They waited. The silence was broken only by the mournful howl of the wind until, finally, a new sound emerged—the heavy, rhythmic tread of determined footsteps. All eyes shifted. Two figures materialized from the darkness. At the forefront was Borin, his massive form a moving mountain. And just behind him, to his right, walked Fayrouz.
In a matter of seconds, Borin had crossed the distance and stood before Fulan, the sheer heat of his presence seeming to push back the cold. He looked down at the boy, then shot a contemptuous glance over Fulan's shoulder at Valerius. Fayrouz stopped a few paces back, a flicker of surprise and concern on her face as she took in the scene.
"What is this?" Borin's voice was a low rumble. "A minor stands in my way. This is not the opponent I was waiting for."
A small, disarming smile touched Fulan's lips. "Well, I'm seventeen. So not technically a minor… though I suppose it depends on who you ask."
Borin's brown eyes narrowed, ignoring the boy's attempt at levity. He glared at the silent swordsman on the bench. "Valerius! Have you truly fallen so low? Letting a child clean up the mess you've made?"
"Don't worry," Fulan answered for him, his voice suddenly losing all its humor and gaining a sharp, metallic edge. "You won't be able to lay a single scratch on this 'child'." His face was a mask of unshakable confidence, a declaration of fact, not a boast.
Borin's eyes snapped back to Fulan, the muscles in his thick neck tightening. "Hmm?"
"Fulan," Fayrouz finally spoke, her voice laced with a hidden anxiety, though her expression remained a calm mask. Her blue-tipped black hair whipped across her face in the wind. "You are only complicating the situation."
"Step aside, Fayrouz," Fulan said, not taking his eyes off Borin. "This is the only safe path."
"The safe path?" Borin scoffed, a dangerous glint in his eye. "You believe facing me is the safe path?"
"Don't make me repeat myself, old man," Fulan said, his tone firm. "I know you're a graduate of Raganda Academy. I, on the other hand, am just a prospective student who hasn't even passed the entrance exam yet. But I say this with absolute confidence: you will not scratch me."
The challenge hung in the frozen air. Borin was silent for a long moment, then he turned and walked to the massive axe he had leaned against a nearby wall. The moment his calloused hand grasped the thick wooden haft, he seemed to grow even larger, more menacing. "Don't expect me to hold back just because you're a child," he growled, hefting the weapon onto his shoulder. "Now, either you get out of my way, or you face your own death."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. On the bench, Valerius shot to his feet, his face etched with alarm. But Fulan, without even looking, raised his left hand slightly, a simple, clear gesture that said, Sit down. I have this.
With visible reluctance, Valerius sank back onto the bench. Fayrouz, her own heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and fear, quickly moved away from the center, coming to a stop just behind the bench. She was too tense to sit, her knuckles white where she gripped the back of the seat.
"You're truly serious, boy," Borin stated, his voice flat.
"Can we get to the point?" Fulan replied. A tense silence fell. "This girl, Mira," Fulan began, his voice clear and resonant, cutting through the wind. "She chose to die beside the person she loved. Your rage… it's a desecration of her will. Don't you think you're being selfish, deciding to kill the very person she chose, the man she loved, the man you call a friend?"
The words struck Borin like a physical blow. A sudden, violent red spark flared within the head of his axe, and a hiss of white steam erupted into the frigid air as its temperature skyrocketed. "You… again and again…" Borin seethed, his voice trembling with rage. "Get out of the way! This has nothing to do with you!"
Fulan closed his eyes, his expression becoming serene as his thoughts turned inward.
I am from a clan that is supposed to be extinct. In a world where every living thing possesses a Minma with a defining color, I was born colorless. Like water. But the advantage of water is that it can copy any color, and take any shape…
A flicker of memory, sharp and terrifying, flashed behind his closed eyelids. A snarling white tiger, immense and powerful. Piercing blue eyes. Black stripes stark against its pristine fur. A deafening roar that shook the very trees. It was a phantom of a battle he had barely survived.
He opened his eyes, his internal mantra crystalizing his purpose.
[White Tiger. Instinct of Sound. External Awakening…]
As if in response, the white aura flared to life, not as a hovering flame, but as a thin, incandescent film that perfectly coated his body, a simple shimmer that didn't obscure the color of his skin beneath.
Seeing this, Borin roared and swung his axe. It was not a downward chop, but a devastating horizontal sweep. The muscles in his back and arms bulged with effort, and the massive weapon cut through the air with a terrifying WHOOSH. A wave of searing, superheated air shot forth from the blade, a visible distortion that screamed towards Fulan. The crowd cried out in terror.
Fulan watched it come, his focus absolute. He extended his open left hand as if to aim. He pulled his right fist back to his hip, coiling for the strike. Around his right wrist, a colorless, invisible aura began to gather, compressing and distorting the air, a focused point of immense, silent pressure.
The White Tiger's Instinct of Sound grants its user the ability to move at the speed of sound. But once they reach maturity, they develop an external pattern, the ability to project that sonic power outward. The number of attacks is severely limited by the massive Minma consumption… but I only need one shot. To truly defeat an Academy graduate with this power is a fantasy. My goal is not to win the fight. It is to win the argument. I must touch the part of his heart that still respects Mira, and still loves his friend!
From her vantage point, Fayrouz's blue eyes saw what no one else could. The Minma particles in his veins… they've shifted from colorless to white again. Is this white aura his true power, only activating when he enters a combat state?
Fulan's gaze was fixed on the incoming wave of heat. He unleashed his punch.
It was a supersonic explosion. A cannonball of pure, colorless kinetic force erupted from his fist. It shot across the short distance and slammed head-on into Borin's fiery wave. The two forces annihilated each other in a spectacular, silent collision. The result was not a violent explosion, but a sudden, expansive wave of warm, gentle wind that washed over the entire street, making everyone's hair and clothes billow, including Borin's and Fulan's.
The crowd was stunned into silence. Fayrouz's eyes were wide, surprised that Fulan had such a technique in his arsenal.
Only Valerius was not merely surprised. He was staring at Fulan with a dawning, intense curiosity.
It's just like the feeling from before… he thought, remembering the flash of white when Fulan first appeared between them. That aura… it belongs to a beast. The White Tiger. Mira, Borin and I… we fought a pack of them once. They aren't a threat to an Academy graduate like us, but… why does this boy possess its power?
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