The principal's office was larger than Kurota had expected, its walls lined with shelves of ancient books, jars of blood, and framed certificates that spoke of centuries of tradition. A large, polished desk dominated the room, behind which sat a man whose presence seemed to fill every corner. Broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed, his sharp eyes pinned Kurota, Tokinada, and Promto in place without a word.
Lucien murmured, amusement threading his tone. Ah, the big boss. This is going to be delightful.
"Sit," the principal said, his voice calm but carrying authority that made even Promto the school's tough guy shiver. "All of you."
The three took their seats cautiously, Kurota on the edge of the chair, this was the same feeling he had experienced with Lucien how strange. Tokinada slouched slightly, smirking like he's been here countless times before, while Promto's posture remained rigid and disciplined.
"Let's not waste time," the principal began, steepling his hands. "You've demonstrated a lack of discipline and a tendency to flaunt rules. That is… unacceptable." His eyes turned toward Kurota. "And you, new student, have abilities that are both extraordinary and dangerous. You've survived situations that would have broken most humans, but survival without control is meaningless."
Kurota swallowed, the weight of the gaze settling over him. Lucien whispered dryly, Well, congratulations. They notice you exist. That's always fun.
"Maryoku is not a toy," the principal continued. "It's energy, yes, but it is also responsibility. You can heal, destroy, protect, or annihilate. Your decisions will have consequences, and those consequences are magnified by the hybrid nature you possess."
Kurota nodded slowly, feeling the gravity of the words. He could sense Lucien tense slightly, both excited and irritated by the lecture.
"You two," the principal said, his gaze sweeping Tokinada and Promto, "have a duty as upperclassmen to guide the younger students. That includes helping new arrivals understand the basics of their abilities." He leaned forward slightly, voice softening just enough to carry encouragement. "You, Kurota, have the potential to become one of the academy's strongest, but potential alone is worthless without guidance. If you do not learn to master your unexplored nature, you will be a danger to yourself and everyone around you."
Lucien snorted quietly. He's not wrong, if I'm ever set free, I'll kill everyone you love..
The principal's gaze fixed on Kurota again. "Your punishment for your reckless wandering and association with students who skip classes is not detainment. It shall be an instruction. Tokinada, Promto, you will train him. You will teach him the basics of Maryoku arts, what it is, and how to harness both physical and spiritual abilities safely. You are to ensure he understands, practices, and applies this knowledge under supervision. I will not tolerate laziness, excuses, or defiance."
Promto's amber eyes narrowed, a muscle of annoyance ticking in his jaw, but he didn't speak. Tokinada let out a soft whistle, smirking faintly.
Kurota tilted his head, unsure if he should be relieved or wary. "So… this is my punishment?" he asked aloud. "Being taught by them?"
Tokinada grinned. "Yep. Don't be scared, new guy. We're friends after all right?"
Promto crossed his arms. "It's not a joke. You'd better learn fast, or we'll make sure you regret it."
Lucien chuckled faintly, in Kurota's mind. Promises of pain. How civilized.
The principal leaned back, folding his hands. "Understand this: this academy exists to cultivate the best. You will live, study, and train here. You are among the elite, and every action you take shapes not only your future but the reputation of the academy itself. You will not waste this opportunity."
Kurota nodded again, the weight of the principal's words pressing down onto his shoulders. He could feel Lucien jittering within him, anticipation mixed with a tang of amusement.
The principal's gaze softened slightly, a rare smile touching the corners of his lips. "I sense fear, do not mistake my strictness for cruelty—think of it as preparation. The world outside this academy will demand perfection, power, and mastery. Here, you are given the tools to achieve it safely."
He paused, letting the words linger. "Take this seriously. Tokinada, Promto, you are responsible for him. Make no mistake—failure to teach effectively, or failure to enforce discipline, will be noted and dealt with. Kurota, listen, learn, and respect your instructors."
Kurota exhaled slowly, letting the tension ebb from his shoulders. The principal's stern lecture had been overwhelming, but it also carried an undeniable clarity. There was no ambiguity here—success and failure were defined. He could almost feel the weight of the academy's expectations pressing on him, tangible and constant.
The principal stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "You will begin immediately. Tokinada, Promto, accompany him to the training grounds. Begin with the basics of Maryoku arts. Do not underestimate the importance of foundation."
Kurota rose carefully, eager for this new action.
Tokinada clapped him lightly on the shoulder, grinning. "Ready to get your hands dirty?"
Kurota allowed himself a small smirk. "I guess. Let's see what you've got."
Promto's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes had a terrifying look. "Did you guys forget, this is no joke."
As they left the office, Kurota felt the corridors of the academy stretch before him, empty but filled with the presence of life. Every step he took reminded him that this place demanded power, speed, and endurance. And, above all, survival.
Lucien's chuckle threaded through Kurota's thoughts. Amuse me.
The three reached the training grounds, an open courtyard surrounded by walls. Tokinada dropped into a relaxed stance, tossing a ball of energy between his hands with easy precision. Promto straightened, summoning an aura of Maryoku around his fists, ready to demonstrate.
"First lesson," Tokinada said with a grin, "is understanding that Maryoku is energy flow. You feel it, you move it, you manipulate it. But you don't overreach."
Kurota nodded, adjusting the subtle reserves of borrowed Maryoku within himself.
Promto stepped forward. "Control relies on coordination. Your body reacts naturally, but your mind must dictate the flow, if you don't coordinate your mind with your body you may cause accidents."
Lucien murmured, mocking under his breath. Accidents, yes. Like walls falling on our heads. Delightful memories.
Kurota ignored the comment, focusing instead on the flow of energy in his chest and limbs. The septagram in his left eye glowed faintly, synced with his breath. He followed Tokinada's instructions carefully, feeling energy gather in his core and flow through his body. Promto corrected his form, subtle adjustments to his faltering posture and stance.
Hours passed in quiet, the trio moving through exercises designed to teach awareness, control, and application of Maryoku. Kurota felt the thrill of progress, the satisfaction of achievement creeping into the
core of his mind. Lucien, meanwhile, remained mostly silent, allowing Kurota to borrow his energy, though occasional commentary slipped through, teasing or highlighting mistakes.
Ah, human. You let your left arm falter again. Amateur.
Shut up.
The lesson continued until the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Kurota, Tokinada, and Promto paused, breathing heavily but satisfied. For the first time.
Tokinada leaned back on his heels, wiping sweat from his brow. "Not bad for a first day."
Promto nodded, expression unreadable but approving. "Keep practicing, we have a mission tomorrow so we're trusting you."
Lucien's voice, quiet but amused, whispered in Kurota's mind. Yes. Keep practicing, human. And one day, maybe we'll make them wish they'd never assigned these lacking tutors to us.
Kurota allowed himself a low smirk, a mix of pride and determination.
The sun slipped behind the academy walls, leaving the courtyard bathed in light, and for the first time in days, Kurota felt a calm, but serious determination settle over him. The real work had just begun.