After classes, Sai quickly packed his bag and headed for the Academy exit.
The air smelled of magical dust—students were training in the courtyard, their auras flaring and fading like sparks in the night.
He didn't linger. He knew he had a maximum of five hours until curfew, and he needed to get to the Lower Sector, where the enchantment shop "Aurelia" was located.
The city outside the Academy walls looked different.
Less light, more grey streets, the sound of footsteps echoing in narrow alleys.
Ordinary people lived here—without surnames, without magical lineages, without titles.
But it was here that real life could be felt.
The shop turned out to be small, squeezed between an old tea house and a weaponsmith.
A sign hung above the door—the metal letters "AURELIA" were faded with time but still holding on.
Sai pushed the door open. A bell chimed.
Inside—the smell of oil, metal, and dust.
On the shelves lay enchanted gloves, amulets, memory stones, and fragments of magical mechanisms.
"Hey, kid, you the one who called this morning?" A man in his forties, with a thick beard and tired eyes, rose from behind the counter.
His apron bore the shop's burnt-in brand.
"Yes," Sai nodded. "I'm… about the part-time job."
"Great. Name's Rudd. I'm the owner of this wonderful junkyard," the man smirked. —
"Work's simple: you sort artifacts, wipe off dust, sometimes help with enchanting. Pay's honest, no food included."
"That works," Sai said without hesitation.
Rudd looked at him carefully, his gaze lingering on the white eyes.
"You're from the Academy, right? Of Light and Order?"
"Yes."
"Hm. Rare for any of them to come down here. Alright then. If you're not afraid of getting dirty, let's start."
The work wasn't difficult, but it was tiring.
The shelves were crammed with old items: weapons, scrolls, sealed spheres.
Some of them whispered. Literally.
Sai could hear faint sounds, as if someone was breathing deep within the metal.
He paid no mind—he'd learned not to listen to strange things since childhood.
By evening, as the sun almost disappeared below the horizon, Rudd called him to the counter.
An old revolver lay on the table.
Dark, with faded engraving and a strange sheen on the barrel.
"Like it?" Rudd asked, noticing Sai's gaze lingering on the weapon.
Sai stepped closer, ran his fingers over the metal.
It was cold, but seemed to shudder at his touch.
"It's beautiful… but somehow… not ordinary."
"And it's not," Rudd smirked. "Found it a couple of years ago near a Rift.
No one's been able to cleanse it of residual energy.
Tried to sell it—no buyers. Too strange.
They say it 'sings' when it's loaded."
"Sings?"
"Yep. Not quite a creak, not quite a sigh.
Maybe it's just an ancient mechanism, maybe—a soul inside."
Sai snorted.
"A soul in a revolver. Sounds like the start of a nightmare."
"Maybe," Rudd shrugged. —
"But if you like it—take it. It's been gathering dust here for two years, nobody wants it."
Sai looked up, surprised.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I've got a feeling—things like this choose their owners.
And you, kid, are the kind who gets chosen."
He held out the weapon.
Sai hesitantly took it in his hands.
In that moment, the air seemed to thicken.
Inside his head—a faint ringing, brief, almost imperceptible.
…Do you hear me?..
Sai blinked.
The voice was gone.
"Something wrong?" Rudd asked.
"No. Just… thought I heard something."
"Good. Put it in a holster and work in peace. Might come in handy if any monsters decide to pay a visit."
Sai nodded. He hung the revolver on his belt—the metal felt surprisingly light.
They worked a bit more, and closer to night, Rudd let him go.
"Don't be late. The patrols don't joke around after curfew."
"I'll make it," Sai replied, stepping outside.
The city was already plunged into darkness.
The lanterns barely glowed; in the distance, the hum of trains could be heard.
He walked quickly, feeling the revolver in the holster on his hip vibrating faintly—as if breathing.
He didn't understand if it was residual energy or something else, but the feeling was familiar.
The same as when he first heard the Echo's voice.
Sai looked up at the sky, where two moons were visible between the clouds, and whispered:
"I hope you're just a piece of metal…"
But deep inside, something answered with a quiet echo.
…We'll see…
---
The dormitory corridors were bathed in semi-darkness.
Only the occasional lanterns by the doors cast soft pools of light on the walls.
Sai walked past the duty officer, gave a short nod, and went up the stairs to his floor.
The time—five minutes to curfew. He'd made it.
He quietly opened the door to his room.
Silence reigned inside, broken only by Lars's even breathing.
He was asleep, face buried in the pillow, hair disheveled, blanket tangled.
On the desk—an open book, and the soft blue glow from the illumination crystal.
Sai took off his shoes, put down his bag, and sat on the edge of his bed.
His whole body ached with fatigue.
He pulled the revolver from his belt and laid it on his knees.
The metal was cold, but it felt alive.
Not the usual energy of an artifact—different. Deeper.
As if beneath the iron surface, someone was looking back at him.
He turned the weapon over in his hands, examining the details.
On the grip—an engraved symbol, like crossed lines converging at a point.
On the barrel—almost faded words:
"Erebus-IX".
"'Erebus'?" Sai whispered quietly. "The name of the god of darkness…"
He touched the engraving with his finger—and the air seemed to tremble.
In his ears—a barely perceptible sound, like the echo of a breath.
…you… breathing again?..
Sai froze.
He looked at the revolver, trying to figure out if he was imagining things.
Lars quietly turned over onto his other side, still asleep.
Sai whispered:
"Who are you?…"
No answer. Only a faint cold, as if a sigh had passed from within the weapon.
He stood up and walked to the window.
Outside, the city slept. In the distance, lights flickered and a light mist swirled.
His own reflection looked back from the glass—pale, with white eyes, holding the black weapon in his hand.
Why did you take it? he asked himself.
He didn't know. He just felt he had to.
Sai sat back down, removed the holster, and carefully placed the revolver on the nightstand next to his bed.
The light from the crystal reflected off the metal, and it seemed to breathe—slowly, in time with his heartbeat.
"Erebus the Ninth…" he repeated in a whisper. —
"If you're connected to the darkness, you… feel it, don't you?…"
Silence again.
Only the quiet hum of the air and, from outside, the cry of a night bird.
He lay down, but sleep wouldn't come.
He kept feeling—the weapon was nearby.
As if someone was watching him through the cold barrel.
At one point, he turned over and noticed—a brief glint flashed on the metal's surface, as if a shadow had passed within.
For a moment, he thought he heard a quiet, almost tender whisper from the revolver:
…Finally found you…
Sai shuddered and sat up.
But there was nothing more. Just the room, Lars, the even breathing, and the gleam of the steel body on the nightstand.
He said quietly into the emptiness:
"I don't know what you are… but if you've chosen me—don't let me down."
Then he turned off the crystal.
Darkness flooded the room, leaving only the faint silver of the moon on the revolver.
For the first time in a long while, Sai fell asleep with his hand on the weapon—as if it could protect him from nightmares.
---
But as the night leaned towards dawn, something echoed deep within Sai's consciousness.
His dream turned into a strange space—hazy, like a broken mirror.
And there, among the shadows, he saw the outline of a silhouette.
It stood, looking directly at him, and in its hand held an identical revolver.
"Who are you?.." Sai asked in the dream.
The figure was silent. Then it raised the weapon and answered in a low, distorted voice:
"I am what waits for you to stop being afraid."
In that moment, Sai woke up.
The revolver lay on the table—cold and dead.
But on the barrel, a word was now clearly engraved, one that hadn't been there before:
"Bound."
Sai looked at the inscription for a long time, then said quietly:
"So, we are bound… Erebus."
He put the weapon back in its holster.
And deep in his mind, a quiet, barely audible answer sounded:
…And this is only the beginning…