Chapter 14: Talent and Dedication
A stillness wrapped around the midmorning light in the upper west wing of the Academy of the Forgotten. Inside an office framed with tall shelves and stained-glass windows that painted soft colors on the polished floors, Xavier sat behind his desk, eyes locked on the open file before him—but his thoughts were elsewhere. A cold silence had fallen across the room. The air was thick, like something unspoken hung between the walls.
His gaze drifted to the wall beside his desk, where a frame containing faded portraits of former instructors hung. But instead of seeing faces, his mind painted a different image.
Ten figures.
They stood in a line, cloaked in shadow, their silhouettes draped in distinctive shapes and stances. Each figure bore a unique presence—some tall and proud, others hunched and twitching with malice. One rested calmly with folded arms; another held blades crossed behind his back. They were not ghosts. Not rumors. They were real.
Xavier's eyes narrowed.
He could see them in his memory as clearly as the day he'd first discovered their truth. That cursed organization.
Should I tell them? he wondered. Should the students know what waits for them in the dark? Should they understand the stakes? Or would fear fracture the fragile hope they're building?
His fingers tapped the desk once, rhythmically.
And then he thought of him.
His brother.
Once noble. Once a name that earned pride in the halls of the academy.
Now just a shadow among those ten.
Xavier lowered his head slightly and murmured under his breath, so softly it was nearly inaudible:
"The Devil's Claws."
The soft creak of a hospital door interrupted the light silence of the recovery ward.
Eliana stepped inside Kaeron's room, a warm tray in hand, her smile as vibrant as the midday sun outside. The clean scent of freshly cooked food accompanied her entrance, blending oddly with the sterile air of the hospital room.
Kaeron looked up from his bed, propped by pillows. A tired smile formed on his lips the moment he saw her.
"I brought lunch," she announced cheerfully, setting the tray down on the side table.
She pulled up a chair, setting napkins and chopsticks carefully. Her tone was light, but her hands moved with intent and care, as though each small act held meaning.
Kaeron watched her with silent gratitude.
She began to feed him between light conversations—little jokes, questions, and soft laughter filling the air. His movements were slow, but his appetite was returning. Eliana beamed with every bite he took.
"You're recovering really quickly," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Maybe your food has secret healing powers," Kaeron replied, half-laughing, half-wincing from the soreness.
"Then I should open a restaurant for wounded warriors."
He smiled.
The room felt like a small sanctuary. In a world brimming with battles and shadows, this space—just the two of them—was untouched for a moment.
A knock sounded.
A nurse peeked in. "Excuse me—just here to inform you that the discharge is scheduled for tomorrow morning. He'll be ready to go by then."
Both Kaeron and Eliana exchanged happy glances.
"Great news," Eliana said brightly.
Kaeron nodded. "Finally."
As the nurse left, Eliana squeezed his hand lightly, her expression full of affection and something unspoken beneath it. She didn't say it aloud, but it was clear—his presence mattered. And being a part of his healing brought her a kind of quiet joy she hadn't expected.
Back on the school grounds, Auren found himself once again on the same stone bench.
The breeze was gentler today, brushing through the trees like a quiet hum. Students passed by in scattered groups. Life carried on.
But Auren didn't stay seated for long.
He stood, stretching briefly, and turned toward the academy, his steps firm.
The path he took led through the training wing's open-air corridor, past towering statues of past warriors and masters. Eventually, he stepped into the Academy's vast training ground—an open coliseum of sorts, bordered by spectator balconies and equipped with elemental simulation zones.
No one else was there. The classes were still officially postponed.
But that didn't mean he couldn't train.
He took a breath and dropped into a low stance.
Auren moved through physical drills first—basic strikes, evasive footwork, joint coordination, balance tests. His precision was refined. He wasn't just gifted; he was a perfectionist. His body was his weapon, and he was sharpening it.
But there was something missing.
He wanted more.
He wanted to awaken all the Sub-X within—the hidden power that came with his Xero Core. He'd felt it before in glimpses... shadows around his arms, eyes appearing in the smoke... He had used a simple drop of it. But he wants all of it.
He clenched his fists.
I know it's there.
He focused. Slowly, dark smoke began to trail from his fingertips, then swirl around his arms. The ground beneath him seemed to darken, and from that blur, faint tendrils of pressure rose. A murmur of fear—a manipulation of presence—began to form. The edges of his fear domain.
From the balcony above, a pair of eyes watched.
The man stepped into view. Muscular, with a strong jaw and narrowed gaze. His cloak bore the symbol of the Sub-X division of fear manipulation.
Wedge.
He observed Auren for a few more minutes before stepping down quietly into the arena.
"You know, class doesn't officially start until tomorrow," Wedge said calmly, his voice deep and authoritative.
Auren turned, straightening.
"I figured I'd train ahead."
Wedge nodded, then crossed his arms. "You've already touched your domain. That's impressive. Most students take months to even sense it. Who taught you?"
"No one. Just... tried until something happened."
That made the instructor raise a brow.
"Self-taught, huh?" Wedge said, a rare smile forming. "Looks like we've got ourselves a monster in the making."
Auren stayed silent but allowed the faintest smirk.
Wedge took a few steps forward, now standing opposite Auren in the training space. "If you want to learn to master it, you need to push the limits. Understand fear—not just inflict it."
He dropped into a stance.
"Come at me. Full strength."
Auren blinked, caught off guard.
"What?"
"I'm not one of your playground delinquents. You won't break me. Don't hold back."
Auren hesitated only a moment, then clenched his fists and settled into his stance.
Smoke rose slowly from his fingers.
Both of them smiled.
Auren then dashes forward.