"I don't want to sound cocky, but with that kind of power, you could never dream of beating me," Ogosawara uttered softly, his voice dripping with confidence.
"Wha—?! GOD DAMN IT!" I roared, anger blazing through me.
"I know those movements… Zakou, don't do it!" Jonetsu shouted, gripping the metal railing that separated him from the battlefield. His voice trembled with desperation, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
But adrenaline had already taken hold of me. I pushed my body to its upper limit, determined to match Ogosawara in raw strength.
"Assassin Art: BODY DISLOCATION!" I invoked.
"Fine," Ogosawara sighed, almost bored. "This might be worth the effort." His nails extended into razor-sharp claws.
"GRAAAAAH!" We roared in unison as we launched ourselves at each other, colliding in a frenzy of power.
To understand how I ended up in this battle, I'll have to explain the events that led me here…
A few hours earlier.
"Mom, Dad, I'm off to take the entrance exam!" I called, sprinting toward our ridiculously large front door.
"Alright, sweetie, see you later!" Mom's voice rang from the kitchen, cheerful as always. "Good luck!"
"Wait." Dad's voice echoed across the hall. He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. His eyes were sharp but warm.
"Zakou, you've been preparing for this moment your whole life. I know the journey has been harsh, and if things don't go your way, remember—it's never wrong to take a step back."
I grinned. "Dad, I'll do my best. The only reason I can even chase this dream is thanks to your guidance and training all these years."
His lips curled into a smirk. "That's my son. Now go out there and break a leg."
"Will do," I said, smiling from ear to ear.
I bolted outside, past our lush garden overflowing with flowers and greenery that would leave any passerby in awe. I slowed my pace, saving stamina—I was going to need it.
"Hey, Zakou!" a voice shouted from behind.
I turned, squinting. "Oh—hey, Jonetsu!"
"We gotta hurry or we'll be late!" He shot past me in a gust of wind.
"Huh? But what time is it—AGH, CRAP, WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!" I yelled, breaking into a sprint.
"Come on!" he called back.
"Easy for you to say—you can fly!" I snapped, pushing harder until I matched his pace.
Jonetsu glanced at me with mild disappointment. "You should be able to as well. Please don't blame me for your lack of practice. The only thing you ever bother training is your assassin technique."
"I was able to practice one move—" I started, but quickly shook my head. "Never mind, let's just focus on getting there!"
My name is Soshikabe Zakou, and this is a world shaped by Elemental Resonance.
Everyone is born with a Resonant Core—a wellspring of elemental energy attuned to their bloodline. Most people resonate with a single element. My best friend, Konetsu Jonetsu, is rare; his core resonates with the elements of Wind and Ice, a hybrid of both natural and physical categories.
But me?
I resonate with five: Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, and Lightning.
It sounds like a blessing. But it didn't feel like one.
For most people, their core awakens in childhood. Mine didn't stir until I was fourteen—the latest documented manifestation ever recorded by the Elemental Administrative Authority, the central government responsible for monitoring, regulating, and safeguarding the balance of elemental power.
By then, I'd already been living on borrowed time. I was born with a rare and deadly heart disease, the kind that no one survives past age five. But I did. Somehow.
While others awakened to fireballs and elemental shields, I struggled just to stand. My body was weak. My stamina, brittle. I couldn't run, couldn't train, couldn't even breathe right on some days. Bullies mocked me. Teachers gave up on me. But my family, and Jonetsu especially, never did.
My father, a legendary assassin in our clan, believed I'd never awaken my Element. So he trained me like I never would. No elemental shortcuts. Just raw, painful, human will. I was forced to strengthen what the world saw as my weakness. By the time I was twelve, I could outrun arrows. By thirteen, I could strike vital points with perfect precision. By fourteen… I had learned how to kill without making a sound.
And still, no sign of resonance.
But I started to notice strange things.
When I was calm, wind would swirl at my back. When I was furious, flames danced higher. When sadness hit, I felt a pull—like a tide inside me trying to break free. It wasn't my mind that shaped my Elements—it was my heart. My Resonant Core didn't respond to training. It responded to emotion.
I wasn't just an Elemental.
I was a Veilborn—a rare kind whose Resonant Core is sealed behind powerful emotional triggers.
Now I know the truth: my five elements are not a gift. They are a storm waiting to break. A burden. A warning.
And this is the story of how that storm finally erupted—
And changed everything.
"Yes! We made it." I collapsed, panting. "O-okay, Jonetsu, let's… let's rest a bit before we go in."
"Alright," he replied, descending gracefully from the air.
A few minutes later, we stepped through the main gate and into the yard of the Elemental Advancement Academy.
It wasn't what I expected.
The Academy didn't loom like a castle or glow like some mythical shrine. It was clean, sharp, institutional — rows of tiled-roof buildings lined the courtyard, their stone bases reinforced with dark wood frames, banners of the Academy crest fluttering in the late morning wind. The ground was paved in broad stone tiles, polished from years of foot traffic, each one etched faintly with warding marks to endure resonance clashes. The place felt less like a school and more like a military compound adapted for elemental prodigies.
The main yard stretched wide, guiding all arrivals toward a looming structure at its center: the Battle and Training Arena. A hulking circle of stone and steel, its walls bore scorch marks, cracks, and frost stains that told their own history.
Dozens of applicants moved through the yard, their chatter buzzing like a restless swarm. Some carried themselves with nerves barely hidden, clutching family charms or muttering to themselves. Others laughed too loudly, their bravado disguising fear.
And then there were the upperclassmen.
They lingered at the edges — not instructors, not staff, just students who had already survived their own trials. Their uniforms were neater, their posture sharper. Some leaned casually against the walls, arms crossed, watching. Others whispered behind smirks, eyes glinting with the satisfaction of predators studying fresh prey. They weren't here to welcome us. They were here to measure us.
Jonetsu walked at my side, calm as ever, his gaze flicking across the yard like he was cataloging every face, every potential threat.
Me? My chest was tight. Every step toward that arena felt heavier. Not because I doubted myself. But because I could feel it — the weight of competition, of expectation, of eyes already judging whether we'd rise or break.
The Academy hadn't even started.
And already, the war for standing had begun.
The yard funneled us toward a wide gate at the far end, its doors framed with banners bearing the Academy crest. Past it, the noise of the crowd thinned into a heavy, expectant silence.
We stepped inside a broad chamber, long and orderly — a holding hall. Wooden benches lined the walls. Applicants filed forward in a slow-moving line, the air buzzing with tension. At the far end stood a desk, behind it a faculty member in a black E.A.C. uniform, the crest stitched boldly into his sleeve.
He wasn't old, but the sharp lines of his posture and the cane resting at his side gave him a kind of unyielding presence. His eyes swept over the queue like a hawk watching prey.
"Step forward. Resonance Slip," he commanded, his voice clipped and formal.
The student at the front produced a small slip of lacquered paper stamped with the Academy's crest. The man pressed it against a carved stone tablet set into the desk. Light rippled across the surface, a soft hum vibrating through the air as the slip resonated with the student's elemental core. The glow faded. The faculty member gave a curt nod, and the student was waved through a tall door at the back.
Jonetsu and I shuffled forward with the line.
I leaned closer. "So that's it?"
"Resonance Slip," Jonetsu said evenly. "Issued when you register. It's bound to your core. No slip, no test."
When my turn came, the man's stare locked on me, hard and unblinking. "Slip."
I handed it over. He pressed it to the stone. For a moment, nothing. Then a sharp pulse of light flashed red before dimming. His gaze lingered on me for half a beat longer than the others, as if he'd felt something, but he returned the slip without comment.
"Proceed," he said, voice flat.
Jonetsu followed. His process was smooth, the stone responding with a pale green shimmer before fading. One nod, and we were both waved through.
We stepped past the desk, the heavy door shutting behind us, and entered the passage leading deeper — toward the testing floor.
The test we were about to take was the entrance exam for Elemental Advancement Corporations, or E.A.C. for short—an academy where students are trained to master their Elemental Resonance and become Guards.
Guards were the protectors of the world, defending it against natural disasters and the Anti-Guard.
As we walked, we marveled at the other applicants. Some sprouted plants from the ground. Others bent stone into pillars. One even commanded a dragon companion.
Eventually, we found a quieter spot to sit and strategize.
"You'll have the advantage at long range. You can use ice from afar, and—" I started, but a new voice cut me off.
"Hiiiii~! Can I sit here with you guys?"
I turned around—and froze.
She had a kind of energy that was impossible to ignore. Her orange hair bounced lightly behind her with every step, almost glowing in the sunlight pouring through the arena's windows. Those bright, sea-glass-blue eyes sparkled with warmth, and the way she smiled—so effortlessly—felt like a direct hit to the chest.
There was no malice in her. Just a joyful light, soft but vibrant, like someone who had never let the world dim her spirit. She wasn't overly loud, but her presence filled the room like the scent of spring air after a storm.
"My name's Todomaru Misaki. Nice to meet you!" she said, flashing a cheerful grin that could thaw winter.
My brain short-circuited. I rarely talked to girls—actually, aside from Jonetsu and my family, I barely spoke to anyone. But this girl? She was on a different level.
**HOLY—**She looked like a goddess sent straight from the heavens.
"Hey. Snap out of it," Jonetsu muttered, waving a hand in front of my face.
"A-ah, sorry, I… got a little distracted," I stammered, my face red.
"And you are?" Misaki tilted her head, still waiting, blinking innocently like I hadn't just melted into a pile of nerves.
"M-my name is… S-Soshikabe Zakou. N-nice to meet you," I mumbled, blushing furiously.
"Zakou-kun, huh? Cute name. I like it," she said with a smile.
"…Cute? My… name is cute?"
My entire mind spiraled into white noise.
Jonetsu crossed his arms, expression flat. "My name is Konetsu Jonetsu."
"Nice to meet you, Jonetsu-kun!" Misaki said warmly, bowing her head slightly.
Even in the short time we talked, I could tell—Misaki was someone who meant what she said. She gave her full attention to you like you were the most important person in the room. That kind of kindness felt… rare. And dangerously disarming.
We chatted a bit about the school and the other new applicants flooding in. But right as I was starting to think this might be the best first day ever—
CRRRK—
The loudspeaker above us crackled to life.
"Uhh… hello, hello, testing. One, two, three."
A man's voice cracked through the loudspeakers—sharp, clean, and way too loud.
"Good afternoon, everyone! I hope you're all doing well. Welcome to ELEMENTAL ADVANCEMENT CORPORATIONS!"
The stadium exploded into cheers. Seats scraped back as everyone jumped to their feet, energy buzzing in the air like static before a storm.
"Hey, you two! Get up—it's starting!" I elbowed Jonetsu and Misaki as I sprang up, heart pounding.
"My name is Ose Kiyoshi, your announcer for today! Joining me is your co-host, Sasitoshi Goku—and I hope you're all ready!"
Kiyoshi's voice thundered like a cannon, practically shaking the arena walls.
"YEEAAAH!"
"We're ready!"
"LET'S DO THIS!"
The crowd roared back, a wave of sound that made my chest vibrate.
Then Goku's voice came in—cooler, measured.
"Before we begin… a reminder. The final phase is the Rite of the Veil. As always, your placement will not depend on victory alone. We evaluate composure, skill, and adaptability."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. Whispers multiplied.
"The Rite? Already?"
"I thought that was just for upper divisions…"
"No, it's always been part of the entrance exam—don't tell me you didn't study?"
I frowned. Sasitoshi Goku… that name was tugging at me. Too familiar. And then it hit me—my stomach lurched.
The Transforming Bug Guard? That's HIM?!
I almost blurted it out, but another voice cut through the murmurs.
"Excuse me!" A man with oversized glasses pushed forward, his tone sharp, indignant. "The application never mentioned anything about… combat."
"Oh, you must have skimmed the fine print," Goku replied lightly, scratching the back of his head. "The Rite of the Veil has been part of E.A.C. tradition since its founding. One-on-one combat. A chance for the Academy to see the truth of an applicant's potential. Always has been, always will be."
A stunned silence.
Then—
"What?!"
"I thought we just had to demonstrate our Element!"
"This is insane—some of us barely trained for this!"
Chaos erupted—panic, protests, voices clashing. Some shouted, others looked ready to walk out.
Goku didn't move.
His glowing green eyes narrowed. And then it happened.
A pressure swept across the arena. No flame. No lightning. No spectacle. Just a weight that seeped into the air, radiating from his core like an invisible tide.
The effect was instant. Conversations cut short, laughter died on tongues. Those with shaky resonance dropped to their knees, clutching their chests as if the air itself had turned against them. A few gasped, trembling, unable to steady their breath.
I flinched. My chest tightened, like iron bands clamped around my ribs. My legs felt heavy, harder to move than they should've been. Every instinct screamed at me to back down, to submit. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to stay upright, but the pressure pressed in harder the longer I resisted.
This wasn't just raw strength. It was something deeper—command without words, a presence that demanded recognition. Even those too untrained to name it knew instinctively: this was authority.
"If this is how you perform under pressure," Goku said, his voice calm but carrying like steel, "leave now. The Rite is not about victory. It is about resolve. Adaptability. The strength to face the unknown without breaking."
His gaze swept the hushed crowd like a blade.
No one shouted back. Not this time. The only sound was the labored breathing of those still struggling to stay upright.
Jonetsu exhaled through his nose, unimpressed, while my chest still fought for air. "Finally," he muttered, arms crossed. He turned to me, catching the tension in my stance. "Hey, Za—"
"OH MY GOD, THIS IS AMAZING!" I shouted, practically glowing with joy.
He blinked at me. "Why are you… bouncing?"
"You're adorable, Zakou-kun," Misaki giggled.
"A-ah, I can't help it," I admitted, grinning. "I've dreamed about this place for years. Being here—actually being here—it doesn't feel real."
"Whatever. Let's just do our best," Jonetsu said with his usual deadpan.
"You don't have to tell me twice," I muttered, trying to dial back my excitement.
"Yeah! Let's give it everything we've got!" Misaki cheered, thrusting a fist into the air.
"Well then!" Kiyoshi bellowed, voice booming again. "Let's move on—THE FIRST PHASE OF THE TEST BEGINS NOW!"
The crowd cheered again, this time more cautious, like they weren't sure what was coming.
"For the first phase," Goku continued, "you'll each demonstrate your Elemental Manipulation."
"What?!" Half the stadium shouted at once.
Some looked like they'd seen a ghost. Others just groaned or shook their heads.
"Starting with something we don't even know how to do?!" someone cried out.
I sighed and buried my face in my hands. Seriously?
Elemental Manipulation was the foundation of everything. If they didn't know that, what were they even doing here?
"Calm down," Goku said, exasperated. "This was all in the guidebook… and honestly, you should've learned this long before now."
Still, the confusion lingered.
"Elemental Manipulation," he explained, "is your ability to summon or control your Element. Whether that's to complete a task or convert it into usable energy—it's basic. Without it, you don't stand a chance of getting in."
Murmurs faded. Understanding finally sank in.
"For today's exercise," he continued, "your task is simple. Use your Element to either knock over this bottle—or move it. Either one counts."
The test began.
Jonetsu went first. He didn't say a word—just yawned like the whole thing bored him to death. With a lazy flick of his fingers, the bottle lifted off the ground, smooth and silent, floating as if the air itself bent to his will.
No surprise there. Jonetsu always made it look easy.
But my eyes weren't on him.
They drifted to Misaki.
We'd never asked what her Element was. Maybe we thought she'd tell us when she was ready. Or perhaps we just assumed she didn't have one.
She stepped down the stairs like she'd done this a thousand times—shoulders relaxed, head high, eyes bright. There was something warm in the way she smiled. Not cocky. Not theatrical. Just… at ease, like she belonged here more than any of us.
She stopped in front of the bottle.
Then she stretched—arms overhead, fingers laced together—like someone greeting the morning sun, not about to show off elemental power.
A murmur passed through the crowd. Everyone leaned in.
She dropped her arms, planted her feet.
And for a moment, I honestly thought she was going to kick it.
But then—
The air shifted.
Not a gust. Not a push.
A curl.
Inside the glass, the space began to spin—slow and deliberate, like the breath before a storm. Dust stirred, caught in a spiral, and then the bottle rose. No jerk, no wobble. Just a graceful, floating lift, like it was being carried upward by something alive.
A small sound rippled through the room. Not applause. Not awe. Just… disbelief.
"Is that even allowed?" someone whispered.
Goku, leaning against the far wall, didn't even look up. "As long as it's her Element," he said, "it counts."
One by one, the rest of the students took their turns. Some nailed it. Some completely froze. A few just barely managed to move the bottle.
Then it was my name they called.
"Soshikabe Zakou!"
My breath caught. My stomach twisted like it wanted out. I hadn't been able to control my Element for more than a few seconds at a time. It was still new—raw, unstable. But this was it. My chance to prove I belonged here.
The crowd buzzed.
"Isn't that the pale one?"
"Looks like he might pass out."
"Creepy… he's way too quiet."
I clenched my fists.
No. I can do this.
I stepped forward, every footfall heavier than the last. The bottle waited for me—small, unassuming, yet suddenly the most important thing in the world.
I closed my eyes and pictured it: the wind flowing through me, not against me. I didn't fight it. I welcomed it. Felt it coil around my spine, rise into my chest.
"Now," I whispered, flicking my finger upward.
Nothing.
Silence.
For a heartbeat, I was too scared to open my eyes. But then—slowly—I peeked.
The bottle floated.
I gasped. "Y-yes! I did it!" I shouted, practically jumping. "Jonetsu, did you see? I made it float!"
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Don't make a scene."
"Right!" I laughed, running back to them, my grin unstoppable.
For once, I didn't care if people stared.
I belonged here.