I wasn't sorry.
Not even a little.
I should've been. I should've felt something—remorse, guilt, hesitation. But when I replayed the fight in my head, all I felt was… exhilaration.
Not anger. Not blind rage. Nothing reactive. It was joy. A deep, buzzing thrill, like I had found something I'd been missing my whole life.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't sane.
And yet—I wanted to feel it again.
The rush.
The waves.
Because that's what it was. Not a metaphor. Not just adrenaline. I heard them. The tide rising, the current pulling—stronger, deeper. And somewhere in that vast, endless blue, I felt something calling.
I clenched my fists. My knuckles were still sore. Did I break something? Maybe. Didn't matter. The bruises would heal.
But the memory wouldn't leave me.
That moment.
That exact moment when everything flipped.
When the first bolt of lightning should've ended me.
When I should've lost.
But instead, something inside me had whispered—
"Osmosis."
It wasn't my thought. It wasn't even a voice.
It was a knowing. A single word that came with meaning attached, like instinct. Like it had always been there, waiting for me to hear it.
I touched my chest absentmindedly. The blue-green glow—was that Aether?
No. It was something else.
Aether didn't work like that. It didn't consume, it didn't absorb. It didn't feel like drinking in the world itself.
I exhaled slowly, grounding myself.
I have questions now.
Too many to ignore.
I needed answers. I needed to know what the hell had happened to me.
And if no one could give me the answer—
I'd find out for myself.
But regardless of how I felt, I had caused a commotion. On my last day, no less. While my uncle was inside… again.
He'd be pissed. Later.
For now, I just walked. Following the Headmaster through the halls, my body still buzzing from the fight. My skin tingled where my muscles had torn and healed, my breath steady despite the lingering ache in my limbs. I should've felt exhausted. Instead, I felt aware. Hyper-aware. Like something was still shifting inside me, adapting.
Osmosis.
That word still clung to my mind, sinking deep. I needed to figure out what the hell had happened back there.
But first… this.
We reached his office. Standard setup. A desk, a chair, a computer, a nameplate that read:
"Headmaster Jean-Paul Lyricus Solari."
Not many decorations. He didn't seem like the sentimental type. But there were two photos—one on the desk, another on the wall. Both had the same little girl in them. One was just her. On the other hand, she was with a woman, probably his wife.
A silver pendant hung around his neck, shaped like… a harp? Maybe?
It suited him.
The Headmaster shut the door, stepping behind his desk. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes carried something close to confusion.
I shifted slightly, crossing my arms. "…Hello, Headmaster. How are you?"
He studied me for a moment, then took his seat. "I'm doing well, Lucian." A pause. Then, with a slight sigh, "I'd ask the same, but I have a feeling you have something else on your mind."
Jean's gray trench coat fluttered slightly in the faint breeze as he adjusted his glasses. His silver hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place. Violet eyes—sharp, unreadable—peered through the lenses.
He looked composed. Youthful, despite his presence carrying the weight of someone who had seen far too much. The deep brown of his skin contrasted against the crisp white of his tailored suit, the well-groomed beard adding to his air of quiet authority.
He'd always been like this. Calm. Unshaken. A man who could see straight through you without ever raising his voice.
…And yeah, he looked young.
You should've seen him back then—HAHAHAHA…
I cut that thought off before it went anywhere. Now wasn't the time for distractions.
Jean-Paul sat across from me, hands clasped together, elbows resting on his desk. His gaze wasn't harsh or condemning, but analytical, like he was piecing together a puzzle he hadn't known existed until now.
"You realize how much of a mess you've made, right?" he asked finally, his voice carrying the calm weight of an impending storm.
"Yeah, I know," I said, stretching my fingers, still feeling the faint tingling of power lingering beneath my skin. "But if I'm being honest—and since we're already here—I just wanted to let off some steam." I leaned back in the chair, unfazed. "So why not choose the people who annoyingly tormented me?"
Jean-Paul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Lucian, letting off steam is one thing. Hospitalizing four students—especially those four—is something entirely different."
I scoffed. "All I train is breath control and techniques. You assigned me to all the combat classes, and when I was getting jumped or messed with, everyone just stood there. I had to take it. No one did a damn thing." I glanced down at my hands, flexing them, a slow grin creeping up. "So no, I don't care about what I did to them."
Jean-Paul exhaled through his nose, his fingers drumming against the desk. "That's the problem, Lucian. You're saying that now, but I need you to understand that this isn't something that goes away. Do you have any idea who those boys are? What Syndicates do their families belong to?"
"Of course I do," I said, meeting his eyes. "Jason Draeven, son of a Black Winter commander. The Black Winter—the most 'noble' strike force in the North. Xavier Zurrak—Silver Coil. A Syndicate that runs on debt, trade secrets, coded speech, and contractual poisons. No one moves without knowing. Anthony Vallmor, The Iron Anne,x a Syndicate-court hybrid, part military tribunal, part fortress-administration. All disputes go through the Judgment Node. And Rion Nyzara Vaul—Crimson Vale ruled through blood bonds, oaths, and whispers—a Syndicate where loyalty is literal, sealed in your veins. Yeah, I know exactly who I just crippled."
Jean-Paul's expression darkened. "Then you understand why this is bad, right?"
I shrugged. "Bad for who? Me? Them? You?"
Jean-Paul clenched his jaw but said nothing. I continued.
"I do understand that I just messed up a lot of them. Maybe they'll recover, maybe they won't. Maybe they're scared now. But that's not my problem. I could have shown restraint… I just never had that feeling before.
Jean-Paul sighed again, rubbing his temples. "Lucian. You don't get it. They won't let this slide."
"They can try something if they want," I muttered under my breath.
Jean-Paul gave me a hard look. "You're leaving tonight, right?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I remember 'he' told me they found 'one' around the Delwit Park woods. I was against it at first, but after today? Since I'm leaving anyway, tonight is my only chance."
Jean-Paul's eyes narrowed. "And what, exactly, are you planning to do, Lucian?"
I smiled. "Experiment."
For the first time in this conversation, Jean-Paul looked genuinely unsettled.
"Lucian… what are you?"
A good question.
One I intended to find the answer to.
Jean-Paul's sharp hazel eyes bore into me, searching for something—hesitation, uncertainty, maybe even guilt. But he found none of those things.
"Lucian," he said, leaning forward slightly, his fingers steepled, "there's something I need you to understand. Whatever happened to you out there today… It wasn't normal."
I smirked. "Yeah, I got that part."
His jaw tightened. "I'm not talking about your physical abilities. Even without a developed core or circuits, your body is naturally stronger than most. That alone puts you above the others. But thisthis-thiss was something else."
He shifted, exhaling slowly before continuing.
"When I was training you all, I categorized you as a Flow Fighter—someone naturally gifted with strength, speed, and endurance. It made sense. You couldn't use Aether. You never showed any potential for it. And now, out of nowhere, you…If what I saw you do out there was what I saw. That's not something that just happens, Lucian.
I tilted my head, thinking back to the fight. "Osmosis."
Jean-Paul's brow furrowed. "What?"
"The word came to me during the fight. When I was taking their Aether, it was like… my body knew what to do. Like it wasn't the first time. But I never did it before. I think... that's what it's called."
Jean-Paul rubbed his temples, sighing heavily. "So you're telling me… your body instinctively developed a Gift? On the spot?"
I shrugged. "Apparently."
His fingers tapped against the desk, a slow rhythm of contemplation. He was processing, calculating outcomes. Then, with a sharp breath, he straightened his posture.
"You need to leave."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm already leaving."
"No, Lucian. You need to disappear faster."
The room was quiet for a moment.
Jean-Paul wasn't one to panic. He wasn't one to overreact. So if he was saying this, it meant something bigger was at play.
"You don't get it," he continued, voice low and serious. "You didn't just cripple those boys. You publicly humiliated them. And then, you showed an ability no one has seen before. There were witnesses, Lucian. Do you think their families—these Syndicates—are just going to let that go?"
I exhaled through my nose, tilting my head back against the chair. "Tch. So what? They're gonna put a bounty on me?"
Jean-Paul didn't answer.
Which meant yes.
I let out a laugh. "Seriously? That's their next move? They're that soft? They lose one fight and decide to kill me over it?"
Jean-Paul's eyes hardened. "This isn't a schoolyard fight, Lucian. The Syndicates rule the world. They decide who rises and who falls. And you? You just made enemies of four of them before you even left the Academy."
He leaned forward, voice lowering even further. "And worse? You showed them something new. Something dangerous. You showed them an ability they don't understand. And the one thing these Syndicates fear most... is what they don't understand."
A slow grin spread across my face.
"Good."
Jean-Paul sighed again, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
I stood up, stretching, rolling my shoulders. "I was never meant to fit in their little world, Jean. If they want to hunt me down? Let them try."
Jean-Paul was about to respond, but then—
The door creaked open.
My uncle stepped in.
And he did not look happy.
His dark eyes locked onto me, cold and unreadable, then shifted to Jean-Paul. "How bad is it?"
Jean-Paul exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's worse than I thought."
My uncle's jaw tensed. His eyes flicked back to me. "So you got into another fight, Lucian? You just couldn't help yourself."
I shrugged. "Yep. I'm going to the woods. Sigh."
His glare sharpened. "It's not what you think, Uncle. They came after me first—I was defending myself. It's not fair to say I started it." My voice was steady, my eyes solid.
"So you're saying you had to fight? There was no other option? Like, I don't know—getting someone of authority?" His tone turned sharp, and I saw it—the telltale sign. Arms crossed. Back straight. That meant he was pissed. "No, you didn't. You got hot-headed and ran into another fight. And this time, you didn't just win, Lucian. You wrecked them."
My lips twitched into something between a smirk and a grimace. "Well, they're still breathing. Mostly."
"Lucian."
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, I get it. I went too far. But let's not pretend those bastards were innocent. I've taken their shit for years. Today was just payback with interest."
Jean-Paul cleared his throat. "Jamie, you don't understand. Lucian's ability—whatever it is—it's not normal. He didn't just fight them. He absorbed them. Took their Aether. Broke them down like it was instinct."
Uncle Jamie's expression didn't change, but I saw it—the brief flicker of something in his eyes. Something that told me he knew more than he let on.
"You don't have time for lectures," Jean-Paul continued. "The Syndicates aren't waiting. They're already moving."
Uncle Jamie turned on his heel, already heading for the door. "You wanted to let off steam? Well, congratulations, kid. You just kicked a damn hornet's nest."
Jean-Paul's voice grew tense. "They don't waste time. If they sent out word already… Lucian, you need to disappear."
I frowned, my body tensing on instinct. "What's going on?"
My uncle's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "We don't have time for this. Grab your things. We're leaving. Now."
I didn't hesitate.
I turned back to Jean-Paul, forcing a smirk. "Well, Headmaster, thanks for everything. Sorry for the headaches."
He studied me for a long moment. "Farewell, Lucian… please be safe out there. But most of all, remember—"
I cut him off with a wave, already walking away. "*Always protect my freedom and my peace, even if that means taking a couple of defeats.**"
I don't know if I believe those words yet.
But I sure as hell was about to find out.
We stepped outside, the afternoon air thick with something unspoken. My uncle moved ahead, cutting around the front of the car, but before he got in, he and Jean-Paul exchanged a look.
A look that told me they had already made up their minds about something.
I acted like I didn't notice, tilting my head slightly and slipping one earbud into my right ear before he could catch me. The moment he sat in the driver's seat, the air in the car shifted—heavy, charged, like a storm just waiting to crack open.
Silence.
The hum of the car filled the space between us, punctuated only by the occasional bump in the road. Neither of us spoke. Not once.
I glanced out the window, watching the streets blur past in streaks of steel and neon, the city humming with life beyond the glass, thinking of the new place I'm soon to move to. Vesperia. The capital of the world. A place where dreams and nightmares coexisted like old friends.
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat. My body still thrummed, every nerve alive with the echoes of the fight. The feeling still lingered—that high. That rush. The memory of Aether bleeding into my body, the phantom sensation of power flowing through my veins, pulling me deeper into something I didn't understand.
Osmosis.
That name—it wasn't just a thought. It was something more. Something instinctual. I had felt it. The way my body drank the energy, how it responded without hesitation.
My fingers curled unconsciously.
What the hell am I becoming?
I peeked at my uncle from the corner of my eye. His grip on the wheel was tight, his jaw locked. He wasn't looking at me, but I knew his mind was already running circles around the problem I had just created.
I thought about breaking the silence. About telling him what I had felt back there.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
The road stretched ahead, the city swallowing us whole.
The only question now was—what the hell was waiting for me on the other side?
He was the first to break the silence.
The road stretched ahead, the city swallowing us whole.
I could feel it before he even spoke—the weight pressing down on my shoulders like an invisible hand. His Aether, thick and heavy, radiated through the car, making the air dense with unspoken words.
A-Rank Wave Riders had something called Aether Density—a byproduct of their mastery. When someone reached a certain level, their very presence became overwhelming, a pressure that could break weaker minds and bodies.
Right now, my uncle wasn't even looking at me, but I could feel every bit of his disappointment.
The silence didn't last long.
"So, would you like to explain yourself? Or will I have to?"
His voice was calm. Too calm. His hands never left the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. But I wasn't an idiot. The storm was there, beneath the surface, waiting.
I swallowed. My heart was still racing, but I forced myself to breathe evenly. He wasn't going to let this slide, so I might as well lay it out.
"They've been messing with me for years," I said, voice sharp, edged with something bitter. "And every damn adult tells me the same thing—'Oh, just ignore them. If you ignore bullies long enough, they'll stop."
I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Lies. They don't stop. They get worse."
His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles paling.
"So yeah," I continued, my pulse hammering in my ears. "I fought them. I fight them every time they push me because I refuse to be their punching bag. I refuse to let them walk all over me while I'm the bigger person."
I turned to him fully now, meeting his profile with unwavering eyes.
"I don't feel bad for them. I don't care."
The moment the words left my mouth, his Aether dropped. The pressure vanished in an instant, and the car suddenly felt… emptier.
Silence.
I watched his expression shift slightly, the rigid lines of his face softening—not in relief, not in anger, but something in between. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, quieter.
"I taught you to defend yourself, Lucian. But not at the expense of someone else."
I scoffed, leaning back in my seat, arms crossed. "Yeah, well, they weren't showing me any mercy either."
His eyes flicked toward me for just a second. "You're not the same as them. You know that,"
That made me pause.
His tone wasn't accusatory. It wasn't judgmental.
It was a warning.
Something cold crawled down my spine.
"You're different, Luci," he said, looking back at the road. "And that means things will be harder for you. You need to control that temper of yours—before it controls you."
I hated the way that sounded. Like a lesson. Like something I should be grateful for.
But deep down, I knew he was right.
I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers. The feeling of the fight still lingered—the rush, the power, the hunger.
Was that just my temper? Or was it something else?
I clenched my fists. "Whatever."
Uncle sighed, shaking his head slightly. "We'll finish this conversation at home. But we have more to discuss than just this."
I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Your Headmaster told me some things," he said, voice unreadable. "Your Aunt and I need to go over them with you. Until then, just go inside and finish packing."
That was it. Discussion over.
He put the car in drive, and we pulled away from the school, heading home.
But my mind was already racing ahead.
What the hell did Jean-Paul tell him?