The room dimmed when the night deepened. Mira had finally dozed off by the bedside, her head resting against the mattress. Watson had left, leaving only the quiet rasp of Ren's breathing.
Ren lay still, eyes half-closed, but sleep did not come.
And in that silence, he heard…
A voice.
"Ren."
His eyes snapped open. The room had not changed, yet everything had. Shadows gathered on the walls, twisting, bleeding into one another until they formed shapes. Familiar shapes.
Two figures emerged.
A man, tall, his shoulders broad, his presence like an unyielding mountain. His eyes gleamed faintly blue in the dark. Beside him, a woman, graceful yet fierce, her expression gentle but firm.
Ren's chest tightened.
"…Father. Mother."
The word trembled out of him before he could stop it.
They didn't step forward, nor did they speak immediately. They simply were.
Finally, his mother's voice came, soft yet resonant.
"You've awakened."
His father's tone followed, deeper, edged like steel.
"Too soon."
Ren swallowed hard. "What… what am I?"
His father's gaze pierced him. "You are our son. That is enough."
But his mother's hand rose, as though brushing his cheek though she never touched him. Her eyes held sorrow. "Enough for us. Not for them."
The weight of their words pressed on him.
Ren's fists clenched weakly against the sheets. "They said… dark elemental magicians don't exist."
His father's jaw tightened. "They say many things to bury what they fear."
His mother's voice shook faintly, the first crack in her composure. "You must not let them chain you, Ren. This power… it is not a curse. It is inheritance."
Ren's throat burned. "But everyone… everyone looks at me like I'm a monster."
The silence stretched, heavy and cruel.
Then his father stepped closer, his outline flickering like smoke. His voice thundered quietly.
"Let them. If they see a monster, then become the monster they fear. But remember, never let it consume you. Power does not forgive weakness."
His mother's eyes softened. She leaned closer, her shadow-hand almost brushing his hair. "You are not alone, Ren. Even in this path, we walk with you. Always."
The edges of their forms began to blur, the shadows thinning.
Desperation clawed at Ren. "Wait—don't go yet!"
But the man only left him one last command, sharp and unyielding:
"Grow strong. Stronger than their chains. Stronger than their fear. We have to go now because the president summoned us."
And the woman's final whisper, gentle, aching:
"Live, Ren. For yourself. For us."
They left.
His chest heaved, his body trembling, yet his eyes burned with something steadier than before.
Not just survival. Not just an accident.
It was a legacy.
★★★
The room was silent.
Ren lay motionless on the bed, his chest rising faintly with each breath. His wounds itched beneath the tight bandages, but pain no longer distracted him. Instead, his focus sank inward.
The black sea stirred.
He closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. His awareness sank past flesh, past blood, into the core where his mana gathered.
There it was.
A vast sea of ink. Waves rolled endlessly, heavy and suffocating. Each surge pressed against his veins, demanding release. The power felt alive, restless and hungry.
Ren did not flinch. He studied it with cold calculation.
This is mine. But it is not tamed.
The memory of the battle replayed. Each technique had been effective but each had devoured his stamina. The backlash had nearly destroyed him before the creatures could.
"If I cannot control hunger, I will lose to it before I lose to my enemies."
He drew a slow breath, focusing. His will pressed down on the sea, seeking stillness.
The waves resisted. Darkness surged upward, slamming against him.
Pain flared in his chest. His wounds throbbed. His eyes snapped open, breath ragged.
Blood dripped from the corner of his lips.
He wiped it away calmly. Too soon. "My body isn't ready."
Still, the attempt was not wasted. He had felt the edge, the point where his control slipped.
"Next time, I'll push further."
★★★
Outside the room, voices carried faintly.
Mira sat just beyond the door, knees drawn up, her chin resting on them. She had refused to leave since his awakening. Dark circles lined her eyes.
She whispered under her breath, as though to convince herself. "He's not dangerous. He saved us. He's not dangerous…"
But the whispers of the other students had reached her ears too.
"Monster."
"Calamity."
"Dark magician."
Her nails dug into her arms.
"They don't know him. They didn't see his eyes. He wasn't fighting for power. He was fighting for us."
The door opened behind her.
She turned.
Watson stood there, his posture neat as always, his gaze sharp.
"You're still here," he observed.
"I won't leave," Mira said firmly.
Watson regarded her quietly. His eyes, however, carried no warmth. "Then prepare yourself. He will not remain hidden. His existence is too loud."
Mira glared at him. "So what? Let them whisper. Let them fear. I'll…"
"You'll what?" Watson interrupted, voice like cold steel. "Protect him? Stand in front of him when the Academy comes? When factions send their hounds? When families who lost loved ones to darkness seek blood in return?"
Mira's throat closed. Her voice faltered. "…He's not like that."
His expression was unreadable. "I am also his friend and care about him too. But the world does not care about truth. It cares about perception. And perception has already marked him."
He stepped past her, entering the room briefly. He set a small pouch of herbs on the table, then turned to leave.
Before closing the door, he spoke once more, his tone quiet but sharp. "Do not blind yourself with loyalty, Mira. Sentiment will not shield him."
The door shut.
Mira's fists trembled.
★★★
Elsewhere in the compound, Yato stood apart from the others, his team gathered around him.
They spoke in hushed voices, their fear poorly masked.
"Leader… are we just going to ignore this?"
"He's dangerous. Everyone saw it."
"If the Academy learns—"
Yato raised his hand. Silence fell immediately.
His gaze was distant, thoughtful. "You saw only the surface. That power was not wild. Even on the edge of collapse, he directed it with precision. Every strike was calculated."
His team exchanged uneasy looks.
"But…" one murmured, "if he's truly dark elemental—"
"Then he will either rise," Yato interrupted, "or be destroyed. There is no middle path."
He turned away, his tone low, almost to himself.
"And if he rises… then I want to see with my own eyes just how high he can climb."
★★★
Night.
Ren lay awake, his eyes open. The room was quiet, Mira's faint breathing audible from her vigil outside the door.
He closed his eyes again, sinking inward.
The black sea waited.
This time he did not press it. He simply observed.
The waves rolled endlessly, yet within them, he noticed something he had missed before. Patterns.
Each surge was not random. The hunger rose and fell in rhythm, like a beast pacing in a cage.
Not chaos. Instinct.
His mind sharpened.
"If it is instinct, then it can be redirected. If it can be redirected, it can be used."
A plan formed slowly, piece by piece.
He would not rush again. His body needed time. But when it healed, he would begin shaping the sea, not fighting it.
Control was not about suppression. It was about channeling hunger where he wished it to bite.
His lips tightened faintly.
"Then I will turn its hunger on my enemies."
The thought was cold, sharp, without hesitation.
The black sea rippled faintly, as though in answer.
Ren opened his eyes. The pain in his chest had not lessened, but his mind was clear.
The path ahead was sharp with danger. Watson's warnings were not wrong. Mira's loyalty would not shield him. Yato's watchful eyes would not turn away.
But none of that mattered.
He had walked through blood already. He would walk further if needed.
Ren closed his eyes once more.
Sleep came slowly, but it came.
And in the silence of the night, someone watching him through that black sea.