A low hum filled the silence of Fenix's room like the distant rumble of an approaching storm.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, perfectly still except for the faint shimmer of energy that danced across his skin like living lightning. The air around him had grown thick and heavy as his crimson aura burst to life, wrapping his body in layers of condensed willpower that pulsed and twisted with barely contained power.
But something was wrong. The brilliant red glow was getting smaller.
Shrinking. Again.
A frustrated exhale escaped his lips as beads of sweat rolled down his temples despite the morning chill. His chest rose and fell in steady, controlled rhythms as he fought to maintain focus. For three agonizing minutes, the aura flickered and pulsed around him like a dying flame before finally collapsing into nothing, leaving behind only a gasping, sweat-soaked young man with white hair plastered to his forehead.
This was the seventh day of the same routine.
Every morning when he woke up. Every evening before sleep. Every spare moment in between - he had dedicated himself completely to this single, maddening task.
The mysterious voice's instructions echoed in his mind like a sacred mantra: 'Draw it out from the depths of your soul. Ignite it with your determination. Let it shroud your spirit in power. Then forge it into an unbreakable flame that will burn away all obstacles.'
The first three steps had become second nature to him. He could summon his aura at will now, sustain it for several minutes, and let it completely envelop his body in protective energy. But that final stage - the forging - that's where everything always fell apart.
He had become convinced that forming a proper Aura Core was the missing piece of the puzzle. The central foundation that would transform his raw power into something stable and usable. Since the energy always seemed to originate from his chest, logic dictated that's where the core should form. But every time he tried to compress and condense his aura into that crucial center point, it would simply fizzle out like a candle flame deprived of oxygen.
Seven days of wrestling with his own potential. Seven days of private failure. And right now, he desperately needed a break from the endless cycle of disappointment.
He glanced at the small time crystal sitting on his bedside table, its soft glow indicating the hour. Midday already.
Right. He had promised Abigail he would follow her on a tour of the estate today. After everything she'd been through, she deserved some normal sibling time.
---
The heavy iron door to his chamber creaked open with a sound like grinding teeth as Fenix stepped into the corridor. Gray clouds hung overhead, tinged with the pale blue of approaching evening. He had chosen his outfit carefully - a fitted black turtleneck that showed off his lean but muscular build, flown over dark cargo pants that allowed for easy movement. His combat boots made soft crunching sounds against the gravel path as he walked.
His distinctive white hair hung loose today instead of being tied back, flowing freely in the gentle breeze and catching the overcast light in a way that made it seem to glow with its own inner radiance. Combined with his sharp, aristocratic features, he looked like some kind of fallen angel - beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.
He stood quietly by the courtyard entrance, lost in thought about his training struggles, his crimson eyes distant and unfocused.
So deep was his contemplation that he barely registered the soft voice calling his name.
"Fenix!"
The sound seemed to come from very far away.
"Big brother!!"
This time the exasperation in the voice cut through his mental fog like a sword.
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head to clear the distraction.
Turning toward the sound, he saw her - Abigail - standing with her arms folded across her chest and her lips pursed in an adorable pout. Clearly, she had been trying to get his attention for several minutes.
"You always space out like that," she huffed, though there was more fondness than real annoyance in her tone. "It's like you're in your own little world sometimes."
A genuine smile slowly spread across Fenix's face - the kind of warm, unguarded expression he reserved only for her. It transformed his entire appearance, melting away the cold aristocratic mask and revealing the caring brother underneath.
Abigail looked absolutely lovely today, dressed in a flowing black dress with split sleeves that gave her freedom of movement, paired with sleek ankle boots that were both practical and stylish. Her raven-black hair had been carefully braided to one side, creating an elegant contrast to his own pale locks. Standing together like this, they looked like living shadows of their parents - beautiful and noble, but marked by tragedy.
After a brief standoff of mock glares and suppressed smiles, Abigail finally broke character and started giggling.
"Come on already, you big dummy. Let's explore before the sun disappears completely."
---
The Ackerman estate had once been a monument to power and prosperity, a sprawling testament to their family's dominance. Now it bore the ugly scars of war and betrayal - crumbling walls marked by weapon strikes, windows shattered by explosions, stone pathways blackened by fire. But even in ruin, hints of its former beauty still managed to shine through.
Their first destination was the estate's private park.
Faded gravel paths wound between patches of wildflowers that had stubbornly continued blooming despite the neglect. Old swing sets creaked softly in the breeze like gentle music, and thick moss had claimed most of the wooden benches scattered throughout the grounds. They settled on a relatively clean bench near a cluster of bird feeders that someone was still maintaining.
From her small shoulder bag, Abigail produced several pieces of bread they had quietly taken from the kitchen earlier.
As they began scattering crumbs for the local birds, a peaceful calm settled over both siblings like a warm blanket. Fenix watched his sister's face light up with genuine joy as small finches and sparrows flitted closer to investigate their offering. It had been far too long since he'd seen her smile like this - without any shadow of pain or worry behind it.
"Do you remember," she began softly, her voice carrying a wistful note, "when Mother brought us here for the Harvest Festival a few years ago?"
Fenix nodded, his eyes drifting toward the crooked swing set that had seen better days. "You wouldn't stop running around everywhere. You tripped over your own feet and cried for almost an hour straight."
"I was only five years old!" she protested with mock indignation. "And you were crying too, so don't act all superior about it."
They both burst into genuine laughter - the kind of light, carefree sound that had become rare in their current circumstances. Fenix leaned back against the bench, tilting his face toward the overcast sky.
"Things were so much simpler back then," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
"Yeah," she whispered in agreement. "But we're still here. We're still together. That has to count for something."
---
Their next stop was the estate pond, hidden away behind a grove of ancient willow trees whose branches created a natural curtain of privacy.
The water was perfectly still, its surface like polished glass that reflected their faces with crystal clarity. Multicolored koi fish glided beneath the surface in graceful patterns - living jewels that had somehow survived the chaos that had consumed everything else.
"Look at that one!" Abigail pointed excitedly at a particularly vibrant specimen. "The orange and white koi - doesn't it look like it's smiling at us?"
Fenix tilted his head, studying the fish with exaggerated seriousness. "That one looks like a troublemaker to me. Probably plotting something devious with the other fish."
"You know," she said suddenly, her tone shifting to something more thoughtful, "you've really changed since we came back here."
He blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"You're more... quiet than you used to be. Intense. And your eyes look different - sharper, like you're always thinking about something important that the rest of us can't see."
There was a long pause as Fenix stared at the gentle ripples spreading across the pond's surface. She was more perceptive than he'd given her credit for.
Finally, he cleared his throat and casually reached over to place his hand against the side of her neck, as if checking for something.
"Hmm," he said with complete seriousness. "You've definitely got a fever. That's the only explanation for all this nonsense you're talking."
"What - HEY!" she smacked his arm playfully, both of them dissolving into laughter that echoed across the water and mixed with the gentle sound of wind rustling through the willow branches.
---
As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the estate ruins in shades of gold and orange, the siblings made their way toward the oldest and most solemn part of their ancestral home - the Ackerman family cemetery.
Here, beneath ancient trees that never seemed to sway no matter how strong the wind grew, lay generations of warriors and leaders. The weight of legacy hung heavy in the still air, pressing down on everything like an invisible blanket.
They walked in respectful silence until they reached two newer headstones that stood side by side, their obsidian surfaces still sharp and unmarked by weather.
Zeke Ackerman. Lilith Ackerman.
The moment she saw the names carved in elegant script, Abigail dropped to her knees as if her legs had given out. Her small hands trembled violently as tears began streaming down her face - all the grief she'd been holding back finally breaking free like water through a cracked dam.
Fenix felt his own throat constrict painfully, his vision blurring as emotions he'd been suppressing for weeks suddenly overwhelmed him.
The pain they had both been carrying in silence finally demanded to be acknowledged.
"I miss them so much it hurts," Abigail sobbed, her voice broken and raw. "Every single day I wake up hoping this is all just a nightmare, and every day I have to remember they're really gone."
"I know," Fenix replied, his own voice cracking with emotion. "I miss them every moment of every day. I keep thinking I hear Mother's voice calling us for dinner, or Father's footsteps in the hallway."
He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, pulling her against his chest in a protective embrace.
"But I swear to you, Abby - I won't let anything happen to you. Not ever. I'll die before I let anyone hurt you the way they hurt our parents."
---
Later that night, after Abigail had finally cried herself to sleep and the estate had settled into its familiar quiet melancholy, Fenix returned to the cemetery alone.
He stood before the twin graves in silence, moonlight casting everything in soft silver that made the headstones look like they were glowing from within. His eyes were red-rimmed - not from his aura this time, but from tears he could no longer hold back in private.
He didn't want to come here before tonight, he had conflicting thoughts, the emotions of the other Fenix. Both he and Abigail hadn't wanted to come because it would mean they had accepted it, but they finally did.
He slowly sank to his knees on the soft grass.
"I promise you both - I'll protect her with everything I have. I'll carry your names forward and make them mean something again. If it's the last thing I ever do in this world, I'll make sure the Ackerman legacy doesn't die with you."
A gentle gust of night wind stirred through the cemetery, ruffling his white hair with what felt almost like a loving caress. For just a moment, he could almost imagine it was his father's hand reassuring him that everything would be okay.
Fenix smiled faintly through his tears.
He rose to his feet and turned to leave the sacred ground - but froze mid-step.
---
A massive shadow was leaning casually against the rusted iron cemetery gate.
The figure was enormous - easily over six feet tall and built like a fortress made of muscle and bone. Long, jet-black hair fell freely down his back like a dark waterfall, and a gnarled wooden walking stick rested against one broad shoulder. In his other hand, he held a half-empty bottle of what looked like very strong liquor, which he occasionally tilted back for long, noisy gulps.
His clothes were distinctive - a traditional kimono that had seen much better days, its fabric torn and stained but still maintaining an air of faded elegance. The whole ensemble gave him the appearance of a ronin warrior who had been wandering the world for far too long.
As Fenix's eyes adjusted to the darkness, the stranger straightened up to his full, intimidating height. He took another swig from his bottle and released a thunderous belch that echoed off the cemetery walls before fixing his gaze directly on the young man.
Those eyes were unmistakable.
Crimson. Deep as fresh blood. Ancient as the mountains themselves.
The signature of Ackerman blood.
When the stranger finally spoke, his voice was like rolling thunder - a deep, booming sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet and forced Fenix to take an involuntary step backward.
"You're so close to a real awakening, kid," the man said, his words carrying the weight of absolute authority. "So tell me - why the hell haven't you actually awakened yet?"