The academy slept.
Not peacefully—but restlessly.
Wards hummed beneath stone floors. Beast chambers echoed with distant breathing. Energy conduits pulsed like veins through the mountain. Even in stillness, the academy was alive.
Narkun Ka lay awake.
His body was exhausted, muscles sore from restraint rather than effort, mind bruised by the weight of eyes and judgment. He stared at the ceiling of his small chamber, counting the faint cracks in the stone until numbers lost meaning.
The incident with Kael replayed again and again.
The moment his grip tightened.
The sound the air made when Kael hit the wall.
The fear in everyone else's eyes.
Monster.
The word burned.
Narkun clenched the king card in his hand until the edges bit into his palm.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered to the dark.
The academy did not answer.
Sleep came anyway.
Not gently.
Not naturally.
It pulled him under.Narkun stood alone.
There was no ground beneath his feet.
No sky above.
Only a vast, endless expanse of darkness streaked with thin lines of red light—like cracks in reality itself, pulsing slowly, rhythmically.
A heartbeat.
Not his.
The air felt heavy, ancient, and impossibly old.
"You're back."
The voice did not echo.
It did not vibrate.
It simply was.
Narkun turned.
The figure stood several paces away—tall, humanoid, draped in shifting shadow that never settled into a fixed shape. Its eyes were not eyes, but points of convergence, like stars collapsing inward.
"You again," Narkun said.
"Yes," the figure replied. "And no."
It took a step forward.
The darkness rippled.
"Where am I?" Narkun asked.
The figure tilted its head. "Between answers."
"That's not helpful."
The figure's mouth curved—not into a smile, but into the idea of one.
"You have begun to ask the wrong questions," it said. "That means you are close."
Narkun looked down at himself.
He was younger here.
Smaller.
But he felt… fuller.
"What is this place?" he demanded.
The figure spread one hand.
The red lines flared.
"This," it said, "is where singularities are born."
The word hit him like a weight.
"Singularities… like me?"
The figure nodded.
"Like you."The darkness shifted.
Images formed around them—faint at first, then clearer.
Worlds.
Different skies. Different lands. Different rules.
Narkun watched as figures trained, fought, bonded with beasts, cultivated power through systems of discipline and lineage. He saw warriors drawing energy from within, from contracts, from bloodlines.
All of it looked familiar.
All of it felt… incomplete.
"Why are you showing me this?" Narkun asked.
"Because you keep trying to fit," the figure replied. "Into systems not built to hold you."
The images changed.
He saw himself—tiny, wrapped in cloth, lying in the snowstorm. The wind howled around him but never touched him.
Samantha approaching.
Reaching out.
Freezing.
"You were not abandoned," the figure said softly. "You were placed."
Narkun's breath hitched. "By who?"
The darkness deepened.
"By necessity."The red lines pulsed faster.
The figure raised both hands.
The images shattered.
In their place appeared a vast structure—impossible to describe in full. Layers of reality folded inward, systems stacked upon systems, each regulating power, growth, balance.
"And yet," the figure continued, "every system has a flaw."
Narkun watched as energy overflowed, broke containment, shattered worlds.
"Power multiplies," the figure said. "Growth accelerates. Eventually, systems collapse under their own success."
"So you made… me?" Narkun whispered.
The figure's eyes flared.
"No," it said. "We made Kun."
The word resonated through the void.
"What is Kun?" Narkun asked.
The figure stepped closer.
"Kun is not a species," it said. "Not a title. Not a bloodline."
It placed a hand over Narkun's chest.
"Kun is a function."
The pressure was immense—but not painful.
"Where systems grow uncontrollably," the figure said, "Kun appears."
Narkun felt the Ursid stir.
The academy.
The tests.
The beasts reacting.
Kael's fear.
"You are not meant to gather power endlessly," the figure continued. "You are meant to end cycles."
The word echoed.
End.
Cycles.
"Then why do I feel like I'm stealing?" Narkun asked. "Why do they call me dangerous?"
The figure's voice softened.
"Because systems fear what does not need them."The darkness shifted again.
Narkun saw beasts—countless forms, countless worlds.
Some raged.
Some obeyed.
Some evolved beyond control.
"All bonded beasts are fragments," the figure said. "Reflections of primal systems that predate order."
"And they respond to me because…?"
"Because Kun does not dominate," the figure replied. "Kun resolves."
The Ursid appeared—its massive form calm, eyes no longer wild.
"It did not resist you," the figure said. "It recognized the end of its suffering."
Narkun's chest tightened. "I killed it."
"No," the figure corrected. "You completed it."
The words broke something inside him.The scene shifted violently.
Narkun stood in a future battlefield.
Bodies.
Ruins.
Kael lay broken.
The academy burned.
Narkun staggered back. "Stop."
The vision changed again.
Another future.
Narkun stood alone on a mountain, eyes empty, the world quiet around him.
"No beasts," the figure said. "No systems."
"Stop," Narkun repeated.
The visions faded.
The figure knelt before him.
"These are not certainties," it said. "They are outcomes."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Narkun demanded. "Hide? Destroy everything?"
The figure shook its head.
"You are young," it said. "Untrained. Untested."
It placed the king card into Narkun's hand.
The symbol burned.
"Kun of One," the figure said. "Singular. Autonomous. Self-defining."
Narkun clenched the card. "Then why does it hurt?"
The figure's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Because you are still human."The red lines dimmed.
The void began to collapse inward.
"You will dream of this place again," the figure said, standing. "Each time, you will understand more."
"Who are you?" Narkun asked desperately.
The figure paused.
"I am what remains when systems fail," it said.
"And when they succeed?"
The figure vanished.Narkun woke with a sharp gasp.
His room was dark.
The academy hummed.
His chest burned faintly where the figure had touched him.
He sat up slowly.
The king card lay on his bed—warm.
Not imagined.
Real.
Narkun pressed it to his chest.
"I don't want to end the world," he whispered.
Deep inside him, the Ursid stirred—not violently, but protectively.
For the first time, Narkun understood:
He was not meant to conquer.
He was meant to decide.
Outside his door, the academy slept.
Unaware that something had just learned what it was.
And one day—
What it must choose.