The training facility was quieter than the academy courtyard.
Too quiet.
Sound didn't echo here. The walls absorbed it, layered with mana-dampening alloys and adaptive insulation. Even footsteps felt muted, as if the building itself discouraged hesitation, fear, or doubt from lingering too long.
Auro stood at the center of the chamber.
The floor beneath him was marked with concentric circles, each etched with control runes. A single test target—an advanced mana construct this time—stood ten meters away. Taller than the medical dummy. Denser. Designed to resist interference.
Supervisors watched from behind reinforced glass.
None spoke.
They didn't need to.
This was no longer an awakening test. This was classification.
Auro rolled his shoulders once, subtly, as if loosening muscles before lifting a heavy crate. His body still felt… thin. Not weak in the way exhaustion felt after labor, but diminished. As though something essential had been trimmed away and never replaced.
He ignored it.
Ignoring pain was a learned skill.
"Begin when ready," a voice said over the intercom.
Auro nodded.
He raised his gaze to the construct.
Sleep Curse.
The simplest of his abilities. The least aggressive. The one that had cost him the least—according to their measurements.
He breathed in.
The system responded immediately.
—
Skill Selected: Sleep Curse (Basic)Target: Mana Construct — Reinforced
Intent Level: Moderate
Warning: Curse Cost Will Apply
—
Intent.
The word flickered briefly, then faded.
Auro focused.
Not aggressively. Not forcefully.
Just enough.
The curse slid forward, invisible and silent, slipping into the construct's mana pathways like frost creeping along wire.
The construct stiffened.
Its posture sagged.
Then—
Pain detonated inside Auro.
This time, it wasn't pressure.
It was rupture.
A violent, internal shock tore through his chest, as if something had snapped under strain. His vision exploded into white static. His breath left him in a sharp, involuntary gasp.
His knees buckled.
Auro barely managed to stay upright, one hand slamming against his thigh for balance. His legs trembled violently, muscles refusing commands for a terrifying half-second.
The supervisors leaned forward behind the glass.
The crystal monitors spiked.
"Unexpected reaction," one muttered.
Auro tasted blood.
He swallowed it down, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
The construct collapsed fully this time, mana signature flatlining.
Successful.
Efficient.
Clean.
Auro's body, however, was anything but.
Pain surged again, deeper now, radiating outward from his core. His heartbeat thundered irregularly, each beat feeling like it scraped against something raw inside his chest.
He forced air into his lungs.
In.
Out.
Don't fall.
Falling meant weakness.
Weakness meant the test ended—with conclusions drawn without him.
He straightened, slowly.
His hands shook.
The system chimed.
—
Cost Applied: Significant Lifespan ErosionDeviation Detected
—
Deviation?
Auro's vision blurred at the edges. The room felt too far away, like he was watching it through water.
"Subject Cain," the intercom said, sharper now. "Report your condition."
"Functional," Auro replied.
The word cost him effort.
Another wave of weakness rolled through him, stronger than the last. His legs nearly gave out again. This time, he caught himself only by sheer will, locking his joints, forcing compliance.
Body versus will.
His body was losing.
He could feel it clearly now.
This wasn't just pain as a consequence.
This was resistance.
As if his body rejected the act itself.
The system interface flickered back into view, unbidden.
—
Analysis: Curse Backlash Scaling with Intent
Note: Host Body Integrity Insufficient for Sustained Output
—
So that was it.
Not just usage.
Intent.
The more seriously he used the curse—the more he meant it—the higher the cost.
Auro let out a slow breath.
That meant hesitation wouldn't save him.
Only precision might.
"End the session," one supervisor ordered quietly.
"No," another replied. "One more data point."
Auro lifted his head slightly.
"I can continue," he said.
There was a pause.
Then: "Very well. Reduced intent. Minimal output."
Reduced intent.
He adjusted his stance, feet planted wider this time, grounding himself like he used to during storms. He lowered his shoulders, loosened his grip on the power inside him.
Sleep Curse.
Barely a whisper.
—
Skill Selected: Sleep Curse (Basic)Intent Level: Minimal
Warning: Curse Cost Will Apply
—
The curse moved.
Slower.
Weaker.
The construct swayed—but did not fall.
Partial effect.
Auro's body still reacted.
Pain flared again, sharp but contained this time. His vision dimmed briefly, then stabilized. He staggered one step, then recovered.
The monitors beeped rapidly.
"Confirmed," a supervisor said. "Even minimal intent triggers backlash."
Auro stood there, chest heaving slightly.
Sweat ran down his temples.
This was it, then.
Not theory.
Not projection.
Proof.
Every use shaved him down.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The power would kill him.
Not dramatically. Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
The silence in the chamber deepened.
No one looked impressed.
No one looked relieved.
They looked… wary.
As if standing near something that shouldn't exist.
Auro lowered his arm.
Inside him, the system pulsed again.
This time, the interface didn't stabilize immediately.
The edges of the screen wavered.
Text jittered.
For half a second, symbols overlapped—lines of code bleeding into each other, unreadable, wrong.
—
System Anomaly Detected
—
The message flickered.
Glitched.
Then vanished.
The screen snapped back to normal as if nothing had happened.
Auro froze.
His heart skipped—not from pain, but instinct.
That hadn't been part of the test.
No one else reacted.
No alarms. No voices.
The supervisors were already discussing data, unaware of what he had seen.
Auro stared at the space where the message had been.
Something in the system had… shifted.
Or cracked.
He didn't know which yet.
But as he turned toward the exit, one truth settled heavily in his chest:
This power would kill him.
And something inside it was watching how fast.