The silence in the tunnel wasn't peaceful; it was a metallic hum that tore at the eardrums. The gray mist left behind by the vanishing "Embodiment of Neglect" wasn't just smoke—it was cold particles that clung to the skin like microscopic needles.
In the center of this wreckage stood Raiden. He didn't feel like a hero or a victor; he felt his right arm burning with a cold fire. The massive sword he gripped wasn't a "weapon" as much as it was a "metallic corpse" fused to his flesh. Calcified bones, rusted gears, and a broad blade dripping with a viscous black substance. The hilt dug its metallic teeth into his forearm, greedily drinking drops of his blood. The weapon didn't give power for free; it traded every second of existence for a piece of its wielder's life.
"This... this is impossible..."
Leon's voice came out trembling. His blue light-sabre—the pride of the Academy's spiritual technology—looked dim and insignificant next to the dark mass Raiden held. Leon took a step back, his eyes reflecting a primal terror, not of Raiden's strength, but of the thing he had allowed himself to bond with.
Raiden didn't answer. His mind was a battlefield. His sister Mia's scream wasn't the only one now. He began to hear other whispers: the groan of an old man who died alone in this tunnel, the cries of children lost in the fog. The sword didn't just cut through bodies; it "archived" the pain of its victims, pouring it directly into Raiden's skull.
Raiden felt the urge to vomit. This psychological shift wasn't cinematic rage; it was "contamination." He felt his human dignity eroding under the weight of these alien memories.
"Leon..." Raiden spoke, his voice cracked as if his vocal cords were coated in rust. "Is this the test you wanted?"
He took a step forward. The sword was so heavy its blade carved a trench into the concrete floor with every movement, leaving behind sickly purple sparks.
"Stay back!" Leon screamed, hands shaking as he raised his light-sabre. "You're contaminated! According to Academy protocol, any 'Vessel' who loses control of a Materialization must be purged!"
Raiden gave a faint, hollow smile. "Purged? Where was your law when you left me in this grave alone?"
He raised the sword with both hands—a move that drained his remaining energy. The blade began to glow violently, and the teeth sunk into his hand began to pump black energy directly into his veins, turning his blood pitch black for a few seconds.
"Raiden, that's enough."
The voice was sharp and cutting from the tunnel entrance. Commander Caien stood there, watching the scene coldly with his hands in his pockets. No cigarette, no drama; just a cold, evaluative gaze.
"Lower that piece of junk before it consumes your consciousness entirely," Caien said, walking forward with total indifference toward the giant sword. "You don't have the spiritual frequency required to maintain that form for more than ten seconds."
At those words, Raiden felt a sudden collapse. The heat vanished, replaced by a lethal lethargy. The massive sword began to crumble on its own, turning into thick black smoke that was absorbed into Raiden's wrist, leaving behind deep, dark scars circling his forearm like handcuffs.
Raiden fell to his knees, gasping for air. He felt a massive void, as if his soul had been squeezed to the very last drop.
Caien walked past Leon and the stunned students, stopping in front of Raiden. He leaned down and whispered so only the boy could hear: "Did you wonder why you didn't die the first time you touched The Archive? The nurses who went mad had 'pure' spiritual energy, so their energy collided with the weapon's darkness and their minds exploded. But you... you are a 'Zero.' Your vessel is completely empty, which allowed the weapon to inhabit you without resistance. You aren't a hero, Raiden. You're just a suitable shell for this curse."
Raiden looked up, sweat stinging his eyes. "The voices... why won't they stop?"
Caien placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Because the weapon never truly dies. Every monster you kill will leave a part of its suffering inside the archive of your mind. That is the price of the power you asked for."
Caien turned toward Leon with a look that made the latter bow his head in shame.
"Take the 'Vessel' to his room. The test is over. And remember, Leon... next time you push a teammate toward death, make sure he doesn't come back with a weapon that can split your elite rank in half."
As the students carried the exhausted Raiden out of the tunnel, he looked back. Where the monster had died, nothing remained. But in the corner of his vision, he saw shadows no one else could see, and the scars on his wrist began to pulse, telling him that the true "hunger" had not yet begun.