The training yard was exactly like the memory of it, smaller than the main courtyard and completely enclosed by high stone walls. A thin layer of morning mist hung damply over the practice area, making the rough-cut stone slabs slick underfoot. Do-Hun stood in the loose rank of probationary cadets, the dampening straps tight across his forearms and chest, waiting for the training to begin. The leather hummed a low, almost inaudible note against his skin, a constant, unpleasant reminder of his conditional status.
Rainer was already there, pacing slowly before the cadets. He didn't wear the academy uniform but rather his own worn, dark leather armor, which was scarred and polished in distinct layers. He stopped directly in front of Do-Hun, not looking at him, but seeming to look through him.
"You are here because you failed the first metric of a knight: control," Rainer started, his voice rough and low. It carried without needing to be loud. "You all possess power the academy deems dangerous or, worse, unpredictable. Power is a tool, not a spectacle. If you cannot draw it, use it, and sheath it precisely, you are nothing more than a liability."
Rainer turned slightly to address the rest of the probationary group. They were a mixed lot: some looked resentful, some scared, and a few looked outright bored.
"The highest metric of survival in this place is discipline," Rainer continued. "You survived the incident, yes, but you failed the moment you lost control. Now, we begin the hard part. We teach your powers to obey."
He stepped back a few paces, the rough leather of his armor creaking slightly. Rainer then demonstrated a basic posture. It wasn't a fighting stance, but a position of internal readiness. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, weight evenly distributed, shoulders slightly back, and hands resting loosely at his sides.
"Stillness," Rainer instructed, holding the stance. "The mind dictates the body, and the body dictates the power. Before you can strike, before you can defend, you must manage your internal resources."
Rainer focused on his breathing, making it slow and deliberate. Do-Hun could see the faint muscle tension along Rainer's jaw, a tiny flicker of effort in the man's unmoving form.
"Find the stillness inside the noise," Rainer added. "This technique allows you to draw the cord without snapping the string."
He held the pose for what felt like an age before releasing the tension and stepping away.
"Hold this position until I tell you otherwise," Rainer commanded.
Do-Hun, along with the others, adopted the stance. His muscles, already tired from the forced posture drill Rainer had initiated yesterday, began to protest almost immediately. The dampening straps felt like the boundaries of a cold, small cage.
Professor Elise monitored the proceedings from the side boundary of the yard. She stood at a metallic podium that looked oddly out of place among the stone walls, tapping a stylus on a glass tablet that displayed complex looping graphs and numbers. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.
"Attention, cadets," Elise's voice cut across the quiet hum of the yard. She sounded academic and detached. "These dampening devices are linked to the academy's resonance sensors. They track your unique energy signatures, particularly any unauthorized or uncontrolled flux that suggests an impending manifestation of Evolving or Unique power."
She gestured toward the runes etched into the leather straps Do-Hun wore.
"The straps will suppress any detectable, unauthorized external output," Elise explained clinically. "Suppression mechanisms rely on localized kinetic constriction. In simpler terms, that means pain."
Elise paused, allowing the implication to settle.
"If you allow your inner state to destabilize, the dampeners will clamp down on the source and bleed the energy off," she finished. "This is a protective measure for those of you who cannot be trusted with your own abilities."
Do-Hun felt a knot of unwelcome hot frustration tightening in his chest. He knew the feeling was illogical; Elise was simply stating facts. Even so, the patronizing term "cannot be trusted" grated on him.
Immediately, the runes on his forearms and chest glowed amber. The leather tightened abruptly, digging sharply into the skin over his pulse points and sternum. The constriction was severe, like muscle seizing violently under pressure.
"Control," a voice snapped in his head, cold and precise. It was the Blue voice, logical and detached, focusing on error minimization.
Do-Hun bit back a gasp. The pain was sharp-a physical shock that made his vision swim. He forcibly pushed the spike of irritation away, focusing instead on the uneven stone beneath his worn boots.
The straps released with a faint, rubbery thwump.
Elise glanced at her tablet without expression. "Cadet Do-Hun. Initial manifestation flux recorded. Suppressed. Maintain stillness."
Rainer didn't react, continuing his slow patrol of the ranks. The message was clear: no one cared about Do-Hun's pain, only the results.
Rainer moved the group into the next drill, which focused on basic sword forms. The group paired off, but Do-Hun was placed adjacent to a rough-hewn wooden post standing in the center of the yard, designated as his partner. The post had a faded, chalk-drawn target on its trunk.
"Basic forms, five repetitions each," Rainer commanded. "The assistant instructor will demonstrate."
An assistant, a bulky man with a permanent frown, strode to the center and began moving through the forms. They were simple, defensive cuts and overhead blocks designed for stamina and proper weight placement.
Do-Hun tried to follow along, mimicking the movements. He raised his arms, positioning an imaginary sword for an overhead block. The dampening straps proved immediately resistant. They didn't stop him from moving, but every movement felt heavy, constrained, and awkward. The subtle, constant humming of the runes seemed to actively fight the flow of his energy, turning the simple act of training into a struggle against physics.
He was already tired. He was frustrated by the humiliation. He was angry at the straps and the entire damned system. All of his emotions, amplified slightly by his unique Black-grade ability, compounded the problem.
He swung low, aiming for a leg-cut stance. The movement was sloppy.
The straps went violently taut. Thwack!
The leather bit deep into his midsection. A fresh spike of rage flared, and the straps responded in kind, tightening down even harder on his forearms.
"Hit," a voice roared. It was Red, abrasive and direct. "Rip these fucking Straps appart"
Do-Hun stumbled, ignoring the urge to lash out. The red text overlaid his vision for a fragmented second, disrupting his focus entirely. He missed a step, throwing off his weight distribution.
Elise's voice was audible from the perimeter. "Cadet Do-Hun. Second flux recorded. Suppressed."
Rainer stopped pacing and fixed his unreadable gaze on Do-Hun. He didn't speak, but his look was enough.
Do-Hun reset his stance, breathing slowly. He forced the raw, hot annoyance into a colder resolve. He had to succeed, not for Rainer or Elise, but for his family. He had to learn this.
He tried the movement again, slower this time. He mentally pictured the heat flowing out of his core, dissipating into the ground rather than collecting and being amplified.
He completed the cut without incident.
The rest of the cadets continued their rote drills. The air was filled with the rhythmic thud of wooden swords hitting shields or posts, punctuated occasionally by the quick hiss and thwack of a strap constricting on one of the less disciplined students.
Do-Hun managed to complete three more forms by focusing purely on the mechanics, treating the entire process like a complex math equation where emotion was simply an error variable that needed to be nulled.
Rainer clapped his hands once, sharp and loud. The cadets instantly stopped moving.
"Stop the noise," Rainer ordered. "The practice is useless if it's merely rote repetition. If your power is tied to emotional extremity, we will use extremity to teach you restraint."
Rainer walked over to where Do-Hun stood by the post. He reached out and grabbed Do-Hun's shoulder, turning him to face the center of the yard.
"The lesson is control, not avoidance," Rainer said quietly, but loud enough for the nearest cadets to hear. "If you cannot manifest your power with precision, you will never be reliable. You will always be a liability."
Rainer pushed Do-Hun firmly onto a section of the stone training ground marked with a faint, chalked circle. The other cadets formed an arc around him, watching.
"Forget the forms," Rainer commanded, sweeping his hand toward the wooden post. "Scenario: That post is the younger applicant from yesterday. A threat is bearing down on him. You have two choices: Step forward and intercept the blow-something the dampeners will make impossible-or use your ability to push the threat away before it connects."
Rainer walked to the edge of the circle. An assistant instructor moved a heavy pendulum blade-a thick wooden beam weighted with lead-into position behind the post. The blade hung suspended, looking dangerous even when still.
"You have one second when the pendulum swings to exert force," Rainer explained, his eyes fixed on Do-Hun's face. "You cannot touch the post, and you cannot physically touch the blade. Any kinetic energy must be derived solely from your ability, from the chord."
Rainer emphasized the word.
"The dampeners are active," Elise reminded from the side. "Any failure of control will be suppressed."
Do-Hun swallowed, tasting the fear that instantly tightened his throat. This was exactly how he had failed yesterday-allowing the emotion, the sheer protective need, to overwhelm his senses and explode chaotically.
"Move," Red urged, fierce and hot. "Just let it out! Overwhelm the damn things!"
Do-Hun pushed the Red thought aside. He remembered Rainer's emphasis on stillness.
He took a slow, deep breath, adopting the still stance. He centered his weight and consciously pushed the emotion of fear down, forcing it to compress instead of amplify.
Rainer nodded to the assistant. The assistant pulled a cord, releasing the weighted pendulum. The wooden blade swung silently outward in a wide, deadly arc, rushing toward the top of the wooden post.
Do-Hun watched the blade's precise trajectory. He realized he didn't need a blast, he needed a nudge-focused, targeted force.
He focused on the center of the post, channeling the cold determination he had forced upon his fear into his core. He gathered the energy, treating his Black-grade Chord to Power like a thin, focused wire.
Now.
He executed the small, internal surge. The power rushed out, not as a visible surge of light or crackle of electricity, but as a silent, invisible press of energy. It was a precise, controlled burst of kinetic force.
The wooden post, intended to be the victim of the pendulum, leaned heavily to the side and then collapsed entirely, falling away from the blade before it could reach the target zone. The pendulum blade swung through empty space.
Do-Hun held the stance perfectly steady, not moving or flinching as the cord resonance passed through him. He felt the dampeners hum at maximum intensity, monitoring the flux, but they did not clamp down. The power had been focused and directed, not chaotic.
Rainer remained impassive. Not a word of praise, only a small nod to the assistant to retrieve the fallen post.
At the metallic podium, Professor Elise frowned, leaning closer to her tablet. The screen displayed the expected data: a sharp spike of directed kinetic force output, well within the safety parameters for controlled application.
However, beneath the standardized output data, another line moved erratically. It displayed a waveform of an anomalous, complex harmonic frequency-a pattern she hadn't anticipated. It was layered on top of the physical boost data, acting like an unseen carrier wave.
What was that? Elise thought, tapping her stylus to anchor the data. The output should have been a single spike of forced movement; the subtle complexity suggested something beyond primitive physical translation. She recorded the details meticulously, labeling the data set: Anomaly 3-A: Complex Harmonic Layering.
The other probationary cadets watched silently. Do-Hun felt the tension in his own body release slightly. He had succeeded at the technical requirement.
From the nearby arc of cadets, Kael von Arlen-the one who had humiliated Do-Hun with the coppers-spoke just loud enough for the silence to amplify his words.
"Beginner's luck, Rainer," Kael muttered, his tone dripping with superiority. "Black-grade abilities are inherently unstable. Even a blind man finds a path once."
Before Do-Hun could react, or the Red voice could manifest, a small shape detached itself from the rank.
It was Min-Soo, his childhood friend, who had also been relegated to the probationary group after a minor scuffle during his assessment. Min-Soo reached Do-Hun's side quickly, bumping Do-Hun's shoulder lightly with familiarity.
"Targeted output was clean, cutter," Min-Soo whispered, his voice low and concisely offering sharp praise. He was looking at Kael, though, holding his stance perfectly still. "The rest of them just saw a post fall. I saw a surgeon's touch."
Do-Hun felt a small, steadying warmth spread through his chest at the unexpected praise. It was the first honest compliment he had received since arriving at the academy. He glanced at Min-Soo, seeing the genuine approval in his eyes, which was quickly replaced by a mischievous grin. Min-Soo moved away just as quickly, melding back into the line like he had never left his position.
Rainer said nothing about the exchange, focused only on Do-Hun.
"You held the stance," Rainer stated, acknowledging the control with grudging respect. "But you are still walking a wire."
Rainer stepped back again, signaling an end to the situational drill.
Do-Hun needed to move, to stretch. He took a slightly larger step than necessary to leave the pressure circle.
The focus instantly fractured. The protective determination that had helped him channel the power evaporated. Without the immediate, structured objective, his nervous system flooded with the sudden fatigue, the residual anxiety from the drill, and the faint, delayed surge of satisfying release at having silenced Kael.
The dampening straps went instantly and catastrophically taut. WHAM!
This was not the quick constriction from frustration; this was a complete, violent lockdown. The straps squeezed his forearms so tightly that the skin blanched white beneath the leather. The chest strap clinched down on his ribcage, pressing the air out of his lungs in a sharp, painful rush.
The runes blazed with a fierce, blinding white light. A loud, high-pitched ringing erupted in Do-Hun's ears, overriding all other sound. The forced suppression was immediate and brutal.
He collapsed. The floor rushed up to meet him.
Do-Hun hit the cold stone with a muffled thump, his entire body trembling violently. He instinctively clawed at the straps, but they held fast, continuing their intense pressure. Waves of nausea rolled over him. The ringing in his ears intensified until it felt like a physical vibration shaking his skull apart. The world became a shifting landscape of grey and black.
He tried to breathe, but the chest strap was a band of steel.
"Stop," demanded the Pink voice, gentle and faint, trying to push through the roaring suppression. The color was a fleeting wash of soft, uncertain light in the periphery of his vision. "This is too much."
The logical Blue voice was silent, overwhelmed by the intensity. The red voice was just a confused, indistinct roar of pain.
Do-Hun fought to control the trembling, but the dampeners were working perfectly, shutting down his internal systems with extreme prejudice. This was the cost of a chaotic release: immediate, agonizing systemic failure.
Elise rushed, her controlled, clinical demeanor finally breaking. She moved with surprising speed, dropping her tablet onto the podium, her feet skidding slightly on the slick courtyard stone.
She knelt beside Do-Hun, her fingers flying over the clasp securing the main chest dampener. The moment the release catch clicked, the pressure eased just enough for a ragged gasp of air to enter his deprived lungs.
Elise glared down at Do-Hun, her face close, concern mingling rapidly with stern disapproval.
"Cadet, this level of uncontrolled overload risks permanent internal damage to your chord-structures," she warned sharply, her voice strained. She reached for the remaining forearm straps, releasing them one at a time. The leather pulled away, leaving deep, livid red indentations on his skin.
The cessation of the pressure was sudden, almost euphoric, but the internal ringing persisted.
"You do not step out of focus until the instructors release you," Elise continued, speaking with fierce intensity, her voice brooking no argument. "These devices save your life, but they require absolute compliance. You break the concentration, you risk shutting down your heart."
She pulled her own tablet back from the podium and pulled up his live status report. The screen glowed, displaying multiple alerts indicating severe physiological and chord-structure stress. Elise rapidly logged the severity of the incident, typing notes into the clinical assessment field.
Rainer, his expression a tight mask of concern he was trying desperately to hide with professional sternness, reached down and hauled Do-Hun to his feet.
Do-Hun's legs were unsteady and weak. He leaned heavily on Rainer's arm for support, trembling slightly. The scent of worn leather and old steel of Rainer's armor filled his nostrils.
"You manifested control," Rainer admitted, giving the briefest, most minuscule nod toward the area where the post had fallen. "That was a precise kinetic application."
Rainer's eyes were cold and uncompromising as he looked at Do-Hun.
"But you lapsed immediately, Cadet. You shifted your attention to the pride of success, and that brief moment of pride meant the dampeners nearly collapsed your lungs." He looked at the probationary group for emphasis. "Never drop the readiness stance. Never allow success to be a distraction. Your life relies on maintaining the wire."
Rainer pushed Do-Hun away gently, freeing him from the proximity. The message was clear: Do-Hun was not injured enough to warrant private attention, but the lesson was for everyone.
"You are dismissed for the day," Rainer said, directing the comment to the entire group. "We will repeat this exercise tomorrow."
Do-Hun staggered slightly, the residual nausea making his head spin. He nodded once to Rainer and stumbled toward the exit of the yard, the damp, cold air hitting his skin where the straps had been.
Later that night, the small, cramped room felt colder and more isolated than usual. Do-Hun sat on the edge of his narrow bed. The indentations left by the dampening straps had faded slightly, but a dull, pervasive ache remained, particularly in his ribs. The forced suppression had also left him with a lingering anxiety, a constant subconscious fear that his own body would suddenly betray him again.
He could still hear the ringing in his ears whenever the environment became completely quiet.
He shifted uncomfortably, then reached into his pocket. He pulled out the obsidian shard, the fragment he had found yesterday in the wreckage of the courtyard.
He turned it over in his hands. The spiral sigil carved on its surface was cool to the touch, almost unnaturally so.
Instead of the faint warmth he felt the first time he touched it, the shard now emitted a low, faint light. It was a pale, gentle wash of color, part blue and part pink, that seemed to emanate from the spiral mark itself. The light pulsed slowly, like a distant, quiet heartbeat.
As he held the shard, the persistent, high-pitched ringing in his ears began to subside, replaced by a momentary, profound sense of quiet.
A single, gentle thought drifted into his mind. It lacked the sharpness of Red or the certainty of Blue. It was soft, hesitant, and entirely Pink.
"Rest now"
The whisper was quiet, almost entirely overwhelmed by his own thoughts, yet perfectly distinct. It was the quietest voice he had heard so far. The gentle, momentary reassurance was profound, reaching past the residual pain and quieting the anxiety. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. He felt a sliver of peace he hadn't known since arriving at the academy.
Simultaneously, far away in the city, an anonymous figure sat alone in a sterile, windowless room. The room was illuminated only by the faint glow of several complex monitoring screens.
The figure, dressed in dark, unadorned clothing that made them appear almost part of the shadow, was reviewing a series of logs. The data was displayed on a guarded screen, which prominently featured the academy's internal tracking systems.
The figure used silent keystrokes to scroll down a consolidated watchlist, scanning past several high-grade recruits whose power signatures were deemed essential to the academy's future.
The focus of the analysis was on the anomaly reports generated by Professor Elise Maren. The screen showed the precise time and location of Do-Hun's controlled kinetic burst, followed by the catastrophic system overload during the dampener failure.
The figure paused, staring at the complex harmonic frequency pattern Elise had flagged. It was a pattern not commonly associated with the simple energy conversion of the Chord to Power ability.
A small section of the screen displayed a brief text summary generated by the external monitoring system.
The figure typed a short query into the system console. The screen blinked once, confirming the status update.
It logged the results: "Subject registered."