Do-Hun surfaced slowly from a profound, heavy darkness, which felt unnervingly similar to the void before waking up in the morning. When he finally regained consciousness, a persistent, dull pressure behind his eyes quickly reminded him of the morning's trauma and the forced shutdown the dampeners had performed. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The sterile white ceiling and the faint, medicinal scent confirmed he was in the academy's infirmary, not his small room.
He realized he was lying on a crisp, narrow bed. Someone had draped a thick wool blanket over him, which struck him as a small act of kindness in this place.
A cool, damp sensation rested on his forehead. Yuna, the classmate with the healing ability, was sitting beside the bed, applying a fresh, cold compress to his skin. Her uniform sleeves were rolled up slightly, exposing the faint green glow of her healing ability near her hands.
Yuna offered a small, focused smile. Her presence made the clinical room feel less harsh.
"You scared everyone this morning, Do-Hun," she whispered, exchanging the compress for a new one she pulled from a nearby basin. "Professor Elise said if you hadn't taken that sudden step backward, the compression would have been much worse."
Do-Hun tried to sit up, feeling the residual internal ache from the forced suppression. He rested his hands on his ribs, testing how they felt.
"I only moved because the pressure focused all the pain so centrally," Do-Hun explained, the words coming out dry and weak. "It didn't feel like I had a choice."
Yuna shook her head. "The choice was already made, cutter. Don't you remember what Elise said? Concentration broke." She leaned closer, her expression turning serious. "She had to shut your system down completely, though. That was almost catastrophic."
Professor Elise stood a few feet away, near what looked like a portable diagnostic station. The station was running multiple faint green lines across a black screen. She was not looking at Do-Hun, but rather at the shifting graphs and numbers displayed on the screen. She carried her clinical detachment like a shield.
Elise finished writing a note on her tablet and then turned to approach the bedside. She moved with precise, unhurried steps.
"Cadet Do-Hun, your physiology is recovering at an acceptable rate," Elise stated, keeping her voice even and formal, which always made him feel more like an object of study than a student. She nodded briefly toward Yuna. "Thank you, Cadet Yun-Ji. Your presence stabilized his peripheral chord signatures faster than the standard medicant."
Yuna gave a slight bow and quietly moved away, checking the contents of her medical satchel near the door.
Elise pulled up a stiff metal chair and sat down facing Do-Hun. She held her tablet loosely, scrolling through the recorded data from the morning drill.
"That uncontrolled Chord surge you experienced this morning displayed anomalous resonance patterns," Elise explained, looking away from the screen for a moment to meet his gaze. "When the suppression occurred, the sensors picked up a complex harmonic waveform layered beneath the kinetic output signature."
Do-Hun frowned, feeling confused. He had no idea what a harmonic waveform meant, but the urgency in her voice was clear.
"I felt the impact, Professor," Do-Hun confessed, trying to describe the internal sensation. "It was less like a pressure blast and more like a focused snap."
Elise's eyes narrowed slightly, showing a flicker of intellectual curiosity beneath her professorial facade. "Precisely. That distinct structure of output suggests directed energy transmission, not chaotic venting as expected from an uncontrolled Black-grade manifestation."
She tapped the screen, showing him a brightly colored graph that looked like a tangled knot of lines. "I have seen thousands of Chord signatures, both controlled and suppressed. I have not previously encountered this level of complex layering except in heavily modified, higher-grade application techniques. It warrants immediate and thorough study."
Elise paused, assessing his reaction. Do-Hun felt a familiar weariness settle over him. Every aspect of his life at the academy seemed to be monitored and scrutinized, and every time he used his ability, he felt like he was falling further into a pit of unwanted attention.
She continued, taking on a more persuasive, almost conspiratorial tone. "We cannot repeat the accident from the training yard. That kind of systemic overload risks long-term damage, not just to your physical body, but to the structure of your Chord itself."
Elise then leaned forward, resting her forearms on the edge of the bed. "The academy allows for controlled testing in the Resonance Lab. Unlike the training yard, the lab is highly shielded and specifically designed to handle and neutralize chaotic energy outputs safely."
Elise made her proposal. "I propose a series of supervised, controlled tests in the Resonance Lab. This is the only way to safely measure and truly understand how your unique abilities synergize. We need to define the error, and we need to understand the anomaly."
She emphasized the word "safely."
Do-Hun immediately understood the subtext. He could either continue the high-risk, punitive application of his abilities in the training yard, where failure meant devastating suppression and physical pain, or work with Elise in an environment designed for analysis and safety. The goal was control, and this offered the clearest pathway to achieving it.
"And if I refuse?" Do-Hun asked, needing to know the boundaries of this request.
Elise gave a small, resigned shrug. "Refusal means a return to the training yard, with stricter monitoring. But more importantly, Do-Hun, it ensures you will repeat this morning's failure, only perhaps next time, Rainer won't be there to pick you up." She leveled a cool, rational gaze at him. "You need to understand how your Chord functions. I can provide the environment and the measurements you need to gain that control."
Do-Hun considered the options. The logic of the Blue voice echoed in his mind, quietly agreeing with the professor's assessment. Scientific analysis offered a more predictable outcome than raw perseverance against the dampeners.
"Agreed, Professor," Do-Hun said, giving a terse nod. "I agree to the terms for the testing."
The atmosphere immediately shifted as soon as he agreed. Professor Elise became less the clinician and more the excited researcher. She stood up, checking her tablet again.
"The lab is prepared now," she announced, already moving toward the door. "We will not waste any more time. We need current data."
Do-Hun swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling only residual soreness. He quickly realized he was no longer wearing the dampening straps. That small fact brought immense psychological relief.
A small, quiet security detail met them at the infirmary door. It was a pair of academy acolytes wearing plain, unmarked uniforms, acting as non-combat escorts. They were clearly there for observation and containment, which was a constant reminder of Do-Hun's probationary status.
The escort led Do-Hun and Elise deep into the academy's basement level, progressing through a labyrinth of narrow, brightly lit corridors. They finally stopped before a thick, reinforced metal door, which looked more like a bank vault than a laboratory entrance.
The Resonance Lab stood in stark contrast to the rough-hewn training yard. Inside, the walls were lined with smooth, polished metal panels, intricately layered to prevent energy leakage. Large, heavy cables ran across the floor and up the walls, powering sophisticated sensor arrays that hummed with a low, constant frequency. It was a cold, clinical space, smelling faintly of ozone and specialized cleaning solvents.
Elise moved straight to a console, powering up multiple holographic displays that projected complex three-dimensional energy fields around the immediate testing area.
"We are in a Category Three containment field," Elise explained, primarily addressing the acolytes, but giving Do-Hun context. "The shielding here is designed to absorb and neutralize an uncontrolled Sapphire-grade burst. You will be safer here than anywhere else on campus, even without the dampeners."
She checked a visible display near the entrance. The security setting on the door was listed as 'Isolated.'
Do-Hun realized the significance of that last detail. Elise, understanding his need for control, had preemptively removed the straps.
"For this initial testing phase, we must get a clean reading of your raw output," Elise confirmed, confirming his thought. "The residual energy from the dampening straps interferes with the sensor arrays. Therefore, the dampeners are temporarily deactivated."
A slight nervousness flickered inside Do-Hun. He was completely unprotected now, relying only on the room's engineering and his ability to control the raw emotion that fueled his power.
"I need you to stand in the center of the field," Elise instructed, gesturing to a circular pressure pad marked with glowing lines on the floor. "The target platform is calibrated to measure pure kinetic transmission across varying ranges. We will start with a baseline output."
Do-Hun stepped onto the center platform. He took a cleansing breath, settling into the familiar stance Rainer had taught him, feet shoulder-width apart, weight centered. This time, there was no weight of leather straps to fight, only the cold, hard reality of the polished floor beneath him.
Elise made some final adjustments on the control panel. A small, sturdy block of dense alloy, the calibrated target, rose from the floor about ten paces away. The block was resting on a sensor plate meant to precisely measure even the slightest kinetic impact.
"The goal is simple, Do-Hun," Elise's voice came over the internal speakers of the lab, sounding amplified and professional. "You are to channel a minor emotional surge into a focused kinetic force. Think of it as a directed tap, not an explosion. Just a nudge on the target block."
He nodded, knowing what she wanted. He needed to find that perfect, minor amount of energy, that thin, focused wire he had managed to create earlier in the training yard.
"Now," Elise instructed. "We need a measurable emotional trigger. Let's try for a Red output first."
Do-Hun frowned. Evoking rage intentionally felt counter-intuitive to all of Rainer's teachings about stillness and control.
"Rage is the easiest emotion for most young men to access, particularly those carrying the kind of systemic burden you possess, Do-Hun," Elise said, sounding analytical, which only irritated him slightly. She had clearly anticipated his hesitation. "Your parents are deeply in debt, are they not? They gave up everything for you to be here. If you fail to gain control, you fail them. You abandon them to the loan sharks."
The irritation in Do-Hun's chest curdled instantly into sharp, protective anger. He hated the mention of his parents and the debt, especially delivered with Elise's clinical, outside perspective. The feeling amplified immediately. He felt the familiar, hot rush of energy gathering in his core, the Black-grade Emotion Amplifier doing its work.
"Burn it," Red's voice surged, direct and loud in his mind, overlaid by the jagged, red visual text. "Burn the debt, burn the lab, burn her judgment."
"Focus the core, Do-Hun," Elise said, her voice remaining perfectly steady. "Channel that burning irritation. Direct it at the block. The block represents the debt, the shame, the inability to act."
The visualization worked, unfortunately well. The red heat in his core surged, reaching his fingertips. He aimed the feeling at the target block, ready to translate the angry energy into a precise kinetic strike.
The moment he began the internal motion, ready to push the Chord, the surge was unexpectedly hijacked internally. Red's presence became massive, blotting out all other internal dialogue. The careful separation he had maintained between thought and emotion dissolved under the sheer intensity of the rage.
"Focus? No. Overwhelm," Red demanded, its tone absolute. "It's too weak-the tap is useless. Blast it through the wall, make them see what you are capable of."
Red's demand overrode the small, controlled output Do-Hun was planning. The emotional tidal wave crashed through him, moving energy past the intended safety parameters, driving it wildly out of his control.
Do-Hun felt his muscles tense, not focusing the power but simply letting it erupt outward. He instinctively threw his hands out, lashing out violently with an uncoordinated, Black-grade Chord blast. It wasn't a fine-tuned shockwave, more like a physical shove from a creature suddenly far stronger than it looked.
Instead of a focused tap, a raw, invisible wave of kinetic energy tore out from Do-Hun's body. The air pressure in the room popped audibly.
Elise had been standing slightly to the left of the testing platform, near the main control console. The wild energy burst narrowly missed her, the chaotic edge of the wave whipping past her side, pulling at her lab coat.
Elise gasped, momentarily losing her professional composure.
The true impact hit not the small target block-which flew backward and smashed against the wall-but a piece of expensive equipment near the console: a dedicated resonance calibrator unit. This particular unit was designed to measure fluctuations in evolving signatures.
The calibrator unit violently overloaded. There was a cracking sound, like heavy ceramic shattering, followed by a shower of sparking micro-components. The unit exploded not outward, but inward, collapsing on itself with a sound that seemed compressed and contained, though no less destructive to the precise machinery.
The sudden, catastrophic energy signature immediately triggered the lab's security protocols.
A shrill, insistent alarm sounded, its pitch designed to vibrate directly into the ear canal. Thick metal shutters instantly slammed down over the viewing ports and the entrance, sealing the laboratory completely.
Almost simultaneously, a specialized suppression gas began to flood the sterile testing area from vents near the ceiling. The gas was dense and slightly sweet-smelling, and it immediately felt heavy in Do-Hun's lungs. It was designed to metabolically suppress the energy pathways used by ability-holders, reducing the chaotic output capacity to zero.
Before Do-Hun could react, before the gas fully took effect, he felt a sharp, agonizing constriction on his body. The two security acolytes rushed forward from the periphery, moving with pre-rehearsed speed. They rapidly clipped heavy, reinforced spare dampening straps around Do-Hun's forearms and chest.
WHAM!
The straps activated instantly, glowing a blinding white, far brighter than the amber light in the training yard. The pressure was extreme and immediate, meant to counter a major force manifestation.
The chaotic surge of power brought on by Red's influence died instantly, snuffed out by the combination of the straps and the suppression gas. Do-Hun felt the remaining anger drain away rapidly, replaced by the acute, overwhelming awareness of pain and failure.
He stumbled, coughing harshly on the thick, sweet gas. He was completely immobilized, the raw, uncontrolled power having been replaced by a brutal, enforced stillness.
Elise, regaining her breath and clinical demeanor almost instantly, moved to the main control console, ignoring the hissing gas and the acolyte tightening the dampeners on Do-Hun. She slapped a button that canceled the ongoing test sequence. The alarm instantly cut off, leaving a ringing silence that was heavy with the smell of scorched metal and the cloying scent of the suppression gas.
"Session terminated," Elise stated, her voice sharp and steady. She quickly typed a series of commands on the control panel, venting the suppression gas from the chamber.
She turned to the two acolytes, who were holding Do-Hun firmly by the shoulders, ensuring the newly applied dampeners were secure. Red marks were already rising on Do-Hun's skin beneath the leather.
"Confine Cadet Do-Hun to the holding cell adjacent to this lab immediately," Elise ordered, her eyes sweeping over the remnants of the destroyed calibrator. "He is to remain detained under observation until I have processed this data."
Elise pulled out her personal tablet, the glass screen reflecting the chaotic scene. She began typing furiously, recording digital notes on the immediate environment, the power flare's intensity, and the consequences thereof. She meticulously integrated the raw spike data from the destroyed calibrator unit-surprisingly, the last moments of its recorded data had been successfully pushed to the central server before its collapse-with Do-Hun's existing profile.
Do-Hun, still weakened and shaking from the sudden physical shock, was dragged, stumbling, toward the heavy, shielded door of a small cell adjacent to the main lab. He glared at Elise, feeling profoundly betrayed by her clinical detachment. She treated the near-miss and the destruction simply as data points.
Elise walked to a cleared section of the counter, pulling up the complex waveform from the recent power surge. The screen displayed that same anomalous curve, the complex harmonic layer that she had struggled to define on the smaller screen in the infirmary. Here, with the detailed lab feed, the pattern was clear, stark, and utterly unprecedented in the academy's existing registries.
Elise reviewed the composite data meticulously, cross-referencing the power output against the Academy's database entries for documented Evolving power phases. Her hands hovered over the tablet's scroll bar, stopping on a section of her own archived research.
"The complex harmonic layer," she murmured to herself, tapping the screen with her stylus. "It's not random distortion from an uncontrolled burst. It's an overlaid, highly structured pattern."
The pattern suggested an internal mechanism far more sophisticated than a simple emotional conversion. It indicated a level of latent structural evolution in Do-Hun's ability the academy publicly denied was possible in a Black-grade subject.
Elise concluded, integrating this new data with the anomaly she'd observed the previous day, that Do-Hun was not just a volatile subject. He was an evolving anomaly, a subject capable of achieving structured, complex, and high-energy outputs. This made him simultaneously the most invaluable research material she had encountered in her entire career and, from an institutional standpoint, high-value property that needed to be secured.
She looked significantly at the holding cell door, through which Do-Hun was now confined by the acolytes. The political and scientific stakes had just escalated dramatically. The mere existence of that complex harmonic layer meant that her theories-the ones that had led to her previous research division being forcefully shut down for ethical breaches-were correct.
Elise did not want this research, this profound discovery, to be processed through the academy's standard, politically motivated channels.
She quickly exited the Resonance Lab, moving down a quiet auxiliary corridor. She dismissed the two security acolytes outside the detention area, telling them to guard the door to the lab until further cleaning could be arranged, though she kept them close enough to guard Do-Hun indirectly.
Elise found a secure, unoccupied office several floors above the lab, a sterile space usually reserved for high-level board meetings. She locked the door then accessed a remote terminal, ensuring she was using a highly encrypted, private node she frequently utilized for her ethically questionable research.
She worked rapidly, her fingers flying across the keys. She created a clean extract of the raw anomaly data, stripping it of any identifying Academy markers, and paired it with Do-Hun's recently updated profile, including the current level of his Chord instability and the presence of the structural harmonic layer.
Elise sent an urgently encrypted message containing this crucial information to an unknown contact. The address was a complex cipher tied to a server with no traceable geographic location, a discreet channel she maintained for her most sensitive communications.
After confirming the message was sent, she placed a call on a specialized, burner-style phone she kept separate from her official academy device. She waited only two rings before the connection was established. The voice on the other end was too low to be deciphered, a mechanical filter blurring the tone.
Do-Hun, feeling the heavy stillness of the spare dampeners, paced restlessly inside the small holding cell. He could hear the faint, low hum of the lab's cooling systems and the distant, muffled sound of Elise speaking into the phone. The insulation was effective, but not perfect.
He tried to ignore the conversation, but the enforced silence and his anxiety kept his hearing hyper-focused.
He faintly made out Elise's voice, which had dropped to a severe, hushed register, strained with caution. She seemed to be delivering a status report, not having a conversation.
"...the subject is confirmed high-grade evolving," Elise said quietly, the words barely audible. "The structural layer is present. The kinetic output nearly breached Category Three containment protocols. My control measures are holding him for now, but the rate of acceleration is outside acceptable parameters."
Do-Hun pressed his ear against the cold metal of the cell door, trying to isolate the quiet terror in her voice.
He heard the faint, metallic murmur of the voice on the other end, too distorted to understand.
Elise responded, her final words distinct, chilling Do-Hun to the core.
"Understood," she affirmed, her voice thin with clinical certainty. "Initiate full containment protocols if the anomaly accelerates."