CHAPTER 15: THE SURGEON OF SOULS
"What's wrong, Dario? Feeling hurt by my words?" The blue-haired boy didn't back down; if anything, he stepped closer, his smirk widening as he saw the veins bulging in Dario's neck. "Truth hurts, doesn't it? You got beaten like a dog because you're simply too weak. It's a binary reality, my friend."
He turned to the small crowd of cadets that had begun to gather in the hallway, his voice rising for maximum dramatic effect. "I guess all the rumors about the 'Great Prodigy' Dario Cale don't amount to anything but hot air. Just exaggerated words from people who haven't seen real talent. Neuntöte District must be getting desperate if you're their best offering."
Dario's Jinx energy began to hiss like steam from a pressurized valve.
Dawn, watching the scene from the shadows of his doorway, let out a slow breath. Huh. Did a fight really break out already? I guess this is the Sorcerer Association Headquarters after all... everyone's blood is constantly boiling. He watched the blue-haired boy's stance, noting how relaxed he was. That guy isn't just a bully. He's confident. He's probably one of the top-ranked entrants.
"Oh, kid... why are you up already?"
The voice didn't come from the hallway. It came from directly behind Dawn's ear. It was a cold, rasping whisper, sounding like a grim reaper coming to claim a lost soul that had wandered too far from its grave.
"AARGH!" Dawn let out a strangled yelp, jumping nearly three feet into the air. He spun around, clutching his chest as if his heart were about to burst through his ribs.
"What the hell?!"
Standing in the corner of the small hospital room was a tall, gaunt man. He wore a long, pristine white lab coat over a dark suit, but his face was obscured by a pair of heavy, circular spectacles that caught the light, making his eyes invisible. He stood perfectly still, his hands tucked into his pockets, radiating an aura of clinical indifference.
"Hey, hey. Calm down," the man said, though his tone remained flat and robotic. "You're going to tear your stitches if you jump like a startled cat."
"Who... who are you?" Dawn gasped, leaning against the wall to steady his shaking legs. "How did you even get in here? I didn't hear the door!"
The man tilted his head, the light glinting off his glasses. "What do you mean by that? I'm a doctor. Don't you see my clothes, or are your eyes just for decoration? I have been standing here for three minutes. You were too busy watching the children play in the hallway."
"Oh," Dawn said, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "Right. Sorry."
"Anyway, there is no need for you to be on guard. I don't bite," the man said, stepping into the center of the room. Despite his reassurance, his movements were unnaturally smooth, almost predatory. "Even though I might look like a haunt, I am an official member of the Sorcerer Association Medical Division. The name is Henry Caster. I'm the one who patched your internal organs back together after they decided to turn into jelly."
Dawn took a breath, his heart finally slowing down. He bowed his head respectfully. "Um... thank you, Dr. Caster. I appreciate it."
"You are welcome, boy," Henry said. He pulled a digital clipboard from the table. "So... Dawn Elorin. Age 17. You are a very interesting case. On the official logs, you are the only student in this year's exam cycle who did not attend a Sorcerer High School. Not even for a single semester."
Dawn scratched his cheek awkwardly, looking away. "Hahaha... yeah. I was... busy. Things kept coming up."
Henry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Busy. That's a very humble way to put it. Even though the Association hasn't officially confirmed every report yet, our intelligence suggests you've been quite a nomad. It is recorded unofficially, of course that you have taken down a total of twelve major criminal organizations and a staggering number of rogue Curse Users in the last two and a half years."
Henry's voice dropped, becoming more analytical, like he was dissecting Dawn with words. "So, you were 'busy' taking down the scum of the Earth while other kids were learning how to cite ancient poetry in a classroom. Is that the gist of it?"
"Hahaha, I don't know about all that," Dawn said, his smile turning a bit more forced. "Reports tend to exaggerate, right?"
"Maybe," Henry replied. "You aren't a household name internationally. You don't have a clan name to back you up. But among the Higher-Ups of the Association, your name has been a point of contention for some time. A child with no background, no family, and no formal training, single-handedly dismantling syndicates and evil spirits? It's either a miracle or a nightmare."
Henry stepped closer, his invisible eyes seemingly boring into Dawn's soul. "But there's a problem, isn't there? The biggest problem of all. Despite all that power you've shown in the past, you aren't able to draw it out consistently anymore, can you?"
Dawn's smile vanished. The room felt suddenly cold. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "The flow... it's been blocked. Ever since the incident six months ago, using my Jinx energy feels like trying to breathe underwater."
"Well, you can stop worrying," Henry said, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "I have given you a specialized soul-alignment treatment while you were under. It's a proprietary technique of mine. There shouldn't be any problem drawing out your power from here on out. Go on... check for yourself."
Dawn hesitated, then raised his right hand. He focused on the core of his being, calling upon the golden-blue energy of his Jinx.
Whoosh.
A vibrant, steady aura of energy erupted around his fist. Dawn's eyes widened. Usually, the energy was jagged, flickering, and caused a painful recoil that felt like his veins were being shredded. But now? It was smooth.
Wait... there's no scattered flow, Dawn thought, mesmerized by the light. There's no recoil. It feels... it feels like the very first time I used my power, before the King took hold. It's perfect.
"Impressive," Dawn whispered, clenching his fist. The power felt responsive, obedient.
"Well, that is because it was me who did the work," Henry said, crossing his arms and looking thoroughly unimpressed by Dawn's awe. "And only me. No one else in this Association has the surgical precision to realign a soul power without shattering the host. You're lucky I was on duty."
"Oh," Dawn said, looking at the eccentric doctor with a new sense of respect. "Is that so? Thank you again, Dr. Caster."
"Don't thank me yet, Elorin," Henry said, turning toward the door. "The treatment only fixed the pipes. You're the one who has to handle the pressure. And considering who is watching this year's exam, you're going to need every drop of that power just to stay alive."