The boy jerked awake with a violent breath — like a man dragged up from the bottom of a lake.
His vision swam. His mind lagged behind his senses, thick and slow, as if he had been trapped in a long, restless sleep he couldn't fully recall.
Cold metal dug into his wrists.
He tried to move — and chains clinked sharply above him.
Both arms were raised, pulled apart in a harsh X-shape, secured to anchor points sunk deep into the stone wall behind him. His feet barely touched the ground; his entire body hung with a dull, throbbing ache.
In front of him stood a mirror fixed to the wall — featureless, clear, and reflecting his own disoriented stare. A single chair sat a meter away, empty. A door rested off to the side.
Nothing else could be seen inside the foreign room. Just the faint hum of the walls and the cold that crept beneath his skin.
Then—
A voice, sharp and unexpected, spoke from somewhere within the room — everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Oh? You actually survived that…" The tone was a strange blend of surprise, disbelief, and… anticipation.
But the voice vanished as abruptly as it appeared, causing silence to seeped back in.
Seconds, minutes — Kael couldn't tell — passed before the door finally clicked and swung open.
A man stepped in.
Mid-twenties, maybe. Brown hair tied loosely at the back. He wore an official-looking uniform — layered armor polished to a dull sheen, insignia etched onto the chestplate. Kael didn't know the ranking or the exact division, but he recognized the general make.
Someone that smells of authority and order, trouble perhaps?
The man shut the door behind him, crossed the room with quiet steps, and lowered himself onto the single chair facing Kael.
He studied the boy for a moment with an unreadable expression. Then, calmly:
"Do you know your name?"
Kael blinked, confusion clouding his mind — but the answer surfaced automatically and instinctively.
"…Kael."
The man nodded once, as though verifying something on an invisible mental list.
"Good. And do you know where you are right now?"
Kael's brow tightened. He searched for any scrap of context.
Nothing.
"No," he said quietly.
"Right…" The man exhaled, rubbing his jaw. "Stupid question."
A pause. Then he leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me the last thing you remember."
Kael stared past him, trying to pull pieces together. His mind felt like torn cloth — memories slipping through the gaps. Eventually, after a long silence:
"There's… death…" His voice cracked. "Everywhere…"
The man's expression shifted — subtle, but there. Showing something like curiosity… or concern.
Kael blinked, uneasy. He had no idea where the words came from — yet at the same time, a small, unsettling certainty whispered that he hadn't been wrong.
Weird.
The man continued to study him, narrowing his eyes slightly as if trying to dissect him piece by piece. After a long moment, he exhaled a heavy sigh and rose from the chair.
"On behalf of the Metaphysical Response Agency," he began in a practiced tone — one he sounded far too familiar with.
"I hereby announce your classification as a Gnostic."
He spoke the declaration like someone reciting a line for the thousandth time.
Metal clicked, and the chains finally loosened. Cold cuffs slipped off Kael's wrists as the man unlocked his bindings with efficiency.
Kael flexed his freed hands, staring at him in disbelief.
"A… Gnostic?" he repeated.
The word felt foreign in his mouth. Wrong and impossible.
To think he was now one of those people — the so-called bulwarks of the world. The ones who stood between humanity and the things that clawed at the edges of it… the ones who carried power, purpose, and burdens far beyond ordinary men.
He was one of those figures now…
Kael swallowed hard, the whole absurd situation was finally settling in like a stone in his gut.
"…What's gonna happen to me now?" he finally asked.
The man paused mid-motion, then lowered himself back into the chair.
"How old are you, Kael?"
"I'm... Eighteen."
"Eighteen… the legal age for conscription."
"…Conscription?" Kael repeated, brows knitting.
The man nodded.
"You've completed your Metanoia. That makes you what we officially call a Sinner — one who has just crossed the threshold and awakened the Gnosis. And by law, all Sinners of age must undergo conscription." He paused, weighing his next words.
"It's both a legal and spiritual process… the first step toward entering the Cycle of Gnosis."
'Sinners...'
The man continued with a steady voice:
"Every six months, newly awakened Sinners are gathered and transported to Somnus — the realm of spirit. There, each undergoes a purification trial. Its purpose is to cleanse the corruption within their Gnosis… and in doing so, begin their first Cycle."
Somnus... cleansing... All these strange words, new worlds — it made his head spin. And worse, the mention of another trial worried him. Another trial… like his Metanoia? The one he barely walked out of alive?
He swallowed. "And what if someone… doesn't want to do all that?"
The man's flicked toward him, his tone was steady but filled with something heavier.
"Unfortunately, that's not an option. Because—"
He stopped as Kael suddenly clutched his chest. A sharp, stabbing pain tore through him, forcing him to his knees.
"Wha—what's… happening to me?" he gasped.
The man rose calmly and stepped closer.
"Because of that."
He approached Kael, crouched beside him, and extended something toward his shaking hands — a dull gray Crystalis.
"Here. Crush it with your bare hand."
Kael was still trembling, his breath fractured, and his vision swam — but he obeyed. His fingers curled weakly around the crystal, and with a desperate squeeze, it cracked, until the crystallis finally splintered.
A faint shimmer of light bled through the fractures, then seeped into his skin like smoke dissolving into water. Within seconds, the stabbing pain in his chest ebbed away, fading into a soft, residual warmth.
He exhaled hard, swallowing the last of his panic.
"What… what the hell was that?" he managed.
The man rose slowly, his expression distant — as if watching something inevitable play out.
"A fracture. It happens to every Sinner who hasn't yet entered the Cycle. The Gnosis inside you is unstable — incomplete. Without a link to the Cycle, it begins tearing at your soul."
He nodded toward the fading dust in Kael's palm.
"Until your trial in Somnus, the only way to keep that from happening is to absorb the essence of a Crystalis — like the one you just crushed."
He looked down at Kael with a steady eyes.
"Remember the pain. Because if you go too long without one… it only gets worse."