It rarely rained in Bernap.
On good days, the atmosphere could be humid and wet, however, it was a rare occurrence to see rain. But today, the heavens wept. The clouds gathered heavy and black, and rain fell in sheets, soft yet unrelenting, as though even the sky itself mourned.
A funeral under the rain.
Rows of people dressed in black stood beneath umbrellas, others braving the downpour with drenched shoulders and bowed heads. Their voices were hushed, their grief folded into the sound of rainfall.
At the front, Ishira stood tall, but his eyes were hollow. His hand clutched Alora's arm as if to steady her, though his own body seemed barely steady at all. Alora's sobs carried even over the patter of water, broken gasps that echoed through the crowd.
Nearby, Amelia could not stop her tears. Her face was streaked red, her body trembling, grief pouring out of her like the rain itself.
It was the funeral of a young man gone too soon. A soul stolen from their midst before his life had even begun.
Far from the gathering, Conus stood apart. No umbrella shielded him. His sling was soaked through, his arm heavy at his side. Rain streamed across the burned scars that still marked his face and neck, though some had begun to heal into rough patches of hardened skin. He didn't care. The sting was nothing compared to the ache inside.
Two weeks. That was how long it had been since the Victoria High event, as the news called it. The day their reunion turned into a massacre.
Two weeks since Lucas had been ripped away from him, and today they put him in the ground. Deb's funeral had happened while he was still in the hospital unconscious, and he had not been able to attend it. He had been unconscious for more than a week.
Conus stood in silence, watching as the coffin descended. His heart refused to accept it, his mind still replaying that final look Lucas had given him before the blade fell.
He wanted this to be a dream. Just a cruel, heavy nightmare from which he would wake up.
His gaze lifted to the sky, to the clouds that bled water like wounds. Somewhere above, somewhere in that unseen place of shadows and void, he hoped the being he had made a bargain with watched.
"Can you bring him back?" Conus whispered, his lips trembling against the rain. The words were devoured by the storm. "My friend… my brother… can you give him back to me?"
For the first time since his awakening, Conus didn't crave power. He didn't want strength. He wanted comfort. He wanted something impossible.
He wanted Lucas back.
Near the front, Lucas's parents clung to each other. His father's face was stone, but tears slid from his eyes unchecked. His mother, though, was undone. She cradled a folded blazer in her arms as if it were her son himself, rocking gently as if to soothe him. Her cries pierced even the rain.
The sight tore into Conus deeper than any blade had.
He lowered his head, letting the water stream down his face, masking the tears that had begun to fall again.
There was no comfort. No miracle. Only the grave.
Only the rain.
The crowd was beginning to disperse, umbrellas tilting against the rain. Conus remained rooted to the spot, his sling even heavier, his gaze still locked on the fresh mound of dirt that now swallowed Lucas's coffin. His chest burned with helplessness.
Then, through the rain, a black car rolled up the gravel path. Its windows were tinted, the engine quiet but commanding. A woman stepped out.
It was Nadia.
She was dressed simply in black, her hair tied back, but there was no mistaking her presence. Even among grieving families, she carried herself like someone who belonged to a different world. She walked straight toward Conus.
When she reached him, she did not speak right away. She only stood beside him, the rain sliding down her coat, her gaze fixed on the grave afar.
Finally, her voice came low. "How are you holding up?"
Conus gave a bitter laugh, though no joy reached it. "I'm not." He exhaled hard, the words barely audible over the storm. "I want revenge."
Nadia's eyes flicked to him, steady. "The Inspectors are already doing their best to find those responsible. You have to give them—"
"I didn't say justice." Conus cut her off, his jaw tightening as he turned to her. His eyes, shadowed by rain and grief, burned with something darker. "I want to hunt them down. I want to kill them all."
Nadia studied him for a long moment. She said nothing, only searching his face as if weighing how much of him had changed since that night. Then, finally, she asked, "And how do you plan to do that?"
Conus fell silent. His hands clenched at his sides. The truth was, he had no plan. He was weak and definitely did not have the resources. He couldn't even protect his friends when it mattered. His silence said everything.
Nadia looked back at the grave which was now being covered, then spoke evenly. "Bernap Pugnator's College is opening its admissions this year. My aunt oversees five slots. I'll be taking one. I can plead with her to give you another."
Conus turned sharply toward her, his brow furrowed. "A school? How will that help me take revenge?"
"Because," Nadia said, her tone cool but unwavering, "before you can kill them, before you can even stand in front of them without dying in a second… you need to grow stronger. And this school will help you. Without strength, all you'll ever have is anger."
Conus swallowed hard, the truth of her words digging into him. He turned his gaze back toward the rain. Bernap Pugnator's College. He knew of it. Everyone did. Located in Barkingham, where his grandfather once lived.
The graduates of that school did not simply become stronger, they became powerful forces. Inspectors, Raid Leaders, men and women whose names carried weight across the world. But it was not easy to get in. Admission required connections, luck, or the kind of money he didn't have. Maybe if he was still an Aromanus, the story would have been different.
"How long before it starts?" Conus asked finally, his voice rough.
"Six months," Nadia replied. She hesitated, then added, "And I'll cover half of your fees."
Conus turned to her, shocked. The words hit him harder than the rain. He searched her face, trying to understand why she would go so far.
"You'd do that?"
"Yes." Her expression was calm, but her voice softened. "I think you deserve the chance."
For the first time since the funeral began, Conus looked away from the grave. He studied Nadia in silence. She truly was one of the rich ones, born into privilege and yet standing here, offering him a lifeline.
Once again, he wondered what his life might have been if his father had remained an Aromanus. If he had grown up with power, with money, with opportunities like this. Conus' nuclear family was in no way poor. In fact, they could be considered richer than most. However, the difference between them and his extended family was like the difference between the earth and the sky.
But those were only thoughts. The rain didn't stop for "what ifs."
He nodded once, firm. "Alright. I'll do it."
Nadia gave the faintest hint of a smile, then looked back at the grave. "Then, make sure you're ready when the time comes."
Conus followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing as rain washed over the dirt mound. The grief was still there, sharp and heavy, but beneath it something else had taken root.
Determination.