Far away, deep beneath a structure that looked less like a building and more like a wound carved into the earth, ten figures sat in silence.
The chamber was vast and circular. Stone walls twisted unnaturally, as if grown rather than built. At the center floated a single black rose, suspended in midair, slowly rotating. Petals perfect and untouched.
This was not a place for light.
A man stepped forward, cloak marked with the sigil of a rose. His posture was rigid, jaw tight.
"Was that really necessary?" he snapped. "Stone Heaven lost two of its best. Do you have any idea what kind of instability that causes?"
One of the ten leaned back, voice distorted neither male nor female.
"The objective was clear. The region was designated a live testing ground."
Another figure spoke, tone almost bored."All subjects were meant to perish."
The cloaked man clenched his fists. "You sent a monster no mercenary rank squad could survive."
A soft chuckle echoed.
"And yet," a third voice interjected, sharp and curious, "something erased it."
The room stilled.
"Erased?" the Guildmaster repeated.
"Obliterated," the voice corrected. "No residue. No mana signature left behind. As if it had never existed."
One of the figures leaned forward, eyes glinting faintly from beneath a hood."The boy survived."
The cloaked man's breath hitched.
"…Owen."
Another figure nodded."His mana spiked beyond predicted limits."
"Uncontrolled," another added. "Violent. Emotional."
The rose at the center trembled.
"This changes things," someone murmured.
The cloaked man's voice dropped. "You used my people as test subjects."
"You agreed to the framework," came the reply. "And now you have your result."
Silence stretched.
Finally, the cloaked man spoke again this time in more quiet, yet dangerous tone.
"If you're going to keep pulling threads like this… don't be surprised when something pulls back."
They all laughed as he walked.
Owen left Landergrey after saying his last goodbyes.
Owen didn't take a carriage.
He didn't take food.
He didn't take rest.
He walked.
Eight days.
Through mud and rain and cold nights where the ground bit into his bones. He walked with his blade unsheathed, resting against his shoulder, eyes dull and unfocused. Villagers fled when they saw him coming. Animals scattered. Even monsters avoided his path.
His mana was too dense.
Too heavy.
It pressed down on the world like a threat.
By the time the Landergrey Manor came into view, his steps were slow—but unbroken.
The manor stood the same as ever, distant and proud.
Owen approached the gate.
Steel flashed.
A blade kissed his throat only for it shatter instantly.
The metal vanished in a clean, soundless fracture, like reality itself had rejected it.
The attacker stumbled back, staring in awe.
"…Owen?"
Reinhardt froze.
The man before him looked like a ghost wearing Owen's face. Hair wild. Eyes empty. Shoulders tight, like he was braced for an ambush that would never end.
Reinhardt lowered his stance slowly.
"…What happened to you, son?"
Owen didn't answer.
Reinhardt exhaled, stepped aside, and signaling the guards to open the gate.
"Come inside," he said quietly. "You don't look like a man who should be left alone anymore."
And for the first time since the graves were sealed, Owen followed someone without resistance.
Inside, Baron Aldric Landergrey didn't raise his voice.
That alone said everything.
"Owen."
The name usually came with warmth. A sigh. Mild annoyance at worst. Today, it landed heavy in the study, like it didn't quite belong to the man standing before him.
"You left without a word."
Owen stood there, unmoving.
No excuse.No apology.
Just… silence.
Aldric studied him closely now, really looked. The boy he had taken in years ago had always been reserved, yes but this wasn't quiet. This was absence. Like someone had scooped something vital out of him and left the body behind.
Mana pressed against the room. Thick. Unnatural. The candles flickered despite no wind. Aldric's screamed the more Owen was around.
His eyes were dull and empty.
"…I can't even begin to understand what's happened to you," Aldric said finally, slower now. Careful. "But whatever it is… it's taken something from you."
No reaction.
The Baron folded his hands together, fingers interlaced tighter than usual.
"You don't owe me an explanation," he continued. "Not today. Not ever, if you choose. But you will stay here."
Owen's eyes shifted just barely.
"Delia was worried," Aldric added. "And frankly…" he exhaled, "…so was I."
He stood from his chair.
"Rest," he said firmly. "Heal. If you need something, anything I will provide it. That's not a request."
Owen nodded once.
Just once.
Then he turned and left.
Aldric remained standing long after the door closed, staring at the space Owen had occupied. His brow furrowed deeper with every passing second.
"What happened to you, boy…?" he murmured.
-
Owen walked.
Not toward a room.Not toward the training grounds.Not toward anywhere in particular.
The estate passed by him like a blur of familiar stone paths and trimmed hedges. Servants froze when they saw him, instinctively stepping aside. Some bowed out of habit, then flinched as his mana brushed past them.
He didn't notice.
His hand tightened around the hilt of Seishi.
Every step echoed with memories he didn't want. Laughter. Firelight. A voice teasing him for being too serious. A massive hand clapping him on the back hard enough to knock the air out of him.
He stopped beneath an old oak tree.
One he used to sit under as a kid.
The branches swayed gently above him.
Owen stared at the ground.
And for just a second, just a fraction, his lips trembled.
But no tears came.
-
Word spread fast.
It always did.
"Owen's back.""The one who left and became a mercenary after passing the exam?""Oh that Owen.""The Baron's boy?"
It reached the manor chambers within minutes.
Baroness Delia was halfway through tea when she heard.
The cup shattered against the floor.
"Owen?" she repeated, already standing. "Where is he?"
No one answered fast enough.
She didn't wait.
Her steps were quick, skirts gathered in one hand as she moved through the halls with purpose that surprised even the guards. She checked the training yard. Empty. The library. Empty.
Then she felt it.
That pressure.
That awful, suffocating weight in the air that made her chest ache.
She followed it instinctively.
And there he was.
Standing beneath the oak.
Bigger, taller but wrong.
"Owen," she said softly.
He didn't turn.
Her heart cracked a little at that.
She approached carefully, as if he might shatter if she moved too fast. When she was close enough, she reached out and placed a hand against his arm.
He flinched.
Not violently.Just enough for her to know he was in pain.
"Oh, my dear…" her voice trembled despite herself. "What happened to you?"
Owen finally looked at her.
And she understood.
Not the details. Not the story.
But the loss.
The kind of loss that doesn't heal. The kind that rewrites you.
She pulled him into an embrace.
For a moment, his body stayed rigid. Then slowly, he leaned into it. Just a little. Like a man who didn't remember how comfort worked but wanted to believe in it again.
Her hand moved to his hair, gentle.
"You're home," she whispered. "You don't have to carry this alone."
Owen's fingers twitched.
His grip tightened in her sleeve.