Chapter 20 — The Weight of a Choice No One Made
The sun struck the stone with a slow cruelty, crushing every shadow beneath its golden light. In that moment, suspended between the past and eternity, Zayn was still just a child among others, lost in a school trip that, in his eyes, was nothing exceptional—just another mandatory outing, another day spent listening to adults talk about things that had been dead far too long to still hold any meaning. And yet… there was something in the air, something imperceptible, like a vibration too faint to be heard but too present to be ignored. He frowned slightly as he walked behind the group, hands in his pockets, eyes gliding over the ancient walls of a forgotten temple that even the guide seemed to respect without truly understanding. The guide spoke of ancient gods, guardians, and old curses with an almost mechanical tone, and Zayn sighed, annoyed:
"Always the same stories…"
One of his friends laughed softly beside him, but Zayn didn't really respond. His gaze was already elsewhere, drawn to a crack in the stone—thin, almost invisible, like a wound in the wall itself. Without thinking, he slowed down, letting the group move ahead. Their voices grew more and more distant, muffled by the silence of the temple, until he stopped completely.
The world seemed to… shift.
The noise vanished.
The wind died down.
And in that silence, he heard something.
A call.
Not a sound.
Not a voice.
But a presence.
Something that was watching him… without eyes.
Zayn swallowed hard, his heart accelerating for no clear reason. He glanced behind him; the group was already far, too far. Then he looked ahead, toward that crack which now seemed… larger, as if it were opening slowly, as if it were inviting him in. He hesitated.
For a second.
Then he entered.
The passage was narrow, dark, and irregular. The stone felt cold under his fingers as he advanced slowly, each step echoing in a silence that felt too heavy. The further he went, the denser the air became, as if the temple itself were breathing around him—as if something had been waiting for a very long time… and he had finally arrived. Suddenly, the passage opened up.
A chamber.
Ancient.
Immense.
Silent.
In the center…
Something.
Zayn stopped dead in his tracks.
His breath caught.
Before him, suspended in the air as if gravity did not exist, an artifact glowed with a strange light—neither hot nor cold. A living, unstable light, as if it were hesitating between existing… or disappearing. All around it, symbols carved into the stone pulsed faintly, reacting to his presence, as if the temple itself had been waiting for him, and only him.
"What is this…"
His voice trailed off.
His feet moved on their own.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
His heart beat louder.
Faster.
Heavier.
And with every step… the light grew.
Until he was right in front of it.
Right there.
His hand trembled slightly.
"I don't like this…"
But he reached out anyway.
And the moment his fingers brushed the artifact—
The world exploded into light.
A brutal heat flooded his arm, an impossible, uncontrollable energy that coiled around him like a living chain. Before he could even pull back, the artifact deformed, almost liquefying, then violently projected itself against his wrist, latching on as if it had… always belonged there.
"AAH—!"
Zayn scrambled back, screaming, falling to the ground. He instinctively tried to tear the object off, but it wouldn't budge—stuck, fused, as if it were a part of him. His breathing became chaotic, panicked:
"No… no no no… what is this thing?!"
He pulled at it.
Again.
Again.
Nothing.
His skin wasn't bleeding.
But the object refused to leave.
As if it refused… to let him go.
"Get off!"
But only silence answered.
And deep inside him… something stirred.
Zayn stood up abruptly, breathing hard, his gaze lost between fear and incomprehension. Then, without thinking, he ran. He fled the chamber, sprinted through the passage, returning toward the light, toward the voices, toward the normal world—as if nothing had happened, as if everything could still become… simple again.
"Zayn!"
He burst out of the passage.
The group.
The students.
The noise.
Reality.
"Where were you?!"
One of his friends approached, worried, but Zayn grabbed his arm immediately:
"Look at this!"
He showed his wrist.
The bracelet.
Silent now.
But alive.
"What is that thing?!"
"I don't know! Get it off!"
His friend tried to pull on it.
Then another.
Then two more.
"What the hell is this?!"
"It won't move!"
"Wait, push!"
They forced it.
Again.
Again.
Their faces contorted with the effort.
Their hands slipped.
Then they let go all at once.
"Impossible…"
"Is it glued on or something?"
Zayn was breathing heavily.
"I swear I didn't do anything… I just touched something…"
"Something?!"
"In the temple…"
A silence fell.
They looked at each other.
Then one of them whispered:
"Man… you really messed up…"
Zayn looked at his wrist.
The bracelet.
Motionless.
Silent.
But deep down…
Something was beating.
Like a heart.
And without understanding why…
Zayn felt a thought that was not his own.
Calm.
Distant.
Present.
*"Finally."*
He snapped his head up.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Silence.
Nothing else.
But Zayn…
He…
Was no longer alone.
---
Silence fell for a moment after Zayn finished his story—a strange, almost suspended silence, as if even the air around them was trying to process what it had just heard. Yojuro, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, kept his eyes closed, reflecting, digesting every word, every detail, every sensation described… then slowly, a smile stretched across his lips.
— Hm…
He opened his eyes.
— Honestly… it's a very interesting story.
Zayn raised an eyebrow.
— "Interesting"? Man, I almost died.
— Yes, Yojuro replied calmly, but you didn't.
A silence.
Then Cynthia, sitting on a chair, watched them both in turn before sighing lightly and crossing her arms.
— Are you two finished talking like old men?
Zayn turned his head toward her.
— Huh?
— There are three weeks left before the start of the term. Three weeks.
She stood up.
— If you want to survive here, Zayn… you need to train.
A slight smile appeared on her lips.
— And me… I have a rematch to take.
Zayn exhaled, a small smile appearing in spite of himself.
— You just won't let it go, will you…
— Never.
Yojuro straightened up slowly.
— Works for me.
Zayn looked at the two of them, then sighed and shrugged.
— Fine… okay. But don't come crying to me afterward.
Cynthia smiled.
— We'll see about that.
The training room was almost empty, bathed in a cold artificial light—the kind of place where the sound of footsteps echoes louder than thoughts. Upon entering, they immediately noticed there was only one other person there.
A boy.
Lying down.
Sleeping.
Brown hair, long and slightly spiky, a totally relaxed posture, as if the entire world didn't concern him. Zayn looked at him for two seconds before shrugging.
— Is he serious?
— Ignore him, Cynthia replied.
They went up to the upper floor.
The fight was about to begin.
Cynthia positioned herself across from Zayn, her feet anchored to the ground, her gaze becoming cold and precise—totally different from her usual attitude. Zayn immediately felt… the pressure.
— Ready?
— Always.
And in a fraction of a second—
She disappeared.
— Huh—?!
Impact.
Zayn was thrown backward, his body hitting the ground violently, the air leaving his lungs in a brutal gasp.
— Too slow, Cynthia said calmly.
She reappeared in front of him.
Strike.
Zayn barely blocked.
Step back.
Again.
Again.
She was dominating.
Totally.
Yojuro observed.
Silent.
But in his mind—
Everything was moving.
*Her speed… constant. No. Variable. She accelerates with every movement.
Angle of attack: 32 degrees… correction… 27… she adjusts in real time.
She doesn't strike to hit… she strikes to unbalance.
Every blow forces Zayn to retreat in a specific direction.*
His eyes narrowed slightly.
*She controls the space.
She's boxing him in.
If Zayn continues like this… he loses in 14 seconds.*
A light breath.
*The solution?
Break the rhythm.
Create an unpredictable rupture.*
He opened his eyes slightly.
— Zayn.
But Zayn… was already starting to understand.
He spat slightly, getting up with difficulty, wiping blood from the corner of his lip, a strange smile appearing on his face.
— Okay…
Cynthia stopped.
— You're smiling?
Zayn lowered his head slightly.
— Yeah…
He raised his wrist.
The Borealis.
It began to glow.
— Because now…
Silence.
A green light burst forth.
— Let's change the rules.
He pressed it.
The energy exploded.
His body froze.
Then it transformed.
The skin cracked—not as a wound, but as a birth. A black, rocky matter emerged, covering his arms, his shoulders, his torso. Solid, thick plates formed a living armor while his muscles swelled, becoming more massive, heavier, denser. Incandescent flickers appeared between the cracks, like lava trapped under a crust of stone, and his gaze changed.
Glowing red.
Burning.
His breathing became heavy.
Powerful.
And finally—
He straightened up.
Entirely transformed.
— "Gravolith."
The ground cracked under his weight.
Below.
The boy opened one eye.
Then the other.
— …huh?
He sat up abruptly.
— OOOOOOH ?!
Above.
Zayn—no…
Gravolith—
Charged.
The ground exploded under his feet.
Speed.
Power.
A monstrous blow.
Cynthia crossed her arms—
Impact.
She recoiled.
For the first time.
But she smiled.
— Finally.
But very quickly—
Something was wrong.
Zayn's movements were… unstable.
Too heavy.
Too wide.
Too imprecise.
— You aren't in control, Cynthia said.
Zayn grunted.
— Shut up—!
He attacked again.
Again.
Again.
But his blows were becoming predictable.
Slow.
Yojuro narrowed his eyes.
*Unstable motor control.
Increased reaction time.
Power ×5… but precision ÷3.
Conclusion: incomplete form.*
Cynthia dodged.
Positioned herself.
Waited.
The perfect moment.
— Now.
She struck.
A single blow.
Precise.
In the right spot.
Zayn froze.
Then—
Everything exploded.
His form shattered, the rock cracking, collapsing, disappearing as if it had never existed. He fell back to the ground, returning to his human form, panting, exhausted.
Silence.
— WOOOOOOOAAAH !!!
The boy came running like a rocket.
— THAT WAS TOTALLY INCREDIBLE !!!
Zayn blinked his eyes, still on the ground.
— Huh… ?
The guy leaned over him, eyes shining.
— DUDE DID YOU SEE WHAT YOU DID?! THAT WAS HUGE!! THAT STONE THING?! WHAT DID YOU CALL IT?! GRAVOLITH?! THAT IS SO COOL!!
Zayn pulled his head back slightly.
— Uh…
— AND THE TRANSFORMATION?! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?! IS IT AN ARTEFACT?! IS IT A MIRACLE?! WHAT'S YOUR DEAL?!
— …calm down.
— NO BUT WAIT—!
He stood up suddenly.
— I'M KAI!!
He pointed his thumb at himself, a huge grin on his face.
— And my brother is a Seraphim!!
Silence.
— Ryo.
Zayn blinked.
— …Ryo?
— YEAH!! YOU KNOW HIM?!
Zayn sighed deeply, half-sitting up.
— Yeah, yeah… sure…
Kai crouched down again.
— BUT SERIOUSLY TELL ME HOW DID YOU DO IT?!
— …
Zayn stared at him.
For a long time.
Then turned his head.
— Yojuro.
— Yes?
— Save me.
Cynthia let out a light laugh.
And Kai…
kept talking.
Without stopping.