Chapter 27 – A Box
Zane exhaled a long, tired breath as he stared down at the final potato in his hand. "Alright… last attempt of the day," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Might as well make it count."
He knew that was easier said than done. Every possible method he could think of had already been exhausted over the past several hours. Tweaking the positions of the stars, trying to connect them, rotate them, break them, layer them—he had gone through it all. His well of creativity was running dry.
Still, Zane forced himself to stay optimistic. 'Repeating the same thing might just bring some kind of epiphany,' he thought. 'A breakthrough usually happens when you least expect it.' He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and closed his eyes once more, preparing to activate his Core Stigma for what felt like the hundredth time.
As he channeled his energy toward the lonely vegetable, something changed.
His eyes snapped open.
"Huh?"
A jarring thud tore through his body like a sledgehammer, resonating through his bones and down to the very core of his being. His heart stuttered. Then—
Black.
He didn't even have time to speak. His vision blurred and then vanished entirely. His body went limp as he collapsed to the floor, completely unconscious, the potato slipping from his grasp and rolling into the mess surrounding him.
Darkness quickly swallowed Zane's mind, and he was unable to even resist it. In the dim room, a spark of purple flashed occasionally from the boy's body before disappearing completely.
***
A low, groggy groan escaped his lips.
"H-Hag…" Zane's voice was dry, cracked with exhaustion as his eyes slowly parted. Dazed, he stared at the ceiling, blinking away the haze in his vision.
"What… happened?" He brought a hand to his forehead, and the second he touched it, a sharp, pounding headache surged forward, nearly dropping him back down. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself into a sitting position and surveyed his surroundings.
His room was just as he had left it—if not worse. The lingering stench of rot and sweat filled the air. Bits of potato and dried starch littered the floor, and the sizable crater in the wall remained as his handiwork.
"I don't remember passing out…" he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I was just about to try the last potato and then—pain. Everywhere. Like my body was imploding."
A deep frown settled on his face.
The only thing that makes sense is… I overused my Core Energy, he thought grimly.
Zane closed his eyes to feel the flow of energy within him. As expected, it was faint. Barely a flicker of what it had been the night before. It pulsed weakly in his chest, thin and sluggish, like a river reduced to a trickle.
"Yeah… I overdid it." He let out a breath, shaking his head. "Didn't even realize how much I was draining it. My body must've just shut down to protect itself."
It made sense, in hindsight. His Core wasn't infinite. No matter how large it might've seemed to him when he first awakened it, nonstop usage for nearly half a day was bound to dry the well.
'Still… lasting twelve hours is impressive for a newly awakened Knight,' he thought, almost impressed despite the situation.
'How long was I out?'
He turned to glance at the clock hanging above his desk.
His heart sank.
"1 PM?!" he shouted. "You've got to be kidding me! I was out for—what, 10 hours?!"
Panic briefly took over as he bolted up from the ground. His entire body ached, and the stench hit him like a wall. He sniffed under his arm and gagged.
"Okay, okay, shower first."
Rushing to the bathroom, Zane stripped out of his filthy clothes and jumped into the water. The scent of sweat and raw potato had soaked into his skin, and it took a thorough scrub to finally feel clean again. After drying off, he returned to his room, cracking open the windows and lighting a cheap incense stick to clear the air.
"God, this room is a war crime," he muttered, pulling a trash bag out from under the sink and stuffing it full of ruined potatoes and soiled towels.
He was just about to head back in and start cleaning the crater in the ground when he heard it—a knock at the door.
"Hm?" Zane's brows furrowed. 'Who the hell is knocking?'
A sudden thought struck him. 'Is it the landlord? Did he come to check on the noise from yesterday's explosion?! Damn it, I forgot about that…'
Trying to keep his cool, he tiptoed to the door and peeked through the peephole.
No one.
"Huh?"
Cautiously, he unlocked the door and swung it open, glancing up and down the empty corridor. Not a soul in sight.
Then his eyes dropped.
"A… box?"
Right at his doorstep sat a large, black container. Its surface gleamed under the sunlight, and a striking emblem was painted on its top—a faceless man wielding a massive sword, standing tall amidst a sea of flames. The blade rose straight up, bisecting his face as he stood like a silent sentinel amid the chaos.
Zane blinked.
"That's the Dimensional Knight Emblem…" he muttered. He'd seen that symbol a hundred times—on broadcasts, news channels, even in history books. It was the universal crest of the Knights, unmistakable and absolute. It represented the highest order in all the realms.
Glancing down the hall one more time, Zane picked up the box and carried it inside. "This is heavy… I assume the delegation sent this?"
They hadn't told him anything about delivering a package. Then again, they hadn't exactly been forthcoming with next steps either, so this was perhaps what they wanted from him.
"Guess I'm finding out now."
He set the box down on his bed and grabbed a cutter from his desk. With careful hands, he slit the tape open and peeled back the lid.
Inside, nestled in a perfectly fitted black foam, were three smaller boxes. Each was labeled in elegant silver script:
Uniform. Personal Documents. Artifacts.
Zane raised a brow.
"Well… this is nice."
He pulled the first box out and opened it. Inside, folded with exacting precision, was a pristine white uniform with gold accents along the shoulders and sleeves. The fabric gleamed faintly, impossibly smooth to the touch, yet Zane could tell from one look that it was built for combat as much as ceremony.
His breath caught for a moment.
"The Dimensional Knight Candidates' Uniform…" he whispered.
He'd seen it countless times—worn by elite talents on televised broadcasts, displayed proudly in academy showcases, even printed on posters. It was iconic. A symbol of purpose, responsibility, and strength.
And now it was in his hands.
He expected more emotion—tears, maybe. A sense of disbelief. But all he felt was a quiet calm.
No elation, no pride. Just… clarity.
Zane stood up and began to change. His old clothes were tossed aside as he slipped into the uniform. The material clung to his body with a tailored fit, adjusting almost intuitively to his frame. It was sleek, yet comfortable—clearly designed to move with the wearer, not against them.
He walked to the mirror and looked at himself. The person staring back wasn't the same boy from yesterday. The uniform didn't just change his appearance—it changed his presence.
Adjusting the necktie more loosely, he gave a small nod.
"…Doesn't look half bad," he murmured, lips curling into a faint smile.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Zane didn't hate the reflection looking back at him.
Not bad at all.