When Sumit opened his eyes, he was no longer in the Evaluation Grounds.
A heavy fog pressed in from all sides, a pall of grey-black mist curling like smoke, yet carrying the stillness of ancient ruins.
The ground beneath his feet was solid, yet when he looked down, it wasn't stone or earth—just shifting patterns of light, rippling as though cast by unseen waters. The air was cold, suffocating, thick with a weight that pressed into his lungs.
He turned, searching for something—anything—but the fog devoured sight. Shapes stirred within it, vast and fleeting, until at last a clearer outline pressed against the haze.
A gate.
It rose higher than sight allowed, carved from stone older than memory. Its surface was etched with intricate patterns that glowed faintly like veins of trapped starlight. The carvings were not words, not symbols he could name—yet they pulsed with a rhythm that felt alive, as if the gate itself was breathing.
Bands of light coiled across its frame, like chains woven not of iron but of will, binding it shut. At the heart of the doors, an emblem was carved—circular, endless, a seal that seemed both protective and warning.
Even from a distance, the air around it felt charged, crushing. This was not simply closed. It was sealed. And though no one had told him so, some instinct whispered that only blood could stir it awake.
Each glimpse dissolved into mist again, leaving only doubt—yet the image burned itself deep into his mind.
His breath trembled. This… this isn't real. It can't be.
But the longer he stood, the stronger the truth gnawed at him. This place was real. Too real. The silence was not empty—it was watching.
Then, the whispers came.
Not from one direction, but from everywhere at once—low, fractured murmurs bleeding out of the fog. They were not words, not exactly, but echoes of something older, heavier. They brushed against his thoughts like cold fingertips, leaving him shivering.
He pressed his hands to his ears, but the sound wasn't heard—it was inside. A weight, a pressure, filling his skull.
The mist shifted. For an instant, he thought he saw a vast shadow stretching upward, so tall it pierced even the fog. His heart stilled. He blinked, and it was gone.
Every instinct screamed at him that this was a place not meant for human eyes. A divine realm, perhaps… or something far older.
And somewhere within that suffocating silence, he felt it.
A presence. Distant and near all at once. Immense. Patient. Watching.
He froze, unable to breathe. The realization struck him like ice: he was not alone.
Step by step, fear drove him backward. His gaze stayed fixed on the fog, locked on the space where he had felt that presence. But when nothing stirred, his nerves snapped.
He turned and ran—eyes squeezed shut, feet carrying him in the same direction he had been retreating.
When he dared to look again, his breath caught.
The gate was closer.
Closer… and more terrible than before. Its carvings writhed faintly, as if alive. Its surface darker, older. Its seal pulsed like a heartbeat. The whispers no longer came from all directions—they bled directly from the gate, spilling into him with every beat.
His terror twisted into something else—curiosity. Even as his legs trembled, even as his chest tightened, he stepped forward. He had to know what this was. What secret it held.
He raised his hand.
His fingers brushed the cold air just before the stone—
And a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
He whipped around—
And the world shattered.
Agony ripped through him. His vision split. He saw his own body still standing before the gate, while his head—his head—toppled from his neck, falling into the mist.
Shock flooded him. What—what just—?
No breath. No body. Just blood, mist, and the gate looming closer than ever.
A single thought screamed inside him: No! This can't be the end… not yet. I haven't even begun…
The world collapsed into black.
—
Sumit gasped awake.
His body jerked upright, drenched in cold sweat. His chest heaved, his lungs clawing for air.
The infirmary ceiling stared down at him, pale and ordinary.
It was a dream.
…Wasn't it?
Sumit was still trying to convince himself when a groggy voice drifted from his left."Bad dream?"
He turned his head. On the next bed, Arav was pushing himself up, yawning like he had all the time in the world.
"Something like that," Sumit muttered. His throat was dry. After a pause, he asked, "What happened while I was out?"
Arav rubbed his eyes and shrugged lazily. "You collapsed. They hauled you here. Class wrapped up after that. Since nobody else wanted the job, they made me your official babysitter."
Sumit gave him a flat look. "…Babysitter, huh? Lucky me."
"Lucky me," Arav corrected, flopping back onto the bed with exaggerated drama. "Do you snore? Please tell me you don't."
Sumit sighed, swung his legs off the bed, and stood. The window had already darkened to shades of evening. "We should head to the dorms. It'll be night soon."
He walked to the door. Behind him, Arav groaned, staring at the ceiling like he couldn't be bothered to move.
For a moment there was silence. Then Sumit's voice floated back, half-irritated, half-defeated:"…You do know the way to the hostel, right?"
Arav smirked without lifting his head. "I was hoping you did."
Sumit lingered at the door, one hand on the frame. "You coming or not?"
Arav let out a long breath, then finally swung his legs off the bed. "Fine, fine. Babysitting duty never ends." He stood, brushing his hair back with one hand and muttering under his breath.
Sumit rolled his eyes. "Try to keep up this time."
The two stepped out together, their voices fading into the corridor as the infirmary returned to silence.
***
Far from the campus dorms, lanterns burned along the busy market streets, casting pools of amber across worn cobblestones. Professor Aadhira walked alone, her robes brushing softly against her ankles, blending strangely with the ordinary bustle around her.
Vendors shouted, laughter rang, iron pots clattered—but her steps were measured, her mind elsewhere.
She stopped before a modest building. Its wooden sign swayed gently in the night breeze, painted letters spelling out The Hearth. It wasn't grand, just warm—a place where people gathered to talk, eat, share.
Aadhira studied the sign for a moment, then murmured, "This should be it."
She pushed the door open. A small bell chimed. The scent of spiced tea and fresh bread greeted her as her gaze swept the room. Low chatter filled the space, groups huddled in corners, and flickering lamps threw long shadows across the wooden floorboards.
In the far corner, two figures already sat waiting. Ryuvash, broad-shouldered with his ever-straight posture, and Dariyush, thinner, his sharp eyes half-hidden behind falling hair. The moment they spotted her, both raised their hands slightly in greeting.
"You two beat me here," Aadhira said as she reached their table, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"We've been waiting," Ryuvash replied evenly. Dariyush only gave a small nod, his mouth quirking like he'd heard a private joke.
Aadhira sat, signaling the waiter with a small wave. "Three teas," she said before turning back to Ryuvash. Her expression sharpened. "Let's get to the point. My time is short."
Ryuvash leaned forward. "Ask."
"The rumors about special-grade demons," she said quietly. "Are they true? That their numbers—and strength—are rising?"
The man's expression hardened. He didn't hesitate. "True. I've seen one myself. Stronger than before. They're multiplying. Not just the special grades—the ordinary demons too. Something is pushing them to spread."
The waiter slid three steaming cups of tea onto the table. Aadhira wrapped her hands around hers, inhaled once, then took a sip before asking softly:"Can the Association hold this back?"
The Association—formed from the joint effort of many nations, a fragile unity meant to safeguard humanity itself. Its name alone carried weight.
Ryuvash met her gaze, his voice steady but grim. "No."
Silence pressed between them. Dariyush tapped his fingers against his cup, expression unreadable.
Aadhira set her cup down, her tone calm but edged. "Then it won't be long before old friends meet again."
At that, Dariyush chuckled under his breath. He leaned back, pulling a mocking face. "If your world-saving talk is over, can we act like normal people for five minutes? Everyone's staring at us."
The tension cracked just slightly. Aadhira's lips curved as she shook her head. "Fine." She turned to Ryuvash, her voice lighter now. "I think Sumit may have awakened. Just faintly."
Ryuvash's brows rose, genuine surprise flickering in his eyes. "Truly?"
"I'm not certain," Aadhira admitted. "What I saw could've been awakening… or something else entirely. I still need to confirm."
"That's exactly why I put him under your care," Ryuvash said, his tone softening. "If anyone can guide him, it's you."
Aadhira shot him a look, half amused, half accusing. "Always handing me your burdens."
Ryuvash's grin was faint but knowing.
Before the moment could stretch further, Aadhira glanced at the watch on her wrist. Her smile thinned. "My time's up. I should return to the institute."
She rose smoothly. Stepping close, she brushed a kiss against Dariyush's forehead. "I'll be away for a few days on institute work. Make sure you look after yourself."
He answered quietly, "Just come back safe."
Turning to Ryuvash, her tone grew brisk again. "Look after yourself too. If not for you, then at least for your sister—and that girl of yours."
He waved her off with mock irritation. "Yes, yes. Now go, before the tea gets cold."
Her lips curved one last time. With a soft rustle of robes, she slipped out, leaving the two men to their quiet corner, tea cooling between them.