Something was breathing.
Not him.
Something else.
A mechanical breath. Cold. Rhythmic. Too clean to be human.
Hhhhsshhh. Click. Hhhhsshhh. Click.
Arin's eyes fluttered open slowly, darkness leaking away into a dull, sterile blue light.
A ceiling. Metallic. Lines of faint red alarms embedded in it, pulsing slowly—like a heartbeat trying not to panic.
His head felt heavy. His chest throbbed, not in sharp pain, but in a deep ache—like something had tried to explode inside him and failed. His limbs didn't respond instantly. Something stiff was wrapped across his torso.
He tried to speak, but only a hoarse breath escaped.
A blurred voice came from somewhere beyond a frosted glass barrier.
"–is he awake?"
"Not yet… I hope."
"I still don't get it. His ribs were shattered into more than fifteen pieces each. His left arm bone looked like broken glass. His organs were bleeding internally in six different places."
"Humans don't survive that kind of trauma."
"Exactly—that's why I'm saying he's not–"
A hush. Someone shushed the other nurse quickly.
Another voice whispered, shakier. "…They said he stood after killing it. Covered in blood. Didn't move. Didn't blink. Like he was… broken. Or enjoying it."
Someone swallowed loudly. "I swear if he wakes up wrong, I'm quitting."
Arin blinked slowly.
Pain. Blurred memories. Screams. Blood spraying. His own laughter—quiet, broken.
The image of his fist going through something's skull. Shivani… fallen. Miran… bleeding. Goru's cracked shield. Mouth tasting iron. Whispers of power.
And then—that mark.
Instinctively, his trembling fingers reached for his neck.
It was faint now. But not gone. A dark, thin branding-like mark sat there, cold to the touch, almost unreal.
He exhaled shakily—
And froze.
Beside him, curled like a scared kitten, was Perin.
The little spirit beast was asleep on a cushioned corner of the bed, body trembling from leftover fear even in sleep. Occasionally, it whimpered softly.
Arin stared.
His chest tightened.
Was it fear… of him?
He tried to sit up.
Pain flared.
He winced, gasping—but still forced himself upright, supporting against the vertical bed panel.
His reflection flickered faintly on a nearby glass wall—eyes sunken, skin pale, hair messy, bandages wrapped around his chest, arms, and waist.
He looked… unstable.
His stomach twisted.
He didn't know if he was afraid of others— Or of what was inside him.
His breathing grew shallow.
He hated that moment. The moment he heard his own laughter in his head—
And didn't feel human.
Click.
The door unlocked with a soft metallic hiss.
Bootsteps. Calm. Lazy. Unafraid.
A figure walked in, wearing a standard issued black command coat with undone cuffs, hands casually tucked in his pockets.
He stopped at Arin's bedside, one eyebrow raised, a crooked grin forming.
"Yo, demon boy," he drawled. "Finally awake? Half the base still checks under their beds because of you."
Om Sai.
Arin stared at him, still hazy, unsure whether to feel relieved… or threatened.
Om Sai didn't blink. He just leaned back against the reinforced medical chamber wall like he was hanging out at a tea shop, not in front of someone who once cratered a monster's skull with his bare hands.
His grin lingered.
But his eyes… quietly watched everything.
Arin swallowed, voice cracked. "…Two weeks?"
Om Sai nodded. "Yeah. You've been out cold that long. You healed too fast, but your mind took its sweet time rebooting."
Arin dropped his gaze. His hand unconsciously drifted to his neck again.
Om Sai noticed. Of course he did.
He didn't say anything.
Yet.
Instead, he looked around briefly, making sure no nurse was hovering.
Then he pointed lazily at Arin's chest. "Doctors said your bones were dust. Your organs were shredded. They tried to understand how you didn't die." He paused, smirking. "Their conclusion?"
Arin looked at him.
"You shouldn't be alive," Om Sai said, shrugging. "Therefore, you're officially filed as: 'Medical anomaly. Probably cursed. Possibly possessed. Monitor from a safe distance.' That's your new medical status."
Arin's jaw clenched.
Om Sai continued before Arin could respond. "Don't worry though. I told them if you turn evil, I'll punch you first before anyone else suffers."
Arin blinked. "That's… supposed to make me feel better?"
"Absolutely not," Om Sai said with a wink.
A strange silence settled.
Perin stirred in its sleep, whimpering. Arin slowly reached out to steady the creature, fingers carefully petting its head. Perin relaxed slightly, but it still trembled faintly.
Om Sai's eyes flickered—something soft, almost approving, passed through them… before fading as quickly as it came.
Then his grin disappeared.
"You remember what happened?" he asked quietly.
Arin froze.
A memory hit him—blood splatter… laughter that didn't feel like his… eyes looking down on death with calm… the world tinted red.
He hesitated.
"…Some parts," he admitted. "Not clearly."
Om Sai exhaled slowly, voice low now. "Good. Don't rush it. Too much remembering at once can break a guy."
Another pause.
Om Sai's gaze drifted to the faint mark on Arin's neck. His eyes narrowed. "But that thing on your neck… don't tell me it's just 'nothing.'"
Arin didn't answer.
Because he couldn't.
"Knew it," Om Sai muttered, clicking his tongue. "Your energy changed. Feels… ancient. Heavy. Dangerous. Not Echoform. Not Astra."
Arin tensed, worried.
But then Om Sai stood straighter, winked again, and stretched his arms behind his head.
"Relax, demon boy. If I wanted you dead, your head would already be rolling."
"…Not comforting."
"Didn't say I was trying to comfort you."
Another silence.
Then, more seriously, Om Sai said:
"Someone wants to see you."
Arin frowned. "Who?"
Om Sai grinned wide.
"The one who decides whether you'll be promoted… or locked away forever."
Pain didn't come first—silence did.
A silence so unnatural it rang.
Arin blinked.
He was no longer in the medical chamber.
A battlefield stretched before him—ashen, ghostlike. Soldiers ran past him, screaming, their figures transparent. They didn't see him. He reached out—his hand passed straight through one man.
A memory… but not mine.
Flames crackled. Corpses lay scattered. Yet some shimmered like mirages. And at the center of it all stood a radiant being—beautiful, serene, towering above torn earth.
A woman made of flowing green and white spiritual essence. Eyes gentle. Arms open. The soldiers knelt before her, thankful, weeping in worship.
Praktesha… the mother spirit.
Their prayers were devotion… trust… love.
She smiled kindly.
Then—her smile twisted.
Her fingers sharpened like roots turned to blades.
And with a single graceful sweep—
She butchered them.
Soldiers screamed as vines burst through their chests. Earth swallowed bleeding bodies. A river of blood rose like it had been waiting.
Her expression remained calm. Divine. Merciless.
The same hands they worshipped had crushed them… like insects.
A chill seized Arin's spine.
The vision burned away into blackness.
And then—
Red water.
He stood ankle-deep in it again, glowing like molten blood under a starless sky. The familiar stone throne loomed ahead. The figure on it rose.
Kalkin.
Still with that dark regality, cracks of madness in every breath. He walked toward Arin, boots disturbing the crimson liquid without sinking.
Arin forced out, "Why… did you give me power?"
Kalkin chuckled low, stepping closer until his shadow overlapped Arin's.
"You asked," he said simply. "I gave. That's our dance."
Arin clenched his fists. "But without your power, I'm nothing—"
Kalkin's gaze snapped like a blade.
Then he laughed.
Mocking. Loud. Cruel.
"NOTHING?" he howled. "Then how are you even breathing, dumbass?"
Arin froze.
"I didn't heal you," Kalkin said sharply. "All I did was fuel your rage. That's all."
Arin's breath caught.
"Think," Kalkin hissed. "Think, boy—how did an A-tier beast even show up in a low-tier area?"
Arin's heart skipped.
He hadn't… questioned that.
Kalkin walked past him slightly, voice dropping to a low growl. "That wasn't random."
He looked over his shoulder, smiling viciously.
"That bitch—Praktesha—sent it there…"
A pause.
"…to kill you."
Arin's blood ran cold.
"But ohhh," Kalkin cooed mockingly, stretching his arms like praising a grand punchline, "look what happened instead—"
He threw his head back and laughed.
"IT ALMOST KILLED YOUR FRIENDS! HAHAHAHA!"
Arin's chest tightened, breath shaking—not from fear of the monster, nor of his wounds…
…but from rage.
Not the wild rage of the bloodshed.
A quieter, deeper one.
A colder one.
Kalkin tilted his head. "Good. Get angry… the right way this time."
The red world cracked apart like breaking glass.
Back in Reality… Arin's eyes snapped open—drenched in sweat, breath uneven.
He tried to steady himself, wiping his face quickly before anyone could see.
Om Sai was still there, leaning casually…
But his gaze was sharper now.
Too sharp.
A slow grin crept across his face—not playful.
"…What did you see, demon boy?"
Arin forced his breathing to even out. His pulse still roared in his ears. Praktesha's calm slaughter replayed in flashes behind his eyes. Kalkin's laughter lingered like poison in his chest.
He lowered his gaze to hide the sharp panic still twitching behind it.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
Om Sai didn't blink.
He just tilted his head, studying Arin—not like a mentor. Not even like a threat.
But like someone trying to see if the person standing before him was the same one who fell asleep.
"Hm," he said casually. "So you're lying now. Interesting."
Arin tensed. "I didn't—"
Om Sai lifted a finger, silencing him without pressure, just presence.
"That trembling in your fist—" his gaze dipped to Arin's clenched hand "—is not from pain. It's from holding back something you're afraid to say."
Arin exhaled sharply and loosened his grip.
Om Sai approached slowly until he stood right in front of the bed. The joking grin returned… but softer. Not mocking. Just human.
"You're not okay," he said simply. "And I'm not asking you to be."
Arin looked at him.
Om Sai's tone dropped lower—rarely serious, but when it was, it felt like steel dipped in warmth.
"We all see messed up things out there," he said. "But only idiots pretend it didn't shake them."
There was a pause—unexpectedly grounding.
Arin swallowed. "…If I said I saw something… would you believe me?"
Om Sai smirked. "Try me."
Arin opened his mouth— …but something stopped him. Kalkin's words. Think before you speak, boy.
He clenched his teeth. "…Not yet."
Om Sai did not look disappointed. If anything, a flicker of approval passed through his eyes.
"You'll talk when you're ready," he said lightly, stepping back.
Just when the atmosphere loosened, Om Sai pointed two fingers at Arin's neck.
"That mark," he said.
Arin touched it instinctively.
Om Sai chuckled. But his gaze carried weight.
"Don't lose yourself to whatever gave you that."
Arin stiffened.
Then Om Sai grinned again like he'd said nothing serious at all. "Anyway, demon boy—time to play nice."
"Play nice?" Arin echoed.
Om Sai stretched, cracking his back lazily. "Yeah. You get to meet someone upstairs. You'll either get promoted… or caged."
A cold chill ran through him.
"Come on," Om Sai said, opening the chamber door with casual confidence. "Move while I'm still in a good mood. If you collapse again, I'm dragging you by your hair."
Arin slowly stood, body still weak but functional. Perin woke groggily and leaped onto his shoulder, clingy and nervous.
Om Sai glanced at the spirit beast and smirked. "At least someone trusts you."
Arin didn't answer.
As he followed Om Sai through the cold, silent hallway, he could feel it:
Eyes watching him from behind reinforced windows, whispers slithering through walls.
Some fearful. Some curious. Some hateful.
None trusting.
His neck throbbed faintly.
His chest felt heavy.
He wasn't sure if he was stepping toward recognition… or judgment.
But one thing was clear— Something had changed. Inside him. Around him. And above him… someone was waiting.