Darkness.
No air. No sound. No sense of where the ground began or the sky ended.
Han Jiwoo stood alone in the vast black, the last fragments of memory — the infirmary, the wooden ceiling, the faint hum of mana — dissolving like smoke.
He turned, but there was no direction to turn to. No horizon. Just an endless sea of black that rippled faintly when he breathed.
"Hello?" His voice came out flat, swallowed instantly by the void. No echo. No response.
He took a tentative step. The ground — if it could be called that — gave a dull sound beneath his foot, like stepping on hollow glass. The ripples spread outward, faint trails of violet light chasing each step he took.
The light pulsed once. Then again. In rhythm with his heart.
Each pulse seemed to pull him deeper — not through space, but through something else, something within.
He stopped walking. The air — or whatever surrounded him — began to hum. It wasn't loud, yet it filled the silence with a pressure that pressed into his skull.
His breath came faster. He turned again, looking for anything, anyone.
"Where am I…?"
Still nothing.
The black stretched forever, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was standing just outside his sight — watching.
His chest throbbed .He clutched at it, teeth gritting as a hot wave surged from within. The violet light beneath him flared, cracks spreading out like spiderwebs.
"Stop… stop it…"
He staggered, but the pain wasn't normal. It wasn't physical. It was like two rhythms inside him — two pulses — clashing against each other, each trying to consume the other.
And then the hum stopped.
Silence again. Dead, suffocating silence.
He looked down — the cracks under his feet glowed like veins of lightning. They pulsed faster now, frantic, desperate.
The air trembled. And in that moment — between one heartbeat and the next — he heard it.
Not loud. Not whispered.Just… there.
"We'll meet again soon"
The words sank into him like a blade — not just sound, but weight, heat, and something deeper, older than understanding.
He looked around, searching for the source — but the world had already begun to shatter.
The cracks beneath him exploded outward, light consuming everything.
The black turned white.
Jiwoo jolted upright, gasping.
His heart pounded so hard it hurt. His shirt clung to him, drenched in cold sweat. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. The air was too bright, too clean.
Then his eyes adjusted.
White curtains. Polished floor. A faint herbal scent. The infirmary.
He exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest. The pulse was there — faint, steady, and maddeningly normal.
Just a dream, he told himself. But the words wouldn't leave his mind.
"We'll meet again soon"
It felt burned into him.
The door burst open.
"Holy crap, you're awake!" Minjae nearly dropped the breakfast tray in his hands.
"Do you realize how long you've been out?"
Jiwoo blinked, his thoughts sluggish. "How long?"
"Since yesterday. You were out cold all day." Minjae set the tray down and plopped onto the chair beside the bed.
"Nurse said your mana readings were all over the place — spiking, dropping, spiking again. She almost called the Headmaster."
Jiwoo leaned back, rubbing his temple. His throat was dry, his skin sticky.
"Feels like I fought an entire tournament in my sleep."
Minjae laughed weakly. "You look like it too. You were sweating like crazy earlier — thought you were burning up."
Jiwoo frowned slightly. "Did anything… happen? While I was asleep?"
Minjae shook his head. "Not really. The mana detectors flickered once during the night, but the nurse blamed it on calibration. Why?"
Jiwoo hesitated. He wanted to say it — that he wasn't sure he'd been dreaming at all — but something stopped him. The words from the void echoed again in his head, like they didn't belong to a memory but a command.
"Nothing," he said instead. "Just weird dreams."
Before Minjae could press further, a sharp knock came at the door.
Both turned.
Instructor Baek stepped inside, his shadow cutting across the tiled floor.
His uniform jacket hung loosely, sleeves rolled up, a faint crimson line still visible on his cheek — the only sign the spar had been real.
Minjae scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. "S-sir!"
Baek gave him a brief glance. "You can go, Minjae. I'll take it from here."
The boy hesitated, glancing at Jiwoo, then nodded. "Y-yes, sir." He slipped out quietly, shutting the door behind him.
Silence lingered for a moment. Only the faint hum of the mana ward filled the air.
Baek finally spoke, his tone even.
"You held up better than most first-years I've seen.
But that thing you pulled at the end of the drill—" he paused, searching for the word, "—it wasn't a mana I'm familiar with."
Jiwoo stared at the sheets. "I didn't mean to use it. It just happened."
"I know," Baek said. "That's why I'm not reporting it. Yet." He took a few slow steps closer, the weight of his presence filling the small room. "
But understand this, Jiwoo — power that wakes on its own isn't strength. It's a double edge sword that doesn't care who it cuts."
Jiwoo's fingers tightened around the bedsheet. "I'll learn to control it."
Baek studied him for a moment, then gave a short nod. "Good. Keep trying.
But until you do, stay off the training field."
He turned toward the door, stopping just as his hand touched the handle.
"And one more thing," he said, glancing back with a faint smirk.
"Next time you swing at me, aim lower. My cheek's still bleeding."
Jiwoo blinked. "…I hit you?"
Baek's mouth curved — not quite a smile, but close. "You landed a hit on me. That doesn't happen often."
He wiped the thin line of blood from his cheek with his thumb, glancing at it for a second before flicking it away.
"Looks like the Association's numbers don't tell the whole story."
He stepped toward the door, his voice lowering as he added, "Rest up, Jiwoo. I don't care what rank they gave you — power like that doesn't stay quiet forever."
Then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall.
Jiwoo sat motionless, the faint hum of the ward crystals echoing in the silence.
His palms still trembled faintly, warmth pulsing just beneath the skin — like the afterbeat of something alive.
He exhaled slowly. Not strength. Not control. Just… something waiting.
Outside, the academy bell tolled the hour, distant and hollow. Jiwoo leaned back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, the sound still ringing in his ears.
Whatever that power was, it wasn't done with him yet.
Later that morning, as Instructor Baek and Minjae left to grab lunch, Jiwoo stood by the window. The courtyard outside glowed with life again — students shouting, laughing, training under the sun. Everything looked normal.
But he doesn't have reflection in the glass.
He blinked, and it was there.
He stepped back, heart pounding.
The pulse in his chest beat once, hard enough to make his breath hitch.
Then, silence.
Jiwoo exhaled slowly, the words echoing once more in the back of his mind — clear, inescapable.
"We'll meet again soon."
He didn't know who said it.
But he had the uneasy feeling he'd hear that voice again.