Morning came quietly.
Soulless woke before the sun, his body still sore from the previous day's training. Every movement reminded him of his limits—stiff muscles, aching ribs, and a dull fatigue that refused to leave. Even simple stretches made him wince, but he forced himself to rise, ignoring the pain.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. They looked the same.
No glow.
No change.
No hint that he held anything extraordinary.
Yet deep inside his chest, the wolf's Soul Shard pulsed faintly. Not physical, not tangible—just a cold weight nestled near his heart. He could feel its subtle rhythm, almost like a heartbeat of something separate, something foreign.
Soulless focused on it. The faint pressure behind his eyes stirred—a whisper of awareness. It didn't scream or flare like the Soul Eye did before. It only whispered, coaxing, urging him to notice the gaps in the world around him.
"So this is what you do," he muttered under his breath, the faintest of smirks forming. "Not make me stronger… just make it… easier."
He didn't hear any voice announcing it. No system. No warnings. Just the shard, and him.
A thought flitted through his mind, sharp and deliberate: If I rely on it too much, someone might notice. Better to keep it quiet.
That alone was dangerous.
He dressed quickly and left his room before anyone else had stirred.
By the time he reached the classroom, students were already gathered. Sparks flared openly—small flames, hardened skin, bursts of wind. Some students
demonstrated openly, laughing and boasting about their abilities.
Soulless kept his head down. He sat near the back, careful not to draw attention.
Eyes followed him.
Whispers spread:
"That's him."
"The demon's kid."
"I heard his spark doesn't even work."
Soulless ignored it all. He didn't care what they thought—yet.
A tall instructor entered, silencing the room immediately.
"Today," the instructor's voice boomed, "we assess combat readiness."
Groans erupted. The classroom buzzed with tension.
Pairs were assigned. When Soulless's name was called, he looked up.
"Oliver."
A few students snickered.
His opponent was a broad-shouldered boy with reinforced arms—a faint metallic sheen along his skin revealed he was ranked Uncommon. Soulless assessed him silently.
He stepped forward.
"Try not to die," the boy muttered with a grin.
The signal was given.
Soulless activated Soul Eye, quietly, subtly.
The world tilted—not outwardly, not for anyone else—but in his mind. A small, dull gray mark rested near the inside of the boy's elbow. Just a tiny flicker of information that no one else could sense.
So even reinforced bodies have gaps…
Soulless's heart raced.
He moved first—but cautiously.
The boy swung hard. Soulless barely dodged. Air hissed past his face as he countered with a careful strike—not at the head, not at the chest, but near the elbow, following the mark.
The boy grunted and stepped back.
Someone muttered: "Lucky hit."
Soulless didn't respond. Inside, the Soul Shard pulsed faintly, easing the strain in his eyes as he maintained focus. The pressure behind them no longer flared painfully; it hummed steadily, like a well-tuned engine.
The gray mark shifted, moving as the boy adjusted his stance. Soulless followed instinctively, striking again. Then again.
Not consecutive.
Not perfect.
But closer.
The boy grew frustrated, charging recklessly. Soulless rolled under a heavy swing and barely avoided a blow to his head. Pain flared across his side as he landed hard on the dirt.
The match ended shortly after. It was a tie both of the boys were knocked out.
But the room was quiet. The instructor lingered, staring at him longer than usual.
"Match over," the instructor said. "Next."
Soulless rose slowly, chest heaving, sweat stinging his eyes.
He hadn't won.
But he hadn't been helpless.
Later that afternoon, Alex found him in the training yard.
"You used something," Alex said bluntly.
Soulless froze. "I observed," he replied carefully, leaving the truth vague.
Alex studied him. "Your reactions were sharper. You moved faster. Your stamina was still terrible, though."
Soulless didn't answer.
Alex crossed his arms. "Whatever edge you think you have—it's not enough. You still rely too much on your instincts."
"I know," Soulless said quietly.
Alex nodded slowly. "Good. Hidden tools survive longer. But don't misunderstand—they only work if you know the cost."
Soulless blinked. "Cost?"
"The body tires, the mind tires, the soul tires," Alex said. "Even if no one sees it."
Soulless remained silent. He already knew.
That night, back in his room, Soulless sat on the edge of his bed and focused inward.
The Soul Shard pulsed faintly. He pressed two fingers against his temple, letting it settle into the depths of his consciousness. He didn't feel stronger—not in muscle or speed—but his passive Soul Eye felt lighter, stronger faster.His vision no longer flared painfully. The subtle strain he had felt before was softened.
A faint whisper brushed the edge of his mind. Efficiency increased.
Soulless exhaled. "So shards don't make me stronger. They make me last longer."
He leaned back against the bed, eyes closed, letting the quiet pulse of the shard fill him.
One shard at a time, he thought. One fragment at a time. Step by step, until no one can touch me.
He imagined all the students at the Academy, their visible sparks and confident postures. They were unaware of him. They would see him as weak, as slow. That gave him time. Time to endure. Time to grow.
Deep inside him, something watched quietly—patient, unseen.
And Soulless smiled.
Even know everyone wanted him to lose. He still one against the odds. He knew his teacher Alex didn't like him but it was ok. He quickly got up and took a shower.
The soul shard started to be Absorb as it did. He slowly felt his eye get stronger by one percent.
"You have leveled up to level 1 the marks on people's and or monsters will be green or gray. Green is uncommon and gray is common. If you hit the green spot it does a little bit more damage then the common one.