Ruby's shallow breaths echoed in the cold night air, her blood staining Zaryth's trembling hands. The ice spear was gone, shattered into nothing, but the wound it left behind was brutal.
Zaryth knelt beside his sister, cradling her limp form, his mind spinning with emotions—fear, rage, guilt, and overwhelming helplessness. Tears brimmed in his eyes, but his face hardened, as if the storm inside him was reshaping into something colder, sharper.
Before he could process what was happening, the sound of footsteps cut through the air.
"Ruby!" Mavuika's voice broke with urgency as she sprinted into the training grounds. Her crimson hair swirled in the wind, eyes wide with regret. "I'm too late..." she whispered, horrified at the scene before her.
Her gaze locked on Ruby's crumpled body and Zaryth hunched over her, broken and helpless. But then her eyes flicked to Sirus standing a short distance away, a smug, icy grin plastered across his face.
"That's it?" Sirus said mockingly, his voice sharp and cruel. "Just like that, your sister is going to die." He stepped forward, each word dripping with venom. "You'll both die—pathetically."
Zaryth's body tensed at those words, but something was different. His breathing slowed, becoming eerily steady. When he spoke, his voice was no longer the shaky whimper of a powerless boy—it was colder, more mature, laced with quiet confidence.
"You don't matter," Zaryth murmured, ignoring Sirus entirely. His attention was solely on Ruby, whose faint breath fogged the night air. "Ruby... why did you fight him?"
Her eyelids fluttered open, her lips trembling. "They... they were trash-talking you." She coughed weakly, blood staining her lips. "I couldn't... forgive them."
Zaryth's heart twisted painfully. Even as her life slipped away, she had fought to protect him—the brother everyone saw as worthless. The brother she still believed in, even when he couldn't believe in himself.
A strange calm settled over Zaryth. His gaze softened as he leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair from Ruby's face. "You won't die. I promise."
A Shift in the Air
He stood slowly, his glowing purple eyes locked on Ruby's wound. The change in him was subtle yet profound. His movements were no longer rushed or frantic—they were deliberate, like someone fully in control.
Sirus watched with disdain, his expression twisting with amusement. "Bold words for someone who can't even cast a spell." With a sneer, he raised his hand, gathering mana for a deadly attack.
Frost formed in the air, twisting into jagged shards of ice. The temperature plummeted as Sirus unleashed the full force of his power—an attack capable of obliterating the entire training grounds.
The shards shot toward Zaryth, sharp and merciless. But then—
Nothing.
Not even a fraction of a second passed. No movement. No sound.
The ice shards hung frozen midair, shimmering in place. The entire world seemed to hold its breath.
And in that imperceptible moment, Sirus was violently flung backward, as if struck by an unseen force. His body slammed into the far wall with a deafening crash, leaving a jagged crater in the stone.
No one saw what had happened. No one understood.
Zaryth, standing in the exact same spot, slowly lowered his hand. His expression was serene, almost detached, as if the world around him no longer mattered. The attack that should have torn him apart had never even reached him.
He knelt beside Ruby once more, placing his hand gently over her wound. The glow in his eyes intensified, and a strange warmth spread beneath his fingertips.
Her torn skin knit back together, the blood evaporating as if it had never existed. In mere moments, her wound was gone, leaving no trace of the battle.
Mavuika stared in disbelief. "How...?" she whispered, unable to comprehend what she had just witnessed.
Ruby blinked, her breathing steady now, as if she had never been injured. "Zaryth..." she murmured, staring at her brother with a mixture of confusion and awe.
Zaryth gave her a soft smile, brushing his hand over her hair one last time. "It's okay... You're safe."
Then, as if the weight of the night finally caught up to him, he stood and turned toward the sky. His gaze drifted to the full moon, its pale light casting a silver glow across the training grounds.
"It's been... a long time since I looked at the moon like this," he murmured to himself, his voice distant, as though recalling a memory from another life.
Mavuika stepped closer, her heart pounding. "Zaryth... what's happening to you?"
But Zaryth didn't respond.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone present—the students, the nobles, even Sirus—stood frozen in shock. No one dared to speak, unable to process what they had just witnessed.
Mavuika knelt beside Zaryth, checking his pulse. He was alive, but barely. His breathing was shallow, and his body radiated exhaustion, as if he had used up every ounce of energy he possessed.
Sirus, groaning in pain, struggled to stand. His arrogant demeanor was gone, replaced by fear and confusion. "What... what the hell just happened?" he muttered, clutching his side where he had slammed into the wall.
No one answered him.
The only thing they knew for certain was that the weak, powerless boy everyone had mocked was no longer the same. Something inside Zaryth had changed—and whatever it was, it terrified them.
Mavuika looked down at Zaryth's unconscious form, her mind racing. What are you, Zaryth?
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