The house was unusually quiet when Elijah entered, but the stillness didn't fool him. Augustus' presence was unmistakable, like a shadow looming in the corner of his mind. Sure enough, his brother sat at the dining table, his posture casual but his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Oh, how did your Esper test go?" His voice was soft, almost teasing, but Elijah knew better than to think it was innocent.
Elijah's glare said it all. He crossed his arms as tension thickened the air. Augustus tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a faint smirk.
"So, you're an Esper," Augustus concluded. "It runs in the blood, after all." His tone was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—pride? Sadness? Elijah couldn't tell.
"If you don't want to be sent to the corps, you can come with me," Augustus offered, his voice now lower, more serious.
Elijah's hands balled into fists. "And what? Live my life as a fugitive?" His voice was biting, fueled by a whirlwind of anger and fear. "No, thank you."
Augustus smirk faded into something more somber. He didn't push further, but his silence felt heavier than words. Without waiting for a response, Elijah stormed past his brother and up to his room, slamming the door behind him.
The bracelet on his wrist was a cruel reminder of his new reality. Matte black and deceptively simple, it felt heavier than any chain.
The officer who placed it there had explained its function with a chilling indifference: it would suppress his abilities. Any attempt to activate his mana would send searing pain through his Nexus.
Elijah tried to focus, willing a spark of energy to manifest in his palm. Nothing happened—no flicker, no glow. But then, the pain hit. It wasn't just a twinge; it was like his very core was being crushed from the inside. He gasped, clutching his chest as sweat beaded on his forehead. Whoever designed this device was brutal, their methods bordering on sadistic.
Gritting his teeth, he inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. He had to distract himself. Sitting at his desk, he opened his laptop and scrolled through the Esper forums. Most of the posts were useless, but one caught his eye.
"If you got tested as an Esper and will be sent to the corps, here are some things you should pack."
The title was absurdly long, and Elijah almost ignored it, but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked. The author claimed to be a high schooler who had been sent to the corps a year ago.
"Welcome. If you clicked this, it means you're either an Esper about to join the corps or just a curious bystander," the post began.
Elijah skimmed through the advice, some of it practical, some of it oddly specific.
- Pack only a few favorite casual clothes; the corps provides uniforms and even lets you request certain items.
- Don't bring books; their library is enormous, and anything you bring will be inspected.
- Weapons are allowed—any type. This piqued Elijah's interest.
The post ended with a cheery, "Good luck, future Officer, bringer of justice."
"Bringer of justice," Elijah muttered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. The idea of himself as a defender of justice felt laughable. He was a Villain's son, after all. Blood was thicker than water, wasn't it?
The next morning, Elijah woke at 4 a.m., his alarm barely necessary as his mind had kept him awake most of the night. He packed a modest bag: a few clothes, some personal items, and, after much deliberatio.
Downstairs, he prepared breakfast, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables the only sound in the quiet house. He cooked chicken for sandwiches, the aroma filling the kitchen. Augustus appeared shortly after, already dressed in his tailored black suit.
"Morning," Augustus greeted, his tone lighter than usual as he slid into a chair.
Elijah silently handed him a cup of coffee, then wrapped a sandwich and placed it in front of him. It was an unspoken ritual between them—Augustus rarely ate breakfast, but Elijah always made sure he didn't leave empty-handed.
"Thanks, little brother," Augustus said, sipping his coffee. His gaze lingered on Elijah, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
After finishing his drink, Augustus disappeared into the other room, returning with an object wrapped in deep purple silk. He held it out to Elijah, his expression unreadable.
"I think this sword suits you," Augustus said simply.
Elijah hesitated before unwrapping it. The blade was light, almost unnervingly so. The hilt was intricate, a twisting design of black and purple that felt alive under his fingers. He unsheathed it, the metallic whisper filling the room. The blade shimmered faintly, the same purple hue as his mana.
"It's called Silken Seal," Augustus explained. "It's bound by Fenrir's magic, and it's said to cut through any fetter. Take care of it."
Elijah looked at his brother, unsure how to respond. Augustus' next words, however, broke through his hesitation.
"If you want to come back, then come back in one piece," Augustus said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "And don't trust officers ranked above 8. That's all."
Elijah nodded. "Okay."
Outside, a man with a scar on his cheek was waiting for Augustus. His posture was casual, but his sharp eyes betrayed his readiness for violence.
"Boss, I thought you didn't want your brother to join the corps?" he asked, confusion lacing his tone.
"I can't stop him if he's already made up his mind," Augustus replied.
"We could kidnap him," the man suggested, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
"That's what villains would do," Augustus retorted.
"But aren't we villains?" The man said, his tone innocent yet pointed.
Augustus was momentarily silent before brushing past him, muttering something under his breath.
Before leaving for the corps, Elijah made one last stop at Oliver's apartment. He knocked, expecting him, but it was Oliver's father who opened the door.
"Is Oliver home?" Elijah asked, his voice hesitant.
He sighed. "No, probably out with friends. But why are you here so early?"
"I… wanted to say goodbye. I'm joining the corps."
His face shifted, a mix of surprise and something Elijah couldn't quite place. "Oh," he said simply. "Good luck. And don't worry about Oliver anymore."
Elijah braced himself for the usual warnings about staying away. He had expected anger or indifference, not gratitude, but instead, he added, "Oliver isn't your responsibility. Thank you for being his friend all these years. You're welcome here anytime."
Elijah blinked, stunned. "Thank you," he managed before turning to leave.
At the community parking lot, an Esper officer waited beside a sleek black car. It was the same woman who was with the man who conducted the Esper test yesterday. Without a word, Elijah climbed into the backseat, his bag resting on his lap.
As the car pulled away, he unwrapped the 'Silken Seal' again. Instead of a scabbard, it's wrapped in a purple silk. He studied the blade. Its light weight and faint glow fascinated him. The name nagged at his memory until he recalled a passage from an old book about enchanted weapons.
"Silken Seal," bound by Fenrir's magic, capable of cutting through any restraint. Its silk wrapping was both practical and symbolic, a reminder of the unbreakable bond it represented.
For the first time, Elijah wondered if his brother had given him the blade as a gesture of faith—or a warning.
The journey to the corps' headquarters was silent, the officer's stoic demeanor offering no room for conversation. Elijah stared out the window, the cityscape giving way to open fields and, eventually, the looming silhouette of the HQ.
His stomach churned as they approached, the reality of his decision settling like a stone. He gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, his knuckles whitening.