Cire entered his new room with a light headache. Will I be able to wield Virtus? he wondered, clenching his fists. Thousands of memories flooded his mind—his brothers, his parents, every little moment they shared. He was so far from home. Praesul had told him that Caldes was far away from the Maruo Forest, a place he thought he'd never leave. I need to steel myself. I have to survive. I won't trust anyone. But if this strange man can teach me something, I'll use him.
Cire sat on a rusty wooden chair and focused on everything he now knew about Virtus. It was still fragmented and strange, but the pieces were beginning to come together.
'Those little white orbs I saw in that peculiar cave—those were Virtus.' He was confident of it. The surge of power he had felt when trying to join them together had been overwhelming. He closed his eyes, trying to summon that same energy again. He focused. And focused. For a long while, nothing happened—until faint brownish particles began to appear, shimmering weakly in the air before him.
The dim, uneven light of the cave flickered faintly, shadows dancing on the stone walls as if alive. 'Why aren't they white?' he wondered. The inconsistency nagged at him, but his determination held firm. Like Todd used to say: "If you don't dig deep, you'll never know how far you are from the bottom—or the top." He tightened his focus, pouring all his energy into the task. Slowly, painstakingly, one particle began to move. It was agonizingly slow as if the particle itself resisted his will. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mind throbbing from the effort. Still, he persisted, inching the particle toward another.
But just as the two particles were about to collide, the first one began to vibrate—a low, eerie hum, like a drum protesting against being struck. The vibration intensified, shaking harder and harder as if the particles were screaming against the very laws of nature. Cire's heart began to vibrate in sync with the particle's rhythm, the erratic pulsing throwing his body into chaos. His chest ached, his vision blurred, and his mind teetered on the brink of collapse.
A sudden, sharp slap jolted him from his trance. The force of it nearly knocked him off the chair.
"What do you think you're doing, foolish boy? Are you so eager to join your family in the afterlife?" Praesul's voice cut through the haze, cold and furious.
Cire's world was spinning, but he managed to look up at the masked man towering over him. Praesul's purple eyes glowed with anger. "Leaving you alone for a few hours was clearly a mistake. Now I'm more convinced than ever: You really are the most foolish creature in both worlds."
"Why did you hit me?" Cire snapped, his voice breaking. "Huh? Do you think I asked for any of this? Do you think I want to be here? I didn't ask for this! I… I hate this…"
"Enough!" Praesul's shout silenced him like a thunderclap. "You dare speak of vengeance when you can't even hold your pain inside? You dare to talk about avenging your family when you act like a petulant child? Respect their memories and act like a man with purpose!"
"But I am a child!" Cire shot back, his frustration boiling over. "What do you expect from me?"
"Not anymore," Praesul said, his tone cutting like a blade. "You can't speak of vengeance with the mind and heart of an infant." His words landed harder than the slap.
Cire froze, the weight of Praesul's words sinking in. He clenched his fists, trembling as tears threatened to fall.
'He's right. How can my resolve be so weak? I lashed out just because he slapped me. No—it's because I'm weak. My wish is weak. My desire is weak.' As if in response to his realization, his heart vibrated again, but this time in a low, steady rhythm. It was no longer chaotic. It felt… harmonious.
"I'm sorry," Cire said, forcing himself to meet Praesul's glowing purple eyes. His voice was quiet but steady.
Praesul grunted, unimpressed. Cire's blood ran cold. He quickly corrected himself, standing straighter. "I'm sorry, sir. What was I doing wrong?"
Praesul's expression was hidden behind his mask, but his tone softened—just slightly. "Mmm. That's better, I suppose. Your time as a child is over."
He turned and grabbed a metal plate from the ground, placing it on the desk by Cire's bed. The plate clanged lightly against the rough wooden surface, and the faint echo disappeared into the dark recesses of the cave.
"Eat. Rest. We start early tomorrow. And no more questions—I'm tired of hearing you speak out of turn."
Praesul strode toward the cave's narrow entrance, his footsteps crunching against the uneven stone floor. The dim light from outside cast long shadows, making his silhouette appear even more menacing before he disappeared into the darkness.
Cire stood there for a moment, staring at the plate. He let out a long breath and sat down, his body still trembling from the ordeal.
'Tomorrow', he thought, 'I'll do better.'