Something surges inside me.
A shift, deep and undeniable, like a long-forgotten fire roaring back to life. It is not gentle. It does not ask for permission. It demands to be felt.
The moment Elias—my Black Spirit—awakens his power, my own follows.
It happens in an instant.
A pulse rushes through my veins, electric and unyielding. My body tightens, instincts sharper, muscles coiling with newfound energy. It is not new, no—this is something I have always had.
I just didn't know how much of it had been missing.
Until now.
——
I inhale sharply, my entire body reacting before my mind catches up. My hands move without thought, reaching for the weapons that have always been mine.
The curved blade at my hip. The bow resting against my back. The long, spear-like polearm waiting to be wielded.
They feel different now.
Lighter. Sharper.
More alive.
I exhale slowly, adjusting my grip around the hilt of my blade. There is a pulse—a hum beneath my fingers as if the steel itself is responding to the same force surging through me.
A thought flickers at the edges of my mind.
Had I always been this fast?
I shift, barely tilting my weight, and the air itself bends to my movement. The world around me sharpens, each individual strand of wheat visible, every distant sound crisp and clear.
I am stronger.
Faster.
Lighter.
As if I was once an unfinished painting, and now—now—the final strokes have been added.
And it is because of him.
——
I glance at Elias.
He is still staring at his own hands, as if unsure whether he should fear or embrace the power coiling within him. But I know.
I know what this means.
I know what he means.
A Black Spirit is not just a guide.
It is not just a whisper of temptation.
It is a force—a catalyst.
And he, in becoming that, has completed me.
The missing piece I did not realise I lacked.
——
A breath escapes me—half-exhilarated, half-terrified.
I step forward, testing.
The ground beneath my feet feels different. Not solid, not limiting. I move again, quicker this time, and my body flows like water, effortless, weightless as if the world itself is yielding to my will.
My fingers twitch, and without thought, I vanish.
Only for an instant.
A flicker. A blur. A shift in space.
But it is real.
I reappear just a step away, breath caught in my throat, heart hammering against my ribs.
Elias sees it.
His eyes snap to mine, something sharp—almost knowing—in his gaze.
"You just—"
I cut him off. "I don't know how I did that."
Because I don't.
But my body does.
——
Something awakens within me.
Techniques I never trained for, but somehow understand. Movements I never studied, but somehow know.
I do not stop to think—I move.
I draw my blade, stepping into a stance that feels so natural, so fluid, that it is as if I have practised it a thousand times before.
And then—
I strike.
The air shatters.
A ripple erupts from my blade, the very force of my movement tearing through space itself. A gust of wind follows in its wake, kicking up dust and stray stalks of wheat.
I still.
My breath is uneven.
My pulse is racing.
I stare at my weapon, at my own hands, at the power still thrumming in my veins.
This is not just skill.
This is something more.
And I know—I know—it is because of him.
——
Elias exhales, his smirk returning—small, subtle, but unmistakable.
"That was new," he murmurs.
I scowl, gripping my sword tighter. "I don't know what's happening."
"Feels good, doesn't it?"
I stiffen.
Because he is right.
This is terrifying.
This is unfamiliar.
And yet—
It feels right.
It feels like something I was meant to have.
Like something that had been taken from me, and only now returned.
Elias watches me closely, his expression unreadable. Then—
He chuckles.
"Guess that makes two of us," he mutters.
And in that moment, I realise—
We are both at the beginning of something neither of us understands.
And neither of us are ready.