After everyone had left the headmaster's room, Lezzaki sat in silence, deep in thought. Questions weighed heavily on his mind—questions only Kairo could answer. But the boy remained unconscious, his body still recovering from the effects of the flowers.
Hours passed, and the night deepened. Finally, Kairo stirred, his breathing shifting from shallow to steady. His eyelids fluttered before he slowly opened them, taking in the dimly lit infirmary. His vision adjusted to the candlelight, and his gaze fell upon the only person in the room—Lezzaki, sitting with his arms crossed, watching him intently.
Kairo remained silent. He was still groggy, his body aching in strange ways, as though something inside him had shifted. Lezzaki let out a small sigh and stood up. Though he had many questions, he knew this was not the time.
"You should go home," Lezzaki said simply. His voice, though calm, left no room for argument. "We'll talk later."
Kairo nodded sluggishly, still processing everything. With effort, he pushed himself up from the infirmary bed, his limbs stiff and sore. He did not question the headmaster, nor did he speak. He simply bowed his head slightly before leaving the academy grounds, making his way home through the quiet streets.
As Kairo walked, an itch crawled beneath his skin—an unbearable discomfort that seemed to originate from within. He gritted his teeth and pressed forward, determined to ignore it. His body felt foreign, unbalanced. Something had changed, but he did not yet understand what.
His home was modest, no different from the many others that lined the street. A small, simple dwelling, enough for a commoner like himself. He lived alone, though he still had family—his father and his younger sister. At least, that's what he believed. His mother had died years ago, killed by a monster raid on their village. The memory no longer stung as much, but the scars remained.
Kairo entered his home and locked the door behind him. The unease in his body had only grown worse, making it difficult to move properly. He sat down in the kitchen, resting his arms on the worn wooden table, and took a deep breath.
Then, he examined himself.
Three flowers had bloomed upon his body.
The first, wrapped around his waist, was the Dancing Vine, its thin, winding stems pulsing faintly.
The second, on his left arm, was the Nomadic Petal, its pale petals trembling ever so slightly, as if reacting to the air around it.
The last, on his left leg, was the Abyssal Root—dark, almost unnatural, its tendrils curling into his skin like it was trying to dig deeper.
Kairo's mind raced. These flowers… were they part of him now? Could he control them? Could he suppress them, make them vanish beneath his skin? He clenched his fists.
The thought of having them exposed like this made his stomach twist. It was uncomfortable—physically and mentally. Moving was difficult, and wearing clothes over them would be a problem. More than that, if people saw them…
No. He had to find a way to hide them.
Kairo clenched his jaw, his fingers gripping the edges of the wooden chair as he focused inward. He could feel them—the flowers—embedded in his body like parasites, their presence unnatural yet disturbingly alive. The Abyssal Root in his left leg pulsed faintly, sending shivers up his spine. The Nomadic Petal on his left arm twitched, its tendrils curling as if sensing his intent. The Dancing Vine at his waist shifted slightly, its movement eerily smooth, almost playful.
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
Control them.
He willed the flowers to retract, to obey him, to merge into his body as if they were never there. For a fleeting moment, he felt something—resistance, a whisper of acknowledgment—but then, like a dam bursting, the flowers reacted violently.
A sharp, searing pain exploded through his body.
Kairo gasped, his grip slipping from the chair as his vision blurred. The flowers moved wildly, their roots and vines writhing as if rejecting his command. His muscles tensed involuntarily, his breath hitched in his throat. The sensation was unbearable—like his veins were being split open from the inside.
His body jerked as the pain intensified, his knees giving out. The chair scraped against the wooden floor as he collapsed, landing hard on his side. He let out a strangled groan, his fingers twitching as he tried to steady himself. His skin burned where the flowers had rooted, their presence no longer just foreign but invasive, unrelenting.
Minutes passed. His breath was ragged, his forehead damp with sweat. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he lay motionless on the cold floor.
Then, suddenly, the flowers stilled.
It was as if they had sensed his limits—his breaking point. The writhing ceased, the roots loosened their hold just slightly, and the unbearable pain dulled into a deep, throbbing ache.
Kairo remained where he was, staring blankly at the ceiling. His limbs felt heavy, his entire body sluggish with exhaustion. The fight had drained him completely.
A bitter chuckle slipped past his lips.
I can't control them. Not yet.
For now, that was enough of an answer.
Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself upright, his arms trembling from the effort. He swayed slightly before gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. His breath was shallow, his entire form weighed down by exhaustion.
His mind screamed at him to try again, to force the flowers into submission, but his body had already reached its limit. Even standing felt like a monumental effort.
He exhaled, resigned.
"...Later," he murmured to himself.
Dragging his feet, Kairo staggered toward his bed. His stomach ached with hunger, his skin was sticky with sweat, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Right now, all he needed was sleep.
As soon as his body hit the mattress, he sank into its rough fabric, his limbs sprawling lifelessly. His mind was a haze, his thoughts sluggish and fragmented. The flowers still pulsed faintly, a reminder of their presence, but they remained still—for now.
His eyelids grew heavy.
The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the faint glow of the flowers in the dim room, their eerie beauty a stark contrast to the pain they had just inflicted.
And then, darkness.
Kairo stirred awake, his body still aching but not as wrecked as the night before. A dull soreness lingered in his muscles, a reminder of his failed attempt at control. He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his mess of black hair.
At least it's better than yesterday.
Pushing himself up from the bed, he sat on the edge for a moment, gathering his thoughts. His limbs still felt sluggish, but the overwhelming exhaustion had lessened. There was nothing he could do about the fatigue—his body would have to adjust to whatever this was.
Dragging himself to his feet, Kairo moved toward the small washroom adjacent to his bedroom. The cold water shocked his senses, the icy sting against his skin making him feel more awake. He stood under the stream, letting the water run down his body, washing away the sweat and fatigue of yesterday. His fingers instinctively traced the spots where the flowers had emerged, half-expecting to feel the twisted roots or petals—but there was nothing. Just smooth, pale skin.
Once done, he stepped out, towel-drying his hair before throwing on a loose white shirt and dark pants.
Then, it was time for breakfast.
If last night was punishment, this morning was compensation.
Kairo's kitchen was soon filled with the scent of sizzling eggs and roasted meat. He worked efficiently, frying up eggs to a golden crisp, setting two whole roasted chickens on a platter, stacking sandwiches thick with meat and cheese, and tossing together a large salad filled with various vegetables and fruits.
By the time he sat down, his table was overflowing—a feast fit for three or four people. But after missing dinner, his hunger was relentless.
Without hesitation, he dug in.
The first few bites were rushed, his stomach demanding to be filled. But as he ate, his pace slowed. The warmth of the food grounded him, giving him a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of yesterday.
By the time he finished, his hunger was sated, and his mind felt clearer.
Leaning back in his chair, Kairo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He knew he couldn't avoid it forever—he had to try again.
I need to control them.
Closing his eyes, he focused inward.
Hide.
He willed the flowers to retreat, to disappear into his body, to no longer be visible on his skin.
At first, there was nothing.
Then, the pain hit.
It was like his flesh was being torn open from the inside, his veins set ablaze with an unnatural fire. The roots twisted and burrowed deeper, moving within him, threading through muscle and bone. It was agony—pure, unrelenting agony.
Kairo gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the wooden table as his body trembled. His vision blurred at the edges, sweat forming along his brow. But he refused to give in.
Endure it.
Minutes passed, but it felt like hours.
And then, suddenly—silence.
The pain faded, leaving behind a lingering ache. Kairo gasped for breath, his hands shaking slightly as he slowly looked down at his arms, his waist, his leg.
The flowers were gone.
Not just hidden behind clothing—but truly gone, no longer visible on his skin.
Instead, there was a new sensation, something unfamiliar yet strangely manageable. It was as if the flowers were now inside him, laying dormant beneath the surface, their presence still there but no longer obstructing his movements.
He flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders. The discomfort from last night—the stiff, unnatural feeling of something foreign attached to his body—was gone. In its place was a strange new awareness, like a second heartbeat that wasn't his own.
It wasn't perfect, but it was better.
Kairo let out a slow breath.
"Progress."
The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of Kairo's small home, casting soft golden light against the worn wooden walls. He stirred awake, his body still aching, though it was a dull, manageable exhaustion compared to the night before. His limbs felt heavy, the strange sensation of the flowers still lingering within him—not gone, just... quiet.
Kairo exhaled slowly, pushing himself upright. His room was sparsely furnished, the wooden floorboards creaking slightly as he stood. A simple bed with a thin mattress, a desk littered with books and notes, a small wooden chair—nothing extravagant. But it was home.
Better than the academy dorms, at least.
Shaking off the sluggishness, he headed for the bathroom. The cold water shocked his system as he splashed it over his face, and soon he was under the shower, letting the warmth soothe his tense muscles. He caught his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink afterward—dark, unruly hair still damp, sharp gray eyes staring back at him, and faint shadows of exhaustion beneath them.
Once he dried off, he rummaged through his wardrobe, selecting more formal attire for the academy—a crisp black high-collared coat with silver embroidery at the edges, a fitted dark gray vest over a clean white shirt, and trousers that allowed for both comfort and movement. He fastened the buttons with quiet precision, pulling on his boots before slinging his satchel over his shoulder.
With everything set, he stepped outside.
The air was cool, fresh with the scent of damp earth. The city streets had begun to awaken—vendors setting up their stalls, merchants calling out their wares, and early risers moving about with purpose. He wove through the streets with ease, the familiar sounds and smells of the morning blending into a rhythmic hum.
But he wasn't in the mood to linger.
So, he ran.
His footsteps were quick, each stride carrying him closer to the academy. The pounding of his boots against the stone roads, the wind whipping against his face—it helped clear his thoughts.
By the time he reached the academy gates, he barely felt winded.
The moment he stepped onto academy grounds, something felt off.
Not everyone was staring at him—but his classmates were.
He could feel their gazes lingering. Some whispered among themselves, others looked away the moment he met their eyes.
Kairo's expression remained impassive, but inwardly, he was already piecing it together.
So, the events of yesterday didn't spread beyond our class.
That was... interesting.
The academy was a place where rumors spread like wildfire. If something as strange as what happened to him had truly made its way through the student body, he would have overheard whispers, seen professors eyeing him with concern or curiosity.
But no.
Only his classmates knew.
Only they looked at him differently.
Which means someone is keeping it contained.
Kairo wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
He made his way to the lecture hall, settling into his usual seat, arms crossed as he waited for class to begin. But before the instructor could arrive, a loud chime echoed through the academy halls.
Then, a voice rang out over the announcement system:
"All students, please gather in the main hall immediately."
The academy's grand hall was massive, its towering ceilings lined with intricate carvings of scholars and warriors who had once walked its halls. Hundreds of students filled the space, their voices a soft, buzzing murmur as they speculated about the sudden gathering.
Kairo stood among them, arms folded, eyes focused on the podium at the front of the hall.
Then, the headmaster arrived.
Lazzaki stepped forward, his imposing presence silencing the room almost instantly. He was a man of few unnecessary words, and when he spoke, his deep voice carried a weight that commanded attention.
At first, Kairo assumed this was about yesterday's events.
And in a way, it was.
But not entirely.
"As many of you are already aware, something... unusual occurred yesterday within the academy."
The students stirred, shifting in place. There had been rumors, of course, but few had any real idea of what had truly transpired.
Lazzaki continued, his tone even and deliberate.
"The Elderblossoms in one of the classroom reacted violently, their roots expanding beyond their natural boundaries, their petals twisting in ways unseen before. Many of you may have witnessed the brief disturbance before the professors arrived to contain it."
Kairo remained still, his gaze locked onto the headmaster. He knew, better than anyone, that this was only half the truth.
"As a precaution, Professor Soren, who was assigned to the classroom at the time, has been placed on a one-month suspension while further evaluations are conducted. This is merely a procedural measure to ensure the safety and integrity of the academy's research. There is no reason for concern."
That was all Lazzaki said on the matter.
No mention of Kairo. No details about why the Elderblossoms had gone wild. Just a vague explanation—one that the students could accept without question.
That was it.
No deeper explanation, no debate.
Kairo's gaze narrowed slightly. He's covering it up.
But why?
He had no answer.
Before he could dwell on it, Lazzaki continued.
"Now that all of you have awakened your abilities, you must be considering your futures. As such, I present to you two choices."
The murmur among the students grew, curiosity flickering in their eyes.
"First, you may stay at the academy. Here, you will refine and develop your abilities under the guidance of our professors. You will have access to the finest training, resources, and knowledge to strengthen your power."
Kairo already knew what the second option was before Lazzaki even spoke it.
"Second, you may leave."
Silence.
Lazzaki's voice remained firm as he continued, his piercing gaze sweeping over the students.
"If you believe you are ready, you may step beyond these walls and begin your own journey—however you see fit. The academy will provide financial support, basic necessities, and open its doors should you ever seek guidance in the future."
A shift spread through the crowd. Some students looked at one another, excitement flickering in their expressions. Others hesitated, uncertain.
Then, the final words:
"Those who wish to leave, move to the left. Those who wish to stay, move to the right."
For a moment, no one moved.
Then, the first few students made their choices.
Most stayed. A handful left.
Kairo didn't hesitate.
His steps were silent, deliberate, as he walked to the left side of the hall.
He didn't look back.
Even as he stood among those who chose to leave, he could feel the weight of Lazzaki's gaze on him.
Yet, the headmaster said nothing.
Kairo exhaled slowly, suppressing the tension in his chest. So, he's not going to stop me.
That was a relief.
Once the decision was finalized, the academy staff began handing out travel funds, supplies, and necessary documents to those who had chosen to leave.
Kairo took none of it.
He wasn't interested in taking anything from the academy.
He had his own plans.
Without waiting for any further instructions, he left the hall, walking through the academy gates for what might be the last time.
As the gates shut behind him, a strange feeling settled in his chest.
Freedom.
But also uncertainty.
For the first time, his path was entirely his own.
And now, he had to decide where it would lead.