Kyle leaned against the door of his room, eyes closed, breathing deep.
The encounter with Parkson still lingered in his chest like smoke after a fire. No power. No future—at least not here, not for now.
He opened his eyes and looked around the room.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
The walls that once witnessed his late-night study sessions, his dreams, his drive—they now felt like they were pushing in on him, reminding him of everything he might be leaving behind.
Kyle sighed and throw his body onto the bed.
For now, let's rest. Today had been an eventful day.
--------
The next day, Kyle rummaged through his clothes.
Across the floor, his duffel bag lay half-zipped. Kyle walked over and knelt beside it, mechanically tossing in a few shirts, some essentials.
He didn't need much—he wasn't planning a vacation.
Today marked the first class of power manipulation. It's an introductory class, but Kyle was not part of it.
After this class, there is a three-month break before the start of the real training in the next semester.
For every other student, it was the beginning of something great. For Kyle, it was a deadline.
The academy didn't have space for a Null. Not unless he changed something.
He sat back on his heels, fingers curling around the strap of his bag.
'I'm not meant to be useless.'
The thought wasn't pride—it was a quiet promise to himself. A refusal.
They could call him powerless, a failure, an anomaly. He didn't care. He knew who he was.
He zipped the bag shut with a final tug, stood up, and reached for the door.
The second he pulled it open, a familiar voice stopped him cold.
"What the hell, man?"
Kyle blinked.
Standing in the doorway was Mark—his friend, his shadow, his supporter. Mark's face was flushed from running, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You're leaving?"
Kyle tilted his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What gave it away? The bag or the dramatic exit?"
Mark didn't laugh. He just stared at Kyle, looking like someone had just told him the sun wasn't going to rise tomorrow.
They were in their third year. They'd grown up in these halls together—entered at thirteen, now standing on the edge of fifteen.
Kyle had been the best of them.
A born leader.
Freshman representative.
Top of every class, every exam, every combat trial. Even without powers, Kyle stood tall.
To Mark, he wasn't just a friend. He was a symbol. A standard. And now that symbol was walking away.
Kyle's smile faded slightly. He saw the question in Mark's eyes—not "why," but "are you okay?"
"I'm not quitting," Kyle said, voice low but firm.
"I just need time. I need to figure this out. There has to be something I'm missing."
Mark nodded slowly.
Not in agreement—just in understanding.
He didn't say, Are you sure? He didn't offer advice. He didn't make it harder.
He just stood there, solid. Present.
"I'll be here," Mark said finally, voice rough. "Next semester. Same room. Same chair in the cafeteria."
Kyle chuckled. "You better not take my seat."
"No promises."
They exchanged a quiet look, the kind of look only friends who'd been through years of unspoken battles could share.
Then Kyle nodded, shouldered his bag, and walked past him into the hallway.
The walk to the teleportation gate felt longer than usual.
He passed the training fields, the empty classrooms, the towering statue of the First Hero.
The academy loomed behind him like a monument to everything he wanted—but hadn't yet earned.
As he stepped into the circle of the gate, he turned and looked back one last time.
I'll be back, he thought. And when I do, I won't be a Null.
——
The sensation of teleportation was… unpleasant. The air twisted. The world folded in on itself.
Kyle's body felt like it existed in two places at once—none of them solid. But it lasted only a minute. He'd done this enough times to ignore the nausea.
When the light returned, he stood in a busy city terminal, the hum of energy and conversation all around him.
Kyle stepped out of the gate, nodded at the guard stationed nearby, and melted into the crowd.
But he wasn't like the others. He wasn't here to shop, to meet friends, to celebrate the break.
He had five minutes to reach the next gate—the one that would take him to Acardia Town.
His hometown.
It wasn't famous, but it was beautiful in its own quiet way.
Nestled at the eastern edge of the Mondo Nation, Acardia was a place of slow mornings, great food, and simpler lives. Tourists came for the taste, not the thrill.
But Kyle wasn't going for nostalgia. He was going for answers.
Maybe his parents knew something.
Maybe there was something in their bloodline, a fragment of a story passed down from a hundred years ago.
About the last Null.
Kyle didn't know what he was looking for exactly. But he knew he had to try.
He couldn't afford to hope for someone else to fix this. If there was a way to awaken—he would find it. Or forge it himself.