Shiro woke up in a dimly lit room, the faint smell of herbs and medicinal ointments lingering in the air. His body felt sore, and the weight of his muscles seemed to anchor him to the bed. He shifted slightly, groaning under his breath, but immediately froze when he saw the familiar face sitting in front of him.
Riku was there, sitting cross-legged by his bedside, his eyes calm and patient. There was no judgment in his expression—just quiet concern. Shiro blinked, slowly pushing himself up with his elbows. "What happened?"
"You passed out," Riku said simply, his voice steady. "Lintaro's attack was too much for you, but you've been out for only a few hours. You're lucky. You've never faced anything like that before."
Shiro rubbed his forehead, feeling the weight of what had just happened sink in. The battle with Lintaro had pushed him beyond what he thought he was capable of. The fight had left him with more questions than answers. The speed, the power... it was all so overwhelming, yet in some strange way, he felt more alive than ever. As though something had awakened inside him.
He remembered how, during the fight, his instincts had kicked in. His body moved on its own, his reactions faster than his mind could process. But what was more confusing was how he had managed to adapt—how his strength had kept growing, slowly but surely, until he could block one of Lintaro's fiercest attacks. There was something more to his abilities. Something that didn't make sense. But at that moment, Shiro pushed those thoughts aside, deciding to focus on the present.
As he propped himself up, he noticed Riku's gaze soften, a faint trace of relief in his eyes. It was rare for Shiro to see his friend this vulnerable, but it spoke volumes. Riku was just as shaken by the events of the fight as Shiro was.
"I... didn't expect to make it that far," Shiro admitted quietly. "I thought for sure... I'd lose."
Riku didn't respond right away. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a small, carefully folded piece of parchment. "The others are waiting for you in the council room," Riku said after a pause, his tone serious. "Lintaro and the others are discussing your future."
Shiro nodded, his mind still clouded from the aftermath of the battle. Lintaro, the nobles—they were all strong, each of them far more experienced than Shiro. He knew they were all wondering about him, about what he was capable of. Maybe even what he could become. But as much as he wanted answers, he needed time to process everything that had happened.
With a groan, Shiro pushed himself off the bed, steadying himself on his feet. "I'll go now," he said, his voice rough. "Can't keep them waiting, right?"
Riku gave a small smile. "Not like you'd let them."
As Shiro walked into the council room, the atmosphere immediately shifted. Lintaro and the other nobles—Ken, Jowa, and Liro—were gathered around a large table, their conversations coming to a halt as soon as he entered. It was clear that the atmosphere was tense.
Lintaro was the first to speak, his tone firm but with a hint of admiration. "You've shown remarkable growth, Shiro. In just one fight, you've surpassed what many would achieve after years of training."
Shiro looked at Lintaro, still trying to make sense of the praise. He had always known he had potential, but this was... something else. Something far beyond his understanding.
"I don't know what happened," Shiro admitted. "I just... kept moving. My body started reacting before I even thought about it. It was like my instincts took over, but they were different. I wasn't controlling it, and yet, it felt right."
Lintaro studied him for a moment before nodding. "It's not just instinct, Shiro. Your aura—it's growing. And it's growing faster than anyone I've ever seen."
Ken leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "But how? The average person doesn't increase in strength so quickly, let alone block an attack from Lintaro. It doesn't make sense."
Jowa chuckled lightly, though it was laced with a tone of disbelief. "Isn't it obvious? The kid's not normal. He's a rare breed. We're lucky he's on our side."
Shiro shifted uncomfortably at the comment, unsure of whether he should take it as a compliment or a warning. Jowa's words felt strange, almost as If his existence was Deep that no one had quite grasped yet.
"Shiro," Lintaro said, his voice breaking through the tension. "You need to understand something. What you experienced today was a glimpse of what you could become. But you cannot continue this path on raw instinct alone. You must learn control. Your potential is immense, but so is the danger if you let it get out of hand."
Shiro nodded slowly. He knew that control was key. He couldn't just rely on his instincts to guide him forever. The power he felt growing inside him was both a gift and a curse. But as much as Lintaro's words made sense, Shiro couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more—something deeper within him that he still didn't understand.
That night, after the meeting, Shiro lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts of the fight. His aura. His growth. But no matter how much he tried to piece it together, one thing stood out: he hadn't just learned to fight during that battle. It was as though his very being had been awakened.
As he drifted off to sleep, his mind wandered into a dream. A dream where a calm, soothing voice spoke to him from the shadows.
"You must make the world better again."
Shiro could not place the voice, nor the figure it came from. The man who spoke seemed ancient, his presence both comforting and powerful. His face was shadowed, but Shiro could feel the weight of his words deep within his soul.
The man's words echoed in Shiro's mind, as if they were meant for him alone. "The world you live in now was shaped by those who came before you. You are their legacy. But you must not forget—strength without purpose is meaningless."
Shiro's breath quickened as the man's voice faded, replaced by a deep sense of purpose. Was this a message for him? The words lingered in his mind long after he woke, leaving him with more questions than answers. The dream had felt so real, and yet it had no clear explanation. Who was that man? What was the meaning of his words?
The next day, Shiro couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed inside him. The dream had planted a seed in his mind—a sense of responsibility. He knew now that his journey had just begun, and there was more to his power than just adapting and fighting.
Shiro had to learn to control it. And, perhaps, he would have to change the world in the process.