Aniel didn't start with power.
He started with silence.
Day 1 – Stillness
"Sit."
Cyron stared at him. "…That's it?"
"Yes."
"No summoning? No control exercises?"
"No."
Cyron frowned but sat anyway, legs crossed on the cold training floor.
"…Now what?"
Aniel leaned against the wall, shadows barely moving at his feet.
"Listen."
"To what?"
"…Everything."
Cyron sighed. "That's not helpful."
"Neither is dying because you can't hear yourself think."
Silence.
Cyron closed his eyes.
At first—nothing.
Just distant hums, faint echoes from the academy above.
Then—
"You're bored."
His eyes snapped open.
"Yeah, I am."
"Good."
Cyron frowned. "What?"
"Boredom strips distraction."
Aniel's voice didn't change.
"Stay there."
Cyron exhaled slowly.
Fine.
He closed his eyes again.
This time—
The voice didn't go away.
Day 3 – Noise
"Again."
Cyron stood in the center of the chamber, arm relaxed at his side.
"Open the channel," Aniel instructed.
Cyron hesitated.
"…You're serious?"
"Yes."
"You told me not to let it in too much."
"I told you not to lose control," Aniel corrected. "Different."
Cyron swallowed.
Then nodded.
"Okay…"
He focused.
The mark pulsed.
Crimson seeped outward—
Not violently.
Not yet.
Inside—
The voice returned.
Stronger.
Closer.
"You're learning."
Cyron kept his breathing steady.
"Don't get used to it."
"…Too late."
The pressure built.
Not explosive.
But heavy.
Like something leaning against his thoughts.
Pushing.
Testing.
Aniel's voice cut through.
"Hold your identity."
Cyron frowned. "What does that even mean?"
"Say your name."
"…What?"
"Say it."
Cyron gritted his teeth. "…Cyron Vale."
"Again."
"Cyron Vale."
The pressure pushed harder.
Images flickered—
Violence.
Blood.
Power.
"Names don't matter."
Cyron's jaw tightened. "Mine does."
The pressure paused.
Just slightly.
Aniel nodded once.
"Good. Again."
Day 5 – Pressure
"More."
Cyron shook his head. "I'm already at my limit."
"No," Aniel said calmly. "You're at your comfort."
"That's the same thing!"
"No."
Silence.
Cyron exhaled sharply. "…Fine."
He raised his arm.
The mark flared stronger this time.
Crimson surged outward—
Sharper.
Heavier.
Inside—
The voice didn't whisper.
It spoke.
Clear.
Dominant.
"You're still holding back."
Cyron gritted his teeth. "Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust you."
A pause.
Then—
Not anger.
Not mockery.
"…Fair."
Cyron blinked.
That… wasn't expected.
The pressure didn't spike.
Didn't surge.
It… settled.
Just slightly.
Aniel watched closely.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
Day 7 – Fracture
"Again."
Cyron slammed his hand down. "No."
Aniel didn't react.
"I'm not a machine," Cyron snapped. "Every time I open that thing, it feels like I'm losing something."
"Good."
Cyron froze. "…What?"
"That means you're aware of it."
"That's not a good thing!"
"It is," Aniel said. "The moment you stop noticing… is the moment you're gone."
Silence hit hard.
Cyron looked away.
"…I don't want to become it."
Aniel's gaze didn't soften.
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're fighting."
A beat.
"Entities like that don't choose people who give up easily."
Cyron frowned. "…That's not comforting."
"It's not supposed to be."
Day 10 – Confrontation
"Today," Aniel said, "you stop avoiding it."
Cyron narrowed his eyes. "I'm not avoiding it."
"You're negotiating with it."
"…And that's bad?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Because it's not negotiating back."
Cyron went quiet.
Inside—
The voice stirred.
Listening.
"Open fully," Aniel said.
Cyron's head snapped up. "Are you insane?"
"Probably."
"That could destroy—"
"Not if you don't let it."
Easy for him to say.
Cyron hesitated.
Then—
"…Fine."
He raised his arm.
The mark ignited.
Not a pulse.
A surge.
Crimson flooded outward—faster, heavier, sharper than ever before.
The chamber trembled slightly.
Inside—
No whisper.
No quiet voice.
Just presence.
Massive.
Endless.
"At last."
Cyron staggered.
His thoughts blurred instantly.
Images crashed into him—
Battlefields.
Screams.
Endless red.
"This is what you are connected to."
Cyron dropped to one knee. "No… that's not me—"
"Not yet."
The pressure pushed harder.
Deeper.
Trying to overwrite.
To drown.
"Cyron!"
Aniel's voice cut through.
"Anchor yourself!"
"I'm trying—!"
"Not enough!"
Cyron's vision warped.
Everything felt distant.
Fading.
"Let go."
The voice wasn't aggressive.
It was calm.
Certain.
"It's easier."
Cyron's breath hitched.
For a second—
It almost sounded right.
No resistance.
No pain.
Just—
Power.
Then—
"No."
The word came out weak.
But real.
Cyron forced his head up.
"…I'm not you."
The pressure surged.
Harder.
"You are part of me."
"Maybe."
Cyron's hand clenched.
"…But you're also part of me."
Silence.
For a split second—
Everything stopped.
Aniel's eyes sharpened.
"…There it is."
Cyron's breathing steadied.
Not fully.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
The crimson energy didn't disappear.
It didn't explode.
It… stabilized.
Balanced between surge and control.
Between hunger and restraint.
Cyron stayed on one knee, shaking.
But present.
Still there.
Still himself.
The energy slowly receded.
Back into the mark.
Back into silence.
Cyron collapsed onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
"…I hate this training."
Aniel exhaled lightly. "Good."
"Why is that always your answer?"
"Because it means it's working."
Cyron groaned. "I'm gonna die."
"Eventually."
"…You're the worst mentor."
A faint pause.
"…Probably."
Inside—
The voice returned.
Quieter.
Different.
Not pushing.
Not pulling.
Just… there.
"…You didn't break."
Cyron closed his eyes.
"…Nope."
A pause.
Then—
Not hunger.
Not dominance.
Something closer to acknowledgment.
"…Good."
Cyron exhaled slowly.
For the first time—
The silence in his mind didn't feel empty.
It felt… shared.
Aniel turned toward the exit.
"…You're ready for the next phase."
Cyron didn't move. "That sounds worse."
"It is."
"…Great."
A small pause.
Then Aniel added—
"Next time, we see what happens when you fight back."
Cyron cracked one eye open.
"…I already am."
Aniel glanced back.
"No," he said.
"You're surviving."
A beat.
"Next time—you push."