Scott couldn't take it anymore.
The noise, the lights, the laughter—it all pressed against him like a weight he couldn't carry.
Without saying a word, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd. Voices called after him, music thundered behind him, but he didn't stop.
He needed air.
He needed silence.
By the time he stepped outside, the cool night wind hit his face, and he exhaled deeply, as if he had just escaped something suffocating.
"…Finally."
The celebration still roared behind him, but out here, the world felt distant.
Scott didn't hesitate. He walked straight toward the docking bay.
Flores Grand was never truly quiet.
Even at night, the city glowed.
Massive towers stretched into the sky, their lights flickering like constellations. Transport lanes hummed with movement, and far above, ships drifted like silent giants.
Scott stepped onto a boarding platform and entered a transport vessel without looking back.
The ship was sleek and quiet, designed for short-distance travel between sectors. It wasn't anything luxurious, but it would get him where he needed to go.
He dropped into a seat, leaning back with a tired sigh.
"…I'm going home."
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
The ship began to hum softly as it prepared for departure.
He closed his eyes.
And then—
Footsteps.
Fast.
Familiar.
"Scott! Wait!"
Scott didn't even open his eyes. "…You followed me."
The door slid open, and a boy rushed in, slightly out of breath.
His name was Rylan.
He grabbed onto one of the seats, trying to steady himself. "Are you serious right now?" he said, his voice half-annoyed, half-panicked. "You're just going to leave me back there? On that chaotic, cursed planet of madness?"
Scott finally opened his eyes, giving him a flat look. "You seemed like you were enjoying it."
"I was!" Rylan shot back immediately. Then he paused. "…Okay, maybe a little too much."
Scott sat up slightly, his expression tightening. "Do you really want to get me killed?"
Rylan blinked. "What?"
"My mother will not spare me for this," Scott continued, rubbing his temple. "You forced me to drink."
"I didn't force you!" Rylan protested. "I just… encouraged you."
Scott stared at him.
Silence.
"…You practically shoved it into my hands."
Rylan scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "…Okay, that might've happened once. Or twice."
Scott sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes.
Despite his annoyance, his anger wasn't entirely real.
Just… lingering.
Rylan sat down across from him, quieter now. "…I didn't know you couldn't handle it."
Scott didn't respond immediately.
Because his thoughts had already drifted elsewhere.
Back to the moment.
Back to what happened.
That strange feeling.
When the alcohol burned through his body…
Something had reacted.
Something had activated.
Scott's fingers curled slightly.
The Art.
Life.
It had moved on its own.
He hadn't consciously used it.
He hadn't even tried.
And yet—
It healed him.
"…Do I understand it?" he muttered under his breath.
Rylan frowned. "Understand what?"
Scott didn't answer.
Because even he wasn't sure.
When their instructor had used the Art, the words had thundered across the room—clear, overwhelming, undeniable.
But for Scott…
It was silent.
No voice.
No chant.
Just… something internal.
Something that responded.
"…Maybe," Scott whispered, almost to himself, "it's different for everyone."
Rylan raised an eyebrow. "You're being weird again."
Scott ignored him.
His mind was racing now.
If Life depends on the person… then its form changes.
That means…
He opened his eyes.
"…I need to test it."
The ship hadn't even fully departed when Scott stood up.
Rylan blinked. "Wait—what are you doing now?"
"Training."
"…Now?"
"Yes."
Rylan stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "…You almost died five minutes ago."
"I didn't," Scott replied calmly. "That's the point."
Without waiting, he stepped off the ship as soon as it docked at the next platform.
Rylan groaned but followed anyway. "You're unbelievable."
The training hall was alive even at this hour.
Inside, the atmosphere was completely different from the celebration.
Here, everything was focused.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Scott stepped in, his gaze immediately drawn toward the center arena.
Two fighters stood facing each other.
Both calm.
Both dangerous.
"Looks like Kael is winning," a man nearby said, folding his arms confidently.
Scott glanced at him, then at the second observer beside him.
"I don't think so," the second man replied, his voice quieter, more analytical.
"Oh? And why's that?" the first scoffed.
The second man narrowed his eyes slightly. "Look closer."
Scott did.
And then—
He saw it.
At first glance, Kael dominated the fight.
His attacks were fast, aggressive, overwhelming.
But…
None of them landed cleanly.
Every strike aimed at a vital point was subtly redirected.
Reduced.
Neutralized.
His opponent—Darius—was barely moving.
He looked like he was on the defensive.
But in reality…
He was waiting.
"…He's being cornered," the first man said.
"No," the second replied. "He's guiding him."
Scott's eyes sharpened.
Then it happened.
Darius moved.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Just… decisive.
His stance shifted, and in an instant, the entire momentum of the battle changed.
"You've had your fun," Darius said calmly, his voice cutting through the air.
Kael's expression faltered.
For the first time—
He realized.
Too late.
Darius raised his hand.
And brought it down.
"Now… take this."
The strike hadn't even landed—
When energy erupted.
A dark, violent surge exploded outward, blasting both fighters across the arena.
The impact shook the entire hall.
Dust rose.
Silence followed.
Scott's eyes widened slightly.
Neither of them stood up.
"…He sacrificed himself," the second observer murmured.
The first man clicked his tongue. "…Reckless."
"No," the second said quietly. "Resolute."
Scott stared at the aftermath.
That wasn't just power.
It came with a cost.
A heavy one.
He clenched his fist slightly.
"…So that's the level."
Rylan stepped beside him, unusually quiet now. "…We're not ready for that."
Scott didn't respond.
Because deep down—
He knew.
He wasn't even close.
Veilborn…
That was the first step.
But beyond that…
There were heights he couldn't yet imagine.
To reach the third stage—
To become a Seer—
He would need to pass countless trials.
And beyond that…
Everlasting.
The thought alone felt distant.
Unreachable.
But Scott didn't look away.
"I'll get there," he said quietly.
Rylan glanced at him. "You sound serious."
"I am."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Not long after, they left the hall.
The city lights stretched endlessly before them.
Tomorrow—
Everything would change.
Rylan stretched his arms. "Alright… I'm going home. I need sleep before I collapse mid-trial."
Scott nodded. "Yeah."
They parted ways without much else to say.
When Scott finally reached home, the silence felt different.
Not empty.
Not peaceful.
But… waiting.
He stepped inside, paused for a moment, then looked at his hand.
The faintest flicker of something unseen moved beneath his skin.
"…Life…"
He whispered the word.
No response.
But he knew it was there.
Tomorrow, he would stand before the Gate.
And when that happened—
There would be no turning back.