The sun began its slow ascent, bleeding a pale, watery gold across the horizon. At this hour, the ocean breathed in long, rhythmic sighs, the tide sliding over cool sand in a hushed retreat.
Jeremiah sat cross-legged on the beach—barefoot, in dark training shorts and a simple white shirt. Nyx mirrored his posture, her violet eyes wide and preternaturally alert. The hem of her training clothes brushed the grit of the sand while a salt breeze toyed with her hair.
"Welcome, my first ever protégé," Jeremiah said, his voice level. "I'm pleased to introduce you to the Jeremiah Training Camp."
Nyx blinked, the gravity of the sunrise momentarily disrupted by his dry delivery. A small, nervous chuckle escaped her. "Hehe... well, I'm happy to be here. I think."
Jeremiah didn't return the laugh. He studied her in the silence, his expression unreadable until a faint, mischievous glint caught the light in his eyes.
"I won't lie to you, Saintess—it will be intense," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, more even register. "There will be no shortcuts. No special treatment. And," he added, a ghost of a smirk finally tugging at the corner of his mouth, "the refund policy is nonexistent."
A smile touched her lips, one she fought to suppress. Jeremiah leaned forward, resting his forearms over his knees. The playfulness didn't vanish, but it settled into something more serious.
"Before I teach you a single thing," he continued, his gaze sharpening until it seemed to pin her in place, "I need to understand exactly where you are. So," he added lightly, leaning back, "let's chat."
Nyx nodded—a quick, vigorous motion that betrayed her composure. Despite the early hour, she was practically vibrating with an energy that outshone the rising sun. Jeremiah let out a quiet, private chuckle before smoothing his expression back into a mask of calm.
"Alright," he said, settling his posture. "We'll start simple. Tell me—what are the basics of mana?"
She blinked, her excitement faltering into a brief look of surprise at the simplicity of the question.
"...Mana is the fundamental energy that exists in all things," she began, her voice gaining confidence as she recited the knowledge. "It flows through the body and the environment alike. We refine it through our cores."
Jeremiah offered a single, slow nod, his expression unreadable. "And?"
A small frown creased her brow as she dug deeper. "Our cores determine output, capacity, and affinity," she added, her tone more measured. "The stronger the core, the more mana we can circulate—and withstand."
"Good," he said, his voice dropping into a register that was clipped, yet not unkind. He leaned in just enough to focus the world entirely on the two of them. "Core color rankings. Explain them to me."
"Red and orange are both novice," Nyx began, her fingers tracing an absentminded spiral in the sand. "Yellow and green are expert. Blue is master. Purple is grandmaster."
She paused. The only sound was the rhythmic drag of the tide against the shore.
"And white…" her voice softened, "…white is Magus."
She lifted her eyes to meet his, the violet depths searching for a reaction.
Jeremiah smiled faintly and brushed his fingers over the sand between them.
"Good."
"Next."
His grey eyes held hers. "What are affinities… and how do they relate to the individual?"
"Affinities are the types of mana one can manipulate," she said. "Fire, water, wind, earth. It's what your mana naturally responds to—the element that listens when you call."
Jeremiah nodded once. "But that's not the whole picture," he said quietly.
Her gaze lifted, curious.
"Affinity supports you," he continued, holding her eyes. "Core ability defines you. Your affinity is what you can use; your core ability is who you are. Two people can wield the same element and be nothing alike. That difference is everything."
He studied her for a moment, his tone calm but probing. "Tell me: what are the deviant forms of the primary elements?"
Nyx's eyes lit up, clearly more comfortable with the theory. "Earth's deviant form is metal," she began. "Water is ice, fire is lightning, and wind is gravity."
Her expression grew thoughtful, her violet eyes clouding as she considered the possibilities. She didn't look away; instead, she leaned in slightly, studying him with an analytical focus that felt more intimate than a bold stare.
Jeremiah noticed. He didn't pull back, but a faint, defensive crease formed between his brows. "What?"
Nyx blinked, the spell breaking. She hesitated, her fingers tangling in the hem of her light training clothes. When she spoke, her voice was a bare whisper.
"You've said before that you used ice..." She glanced at his hands before meeting his eyes again. "I thought... maybe you could use more?"
"I can use the deviant forms of fire and water," he admitted, his gaze drifting toward the pale gold horizon. "If I were properly taught or focused more on learning deviant forms... I could likely learn the others, too." He offered a small, self-deprecating shrug that couldn't quite hide his ambition. "Hopefully."
Nyx watched him, her expression softening. He caught her eye and cleared his throat. "Alright. You know the basics. Next, let's see your level."
Nyx tilted her head, a stray lock of hair catching the breeze. "I could just tell you?"
Jeremiah shook his head. "It's a Quadra-elemental thing. I get a better understanding if I see it for myself." He rose to his feet. "Turn around. Face the ocean."
She obeyed without hesitation, brushing sand from her shorts as she shifted. Jeremiah stepped behind her, sitting back into the sand so close he could smell the salt and the faint floral scent of her hair.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the grey had bled into a piercing, predatory red.
The world erupted into color. The air became a sea of living light, tiny motes of mana pulsing like embers in the dawn. There were flickers of sun-warmed orange, pale blue ripples pulled from the tide, and emerald threads woven through the wind. They swirled around her in a lazy, beautiful dance.
Then, his heart hit his ribs like a hammer.
Jeremiah froze. Where there should have been a single spark, three distinct suns burned in a perfect, impossible triangle. Overlapping channels of brilliant orange mana fed into each other in a formation of staggering complexity.
His breath hitched—a sharp, ragged sound in the quiet morning. "You…"
The word was a ghost of a gasp. He cut the vision instantly, the world snapping back to dull, sun-bleached gold, but his pulse thundered in his ears. He stared at her back, his mind reeling.
Still seated, he shifted forward, his knees dragging through the sand. He reached out and gripped her shoulders, his thumbs brushing the base of her neck as he guided her to face him.
"Listen to me."
The playfulness had evaporated, replaced by raw, wide-eyed wonder. "You have potential like I've never seen, Saintess."
His grip tightened slightly—not with aggression, but with an infectious excitement that seemed to pull her into his orbit. Then, the adrenaline ebbed, and he really looked at her.
Up close.
Her violet eyes were wide, reflecting the morning light and his own startled face. A deep, feverish crimson had climbed from her throat to her cheeks, the heat of it tangible. She looked baffled, utterly flustered, and dangerously close.
Jeremiah froze.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. He recoiled, leaning back so abruptly he almost lost his balance. His hands snapped away as if he'd been burned.
"...Sorry," he managed, his voice uncharacteristically strained.
Nyx took a long, shaky breath. "No," she said softly, her voice still airy. "It's okay."
She exhaled, the sound trembling as she regained her composure. A small, knowing look—half shy, half weary—flickered across her face.
"I'm guessing…" she whispered, her gaze drifting to her chest before lifting back to his, "you could see my three cores."
Jeremiah gave a single, silent nod.
"If you don't mind…" he said, his voice quieter now, his gaze searching hers with genuine curiosity, "I'd like to hear your story. Please — tell me more about yourself."
Nyx held his gaze for a long second.
Then she looked away.
"…I guess you never read my file?"
Jeremiah frowned slightly.
"Well, we've known each other for like two days. So no, I didn't read your file."
Wait. That was an option this whole time?
When would I have even had the chance?
He mentally scoffed at himself.
Whatever.
Nyx continued, unaware of his spiraling thoughts.
She gave a faint, dry smile.
"Just… a gift I was given."
A soft scoff left her.
"Funny thing is, most people wouldn't realize how dangerous that is. Having that much power at seven years old isn't something a child can withstand."
Her fingers brushed lightly over her sternum.
Jeremiah's expression sharpened.
"My mother works in Alliance research," she continued. "That's actually how I got into runic technology and sorcery."
That tracks, he thought immediately.
"And your father?" he asked.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. Her tone didn't crack, but it turned—brittle and distant.
"He passed away years ago."
Jeremiah nodded once, his voice softening. "I'm sorry for asking a question like that."
Nyx gave him a small, reassuring smile.
"No, you're fine. Don't worry about it. It's been a long time. I've… come to terms with it."
She looked back at him, her expression turning dark.
"From seven onward… I was monitored," she admitted more carefully this time.
A faint, almost apologetic smile touched her lips.
"The awakening nearly killed me."
"My cores destabilized. Too much mana and too fast. My body just couldn't circulate it properly. It was like trying to force a river through a straw."
Her fingers brushed her sternum again, the gesture deliberate this time, tracing the center of where that pressure had once been.
"My mother had me transferred to an Alliance medical facility immediately. After that… I never really left."
She exhaled softly, the sound lost to the rhythm of the waves.
"I wasn't a prisoner, and I wasn't exactly a subject. I was just… under observation…Always."
Her gaze drifted toward the golden horizon, where the sea met the sky.
"From Red to Orange, they monitored every stage… Now that I've reached peak Orange, I was finally deemed stable enough to leave. A graduated patient."
She glanced back at him, the irony clear in her eyes.
"And then I got assigned to the Annex."
Jeremiah absorbed it quietly, the weight of her lifelong "observation".
He lingered for a moment before speaking.
"To you… that probably felt like switching from one prison to another."
Nyx paused, a flash of genuine surprise crossing her face that he actually grasped the weight of it. "...Yes."
That single word carried more than she elaborated.
Silence settled between them, the tide rolling softly in the distance.
Jeremiah watched her carefully.
Nyx seemed to be waging a quiet war behind her eyes.
She wasn't calculating or tactical; she was just... hesitant.
Her gaze remained glued to the sand, her fingers nervously tracing patterns in the cool grains near her knees. He could see the slight tremor in her hands—the physical manifestation of her debating whether to retreat back into her shell or trust him with something deeper.
She bit her lower lip, a fleeting look of uncertainty crossing her face. Finally, her shoulders slumped, the tension draining out of her in one long, shaky exhale. She looked up, her violet eyes meeting his.
"There's something else," she said, Jeremiah leaned forward instinctively, his heart thumping against his ribs. He didn't want to startle her, but he couldn't help being drawn in by the sheer gravity of her trust.
"As you know, my core ability is healing. I can heal myself and others." She hesitated, her fingers tensing in the sand. "But there's more."
More?
Jeremiah's mind stalled. An ability like healing was already rare enough to change the tide of a war, but if there was a second layer to it… He snapped himself out of his musing and focused entirely on Nyx.
"I sometimes have prophetic visions," she said. "It's random. But I've learned they're real. Sometimes it's something from the past. Sometimes… the future."
Jeremiah stared at her, genuinely at a loss for words.
Nyx continued without pause, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "Through rune sorcery, I believed I could eventually control it. Use it deliberately. I was working on a way to anchor my abilities—both healing and foresight—into an array, similar to the cards I used to blow up the cafeteria rooftop back at the Annex, so I could trigger them intentionally. That way… even at my level now… I could still be of help."
She scratched the back of her head, a sheepish, embarrassed grin flickering across her face as she looked back at him.
"…that was what I was working on at the Annex. I never actually got to finish that project."
Jeremiah's expression didn't change.
His grey eyes remained steady—calm, cool, and entirely unreadable—reflecting the pale, early morning light. For a long moment, he simply held her gaze.
"…I see," he said quietly.
"Would you… explain that ability a little more?" he asked, voice quieter now. "If you don't mind."
Nyx went quiet, the wind moving gently through her hair as she searched for the words. "It's not constant. It's not clear. And it's definitely not on command."
Her violet eyes lifted to his.
"But sometimes… I see moments before or after they happen…Fragments…Outcomes. Threads branching from choices."
Her violet eyes lifted back to his, searching for judgment or disbelief.
"It feels like standing outside a tapestry and catching glimpses of the pattern before it's fully woven."
A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "It's never the whole picture. Just enough to be… unsettling."
Jeremiah took in what Nyx said, quietly considering the implications.
Hmmm.
Was that ability how she fought off her would-be kidnappers?
Seeing that she was being open with him, Jeremiah decided to ask outright.
"Was that ability what kept you alive until I arrived?" he asked. "Did you know I would come?"
Nyx's eyes brightened, a spark of animation returning to her face. "Yes, it did. But it only prepared me for what would happen—not when. I saw the signs beforehand and was able to move one step ahead."
She tilted her head slightly.
"And to answer your second question… no. I didn't know it would be you specifically. I only knew someone would come if I could reach the rooftop."
Jeremiah leaned back into the sand, genuinely amazed at his new protégée.
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
Nyx blinked in surprise.
Jeremiah suddenly leaned forward again, his gaze sharpening.
"Saintess," he said. "I might not be the only one calling you that. Who else knows about your second ability?"
Nyx answered instantly.
"No one."
Then she added more quietly,
"I learned something over the years. When it comes to knowledge of the future—or even the past—you can't have everyone share that burden."
Her gaze drifted toward the ocean.
"What happens if I tell you what will happen… and you change it?"
A small pause.
"What if something worse happens instead?"
Her voice softened.
"I learned that the hard way."
Jeremiah sensed immediately that he had stepped on a landmine.
"So why tell me?" he asked gently.
Nyx looked at him for a long moment, her violet eyes searching his grey ones. Then, she gave him a small, genuine smile.
"You are my humble sword… aren't you? I think I can trust you."
Jeremiah smiled back.
Then, just as quickly, the smile faded slightly.
Knowing her abilities now… that phrase might mean something very different.
He pushed the thought away—that was a problem for "future Jeremiah."
Jeremiah shook his head and pushed himself to his feet.
"Alright," he said, brushing sand from his pants. "Enough chit-chat. Good talk and all that." He looked down at her, offering a hand to help her up. "Now let's get today's training started."