Flow.
It pulsed through me—a living current, growing stronger with every passing year.
Twenty-seven years. Most of them spent within the familiar embrace of Alaranta, the only home I had ever known. But the thirst for knowledge, the hunger to understand Flow beyond what was ordinary, had driven me away. Four years in Dram, at the Aetherium Academy—the pinnacle of Harmonizing mastery.
There, I devoured everything I could. I studied, trained, and pushed myself to the limits, chasing the secrets of the very essence that shaped our world.
But no matter how much I learned—no matter how much power I wielded—some things could never be undone.
My earliest, clearest memory of my parents was a warm, golden afternoon. My last was a night soaked in blood.
Flow Beasts.
Unchecked by human control, they swept across the land in a monstrous tide.
The night they came for us was pure agony.
I remember a corner.
I remember Bruno, pressed behind me, his tiny body trembling, his sobs wrenching through my chest like a knife.
I remember my own silence.
I didn't scream. I didn't dare. My tears ran hot, but I swallowed my voice—I had to. If I broke, my little brother would shatter with me.
Then—
A shadow lunged. A Flow Beast, its eyes glowing with hunger, leapt straight for us.
And Father moved.
He didn't hesitate. He... He just moved.
One moment, he was standing—the next, his body was between us and the beast's claws.
I should've looked away. I should've closed my eyes.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
The image was seared into my mind, framed in diamond, unbreakable.
The way the claws cut through flesh and bone.
The way Father split apart.
The way his blood painted the ground beneath him.
I watched him die.
And I did nothing.
Not a scream. Not a single step forward.
I just stared.
Then—a scream.
A woman's scream.
I turned.
Mother.
She lay sprawled on the floor, her eyes wide, her lips trembling.
The Flow Beast loomed over her, its jagged maw dripping with something dark, something warm.
Something red.
Mother's blood.
And again...
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't save them.
And so, in the end—
They died.
And I stood there.
Helpless. Useless.
Utterly, completely useless.
Yet, that was the moment I awakened as a Flow wielder. The irony…
I, Romeo Lapis, would not let my world crumble again.
The Flow within me surged—an untapped wellspring of power, forged in grief, tempered by relentless resolve.
I honed my abilities, pushed them beyond their limits, refusing to let history repeat itself.
By twenty-five, I stood before the towering gates of Chasles Academy, not as a student, but as a professor.
The greatest Flow Academy in the world, the beating heart of Kavita, Alaranta's capital—that was my new battlefield.
And soon enough, the tide began to turn.
Humanity, through sheer grit and ingenuity, had harnessed the very force that once threatened to consume us.
We carved our sanctuaries from the chaos, wielding Flow to push back the darkness. Cities flourished, bastions of light against an unforgiving world.
Yet, for every step forward, the shadows crept ever closer.
For fifteen years, an uneasy truce bound us and the Flow Beasts—monstrous entities born from unchecked, chaotic Flow.
But now, that truce was crumbling.
The Beasts no longer stayed within their designated territories. They encroached. They hunted.
The world had felt safe—but safety was an illusion.
Humanity needed a new shield.
And so, the Council of the Eight Ones, the rulers of the Flow universe, laid down a new principle.
They forged the Sacred Soldiers.
The bulwark against the Flow Beasts.
Gifted warriors, wielders of Flow unlike any before, their sole purpose: to protect what remained of humanity.
And where did these warriors rise?
At the very heart of our resistance—The Academies.
And Chasles Academy was the first, and greatest, Flow Academy to be established.
We trained them. Molded them. Sacred Soldiers, professors, artifact hunters—the architects of a future built in defiance of despair.
But the weight of that future... rested heavily on my shoulders.
I still remembered the night my parents died. Their screams, their blood.
That night ignited something in me. A fire that never faded. A purpose that never wavered.
Yet now, a new fear gnawed at the edges of our fragile peace—
The number of Flow-wielders was dwindling.
Only two in every thousand were born with the ability to command Flow.
And if that number kept dropping... our last line of defense would shatter.
The time for complacency was over.
We needed answers.
And we needed them fast.
One day, news struck me like a surge of Flow—Bruno, my younger brother by four years, had become a father.
A niece.
A chance to witness the miracle of life firsthand.
I wasted no time. Before she even reached her first birthday, I was there, holding her in my arms for the first time. Her tiny weight felt light yet immeasurably precious.
I had missed her birth—a regret that gnawed at me—but gratitude washed over the ache. She was here, healthy and safe.
That was all that mattered.
Or so I thought.
But from the very first moment, something about her was… different.
Her eyes—a striking fusion of blue and emerald—held an unnerving depth. It wasn't the vacant innocence of a newborn but something else entirely.
Ancient. Knowing.
A flicker of sorrow? Power? Bloodlust? I couldn't tell. The sensation was unsettling, yet I couldn't look away.
Then, came the Flow.
Faint. Barely a whisper. But unmistakable.
In that tiny body, barely a year old, pulsed a nascent wellspring of power. Flow.
Was I imagining it?
Then she did something that sent a shiver down my spine.
She gifted me a drawing.
A crude, childish scribble of a stick figure. But around it, she had drawn a distinct blue aura.
My Flow signature.
The only one in the world who bore that hue… was me.
This one-year-old could already see Flow.
My breath caught. Was she awakening already?
Visit after visit, the feeling persisted. That quiet hum of energy, the way her eyes gleamed with an understanding far beyond her years…
This child, my niece, possessed potential that mirrored my own.
No.
Perhaps, it even surpassed mine.
A thrill shot through me, laced with a tremor of unease.
What did the Young Lady's extraordinary eyes and budding Flow signify?
Time would tell.
But one thing was certain—my role had changed.
I was no longer just an uncle.
I was now a guardian. A witness to the dawn of something extraordinary.
And so, the weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders.
To guide her—to protect her—I prepared a gift.
A delicate silver necklace, adorned with a flawless Flow crystal at its center. A catalyst, a safeguard, a silent promise.
As I clasped it around her tiny neck, the crystal flickered with warmth.
A spark of recognition danced in her brilliant blue-emerald gaze.
She reached up with a tiny hand, her soft fingers brushing mine.
And in that moment, I knew—
This was only the beginning.
Ordinary Flow users awakened between twelve and fourteen.
Prodigies—like myself—awakened earlier, usually between eight and ten.
Sensing the faint hum of Flow within the Young Lady from infancy, I had assumed she, too, would follow that path.
Perhaps at nine, she would awaken.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
Two and a half years after her first birthday, an unease settled over me.
Bruno and Elza's calls became more frequent—their voices edged with worry.
The Young Lady, they reported, spoke of shimmering mists that only she could see, of phantoms dancing in the air.
And then, there was the crystal.
The once vibrant Flow crystal adorning her necklace had taken on an unsettling milky-white glow.
But only she could see it.
Not Bruno. Not Elza.
Not even me.
At first, I dismissed their concerns. A child's imagination. Nothing more.
But the calls continued. The worry in their voices deepened.
And then—
She claimed to have awakened.
The Young Lady had always been different.
Her mind, a sponge for knowledge, devoured everything about Flow—from me, from social media, even from Marcus Blazehurt's popular show.
Her speech had matured unnaturally fast, laced with a confidence far beyond her years.
But this… this was different.
She was far too young.
The crystal remained inert.
And yet, an unshakable feeling gnawed at my gut.
Something wasn't right.
I needed to see her.
To understand.
To unravel the enigma that was my precocious niece—the child with ancient eyes and a necklace that refused to respond.
And for the first time in years…
I felt afraid.
My brother's house materialized before me in a blur.
The door swung open—and I froze.
In the center of the room stood the Young Lady, barely four years old.
Her gaze locked onto mine.
And in that instant, a jolt of something primal shot through me.
Those eyes…
Once, I thought they held a flicker of innocent curiosity.
No.
They had never been innocent.
From the very beginning, they were the eyes of a predator.
But now? Now, they burned with something else.
A depth that sent shivers down my spine.
Not just intensity—terror.
Raw, unfettered horror.
As if she had witnessed things no human should ever see.
But terror wasn't the only emotion swirling in those depths.
Something else lurked beneath—something thrilling.
An almost manic excitement laced with danger.
My niece had awakened.
Too soon. Far too soon.
Why? How?
What had triggered this impossible anomaly?
As a Harmonizer, analyzing Flow was second nature.
I reached out—sensed the intricate circuits within her.
A sharp gasp escaped my lips.
Her circuits were overloaded.
Dense, inky tendrils of Flow coiled within, crammed to their very limits, a swirling vortex barely contained.
It was too much—far too much for a body so small. Actually, far too much for any body.
She was a paradox.
A child brimming with raw, untamed power.
And then—her Flow signature manifested.
Each Flow user emitted a distinct emotion, a lingering aura that other wielders could sense.
Mine?
I radiated calm. Coolness. A gentle presence—befitting a Harmonizer.
Her?
Fear. Suffocation. Malevolence.
A presence so heavy, so oppressive, it was as if the air itself rebelled against her existence.
Breathing became difficult.
Even I, a professor of Flow, felt a tightness in my chest.
The crystal on her necklace—previously inert—now pulsed with an unseen energy.
And then it hit me.
Her claim of sensing Flow in the air?
It was true. And she wasn't alone.
In my entire life, I had encountered only one other person with such an ability. But at least that geezer had only one anomaly which was sensing Flow in the air.
She had lots more. Her existence was an anomaly.
Just what was this niece of mine?
With her parents' hesitant nod, I proceeded with two tests.
A simple one first.
"Transfer a small amount of your Flow into this crystal," I instructed.
The Young Lady, ever eager to prove herself, stretched out her tiny hand.
A heartbeat later, the once-empty crystal pulsed—not just with light, but with an unmistakable ebony glow.
Success.
No, too much success.
Not that I hadn't expected it from her, but… something wasn't right.
A Flow user, once they transferred energy, should have felt a momentary depletion. A gap. A void that only time—or an external Flow infusion—could fill.
But hers…
The emptiness in her circuits barely lasted a second before a fresh surge of power replenished itself.
Impossible.
This defied every principle of Flow manipulation.
Could it be related to her ability to see Flow in the atmosphere?
No.
I had watched closely. The replenishment came from within her.
She hadn't absorbed external Flow.
She had regenerated it.
The conclusion was both absurd and terrifying.
This toddler had limitless Flow.
But regeneration wasn't the immediate concern. No, a far graver question gnawed at me.
Could she exchange Flow?
Could she bridge the gap between herself and an external source?
With a heavy heart, I proposed the next test.
"Now, try drawing Flow from this crystal."
She obeyed without hesitation. Her small fingers curled around the crystal, and a tendril of black Flow slithered out, forming a delicate bridge between her and the stone.
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then—a flicker of success.
The crystal responded.
It worked.
Relief flooded me… for exactly three seconds.
Because the moment she absorbed the Flow, her reserves burst back to full.
And this time, the crystal reacted.
A sharp, high-pitched whine filled the air. The stone, unable to handle the sudden imbalance, began to crack.
Heat radiated from it—a prelude to catastrophe.
"Crap."
The crystal exploded.
Shards of searing-hot stone burst outward, embedding into furniture, the walls—thankfully missing anything vital.
Bruno and Elza gasped in alarm.
I barely managed to deflect a stray piece with a flick of my own Flow.
The Young Lady flinched, staring at her small, now burned hand.
For a moment, guilt twisted inside me.
I had let this test happen.
But I had needed proof.
And now, there was no doubt.
Her Flow was not just boundless—it was unstable, an uncontrollable torrent that the world had never seen before.
An anomaly.
No.
Something even beyond that.
I exhaled slowly, the weight of discovery pressing down on me.
Truly amazing.
Ha…
It became glaringly obvious—I had a crucial task ahead of me.
I had to convince her parents.
This wasn't just about potential anymore.
If left untrained, the Young Lady's power wouldn't just be wasted—it would be a threat. To herself. To others. And to those who might seek to use her.
A Flow that immense would never go unnoticed.
Sooner or later, a scanner would detect her existence. The wrong people would take an interest.
And by then, it might be too late.
She needed to be strong enough to protect herself.
She needed a place where her abilities could be refined, where her terrifying, limitless Flow could be honed into something controllable.
That place was Chasles Academy.
Fortunately, as both her uncle and a professor, securing her a scholarship was a mere formality. But that wasn't the real battle.
The real battle was convincing Bruno and Elza.
Because whether they realized it or not, their daughter was not normal.
She was a phenomenon. An entity beyond reason.
A force of nature.
A monster, to say the least.