As they moved toward the door, the sunlight filtering in painted their figures in gold, casting long shadows behind them. They walked side by side, but for the first time—it felt like there was a wall between them.
****
The grand hall was quiet, dimly lit by floating orbs of golden light that hovered near the arched ceiling. A cold, heavy silence hung in the air—one that made every breath feel like it echoed across time.
Marius knelt on one knee, his right fist planted firmly on the stone floor and his head bowed low. Before him was the most feared and respected being on the planet—Daikyn Zodiache, The Master. Cloaked in shadows and radiating power, he sat on a black stone throne carved from obsidian, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with energy.
Marius straightened his back, ready to deliver the long-awaited report.
"How are the children doing?" Daikyn Zodiache asked, his voice calm but filled with authority. It was deep, like thunder rumbling far away.
Marius didn't hesitate. "Out of eight hundred and eighteen trainees, three hundred and fifty have committed suicide over the past five months. Only four hundred and sixty-eight remain."
A long pause followed his words.
"Stand, Marius." The Master gave the order with a simple nod.
Marius rose to his feet slowly, arms at his sides, eyes respectfully lowered. The air felt heavier here, as though reality itself bent to the will of the being sitting before him.
"That's quite a number still standing," the Master said thoughtfully. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his throne. "The previous batches didn't make it this far. What changed?"
His eyes, though calm, gleamed with a faint curiosity.
Zodiache was no ordinary figure. He didn't care about race, background, or bloodline. In his eyes, strength was all that mattered. And when someone reaches the absolute peak—where no one dares challenge you—boredom becomes your only enemy. To keep his mind sharp and his soul from rotting, he had created a brutal training system. Its purpose: to forge warriors worthy of facing him… or dying in the attempt.
Over millions of years, countless had tried, but only five had ever reached the summit of his trials. He had marked each of them with a Zodiac sign, their strength unparalleled. They were known as the Golden Generation—the last and only batch to ever survive his training to the end.
Since then, no one had even made it past the Muscle Adjustment State, a stage so agonizing that most chose death over survival.
Thousands of years had passed in silence.
Until now.
"I believe it has something to do with Zane," Marius finally answered, his tone respectful but steady.
The Master's eyes narrowed slightly, though there was no real surprise in them. "Hmm… tell me more."
Of course, Daikyn Zodiache already knew. There wasn't a single thing on this planet that escaped his awareness. Every breath, every whisper, every death—he could feel it. But he asked anyway, curious how Marius perceived it.
Marius took a deep breath and continued.
"Most of the trainees believe Zane is the weakest among them. And yet... he's still standing. He didn't take his life. That fact alone has kept the others going. If the weakest could endure, they didn't want to be seen as lesser."
Zodiache's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile—barely noticeable.
Sometimes, strength wasn't about muscle or power.
Sometimes, it was simply about not breaking.
Even the weakest flame can keep others from freezing to death.
"Keep an eye on them. Report to me immediately if anything strange happens," the Master commanded, his tone calm but firm.
Marius gave a deep bow in response, then turned and walked away, his footsteps silent on the polished stone floor.
As soon as Marius vanished into the corridor, the Master leaned back into his throne. His eyes, like dark galaxies, flickered with a mysterious light.
"Zane Walker... don't you dare disappoint me," he muttered, his voice echoing softly through the vast, silent hall.
Moments later, Marius stepped outside through a tall archway. The platform he stood on was impossibly high above the ground—so high the clouds moved beneath it like drifting smoke. The wind was cool and thin, brushing against his robes as he moved toward the edge.
He stood there silently, staring down at the world below. His gaze was distant, his mind deep in thought. The sun hung in the sky like a blazing jewel, yet despite the bright daylight, the platform felt cold and detached from the world.
"Lost in thought, are we?" a voice called out, smooth and slow.
A figure approached, and just like Marius, his footsteps didn't make a sound. He looked mostly human—tall, calm, and composed—but there was one striking difference: a third eye rested on his forehead, perfectly shut like the other two. His skin was pale, and he wore long, flowing dark robes that swayed gently in the breeze. His hands were folded behind his back, and strangely, he cast no shadow despite the sun overhead.
"Oh... it's you, Ishio Dekahara," Marius said, turning slightly to glance at him. He recalled a moment where they had a friendly spar. The moment he opened his third eye was the moment everything changed.
'Never trust a guy who casts no shadow and never opens his eyes,' Marius thought.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be below, training the pitiful children?" Ishio asked as he casually leaned on the stone railing beside him, his tone neither mocking nor kind—just curiously detached.
Marius sighed and looked off into the distance. "You're right. I should get going. They're probably waiting for me." His voice was neutral, but something in his expression showed how tired he was.
"Do you think any of them will make it through to the next phase?" Ishio asked, his tone suddenly thoughtful. "It's been a long time since I last taught Weakpoint Correction."
Marius shrugged slightly, eyes still forward. "Who knows? It's too early to say."
Ishio gave a faint chuckle. "Try to go easy on them, will you? You do realize that your harshness is probably why none of them ever survive past the first stage."
Marius turned his head just a little, a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "The Master designed the training, not me. If you've got complaints, take them up with him." He paused, then added, "Besides, those five made it through. If they could do it, anyone can."
"Those five were different," Ishio said quietly. "They weren't just strong—they were something else, I doubt we'll ever find someone like them."
Marius didn't answer. The smirk faded from his face, replaced by cold determination.
"Whatever. I'm off."
In a flash, he vanished—disappearing in a blur of motion, so fast that the wind itself was left struggling to catch up.
A moment later, Marius appeared in front of the gathered trainees. They stood on cracked stone tiles in a wide training arena surrounded by steep cliff walls. The sky above was grey and still. The air was thick with tension—the kind that made your lungs feel heavier than they should.
Some of the trainees looked like they had already been broken. Their eyes were hollow, their shoulders slumped, as if their will to fight had been scraped out of them with a rusty blade. Others trembled at the mere sight of Marius, their faces pale as death, as though they were staring at the Grim Reaper himself.
Then suddenly, everyone turned their heads.
Two figures were approaching from the far end of the arena—two more trainees. But something was different about them.
"Hey… do you think they had a fight or something?" one of the trainees whispered, nudging the boy beside him as he nodded toward the two figures walking toward the group.
All heads slowly turned to look.
Zane and Onilia were approaching from the far side of the training field, but something was off. It was well-known among the trainees that wherever Zane went, Onilia was usually right behind him, like his silent shadow. The two were nearly inseparable.
But now… they looked like strangers walking toward the gallows.
Zane's shoulders were tense, his eyes locked forward with a blank, almost lost look. Onilia followed beside him, her usual grace dulled, her expression unreadable. The air between them was heavy—so thick with tension it felt like the ground might crack beneath their feet.
"Hurry up, you two. Get in line—we're just about to begin," Marius called out, his voice echoing across the training arena.
He stood with arms crossed, his long coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. His sharp eyes locked onto Zane's face—and for a brief moment, even the experienced instructor paused.
It was the first time Marius had ever seen that expression on Zane's face—a mix of helplessness, frustration, and something else he couldn't quite name. It wasn't fear… but it wasn't courage either. It was like watching someone who had lost the will to swim, sinking slowly in calm water.
Onilia silently slipped into the line with the other trainees, her eyes avoiding everyone. Her posture was stiff and guarded.
Zane, however, did not move to join the others. Instead, he walked straight toward Marius.
Gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire.
"Zane, hurry up and fall in line," Marius said again, this time with a hint of steel in his voice.
But Zane kept walking.
The trainees began whispering among themselves, unable to contain their curiosity.
"Hey, is he high or something?" one trainee muttered. "He's never done anything like this before."
"Maybe it's a new test," another chimed in, "Like… you have to disrespect Instructor Marius to pass, just like what he did last time."
"You want to die for real?" someone hissed, glaring at the speaker.
Nenis stood a little apart from the others, her arms folded as she watched everything unfold. Her brow furrowed.
Something wasn't right.
Zane finally stopped a few steps away from Marius, his hands clenched at his sides. He took a breath, looked up, and spoke in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Instructor… do you know how I can return to my planet?"
Silence dropped like a hammer.
Every single trainee froze, eyes wide with disbelief.
"He's finally snapped," one trainee whispered with a grin. "He's quitting. Couldn't handle the pressure. That's right, loser-run back to your planet, haha."
"Knew he'd brake eventually," another muttered, shaking his head with a scoff.
Nenis glanced toward Onilia. Her face gave nothing away, but her hands—clenched tightly behind her back—told another story.
She stared at Onilia.
'She knew. She knew he wanted to leave… but why?'
Back in front of the group, Marius narrowed his eyes.
His voice was low but sharp.
"Zane… repeat that."