Katsu stood in the doorway of his old dorm room, watching strangers box up his life.
A procession of Academy workers moved through the cramped hall.
Theg lifted his books, his worn boots, the battered satchel that still smelled faintly of smoke.
One paused by the desk, hesitated over a stack of half-burned notes.
Katsu moved quickly, snatching them up with a sharpness that drew a glance from Kairos.
The air felt thinner than usual, like too much had been taken out and not enough let back in.
Kairos sat cross-legged on the bed, pretending to study a stack of House records.
Virenth stood by the window, arms folded, face set in something too careful to be indifference.
"So they're really moving you out?" Virenth said at last, voice low.
Katsu didn't answer, not right away. He stared at the empty corner where his training gear used to be.
"Apparently I'm too important for broom closets now," he said, trying for a joke. The line landed with a thud. No one laughed.
A mover tried to lift his battered satchel. Katsu intercepted, gripping the old leather so tight his knuckles blanched. He didn't let go.
Kairos set his papers aside.
"So, how long were you planning on keeping us in the dark, 'heir'?"
Katsu looked at him. There was no pride in his face, no apology.
"Wasn't about hiding. Just… didn't want to say it until I was sure."
A silence opened—awkward, unbridgeable.
Katsu took in the room, every scar and mark.
There was the cracked mug Sydney had left behind, the faded mark where Rei had punched the wall last winter, the bedsheet with a burn from one of his own sleepless nights.
Every bit of clutter was a memory being erased by other people's hands.
"Guess this is it," Virenth muttered. He looked away, jaw tight. "No more slumming it with us. No more pretending to be just the son of old Shizune."
Katsu shrugged, shoulders hunched.
"I liked being just the son of the former general," he said, softer. "But I have mother too..."
The child of House Velthra sighed, he looked away.
Kairos noticed.
He tried to make it light.
"Bet your new room has a fireplace and a hundred windows."
It didn't work. The words sounded thin, even to him.
"Maybe," Katsu said. "But it won't have this." he set the satchel down, finally, letting his fingers linger on the old strap.
"None of it feels real. I keep thinking if I blink, I'll be back here, and it'll just be another day."
Another silence.
Kairos picked at the corner of a book. Virenth didn't respond at first.
He just watched Katsu with the kind of look only old comrades shared—except Katsu hadn't earned it. Not the way they had.
Kairos crossed his arms but stayed silent, letting the air stretch.
"Yeah…" Katsu went on, his voice low, almost distracted. "I think I have some kind of amnesia. You know?"
He gave a weak half-smile. Not for sympathy. Just to make the words feel lighter than they were.
"There's whole years I don't remember. My mother's voice. My father's face before the war lines settled in. All I've got are fragments. Glimpses that don't stay when I wake up."
He looked at his palm, the faint glow of Ancient Magic still curling beneath the skin.
"But I know you and Kairos were there. You trained with him. You fought beside him. You knew who he was when I only knew his absence."
Virenth finally shifted.
"He was proud of you."
Katsu blinked.
"…What?"
"General Shizune." Virenth's voice was steady. "He used to say your potential scared him. That if you ever unlocked it fully… no one would be able to stop you. Not even him."
Katsu swallowed. "He said that?"
Kairos nodded once. "'He's got Mortala's ambition and my precision,' he'd said once. 'Gods help the world if he ever figures out who he really is.'"
Katsu looked away.
The words didn't feel like praise.
They felt like prophecy.
Or a warning.
"…Then maybe it's better I don't remember."
No one answered. The silence said enough.
"You're not one of us anymore, Katsu," Virenth repeated, softer this time.
"You're something else now."
And for once, Katsu didn't argue.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't smile.
He just looked toward the horizon.
Sword on his back.
Legacy in his blood.
The Leviathan waiting.
And said:
"Yeah. I know."
...
Katsu stayed behind after the others left, the dorm quiet now.
Just the whisper of boots on old stone and the fading scent of dust and paper.
Sydney stepped into the doorway.
She didn't knock.
Just looked at him like she had something sharp to say and wasn't sure if it should cut.
"So," she said. "You're Velthra now."
Katsu didn't turn. Just kept packing the last of his things into the satchel he hadn't let anyone else touch.
"Was always Velthra," he muttered. "I just finally said it out loud."
Sydney moved closer. "Does it feel different now that everyone knows?"
He paused, thumb brushing the corner of a folded shirt. His voice came out quieter.
"Feels heavier."
"Good heavy or bad?"
"Both."
Sydney leaned against the bedpost he used to sleep under. The one with the burn mark from two months ago. His worst night.
"People are already treating you different," she said. "Like you're not just Katsu anymore. Not the monster from Wildgrow either."
He met her eyes.
"Maybe I'm not."
"You don't get to say that."
Her voice didn't rise, but it hit harder than if it had.
"You're still the guy who picked a fight with Kairos and forgot to eat for two days. Still the kid who panicked over a spell circle drawn wrong. Don't act like a name changes that."
Katsu looked down.
The sigil on his hand had stopped glowing, but it still pulsed like something alive.
"They want me to be someone else now."
"Then let them want," Sydney said. "You don't owe them who you become."
He stared at her.
Then finally... he nodded.
Not because he believed it yet.
But because he wanted to.
And sometimes, that was enough.