The courtyard echoed with clashing wooden staves, laughter, and the occasional yelp of pain. But one boy stood apart, watching the others with hollow eyes. He was the first Kairo had touched, the first who had collapsed days ago, too sick to even summon a spark.
"Go on," the man urged, handing the boy a training orb. "Try again."
The boy hesitated, then pressed his palm to the sphere. For a breath, nothing happened. Then—
Fwoom.
Light burst inside the orb, pure and steady, brighter than anyone expected. The boy gasped, tears brimming as the orb glowed with his mana affinity.
"I… I can feel it!" he cried. "I can use magic again!"
The yard fell silent. Dozens of eyes turned—not to the boy, but to Kairo.
The man's gaze sharpened. "It was you," he said quietly. "You healed him."
Children rushed toward Kairo, some excited, some desperate. One girl tugged his sleeve, whispering, "Please… help me too." Another boy dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.
Kairo's expression didn't change. His crimson eyes flicked toward the sick ones resting in the shade. For a moment, he stood still, torn between indifference and something heavier.
Then, slowly, he stepped forward.
One by one, he placed his hand on them. Pale skin against trembling shoulders. Hollow eyes meeting fevered gazes. With each touch, the black weakness seemed to lift, like smoke vanishing in the wind.
Orbs flared to life. Sparks danced in the children's hands. Laughter turned to sobs of relief.
The man watched with folded arms, awe softening his weathered face. "So it begins," he murmured. "The mark of a true healer."
Igron snorted, though even he couldn't hide his amazement. "Hah. Kairo the Silent Savior. Who'd have thought?"
But Kairo said nothing. His faint smile lingered only for a second, quickly erased by his usual emptiness.
Above, unseen, the clouds shifted. The black eye left its faint stain on the horizon, as if watching.