I enter the room with freshly brushed teeth, clean clothes, and only a faint rumble in my stomach. The two slices of cheese from yesterday do their job — even if I feel a little guilty for having smuggled them into my room. Then again, that's just another one of my brilliant solutions, so I quickly toss the guilt aside and drop back into a cross-legged position.
Just like yesterday.
Just like during training with Shato and the others.
Because they've left me. I can't rely on them anymore — I have to take my fate into my own hands now. I've come to terms with that. I've accepted it. And that's exactly why I close my eyes now. Focusing. Breathing. Finding balance.
And then — clenching my fists.
I have to stick with it, is my first thought.
I'm just an obstacle, is my second.
Anger surges through me.
It burns through my veins — a well-deserved fury that makes me hiss and punch my thighs. A desperate attempt to vent some of it. Then I breathe again. Then I hold my breath. Then I try to focus once more.
But my head isn't filled with questions — only with words.
Wounding words. Honest words. Words that were never meant for me.
Words that make me angry all over again.
I take another breath, open my eyes for a second, unclench my fists, swallow.
Then I scratch my chin, snap my fingers once, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
I repeat the words in my head.
Inhale. Exhale. I try to think of nothing but breathing.
I close my eyes again. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale — hold.
Then I start to think again.
I think of protecting him.
The lack of oxygen burns.
A heat rushes through my veins.
And then I see it — the violet flame before my inner eye.
It flickers, as always — faint and lonely, surrounded by darkness.
Just like always. And yet, different.
Because no matter how deep I sink, I can't seem to reach it.
It feels so far away, farther than ever before.
When was the first time? I can do it with the questions, I think.
What did I feel? With the questions, I can get closer.
My eyelids begin to shimmer.
What did I sense? I just have to focus on the questions.
The violet glow flares — sparks begin to form around my feet.
What went through my mind? It's working. Just a little more.
The light gathers into a swirling vortex, circling me, flashing — until it bursts into a blazing flame.
What image forms from your answers?
I did it. I can do anything. Because I'm not a bur—
All at once, out of nowhere, the gathered violet energy shoots upward toward the ceiling.
As if it suddenly became immense.
As if the candle had turned into a bonfire.
But the illusion fades in an instant — the violet blaze flickers, flashes, and then, just as suddenly as it came to life, it vanishes.
As if it had never been there.
I gasp for air, fists tightening instantly, the conversation rushing back to me — the fragments still trapped inside my chest.
I collapse. My body folds forward, and I barely catch myself with my hands as a sharp pain shoots through every limb.
There's nothing left of the fire. Not even a trace.
Not a flicker of light in my eyes, not even the memory of it — only me, hunched over, both arms pressed to the floor, breathing, trying somehow to bear the unbearable pain.
No — not bear it. Block it out.
"Damn it," I whisper at first.
My voice is weak, almost gone, as the first tears well up, mostly from the pain, but not only that.
"Why… damn it, what the hell is this?!"
Still breathless, I clench my hand and slam it against the floor — though it's more a faint pat than a punch.
"I can't even do that anymore… can't even control my own power. Why am I so damn pathetic!"
Despair floods through me.
It could end here and now — I wouldn't care.
Maybe that would even be better. Maybe the world would be a more peaceful place.
Without me.
Maybe the conflict would end. Maybe Shato would save the world — or at least save us, the Wunder — if I just stopped standing in his way.
If an obstacle like me simply stopped existing.
Yes… that must be it.
Hope fills my eyes.
Exactly! I was the problem — me, and always me.
And if I'm gone, Shato can finally save the world.
A false hope. One that doesn't shine — it darkens.
I could end it today!
I'll just turn myself in — yes, it's simple!
New determination floods my body — hope turning into fatal delusion — and I twist toward the door, start crawling, on all fours, frantic, broken, split apart.
Before I stop.
Or rather — before I'm stopped.
By the long hem of a black coat, and the strong legs behind it.
Legs that pull me out of my fever dream.
"Vio," comes Shato's voice, quiet as a whisper.
I freeze.
I breathe.
I look up.
Then my fists clench again — a new anger rises inside me.
And I try to stand — at least, I try — only to collapse again right away.
Because my legs are trembling, no matter how much I try to pretend otherwise.
"I've looked for you everywhere," Shato's voice begins gently, but I keep my eyes on the floor.
From shame and disappointment.
"Then again, I could've guessed. Since you weren't in your room or in the kitchen."
My eyelids sink even lower; I'd close them if I could, but even that no longer works.
"Oh well, it's too late now anyway. Rather, I should be happy."
A desperate little smile flashes across my lips. Shato should be happy? After I took everything from him.
"After all, I couldn't wish for a better student!"
Suddenly, my eyes sparkle. A small glimmer of hope, that lifts my gaze, just a little.
"You were even so diligent that you skipped breakfast."
For a moment I feel guilty about the stolen cheese slices, but then the trembling in my legs eases.
"Such diligence should be rewarded. So let me help you, Vio."
I can't believe it. Shouldn't he be angry? After I took everything from him. Everything he built — so why? Why can you still smile after all this?
"Hm… but where do I start?"
Shato takes a few steps back and scratches his chin, then raises a finger as if he's had a brilliant idea.
"I've got it! We'll start with a lesson."
I feel the trembling move into my lips as their corners lift and I slowly straighten up.
"Ah no, stay seated," Shato stops me.
Confused, I obey and sit back down, cross-legged, with my eyes roaming along the long coat to his broad grin.
"Look, you remember the questions, right?"
I want to nod, but I'm still a little shocked. I hardly understand anything right now.
"Um, what I mean is, I didn't tell you the whole truth back then."
He does that often — maybe even right now — but it doesn't really matter whether he lies or omits things. He's still here.
"The questions aren't only there to make it easier for you. Rather… they encompass your purpose."
He raises his voice, as if asking himself, or hesitating; it doesn't matter.
"Let's say there are decisive stimuli you can trigger more easily with the questions. A Wunder — one who feels pain, who harbors rage at others and whose great aim is revenge — will activate their power with ease when they stand before their target and can finally kill it."
But that's obvious. If I taste cheese, I can imagine the flavor easily. No — then I don't even have to imagine it in the first place.
"On the other hand, it's harder for him when he can only imagine his target. When he can only summon anger artificially, and causes the pain himself."
Yes, it's harder, but really it's about practice. Like with me.
"You already know a lot, but…"
Shato moves his mouth thoughtfully, looks up and down in turns, and finally sits down on the floor too. Maybe because he wants to meet my eye level.
"There's a third variant. If you can't clear your head at all. Example: the Wunder who wants revenge cannot activate their power if they are afraid and want to protect someone."
That's new. This really turns into a lesson now, but I don't mind.
"Even if they inflict pain on themselves. As long as the other two feelings prevail, they won't make it. Because this power relies a lot on stimuli. If we oppose those stimuli, it becomes nearly impossible. It's like fighting ourselves. A Wunder bent on revenge who is protecting someone would have to expose themselves to such enormous pain that it isn't physically possible alone. Consequently, they won't form their cycle."
And then they die. Their death would be unavoidable. That's a huge weakness Shato only reveals to me now. And I call this person my teacher.
"What am I trying to tell you then? Simple. You have something on your mind, right?"
I pause, stop my train of thought, and look up. Not happily — trembling, almost traumatized by Shato's overwhelming insight.
No, rather worried.
Worried that he saw my failure.
Worried that I now appear even more like an obstacle.
Worried that he might really want to get rid of me.
"Won't you tell me what's wrong?"
I don't understand.
Why, Shato.
Why do you always smile?
Don't you know anger? No despair, no fear or sorrow? Is everything indifferent to you? Do the Five Aces mean nothing to you, then — why?
"Hmm, Vio? Sometimes you have to talk to someone. Even if it's embarrassing. Even if you don't want to impose. Even if you fear being cast out. Sometimes you have to jump over your own shadow."
He seems like an angel. A being with higher purpose. As if he has a perfectly pure heart. But he's just Shato.
So why —
Why does it feel right?
That I unload everything onto him again, that I am an obstacle again, that I will destroy everything again. Maybe I'll even kill you one day!
Why don't you understand?
I will destroy your world.
And why am I so selfish?
Why…
Why do I fall into your arms now?
As if my worries dissolve into thin air. As if he absorbs all the bad.
"You're a great kid. And one day you'll save the world, I know that for sure. But today is not that day. So today you're allowed to let yourself go. Steal cheese from dinner, hold childish views, be naive and believe in the good in people. And be an obstacle too. I mean that seriously, Vio."
Shato strokes my head, gentle and soothing; I could almost fall asleep in his warm arms, like before. But today is not the day for that. Which is why I free myself from his grip. Which is why I smile.
"I actually…"
Which is why I say, "…have no idea what you're talking about."
My grin could not be wider, my lie no more obvious. And yet Shato simply nods.
"Alright, then my monologue was probably completely unnecessary. And now you can surely show me your blazing flame, right?"
By blazing flame he means my energy. What else could he mean. So I close my eyes, lean back again, collect my breath and ask myself the questions.
A moment?
A feeling?
A stimulus?
A thought?
An image.
My mind is completely clear; answering these questions is easy. A complete contrast to before. I hold my breath, feel the warmth in my veins, see the violet flame right in front of me. My eyelids glow and the lilac veil wraps around my body — blazing, burning, full of drive.
I open my shining eyes. The lilac light casts a glow on Shato's black coat; the veil wavers irregularly, but it is there.
"That was a lot easier for you today, wasn't it?" Shato asks.
He doesn't know about my little collapse earlier — he wasn't there. And yet he's right. With a clear head and free thoughts it feels like a piece of cake, at least compared to yesterday.
"Good, then we'll repeat yesterday's training."
I nod confidently, stand up eager and turn around. My thoughts hover around my legs, my breath is calm and relaxed, but before I can do anything I feel Shato's hand on my shoulder.
"Wait."
A twitch runs through my whole body, as if I'm afraid, although I can't see why.
"Instead of jumping, today you get to strike all day. Alternating right and left, yeah?"
I follow the instruction blindly, shift my focus — think of my arms instead of my legs. A crucial difference.
The visible veil turns translucent, doesn't vanish completely, but remains barely perceptible, while the skin of my right hand begins to shimmer violet.
Then I breathe. Then I strike. Then my arm flares brighter. Then my left begins to gleam as well.
And I breathe again. Strike again. Repeat it all — until beads of sweat form on my forehead, until my breathing grows heavier, until my thoughts revolve solely around the rhythm of striking. Until the light grows brighter, almost like a small oil lamp.
And then it becomes tangible. The moment I clench my fist, the moment I tense my arm. As if I were giving more and more, as if I were more driven than ever, I perform a blow that stirs up the dust on the floor — only to follow with another that catches the same dust like a gust of wind.
Moving almost weightlessly, I strike again and again, each blow bringing the cloud of dust closer to the end of the room, until finally I draw back both arms. My vision blurs. The light on my hands flashes. And I deliver one last strike — one that sends a dense cloud of dust crashing against the far wall and forces me to collapse.
I breathe heavily, trembling all over, practically bathing in sweat. Yet it feels different from yesterday. Not by much, but I feel slightly further from losing consciousness — a kind of success.
"Here."
Shato hands me a water bottle just as I open my eyes. Without hesitation, I grab it, drink it all without thinking, then rise and give him a questioning look.
"What?" he replies — though he should be able to read it right off my lips.
An awkward silence fills the air for a moment, until Shato blinks and shrugs.
"What are you waiting for? Same as yesterday — let's go."
I open my mouth, ready to protest, but no sound escapes me. So I probably just look like I'm yawning before abruptly closing my eyes to cover up the embarrassment.
Guess I just lack the strength to speak — that's my excuse, my solution — as I once again turn inward. Once again, I see the violet flame. And suddenly, my heart begins to race.
Pain follows instantly. Almost at the same time, a cough tears through me, and again I fill my throat and the floor with blood.
The sensation is stronger this time — sharper, clearer, more vivid than yesterday.
As if someone were dragging a knife along my skin, seizing my heart and squeezing it tight.
As if someone were scraping the inside of my lungs and pressing my fingertips against a scorching stove.
As if a surge of blood were trying to force my eyes out of their sockets and rip out every single hair from my head.
I feel every pain so clearly, yet it doesn't even feel painful — more like I'm an observer, watching all these cruelties happen from afar.
And the moment this thought echoes through me, I once again perceive the blurred silhouette — followed by the vast chasm that stretches out before me.
It has gained color now — a barren wasteland lies beneath me and beyond the abyss.
Its depths are black, pitch-black, bottomless; one could truly fall forever. Scattered pebbles cover the dry ground, stretching all the way to the horizon, where a blue, cloudless sky extends — yet no sun can be seen.
It's a truly empty sky. Though the light must have a source somewhere.
In the midst of this desolate landscape, I stand.
Once again amazed by this strange, singular feeling.
Take one step further — and you die.
My body practically screams those words in my face. And yet I can hardly suppress this curiosity. This question of what will happen. Just like last time. It must be about whatever outweighs the other: deathly fear or thirst for knowledge. But I'm still clinging to life, despite the little lapse earlier. After all, I have Shato at my side and a brother to find. I have someone who protects me and a goal I want to reach.
And as long as those two things exist in my life, I will probably never give in to that curiosity.
And I will never take that step.
So I turn around. I open my eyes. I see the wavering veil. I clearly make out the darkest corner of the hall. I can see my breath.
So I push myself up from the floor. I rise. I stand on both feet. I turn and see Shato.
With a smile on his lips.
"And? How are you?" he asks, sounding a little lost.
"Terrible," I answer, coughing more blood into my hand.
"And you say that with a smile on your face?" Shato replies.
"Maybe," I counter, somehow inappropriate.
I just can't think of much right now; keeping myself upright is hard enough.
"Then expand it," he says.
Shato points with his index finger at the faint veil that flickers just around my skin.
"Excuse me?" I ask incredulously, though I don't lose the smile.
"Just like I said," Shato answers.
"Focus on expanding it… um… you could spread your arms and press outward with every exhale. While you do that, think only about expanding… no, that you want to grow your flame," he explains, stretching both his hands outward as if demonstrating something.
"You're… crazy," I reply, taking deeper breaths; standing like this has clearly exhausted me, and even the first drops of sweat fall into the puddles of blood at my feet.
Still, I follow the instruction — arguing won't get me anywhere. My shimmering eyelids fall again, I breathe in, then out more forcefully. My arms lift, outward, as if I want to push something away from me. The violet veil flows with them, laying itself over my arms, clinging to them and refusing to let go. It yields to the outward push, flickers and wavers, continues to move unevenly but calmly. Like a kind of mist — that's perhaps the best way to describe the spectacle. A lilac mist that wraps around my body. A mist I must push outward at all costs. So I breathe.
Inhale. Oxygen rushes through my body, fills my lungs, then my veins.
And finally my head.
Waves of euphoria surge through me — I feel as though I've just taken the most satisfying breath of my entire life.
A breath that fills me with life for the very first time.
Like fresh mint gliding through my blood, awakening my organs.
But that wasn't my goal.
The moment I exhale, the only thing I think about is expansion — pushing outward.
I picture it vividly: me blowing and blowing until the grass bends, the wind changes direction, the walls tremble. I blow so hard that even oxygen itself can't compete. So hard that I nearly collapse from lack of air. Maybe I've held my breath for a minute — maybe two. But that no longer matters.
Because suddenly, I feel lighter.
I feel a drive, a determination — as if I could do anything, as long as I can imagine it.
As if I could control that mist, that flickering veil.
And expand it.
By a whole meter.
I inhale.
My eyes snap open.
"Well done," praises Shato.
Probably — since the pounding of my heart has risen to my ears by now.
"Next, you'll form small spheres that you'll let drift through your aura. I'd say four should be enough."
Maybe I'm imagining all this. Maybe it's just in my head.
But one thing remains certain.
Never.
It's impossible.
Especially when a sharp pain pierces my heart and the veil vanishes in an instant.
At first, all I can hear is my heartbeat — it drowns out every sound, every voice, even the loudest roar.
Well, every sound except for the dull thud that follows a moment later.
I lie there silently on the floor; Shato frantically waves his hands in front of my eyes.
But I don't react.
Lying here is simply too comfortable. I could just let go, drift away, fall asleep.
Yet the pounding drowns out even that feeling.
So I just lie there.
Just stare.
Sometimes blink.
Then breathe.
But nothing more.
For now.
Until a few minutes pass — and Shato's mumbling turns into a soft whisper.
"... since you like them so much. So we'll do that tomorrow, okay?"
I look at him, confused.
"What is it?" he asks, gently brushing his hand over my head.
"W-what are we… doing tomorrow?" I whisper, my voice hoarse and my throat thick with saliva.
"Huh? But I just told you?"
My eyebrows lift slightly.
"We're going on a trip! To the shopping tunnel. I've got a few errands to run — and you're still owed some Sondies," Shato explains, apparently for the second time.
"B-but what about… training?" I ask, pushing myself up onto my elbows with all the strength I have left.
"Oh, that's canceled. Think of it as a change of pace."
Shato's answer makes me hesitate — not sure if he's being serious.
But even if I wanted to, I couldn't muster enough thoughts right now to argue.
Or even reply.
"But that's tomorrow. For now, you can repeat what you just did. So — expand your cycle and let those little spheres float. Good luck!"
Shato turns, strolls over to the couch, and just… leaves me there.
Without answering my questions.
Without asking how I'm doing.
Because I'm anything but capable right now — not of standing, and certainly not of facing his exhausting challenge.
Honestly, I'd love to tell him that — but I simply don't have the strength to argue.
So instead, I straighten myself, sigh, and close my eyes again, letting my thoughts circle around that same candle.
Just like before.
A repetition I repeat, and repeat —
And repeat. In vain.
The veil forms, expands — and I collapse.
The veil forms again, expands — and I collapse.
The veil forms again — and I collapse.
The blood loss is catching up to me; my focus wavers.
Now I can't even form the veil without falling.
Breath after breath, I clench my fists, try again — and collapse once more.
But this time, something's different.
I catch myself.
Push off the ground.
Grasp my determination.
One last try, I think.
This time, I'll make it, I feel.
Just focus, I tell myself.
My eyes glow again.
The veil flares up one final time.
The mist clings to my arms.
The violet flame burns bright.
I spread my hands.
Push outward.
The aura flows and expands — reaches one meter, then two.
Progress. I can do this.
I take a deep breath, focus —
I already see the first sphere before my inner eye.
I glimpse the second, feel the third.
And finally collapse.
Darkness consumes my sight.
I feel nothing anymore.