CHAPTER 57 – AT THE EDGE OF THE COUNTDOWN
When Aleric's footsteps finally faded away, the air in the corridor began to move again. The mana flow slowly returned to its former rhythm, the stone walls shedding the invisible pressure that had weighed on them.
But for Seryn, nothing had returned to how it was.
He remained where he stood.
He neither moved forward nor stepped back. His shoulders were tense, his breathing measured. At the exact center of his chest—where the crack lay—there was no longer any pain. That absence was more unsettling than the pain itself. Because when it came to the grey flow, silence was never a good sign.
Not yet.
That phrase was no longer just a whisper. It had become a sensation. Something tied to time. Something that did not rush, did not apply pressure—yet was unmistakably waiting.
Seryn slowly exhaled. He opened and closed his fingers. The veins in his palms seemed slightly more pronounced since touching the grey crystal. Not stronger… just more sensitive.
"A countdown," he murmured to himself. "But I don't know where the starting line is."
He began to walk.
Slow. Controlled. Almost measured.
He turned toward the Academy's lesser-used inner passages, deliberately avoiding the main corridors crowded with classrooms. He didn't want to speak to anyone right now. He didn't want to explain anything. Most of all, he didn't want anyone's gaze interfering with the rhythm of the crack.
The grey flow was still there.
But it was different.
For the first time since coming into contact with the crystal, it wasn't pushing outward. It wasn't expanding, straining, or asserting pressure. Instead… it was waiting. As if observing a decision Seryn had yet to make.
That difference unsettled him.
If it's no longer pushing me, he thought, then it no longer needs to force me.
When he reached the door leading to the old inner garden, he stopped. He realized he didn't want to enter again. What had happened moments ago needed to remain confined to that place. Returning would mean calling back the same echo.
"No," he whispered. "Not again."
He moved away from the door and entered a narrower side passage—one that followed a line of old administrative rooms rarely used by instructors. The walls were thicker here. The mana lines weaker. Noise didn't reach this far.
Here—finally—he stopped.
He leaned his back against the cold stone. He did not close his eyes. He had learned that closed eyes allowed too much inward space. He didn't need that now.
Slowly, he placed his palm over his chest.
The crack.
It was there.
But no longer chaotic. It felt less like a tear and more like a deliberately narrowed passage. It wasn't sealed. It wasn't suppressed. But it wasn't fully released either.
I'm not silencing you, Seryn thought. I'm just not answering.
With that thought, the grey flow rippled faintly—almost like a dissatisfied vibration.
Seryn frowned. "You'll get used to it."
This wasn't a challenge. Nor a declaration. Just an observation.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time had lost its clarity. But something was changing.
The Academy's ambient mana flow became clearer in this narrow passage. For the first time, Seryn could distinctly separate the grey flow from the surrounding mana. Normally intertwined, their boundaries blurred—now they felt like separate layers.
Is this also the crystal's influence?
Yet he didn't take the grey crystal out of his pocket. He didn't touch it. He consciously ignored its presence. Aleric's warning echoed in his mind.
Not yet.
That phrase was now a countdown. And the most dangerous thing during a countdown was rushing.
For a brief moment, Seryn felt a faint tremor coming from deep within the Academy. It wasn't mana. Not aura either. It was broader, more diffuse—like the world itself had subtly shifted somewhere far away.
His body reacted instantly. His shoulders tensed. The grey flow reflexively tried to expand—but Seryn didn't allow it. He didn't suppress it. He simply didn't guide it.
The tremor passed.
But the sensation remained.
This isn't about the Academy, he thought. This is… larger.
He didn't know what it was. He didn't need to. Not yet. But one thing was clear:
The grey flow recognized that tremor.
And it didn't like it.
"So I'm not alone," he murmured. "There are other things that know this path."
The thought was colder than he expected.
He resumed walking, this time toward the rooms assigned to him. Not to rest. To be alone.
He sat at his desk.
There was nothing in front of him. No parchment. No crystal. No notes.
Emptiness.
And within that emptiness, for the first time, he could arrange his thoughts.
Aleric is afraid. My grandfather chose silence. The Temple watches. The Academy measures.
And me?
What am I doing?
The answer didn't come immediately.
That was normal.
Because for the first time, Seryn wasn't reacting. For the first time, he wasn't developing reflexes against power, wasn't immediately positioning himself against a threat.
For the first time…
He was waiting.
But this wasn't passive waiting.
This was a deliberate stance.
The grey flow stirred faintly again, as if attempting to object. Without closing his eyes, Seryn spoke calmly:
"If you're calling me, then you'll tell me the cost of that call."
After those words, the grey flow withdrew.
Truly withdrew.
For the first time, Seryn felt the crack in his chest fall completely silent. No vibration. No pressure. No echo.
This wasn't comforting.
It was dangerous.
Because it meant the other side had begun waiting as well.
Seryn leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The stone surface was as cold and expressionless as ever.
"The Fourth Knot," he murmured. "I know I won't be able to hide there."
That wasn't new.
What was new… was this:
I may not have to answer there either.
The moment that thought solidified in his mind, the grey flow trembled once more—very faintly this time. No objection. No pressure.
Just… attention.
Seryn pressed his lips together.
"The countdown has begun," he said. "But you won't decide my step."
The silence in the room deepened.
And for the first time—
That silence was on Seryn's side.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This chapter marks a quiet but crucial shift.
The threat does not escalate through force—but through choice.
Seryn is no longer reacting to the grey flow; he is learning to withhold response, and that may be more dangerous than resistance.
The Fourth Knot is approaching.
What it r
eveals will not be power—but intent.
Thank you for reading.
If you're enjoying the slow pressure and internal tension of this arc, your support means more than you think.