As the triplets finally turned away, their backs stiff with humiliation and rage, one of them couldn't resist shouting one last time.
"You are not welcome here, you filth. Don't think you're safe. The Lord will hear about this."
Zeroth barely reacted. He let out a slow breath, more tired than afraid.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Go ahead. Tell your daddy."
Kirius kept barking insults even as they walked away, his voice sharp and desperate, but Zeroth stopped listening. He had already turned his gaze elsewhere, as if they no longer existed.
After a while, the path emptied. The triplets disappeared into the palace corridors, their silhouettes swallowed by stone and arrogance.
But someone remained.
Footsteps hurried behind him.
"Hey—Zeroth!"
He stopped.
The voice was soft. Calm. Careful. It didn't carry malice or pride. It carried hesitation.
When he turned, he saw the girl from before rushing toward him, her movements unsure, like she wasn't certain she was allowed to approach him at all.
Her voice reminded him of his mother.
The realization hit him harder than expected.
Not in sound alone—but in intent. In the way it reached him without trying to dominate him.
Zeroth felt it immediately.
She wasn't a threat.
"What do you want," he asked, his tone flat, guarded.
She slowed, stopping a short distance away, clearly nervous now that she had his attention.
"You seem… interesting," she said, searching for the right words. "You're strong, aren't you?"
Zeroth almost laughed.
Instead, he smirked faintly, shaking his head. "No. Get lost."
"I—I'm Mirai," she said quickly, as if afraid he would disappear if she hesitated. "Mirai Vitral. I use wind magic. If you ever need help, you can come to me."
That made him pause.
His expression shifted, only for a heartbeat. Confusion slipped through the cracks of his cold exterior.
I'm rude to her, he thought. But she's kind to me. Why?
He didn't understand it. He didn't trust it.
Without another word, Zeroth turned and walked away, his notebook clutched loosely in his hand.
Behind him, Mirai remained standing, watching his back grow smaller, unable to explain the strange pull she felt toward him—as if something vast and unseen had brushed past her soul the moment he turned away.
Hours passed.
Zeroth trained.
His body screamed with every movement. His muscles burned, his joints protested, his breathing turned ragged—but he didn't stop.
His form was still bad. Far from perfect.
But it was better.
Each repetition tore him apart and stitched him back together, just a little stronger than before. His skin was scraped, bruised, and stained with dried blood. His hands trembled when he finally stopped.
Unbeknownst to him, Mirai watched from a distance, half-hidden behind stone pillars and garden walls.
To her, Zeroth didn't look strong.
He looked broken.
And yet—dangerous.
There was something about him she couldn't explain. A pressure. A gravity. As if standing too close for too long would pull her into something irreversible.
Eventually, hunger forced Zeroth to stop.
He stared at the palace buildings, hesitating.
Asking for food meant attention. Attention meant humiliation. Or worse—being thrown out.
So he left.
The forest beyond the palace walls swallowed him quickly, branches and shadows closing in as if welcoming him.
He was focused now.
Hungry.
He needed prey.
As he moved deeper, his awareness sharpened. The forest felt different today—clearer. Sounds separated themselves naturally. Movements stood out.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
A wild boar burst from the undergrowth, charging straight at him, tusks lowered, eyes wild.
Zeroth's posture shifted instantly.
His expression hollowed. His pupils dilated.
Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth without him noticing.
The boar felt slow.
Too slow.
As if the world itself had thickened around it.
Zeroth moved.
He dodged easily, leaping higher than any normal child could. His fist came down.
Black Punch.
The impact echoed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He didn't stop until the boar collapsed, its body twitching before finally going still.
Zeroth stood there, breathing hard.
For the first time…
He felt proud.
Not relieved.
Not desperate.
Proud.
He looked at his hands, slick with blood, and realized something important.
He hadn't attacked blindly.
He had controlled it.
Chosen it.
With purpose.
The problem came afterward.
The body was too heavy.
He frowned, thinking, then spread his arms instinctively.
Dark energy gathered.
A thin black beam formed—unstable, flickering—but real.
It sliced through flesh and bone cleanly.
Zeroth didn't question it.
He didn't need to.
He carried what he could and returned.
Back in his small, filthy cabinet, he created fire—small, black, trembling.
Uncontrolled.
But it worked.
He ate.
Then he trained again.
Pushups. Pull-ups. Squats. Anything.
But his thoughts wouldn't quiet.
Faces.
Blood.
Screams.
Then—
The voice returned.
"Did this stop the war inside you? Of course it didn't, Zukiro Zeroth."
Zeroth froze.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!" he shouted.
The voice laughed softly.
"What would you do… for power?"
"Everything," Zeroth whispered. "Anything."
"Very well."
The voice vanished.
Something burned inside him.
Not pain.
Not pleasure.
Just… feeling.
Night fell.
Guards came.
He was summoned.
Before the Lord of Vitral, everyone bowed.
Everyone but him.
"How disrespectful, you filth!" the Lord barked.
A guardian forced Zeroth down.
"What the fuck do you want from me?" Zeroth snarled.
"I am not dependent on this clan. I am Kaelor's student."
Kirius appeared, pointing. "Dad! I told you—he's a filthy commoner!"
Zeroth laughed.
The Lord smiled coldly. "Your mother is going to enjoy seeing your head delivered to her."
The laughter stopped.
Zeroth stood.
"What did you say?"
The Lord's voice did not stop there.
"And Kaelor," he continued, his tone turning colder, sharper, as if savoring the words.
"That pathetic, broken excuse for a magician who dared bring you here… he will be executed as well."
The hall went silent.
Zeroth froze.
Not like before.
Not with rage bursting outward, not with reckless instinct.
Something inside him clicked.
Kaelor.
The man who pulled him out of the dirt.
The man who believed in him when no one else even bothered to hate him anymore.
The man who stood there, watching him fail again and again—and still waited.
The world narrowed.
The Lord kept speaking, unaware of what he had just done.
"I tolerated him because he was useful," the Lord said. "But usefulness has limits. And he crossed them the moment he brought trash like you into my presence."
Zeroth stopped hearing the room.
Stopped hearing the guards.
Stopped hearing Mirai's breathing.
His thoughts sharpened into a single, terrifying line.
You don't get to decide that.
His blank, hungry eyes lifted slowly, locking onto the Lord of Vitral.
This wasn't anger.
This wasn't hatred.
This was focus.
Pure. Cold. Absolute.
Kaelor had told him once:
Only the strongest keep their calm under the storm.
Zeroth felt the storm settle.
"If you touch him," Zeroth said quietly, his voice low enough that some thought they imagined it,
"I will kill you."
The words carried no threat.
No emotion.
They were simply… stated.
Even the guards hesitated.
For the first time, the Lord truly looked at Zeroth—not as filth, not as noise, but as something wrong.
Something that should not exist.
Mirai shouted. "DAD, WAIT!"
"If you defend him," the Lord said calmly, "you die too."
Then—
The attack.
Stone exploded.
Dust filled the hall.
Screams echoed.
Everyone thought Mirai was dead.
Until the dust cleared.
A black barrier stood.
Unbroken.
Zeroth stood before it, unaware of when he had raised his hand.
"What did you do?" the Lord roared.
Zeroth chuckled.
"Protecting someone you were supposed to protect."
Mirai stared at him, heart racing, cheeks warm with something she didn't understand—and fear flooding her chest.
Zeroth swallowed his pride.
"Give us one more chance," he said. "Please."
He turned and walked away.
Behind him—
"H-Hey, wait!" Mirai shouted.