Orin woke with the strange, heavy clarity that came before thought fully settled. His body felt rested, but his mind wasn't the first thing to rise.
Observation was.
The dorm was dim and quiet. Wake slept with the posture of a disciplined fighter—body aligned, breath measured, never fully vulnerable. Starke muttered in his sleep, tangled in his blanket like he'd been fighting ghosts all night.
But someone else wasn't asleep.
Kahn-Ra was already watching him.
He waited at the foot of Orin's bed—not lounging, not stretching or shifting. Simply waiting. Still in a way that wasn't natural for anything young or restless. His eyes were locked on Orin with a focus so complete it was almost startling. Not impatient. Not harsh.
Just certain.Like he'd known the exact moment Orin would wake and intended to meet him there.
Orin blinked sleep from his eyes. "Morning—"
A thought slid through his mind before the word even finished forming.
Stop using your mouth.
The voice wasn't loud. Wasn't intrusive. But it carried weight—an older tone, measured, controlled, brushing against Orin's thoughts like a presence that had been trained to enter softly and still dominate the room.
Orin frowned. You… don't want me to speak?
Kahn-Ra's eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in critique.
Your thoughts scatter when you speak. They reveal what you fear and what you intend. Both are weaknesses.A pause.You will need to fully learn telepathy to speak to me properly.
Orin exhaled. "I'm not used to—"
Again, Kahn-Ra cut in, tone smooth but firm. No voice.
Orin swallowed and tried again—this time in thought. What do you want me to do?
The intention was clumsy. Half-formed. More feeling than structure.
Kahn-Ra rose and stepped closer—not with animal padding, but deliberate placement of each paw, as if nothing he did was wasted movement. He stopped in front of Orin, tail still, gaze sharpening with interest.
Better. But your intention shakes. Hold it firmly before offering it.
Orin nodded. Or tried to. The instinct to answer out loud kept creeping forward.
He closed his eyes instead, inhaled slowly, and focused on shaping the thought with more precision.
Teach me.
It landed in Kahn-Ra's awareness like a small, solid stone—finally shaped instead of dropped.
Kahn-Ra's whiskers twitched by the slightest margin—his version of approval.
Acceptable, he said. Again.
Orin repeated it. Stronger this time. Clearer.
Kahn-Ra's tone softened—not warm, but less sharp.You learn quickly when you stop running from your own mind.
Before Orin could reply, Wake stirred, stretching with slow discipline. Kahn-Ra's eyes flicked toward him, but his posture didn't change—he didn't shrink his presence, but he didn't challenge Wake with it either. He simply acknowledged another aware being in the room.
Starke snapped awake with a snort loud enough to shake dust off the rafters.
"I'm alive," he muttered. "I think."
Orin almost smiled.
Kahn-Ra projected a dry ripple of thought:The loud one survives through accident, not intention.
Orin smothered a laugh as he stood.
Wake noticed Kahn-Ra immediately. "He's… staring harder than normal."
Orin shrugged. "He's always like this."
"Fair," Wake said.They dressed quickly, preparing for morning training. Orin strapped on his cleavers—short-sword in shape, butcher knife in intention—and the weight of them balanced him instantly. Wake adjusted his bracers, Starke fought with a strap for three full minutes, and the group stepped out into the bright courtyard.
Hachi Academy was already awake.
Instructors barked commands. Blessed students flared sparks of radiant power. Blood Hunters practiced controlled shifts. Steel clashed from weapons classes, arcs of magic flickering like second suns.
Orin felt eyes following him.Some curious.Some wary.Some locked, not on him—but on the small black feline gliding at his heel.
Kahn-Ra walked with a posture that was neither timid nor aggressive. Just… assured. Silent. A presence students instinctively moved around without understanding why.
Wake leaned close. "He doesn't act like an animal."
"He's not," Orin murmured.
Kahn-Ra didn't react, but Orin felt a whisper against the back of his mind:Correct.
Instructor Renna spotted them.
"INITIATES. MOVE!"
They fell in.
Kahn-Ra sat behind Orin—not like a pet following a command, but like someone taking a seat in a place he believed was already his. A few students watched him with stiff shoulders. A second-year whispered something to his friend and immediately pretended he hadn't when Kahn-Ra's eyes slid toward him with a quiet, assessing calm.
Renna eyed the bobcat narrowly. "Keep that thing in line, Slain."
Before Orin could speak, Kahn-Ra's thought brushed his mind:She assumes much.
Do nothing, Orin projected quickly.
Kahn-Ra's gaze held steady on Renna for a moment. Then he blinked once and looked away.
For now, he added.
Renna barked, "Warm-ups!"
They ran. They rolled. They dodged. They pivot-struck. Orin matched the pace easily, Wake beside him, shifting his weight with a strange grace that almost looked like dancing.
Training chaos swirled around them, but Kahn-Ra never moved unless he wished to—sliding between students without ever being touched, as if their movements bent around him.
At one point, a Blessed student misfired a blast too close to Orin's back.
Kahn-Ra rose instantly, a silent flicker of intent sharpening behind his eyes—
Stay.Orin's thought shot out like a tightened rope.
Kahn-Ra stopped mid-step. Slowly, he lowered himself back down.
Wake exhaled. "He listens."
"He's teaching me," Orin replied.
Wake gave him a curious look. "What exactly is he teaching?"
Orin hesitated. "Control."
Kahn-Ra sent a faint pulse of amusement.He undersells it.Partner drills began.
Wake stepped forward. "You and me."
Orin nodded.
Wake took stance, adjusting Orin's elbow slightly. "Before we begin, I want to show you something."
The training pendulum swung toward them—huge, heavy, unforgiving.
Orin tensed. "Wake—"
But Wake didn't dodge. He braced.
The pendulum smashed into his forearm—and his veins lit instantly, glowing orange like molten steel flowing through him. The impact rippled across his shoulders and into his opposite arm.
Wake exhaled sharply—and released the force downward.
A shockwave cracked the ground.
Orin's jaw tightened in surprise. "Wake… how—?"
"Phoenix blood," Wake said. "The monks who saved me taught me how to turn incoming force into power instead of destruction. If I don't redirect it… it burns out of control."
Orin stared at him.
Wake's eyes softened. "I know what it's like to feel dangerous."
Something unknotted inside Orin's chest. Not fully. But enough.
"I thought I was alone in that," Orin said quietly.
"You're not," Wake replied.
Kahn-Ra's thought slid across Orin's mind with unexpected approval:This one carries his fire without drowning in it. Useful.
Orin hid his smile.Their spar was fluid and fast. Orin's cleavers flashed, Wake redirected impacts through his limbs like living conduits. Starke yelled encouragements that didn't help anyone.
Then a shout cut across the yard:
"Keep that thing away from me!"
Orin spun.
A student had fallen backward, staring wide-eyed as Kahn-Ra stood calmly in front of him. No aggression. No bared teeth. But his presence alone was enough to make the boy scramble away.
Orin rushed over. Kahn-Ra, stop.
Kahn-Ra's gaze flicked toward him—sharp but not hostile.He insulted you.
Let him go.
A long second passed.
Then Kahn-Ra stepped aside without a sound.
Wake exhaled. "He takes things personally."
"He takes me personally," Orin corrected.
Kahn-Ra's golden eyes met Orin's briefly.You are mine to sharpen. Not theirs to mishandle.
The statement wasn't possessive—it felt more like a mentor claiming responsibility for a student. Whether Orin liked it or not.
Orin projected a calmer thought: Please don't escalate unless I say so.
Kahn-Ra considered him. Tail sweeping once, slow and thoughtful.
As you ask.
That was more than obedience.That was trust.Training continued. Drills blurred into forms. Forms into sparring. Sparring into exhaustion. But Orin kept pace with Wake, cleavers flashing, feet steady.
Kahn-Ra remained alert the entire time, never relaxed, always aware.
And every now and then, when Orin did something precise or controlled, he felt a spark of approval from the bond—brief, restrained, but real.
By the time Renna dismissed them, Starke collapsed dramatically onto the grass.
Wake cracked his knuckles. "That was good work today."
Orin nodded. "It felt… easier."
Wake grinned. "Control always does."
Kahn-Ra rose and approached Orin—not hurried, not slow, but with the same deliberate awareness he showed in every movement.
Orin didn't need telepathy for this thought to come across:
He expected Orin to continue.
He expected Orin to grow.
And for the first time, Orin felt a steady truth settle inside him:
He wasn't walking alone anymore.
Not with Wake beside him.Not with Starke stumbling behind them.And certainly not with Kahn-Ra watching him the way a teacher watches the future he intends to shape.
The day had barely begun.But for Orin, something far more important had started to move.