I landed on jagged obsidian,
but I didn't feel the impact.
The Inversion Mark translated the kinetic energy
into a sudden, immense silence.
---
The air of Astra'vhel was thick, heavy, and hot—
smelling of sulfur and cold, volatile magic.
The sensory input hit instantly.
Overwhelming.
Violent.
My amplified hearing was no longer just awareness.
It was omniscience.
---
Everywhere I turned, the city screamed:
The bass-heavy thump of thousands of demidemon hearts.
The metallic scratch of taloned feet.
The high-pitched electric hum of arcane sigils woven into the defense grid.
The overload stabbed into my skull—
a million auditory needles piercing my brain.
---
Fenrir's distant, mocking voice whispered inside my mind:
"Control the frequency, Dawn.
You are the conductor now."
---
I forced my consciousness into the cold, burning void of the Inverted Mark.
The chaos sharpened.
The noise of Astra'vhel folded into order—
becoming a single, intricate map:
Echo Mapping.
I could sense everything,
from a drain grate fifty meters away
to the precise rhythmic pulse of an approaching patrol.
---
They found me standing motionless—
a blindfolded human on an obsidian street corner.
"Look what the Fold dragged in,"
a gruff voice echoed.
---
The demidemon commander approached,
her footsteps heavy with malicious confidence.
I heard the crackle of energy forming in her palm—
a high-level lightning bolt.
"We don't get beggars here," she growled.
"You're either a powerful trespasser or 'Live Bait.'
I'll make the decision easy for you—"
---
Before the lightning could launch,
I channeled the sheer Non-Existence
of the Blivixis Gradient through the Mark.
Not a blast.
Not a scream.
But a cancellation—
a precise, instantaneous deletion of frequency
in a three-foot radius around me.
The Void Pulse.
---
The Commander's lightning bolt died—
not with a bang,
but with a sickening, sudden nullification.
Her voice cut off mid-sentence.
Her heart skipped a panicked, heavy ka-thunk
before the rhythm itself briefly ceased to exist.
She collapsed, gasping—
her terror now the loudest sound in the courtyard.
---
"He… he did nothing,"
the winged guard whispered.
"Nothing hit us."
"Exactly," the Commander rasped, clutching her chest.
"He is an Anomaly."
---
I was taken immediately
to the Academy's evaluation chamber.
Instructors—ancient, powerful beings—
swarmed around me, their pulses trembling between dread and curiosity.
---
"No Shinigami bond detected."
"Energy signature: Null."
"He is not arcane, not demonic, not spiritual."
"Sensory input is impossible—he can't see,
yet he dodges detection probes before we activate them!"
---
The Principal arrived—
a looming figure of living shadow.
His pulse was deep.
Slow.
Troubled.
"His file," he demanded.
"What is his tier?"
---
The head instructor, voice like dry leaves,
studied the chaotic, impossible readings.
"Sir," he said to the silent room,
"his existence defies all categories.
His body is human…
but his nature is Inverted.
He is a living void."
---
The Principal slammed his fist onto the table.
"Then classify him as the unknown!
Give him a designation!"
---
The instructor adjusted his glasses,
voice shaking under the weight of the moment.
"Designation… Tier Null.
Subject of Interest.
The Unclassifiable Variable.
We cannot kill him.
We cannot understand him.
And we cannot let him leave.
He is to be monitored…
and used."
---
The entire room shifted.
Fear sharpened.
Attention locked onto me.
I wasn't a student.
I was a ticking time bomb.
---
I smiled under the blindfold.
They had just given me a purpose.
The Inverted One was finally where he belonged.