Chapter 3: The Weight of a Soul
The Silver Wing of the Argent Academy was a sanctuary of opulence, a floating spire of ivory stone where the air tasted of ozone and expensive incense. It was reserved for the "Perfects"—those whose mana capacity was so vast they posed a literal explosive risk to the common dormitories.
Rowan walked through the corridors, his presence a dark smudge on the pristine hallway. His travel-worn leathers were stained with the dust of the obsidian monolith, and his right arm, still bound in the linen sling, throbbed with a rhythmic, dull heat.
Every step felt like pulling his feet out of thick tar. The Vacuum Core in his chest was no longer just humming; it was screaming. By cracking the monolith, he had spent the last scrap of residual energy he had siphoned from Lucius. Now, the core was a literal hole in his soul, pulling on his own vitality to keep its spin.
If I don't feed it soon, Rowan thought, his jaw tightening, it will start consuming my organs.
He stopped in front of a heavy door reinforced with mithril filigree. Room 001.
He didn't have to knock. The door drifted open on silent hinges, releasing a cloud of silver mist that felt like ice-cold needles against his skin.
The Midnight Exchange
Seraphina Valois was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, her silhouette framed by the twin moons of the kingdom. She had discarded her outer robe, wearing only a thin, silk slip that shimmered like liquid mercury.
She didn't turn around. "Most men would be terrified to enter this room. My mana is currently at a 'Spill-Over' state. To a normal mage, I am a walking furnace. I would incinerate their circuits just by standing near them."
"I am not most men," Rowan said, his voice raspy. He closed the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.
Seraphina turned. Her violet eyes were glowing, the pupils narrowed like a predator's. Small sparks of silver electricity danced along her collarbone. She looked at his sling, then up at his face.
"You're dying," she stated simply. "The 'Vacuum' you showed at the plaza... it's not a gift. It's a curse of physics. You are a container with no bottom."
"Then it's lucky for both of us," Rowan replied, taking a step forward. The resonance hit him then—a physical wave of pressure that made his knees buckle. "You are a fountain that cannot be turned off. You're in pain, Seraphina. Your mana is stagnant because no one is strong enough to take it from you."
She moved with a speed that defied her mage-class, appearing inches from him. She pressed a hand against his chest, right over his heart.
"Prove it," she whispered. "Take it. All of it."
Level 1: Empathy
Rowan didn't use his hands. He reached out with his mind, visualizing the Eternal Edge—the soul of the Saint-Knight. He opened the floodgates of the Vacuum Core.
The reaction was violent.
A pillar of silver light erupted between them, pinning them both against the door. Rowan's head snapped back as a torrent of raw, unrefined Primal Mana surged into his body. It wasn't like the fire mana he had stolen from Lucius; this was pure, crystalline, and infinitely more powerful.
Soul-Bind Level 1 — Empathy Initiated.
Suddenly, Rowan wasn't just feeling his own pain. He felt hers.
He felt the crushing weight of the Valois family expectations. He felt the cold loneliness of being a "prodigy" that no one could touch. He felt her fear—the fear that one day her own power would shatter her body from the inside out.
And she felt him. She saw the flash of a thousand bloody battlefields, the scent of demon gore, and the crushing betrayal of a father who had discarded a son like trash.
"Rowan..." she gasped, her fingers clawing into his leathers. Her silver hair lashed around them in a magical gale.
"Don't fight it," he groaned, his golden eyes flaring to life. "Let the vacuum stabilize the fountain."
As the core inhaled her excess energy, the fractured bone in Rowan's arm began to knit together with a sickening series of pops. The grey, sickly pallor of his skin was replaced by a healthy, energized glow. The "bruised gold" aura he had shown at the stone began to swirl around them both, weaving their energies into a single, cohesive spiral.
The New Equilibrium
Minutes passed, or perhaps hours. When the light finally dimmed, the room was a wreck. Fine crystal vases had shattered, and the mithril on the door was warped.
Seraphina slumped against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder. For the first time in years, the silver glow in her eyes was dim, replaced by a calm, clear violet. She looked peaceful.
Rowan felt like a god. His right arm, previously useless, surged with power. He reached up and tore the linen sling away, flexing his fingers. The skin was unscarred, reinforced by the silver mana he had just digested.
"You're a monster," Seraphina murmured, her voice breathless. She pulled back just enough to look at him, a predatory smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "I feel... empty. For the first time in my life, I don't feel like I'm about to explode."
"And I feel full," Rowan said, his voice dropping an octave.
"This doesn't make us allies, Rowan Caelum," she warned, though she didn't move away. "The High Lords will notice the change in my resonance. They will try to kill you to keep me under their thumb. Tomorrow is the first official trial: The Labyrinth of the Iron Maw."
Rowan looked toward the window, sensing the distant, arrogant auras of the other students in the dorms below.
"Let them come," Rowan said, his eyes flashing gold. "I need the practice."