The underground hall breathed cold against the skin. Not freezing, but sterile like the world had forgotten how to be warm down here.
Hari, Amari, and Andre stood shoulder to shoulder on the old stone floor, their shadows stretching long under a flickering Nouslight overhead. Behind them, the obsidian wall held no reflection, only the faint trace of spell-burn scars.
John Takahara stood ahead. He didn't motion. Didn't blink. Just spoke.
"Close the door."
Andre turned, pushing it shut. The weight of it sealed the room like a vault.
"This is your first simulation," John said. "Urban lockdown. Presence of Nouson confirmed. No staff support. No step-ins. You finish the task, or you don't."
He paced slowly along the edge of the chamber. Not from nervousness. More like a memory.
"But before we begin… There's something I need you to understand. Before coming to this academy some of you've been taught spells. Theory. Martial forms. But what we're sending you into isn't theory."
He stopped. Turned to face them.
"You've heard the term 'Nouson.' You've fought constructs. Faced projections. Those aren't the same."
He tapped his cane once.
"Nouson are not spirits. They are the first creatures of this world. Older than our cities. Born from Nous itself. Not given life but born with it. We call them the sons of Nous. The Nouson."
Andre's brow furrowed. "So they're natural?"
"They're essential," John answered. "They were here before the kingdoms. Before the gods made law. They are the will of Nous when no one is listening."
He moved toward the wall. Fingers trailed across the glyphs carved deep in the black stone.
"Some walk like beasts. Some fly. Some sleep in plains of thought so deep they forget the world. But all of them every single one is alive. And they are not ours to command. Only to survive."
Amari frowned. "But you've made pacts with them."
John nodded once. "Fifty-two. Each one a choice. Each one a price. Don't confuse contract with control. You don't tame a storm. You just learn how to speak before it swallows you."
Hari remained silent, watching him with quiet focus.
John gestured toward the gear laid behind them: field pendants, slates etched with stabilizing runes, barebone Nous-thread to trace exposure.
"Your mission is simple. A sector went dark. Six-C. Former residential. No recent deaths, but all communication dropped after a Nous surge. One survivor message came through half-spoken, corrupted. After that, nothing."
He stepped back.
"You'll be dropped just outside the inner district. Glyphs are unstable. Spells may flicker. If the tags pulse, press the center. If you're still alive, I'll come get you."
Andre raised a hand. "And if we're not?"
"I'll still come," John said. "But I won't be saving anyone."
He placed his hand against the far wall. A symbol flared to life, a low hum echoing behind the stone as the door opened.
Pale green Nouslight spilled into the stairwell beyond.
"Time to meet the first children of this world," John said.
Hari stepped forward.
Then Amari.
Then Andre.
And the door closed behind them.
The moment their boots hit the cracked concrete, the fog closed around them like a living thing. It writhed low to the ground, sliding over their shoes, curling tight around ankles as if trying to pull them under. The ruins of the district loomed skeletal buildings with rusted frames and shattered windows, glyphs flickering faintly like dying embers.
Andre drew Caliburnus with a dramatic flourish, balancing the blade on his shoulder. "No worries the main character won't let his team die in the first arc."
Hari said nothing, eyes sharp in the gloom. The air thrummed not with heat, but with raw Nous energy. Thick, wild, like stepping into an open wound that hadn't scabbed.
Behind him, Amari's fingers brushed the stitched glyphs on his jacket, near his shoulder. The fabric shimmered faintly, betraying the restless power within. His breath came tight, lips pressed as if holding something back.
"You good?" Hari asked, not looking back.
Amari nodded, voice low. "Yeah... just adjusting."
Andre snorted. "Adjusting to what? A fresh nightmare or your divine destiny?"
Amari didn't answer. His fingers traced a small rune just beneath his collarbone, the mark of his Wish.
Wishes weren't just powers. They were gifts from the gods, granted at a rare, divine meeting that shaped every Nous user's path. Amari's Wish was called Abara Jump, a door to the [[Abara]] realm, a timeless dimension where he could train endlessly without losing time and teleport instantly between locations. But power came at a cost.
The longer Amari stayed in that realm, the more his body shifted toward Nouson, the ancient beings born of raw Nous energy. His limbs lengthened, nails thickened, his slender tail stretched, and the horn curling from his skull sharpened. The mutation wasn't just physical; it crept into his mind and soul, threatening to drown his humanity.
He hadn't told the others how heavy that burden had grown.
They pressed deeper into the sector. The fog twisted around them, parting then swallowing whole again. Warning glyphs had long since gone dark, replaced by a deeper, older pulse beneath cracked earth wilder and colder than anything they'd felt.
Ahead stood a figure.
Small. Childlike. But not human. Nouson.
Its pale skin was veined with black lines pulsing to a hidden rhythm. The Nouson's head tilted unnaturally, eyes bright and empty. Silence clung to it.
Andre stepped forward, sword raised. "Okay, that's definitely not a classmate."
Hari's hand stopped him. "Wait."
Amari moved carefully, a faint shimmer tracing his arm as his Wish activated. He didn't step fully into the Abara realm not here, not yet but grazed its edge, forming a delicate tether.
The Nouson's head tilted, sensing the fold in space and time.
Slowly, its rigid shoulders relaxed.
"What did you do?" Andre whispered.
"I called the veil," Amari replied, exhaustion in his voice. "The space between places. It calms them sometimes."
Hari watched the tension drain from the creature's frame. "It worked."
But freedom was still out of reach.
Amari felt it deep in his ribs a sharp cracking, a tightening. The mutation stirred again.
He shifted, rolling his shoulder to push it down. Each time the fight to hold himself back grew harder.
Hari caught the movement but said nothing.
Andre lowered his blade, eyes wide. "That was a Wish, right?"
Amari nodded.
"Abara Jump?"
"Yeah. It lets me slip into a realm where time folds train without limit, blink across the battlefield. But every use draws me closer to losing myself."
Andre whistled low. "Sounds powerful. And terrifying."
Amari's hand hovered near his horn, tense. "It's a balance I have to keep. Too much, and I become more Nouson than human not just in body, but in mind and spirit."
They moved forward, quiet now, the pale Nouson trailing behind a shadow caught between worlds.
The Nouson's pale figure lingered just behind them as they moved through the cracked streets, its glowing eyes drifting between the trio like a restless ghost. Hari's gaze flicked to Amari every few steps, noting the subtle stiffness in his posture, the way his fingers twitched near that horn.
"Amari," Hari finally said, voice low but steady. "You've been holding back. How bad is it?"
Amari hesitated, then let out a slow breath. "The more I use Abara Jump, the more I lose. It's not just the changes you see: longer limbs, sharper nails, the tail... It's what happens inside. The thoughts get... distant. Harder to control. Like my mind is folding in on itself."
Andre snorted. "Sounds like the gods really love throwing curveballs when they hand out those wishes."
"Yeah," Amari said, voice darkening. "The Taboo is real. If I push too far, I won't be me anymore. Just some... Nouson shell."
Hari frowned. "Can you fight if you get lost like that?"
Amari's laugh was hollow. "I'm already terrible at close combat. The more I rely on Abara Jump and Nous spells, the less prepared I am when fights get messy."
Andre shrugged, grinning. "So basically, you're a magic sniper with a curse. Great."
Hari's eyes narrowed as a low rumble echoed beneath their feet. The Nouson shifted uneasily, head tilting toward a distant vibration.
"They're coming," Hari said, voice hardening.
"Nouson?" Andre asked, tightening his grip on Caliburnus.
Amari's jaw clenched. "More than one."
From the shadows, shapes began to materialize twisted, sinewy creatures pulsing with black veins, their forms shifting between solid and vaporous like nightmares made flesh. They moved with eerie grace, drawn by the raw Nous energy the trio carried.
Hari stepped forward, drawing on his training. "Stay close. Andre, cover the flank. Amari, keep the space open. We can't let them surround us."
Amari's fingers glowed faintly with rune-light. "Got it."
As the first Nouson lunged, Amari flickered, vanishing into the folds of the Abara realm and reappearing behind it. His blade struck true, but the mutation inside him screamed a reminder that each use tightened the grip of the Taboo.
Andre lunged next, swinging Caliburnus in wide arcs, his movements bold but unrefined.
Hari met a creature head-on, fists glowing with charged Nous magic. His strength was steady, precise, a grounding force for the team.
The battle raged, shadows clashing with light, ancient power against raw desperation.
Through it all, Amari felt the pull stronger than ever the realm's whisper tempting him to dive deeper, to escape the fight entirely.
But if he gave in, he risked losing not just the battle, but himself.
The Nouson swarm pressed closer, their forms shifting with unnatural fluidity, sometimes solid and menacing, sometimes dissolving into wisps of shadow only to reassemble with terrifying speed. The air crackled with raw Nous energy, thick and suffocating.
Amari's eyes darted between the advancing creatures, his breath ragged. The familiar pull from the Abara realm stirred again, a siren song promising escape, strength, and freedom from the crushing pressure. He clenched his fists, feeling the subtle lengthening of his fingers, the sharp tightening of the horn curling from his skull.
"Focus," Hari's voice cut through the chaos, grounding him.
Amari flickered once, slipping through the fold between moments a flash of movement that left a ghostly afterimage behind. He reappeared atop a broken beam, landing with precision. His blade sang as it sliced through a Nouson's shadowy flesh, but the strain inside his chest flared hot and sharp.
The mutation clawed deeper. His tail flicked involuntarily, and for a heartbeat, his eyes glowed faintly with unnatural light.
Andre called out, "You good, Amari? You're looking like you've seen a ghost."
Amari forced a laugh, but it was brittle. "Yeah. Just... fine."
Hari caught the lie in the tone. "You don't have to push yourself so hard. We've got your back."
But Amari shook his head, determination burning in his gaze. "If I don't keep moving, I'll lose control. The longer I hesitate, the stronger the Taboo pulls."
A heavy thud echoed as a larger Nouson emerged from the mist thicker, more solid, eyes blazing with malevolent light.
"That one's different," Hari said, eyes narrowing. "Focus on it."
Amari's hand hovered near the base of his horn. The familiar temptation swelled inside him, whispering of limitless power if he just let go.
The battle twisted inward a war not just of flesh and magic, but of identity itself.
With a deep breath, Amari channeled his will, drawing on the Abara realm once more but this time, only briefly, just enough to shift position and strike with careful precision. He refused to let the mutation win today.
The giant Nouson roared, claws swiping, but Hari intercepted, fists glowing bright as he struck the creature's jaw with brutal force.
Andre darted in, Caliburnus flashing as he drove the creature back.
Together, they pushed the shadowed threat into retreat, the fog swallowing the vanishing forms.
When silence finally settled, Amari dropped to one knee, chest heaving, tail flicking awkwardly behind him.
Hari knelt beside him. "You okay?"
Amari managed a tired smile. "For now."
Andre clapped him on the shoulder. "You're tougher than you think, man. Just don't go disappearing on us like that."
Amari chuckled softly, but inside, the battle raged on the promise of power shadowed by the risk of losing himself entirely.
The path ahead was clear, but the cost was only growing.
They found temporary shelter in the shell of a half-collapsed dome, once a transportation hub before the sector was sealed off. Glyphs lined the interior walls, long dead, and the silence inside was thick enough to feel.
Hari leaned against a cracked pillar, cleaning dried Nous residue from his forearms. Andre sat cross-legged nearby, Caliburnus laid across his knees, its edge humming faintly with leftover energy. He muttered something to it half prayer, half performance.
Amari stood apart from them, arms wrapped around himself, staring into the dark.
Hari watched him a while before speaking.
"You held it together."
Amari didn't turn around. "Barely."
"But you did."
Silence.
He finally said, "Every time I touch that realm, I leave something behind. A piece of who I used to be. And it's not just physical. I feel it in how I think, how I talk. Sometimes... it's like I'm not even sure if my thoughts are mine anymore."
Andre's voice came from behind, quieter than usual. "Then why use it?"
Amari turned, eyes shadowed but steady. "Because I have to. Because if I don't keep up, I become the weak link. I've seen what happens to weak links."
The honesty landed like a stone in the center of the room.
Hari straightened. "You're not weak, Amari. You're carrying something the rest of us couldn't handle."
"You're wrong." Amari's voice cracked. "You're strong because you know who you are. I don't even know what I'm turning into."
Andre stood up, stretching with a grunt. "Then we remind you."
Amari blinked. "What?"
Andre walked over and jabbed a thumb into Amari's shoulder. "When you start acting like a creepy space ghost or get weird with your tail, we'll be here to snap you out of it. You're one of us. End of story."
Hari nodded, walking over slowly. "You're not alone in this."
Amari looked at them both, searching their faces for any sign of pity. But there was none, only resolve.
He took a breath, then nodded.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
The quiet lasted only a moment longer before the dome's entrance shimmered a projection, not physical. A glyph-screen lit up against the far wall, lines of gold spiraling into a sharp-pointed crown: the royal crest.
A voice followed, clipped and composed.
"Your exercise has been monitored. Report to the south gate for extraction and evaluation."
Andre groaned. "Seriously? I just sat down."
Hari glanced at the others, then toward the door. "Let's move. We'll figure the rest out later."
As they stepped back into the fog, the Nouson that had followed them earlier stood across the street again silent, unmoving.
It didn't attack. Just watched.
Amari stared back, horn gleaming faintly under the cloudy light.
For the first time, it looked... familiar.
Not like an enemy.
Like a warning.
The fog swallowed the street behind them, but the weight of what followed did not.