Morning in Sirius City never arrived quietly.
It arrived with boots on stone—TAP-TAP, TAP-TAP—and vendors dragging shutters open—CLACK!—and distant voices shouting over carts and schedules. Somewhere far off, a bell rang once to mark the start of a school day. The sound rolled through the neighbourhood like a reminder: move, or be left behind.
Kai sat at the table, soup cooling in front of him, and tried to pretend that yesterday hadn't changed the shape of his life.
Lux refused to let the table stay heavy.
"Support Track is still part of Academy," Lux declared between bites, waving his spoon like a commander giving orders. "And Support decides wars. You'll see. I'll be Combat, you'll be Support, and we'll make everyone regret ever laughing."
Thalia tapped Lux's wrist lightly—tap—before soup could launch across the table.
"Eat," she said.
"Yes, Mom," Lux replied immediately, then leaned toward Kai with a grin that was too eager, too determined. "Also, you're still the Number One. They can't erase that."
Kai managed a small smile. It felt like forcing warmth into frozen fingers.
Rize, wearing a uniform that was still stiff with newness, bounced his knees under the table so fast the chair squeaked.
"I'm not late today," Rize announced, eyes bright. "It's my first term. If I'm late, the teacher will remember me forever."
Lux snorted. "Teachers remember everything. They remember your face. They remember your handwriting. They remember if you blink wrong."
Rize's eyes widened. "Lux!"
Lux laughed. "I'm kidding. Maybe."
Rize turned to Kai for translation because Kai's words always felt more reliable.
Kai reached out and pinched the edge of Rize's collar, straightening it gently.
"You'll be fine," Kai said. "Just listen. Don't talk over people. And don't run in the hall."
Rize nodded solemnly like Kai had given him battlefield doctrine.
"Yes, Brother," he said, then added in a softer voice, "Are you coming with us today?"
Kai shook his head. "The Sirius True Academy students were given three rest days. I've decided stay home for today."
Rize frowned. "Rest day means you rest."
Kai's smile sharpened a fraction. Even when he was small, Rize had been weirdly good at catching hidden things.
"Yes," Kai said. "Rest."
Lux pointed his spoon at Kai like a judge. "What Rize meant rest means is you don't get to train till you collapse, brother."
Kai lifted his brows. "When have I ever done that?"
Lux stared at him with disbelief. Thalia made a faint sound that might've been a suppressed laugh.
Kai lowered his gaze to his soup and forced himself to eat a few more spoonfuls, because today wasn't about pride. Today was about keeping the house calm. Keeping his brothers calm. Keeping his mother's shoulders from burdening any more than they already had.
When the bowls were empty, Thalia rose and began the efficient movement of a woman who lived on schedules.
"Lux," she said. "Shoes. Properly."
Lux groaned. "Yes, Mom."
"Rize," she continued, "bag."
Rize grabbed his bag and hugged it to his chest like a treasure.
Thalia turned to Kai.
Her voice softened, but her eyes stayed steady.
"Rest properly today," she reminded him again. "You stay home. You eat. You don't push yourself."
Kai nodded. "Yes, Mom."
Thalia hesitated for half a heartbeat, then stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"After we leave," she said, "open the top drawer in my room."
Kai blinked. "Why?"
"Just do it," Thalia said. Not harsh. Firm. "And never say a word of it to your brothers. Understand?"
Something in Kai's stomach tightened.
"Yes, Mom," he said quietly.
Lux slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped toward Kai, then hesitated like he didn't know how to express the feeling in his chest without exploding.
So he did it the Lux way.
He wrapped an arm around Kai's shoulders and squeezed.
"Ow," Kai muttered.
Lux squeezed again, like the first squeeze wasn't enough.
"You're my big brother," Lux said, voice lower now. Less performative. "Be it Support, Combat, General… I don't care."
Kai's throat tightened.
He forced himself to meet Lux's eyes.
"Yes, Lux," he said, softer. "I know."
Lux's grin returned, relieved to hear it properly.
Rize ran to Kai and hugged him around the waist, small arms tight.
"Come back," Rize demanded, serious as an oath.
Kai crouched slightly and touched his forehead to Rize's for a brief moment—warm skin, warm breath.
"What do you mean? I'm not going anywhere now," Kai promised. "You go now, be brave."
Rize nodded hard. "Okay."
Thalia watched the exchange with tired fondness, then ushered them out.
"Forward," she said, a mother's command that somehow sounded like a drill order.
They left in a rush of sound:
Lux complaining about his collar—"Why do collars exist?"—Rize hopping down the steps, Thalia reminding them to walk properly. The front latch clicked—CLICK—and the house quieted like someone had closed a lid.
Kai stood in the kitchen for a moment, listening to the fading footsteps until they disappeared into the morning's noise.
Alone.
The silence made the empty place under his collar ache more.
Kai's fingers rose toward his chest automatically, then stopped halfway.
He didn't touch.
Not yet.
He turned down the hall.
Thalia had told him to open the drawer.
He paused at the threshold of his mom's room. He didn't come in here often. Not because his mom forbade it. Because he had no valid reason to come without valid reason.
The air smelled faintly of ink and clean cloth. Papers were stacked neatly. A uniform jacket hung on the chair back, simple and official.
Kai went to the dresser and slid open the top drawer.
SHHHK.
Folded clothes. A small wooden box tucked beneath them, as if hidden by habit rather than secrecy.
"Is it this the one?" Kai muttered.
Kai lifted the box out and opened the lid with a soft click.
Inside lay an amber necklace.
For a breath, Kai's brain refused to accept it. His chest tightened, grief spiking—because for a heartbeat he thought his father's memento had returned.
Then the truth settled: the amber was too perfect. Too polished. Too clean. Like something crafted, not something he had lived with.
The word 'replica' came to his mind.
Underneath it lay a folded letter, his name written across the front in neat handwriting.
To Kai.
His fingers trembled as he unfolded it.
> Kai,
If you read this letter, then it has already happened.
Wear this as you leave the room.
Don't let anyone see your collar without it.
Just listen. Wear it.
Mom and Dad had prepared this for a long time.
In case your pendant might have disappeared one day.
Mom and Dad didn't know the origin of the pendant.
The only thing that we know is that your dad got this pendant by chance on his journey home from his expedition outside.
If you needed answers, we're sorry that we're unable to provide them.
Just so you know, Mom and Dad will always love you dearly.
—Mom & Dad
Kai stared at the words until they blurred.
His chest warmed and hurt at the same time.
His parents didn't know everything. They didn't speak in lore. They didn't tell him what or why the pendant had broken.
But they knew about other people.
They knew what greed.
And his parents had protected him the only way parents would in Sirius City: by preparing a sturdy enough protection to hold.
Kai lifted the replica necklace.
Cold. Ordinary. No hum. No pulse.
A mask.
Putting it on felt heavy.
Yet leaving his chest bare felt like lighting a signal fire.
Kai exhaled slowly and slid the chain over his head.
The fake amber rested against his skin.
It looked right.
It felt wrong.
He tucked it beneath his shirt and forced his shoulders to settle.
Then he placed the letter back in the box, returned the box to the drawer, and pushed the drawer shut with careful control.
SHHHK.
Kai stood still for two breaths, letting the house silence return.
His fingers drifted toward his collar again and stopped.
Not empty anymore.
But the weight was real.
He turned away before grief could rise again.
He went back to his room, grabbed his wooden practice sword, and stepped outside into the backyard.
If he stayed inside, he would think too much.
If he thought too much, he would spiral.
So he did what he always did when the world tried to crush him.
He trained.
The yard was small. Packed dirt. Low fence. A few stones near the edges. A narrow strip of sunlight cuts across the ground.
Kai set his feet and began fundamental Combat & Physical exercises the way Sirius Primary Academy drilled into every student:
Stance.
Breath.
Footwork.
Strike.
THUD. Step.
THUD. Step.
WHOOSH. Wooden blade.
Again.
THUD.
WHOOSH.
Kai counted quietly under his breath, not numbers for pride—numbers for survival.
He had always measured his endurance in increments because his body had always been a ledger.
Normally, his output curve was predictable: he could maintain a certain pace until he hit 0.5, and then the thin-breath warning arrived. Not muscle fatigue—something deeper. A spiritual thinning that made the world feel slightly farther away.
Today, he expected it.
He reached the point where the warning usually struck—
…and it didn't.
Kai blinked.
His breathing stayed steady for a moment longer.
Not easy.
Not strong.
Just… longer.
He pushed into the next cycle and felt the warning arrive later than usual, like a clock that had shifted.
Kai's internal marker adjusted.
0.75.
A small increase. Tiny. Not enough to change his life.
But enough to be real.
Kai paused, sweat cooling on his skin, and stared at his hands.
His screening results flashed across his mind—lowest bracket—and the anger surged again, sharp enough to make his jaw ache.
What's the point of a small increase, he thought bitterly, when the academy already decided what I am?
He forced the thought aside.
He could dissect it later.
Right now, he needed calm.
He resumed training, slower and more controlled, as if the extra endurance was fragile and might vanish if he looked at it too hard.
That was when the air changed.
At first, it was nothing more than a wrong stillness. The birds quieted. The breeze stopped moving. The neighbourhood noises beyond the fence dulled, like someone had pressed a cloth over the world.
Kai's shoulders tightened.
He turned his head slightly.
A buzz threaded through the silence.
bzzzz…
Not the thin buzz of a normal mosquito.
Deeper.
Thicker.
Like a blade vibrating.
Kai slowly shifted his grip on the wooden sword.
The buzzing grew louder.
BZZZ.
Something lifted from the far corner near the fence, where shadow pooled against the boards.
A mosquito.
But not a natural one.
It hovered at chest height, wings beating so fast they blurred. Its abdomen was long and dark with faint red streaks, as if stained from inside. Its proboscis looked like black glass, sharp and straight.
The size hit Kai's brain first because fear didn't stop him from measuring.
About the size of a 250ml bottle.
His stomach went cold.
Kai's mind flipped through pages without paper. The Aetherkin Codex—issued to every household, auto-updating with sightings and classifications—had been his bedtime reading since childhood.
Not because it was fun.
Because knowing what could kill you was its own kind of comfort.
He remembered an entry that had made his skin crawl.
Bloodcurdle Mosquito — Tier 1 Insect Aetherkin.
Size: approximately 250ml bottle.
Note: Each Tier increase causes roughly a one-fold increase in mass and presence.
Ability: Bloodcurdle
Kai's throat tightened.
Tier 1.
If Tier 1 is already this big, his mind raced, Tier 2 would be double. Tier 3…
He didn't finish the thought.
The mosquito rotated in midair.
Then it moved.
Not a drift.
A lunge.
VRRRRRM!
Kai threw himself sideways.
The proboscis stabbed into the fence board where his chest had been.
TCH! The needle struck wood and splintered it, punching a clean hole through the plank.
Kai rolled in dirt, scraped his forearm, and came up with the wooden sword raised.
His heart slammed.
The mosquito ripped its needle free—KRRK—and turned with unnatural speed.
Kai grabbed a pebble from the ground with his free hand and hurled it.
TIK!
The stone struck the mosquito's abdomen.
The creature jerked midair, wings stuttering for a breath.
Kai used that breath to sprint.
He didn't run toward the house. He ran along the fence line, where he had space. Where he could keep moving. Where he could maybe lead it away from the back door in case Lux or Rize came home early.
The mosquito surged after him.
BZZZZZZZ!
The buzz cut was close to his ear, loud enough to rattle his teeth.
Kai ducked instinctively.
The needle sliced through the air above his shoulder with a faint whistle—FSSST—and struck the fence again.
TCH!
Splinters sprayed Kai's cheek.
He didn't stop.
He grabbed another pebble and threw without looking.
TIK! TIK!
One hit wood. One struck the mosquito's wing.
The creature snapped sideways, then corrected instantly, as if it had no balance limits.
Kai's breath thinned.
His legs pumped harder.
He swung the wooden sword backwards in a tight arc.
WHACK!
The blade hit the mosquito's side. The impact didn't cut, but it knocked the creature off line just enough to keep the needle from burying into Kai's spine.
Kai's wrist vibrated painfully from the strike.
The mosquito recovered and dove again—faster this time.
Kai pivoted and slashed across the needle.
KONK!
Wood on glass.
The needle deflected.
Kai felt a gust of air as it passed his throat.
Close.
Too close.
He sprinted again, footsteps pounding packed dirt—THUD-THUD-THUD—and he heard the mosquito's wings tighten, the buzz dropping into a heavier pitch.
BZZZ… BZZZZ…
A cold sensation crawled up Kai's legs.
Not from fear.
From inside his blood.
His calves tightened sharply, like an invisible wire was being drawn around his muscles.
Kai stumbled.
His fingers stiffened around the sword grip.
His heart slammed.
Bloodcurdle.
It didn't need a deep bite. It needed access—just enough contact, just enough scratch.
The needle had grazed his shoulder earlier.
The sting he'd dismissed.
Kai's mouth went dry.
His limbs began to betray him.
He forced himself to move anyway, dragging his legs as they weighed twice as much.
He threw another pebble.
TIK!
It clipped the mosquito's head.
The creature recoiled for a fraction.
Kai took that fraction and swung hard.
WHAM!
The wooden blade struck the wing joint.
The mosquito's wings screeched—SKRRR—and the creature dropped half a meter before catching itself.
Kai didn't celebrate.
He couldn't.
His right leg was locking.
His left hand felt numb.
The mosquito surged forward again, needle angled toward his left ribs.
Kai tried to dodge by using falling of gravity as his only option.
Just fast enough, barely avoiding the needle that was targeting his ribs to the side of his body.
Despite that, the mosquito still manages to ram into him with its body.
BAM!
Kai flew.
For half a second, the yard spun. Fence. Sky. Dirt.
Then he hit the fence hard enough to rattle it.
CRASH!
Pain detonated through his ribs.
His wooden sword flew from his hand and landed in the dirt with a dull thud.
Kai coughed violently. Air left him like a punch.
He slid down the fence, the world flashing white at the edges.
His limbs were stiffening fast now.
Bloodcurdle tightening its grip.
The mosquito hovered above him, buzzing thick and hungry.
BZZZZZZ…
It lowered its needle.
Kai tried to raise his arms.
His elbows barely moved.
His fingers wouldn't close.
His mind screamed to crawl, to roll, to do something—
But his body answered slowly, as it belonged to someone else.
Fear surged, sharp enough to taste.
Not for himself.
For Lux, finding him.
For Rize running into the yard.
For his mom, Thalia returns to a house full of blood.
Kai's throat tightened.
"No," he whispered, voice broken. "Not here."
The needle descended.
Kai's vision tunnelled.
And then—
The hum behind his ribs surged.
Not faint.
Not gentle.
A deep pulse that made the air feel dense.
THUM.
Kai's spine straightened.
Not by his will.
His head lifted.
His gaze locked onto the mosquito with an intensity that did not belong to a frail thirteen-year-old boy.
The world's sound dulled for a heartbeat, as if the neighbourhood had fallen underwater.
The pressure that rolled out of Kai was silent, absolute.
Hierarchy.
The mosquito froze midair.
Its wings stuttered—BZZ—then stopped.
The insect trembled, its body dipping lower, lower, as if forced down by invisible hands.
Kai's eyes widened in confusion and horror.
He could feel it: something inside him had stepped forward.
Not a voice.
Not a personality.
An aura.
A sovereign presence that rules above all.
The mosquito landed on the ground and bowed.
Needle angled down, its body and legs tucked inside, with its whole body can be seen trembling.
Submission. A complete submission.
Then, numerous strands of pale golden light spilt from Kai's chest, sliding out like a gate opening.
Not forming a beam.
But numerous controlled strands, smooth and deliberate.
As the strands reached and touched the mosquito.
The creature shuddered once as the strands warped the creature layer by layer.
Forming a cocoon that was tied to his chest.
Then—
SHHHHH—
The cocoon shrinks, as if it were swallowed.
Whole.
Not ripped. Not burned. Not splattered.
Swallowed by the strands of light as if the mosquito had become a drop of ink pulled into water.
The strands then retracted back into Kai's body.
The pressure vanished.
The backyard returned to ordinary air so suddenly that Kai almost thought he'd imagined it.
Kai blinked.
Then the pain surged to his mind as his ribs screamed.
His limbs were still stiff from the effect of bloodcurdle.
His breath came in shallow pulls.
He tried to lift his hand toward his chest.
He didn't make it.
His vision darkened at the edges.
The last thing he saw was his wooden sword lying in the dirt and the fence looming above him, shaking slightly from the impact.
Then his consciousness slipped.
The world went black.
And deep beneath the black, the hum pulsed once—quiet, satisfied.