The Forsaken Seal

The morning sun shone weakly through the clouds as Layron sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers lightly brushing against his palm. His pulse had stabilized, but his mind remained in chaos.

The voices. The dream.

They hadn't left him.

Instead, they lurked in the corners of his mind, waiting—whispering.

Layron exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, one question refused to leave him.

Why is this happening to me?

The door creaked open, and Anya peeked in. "You're awake."

Layron grunted in response.

She sighed, walking in and tossing an apple onto his lap. "You're overthinking again."

Layron looked at the fruit, then at her. "You don't get it, Anya."

"I don't need to," she shot back. "I just know you've been sitting here brooding for hours instead of eating."

Layron stared at her for a moment before taking a slow bite.

She crossed her arms. "Gramps said you can go home today. You should be happy."

Layron wasn't sure what he felt.

Happy? No.

Restless? Absolutely.

Because deep down, he knew—this wasn't over.

---

A Sudden Attack

Returning home should've brought relief. Instead, it brought Victor.

The old man sat lazily in a wooden chair on the porch, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He gave Layron a slow, knowing smirk as he approached.

"Welcome back, kid."

Layron barely acknowledged him, stepping past with an exhausted sigh. His mind was too cluttered to deal with Victor's presence right now.

Victor exhaled through his nose. "Still distracted, huh?"

Layron ignored him.

Then, without warning—

Victor moved.

Fast. Too fast.

One second, Layron was lost in thought. The next—Victor was right in front of him.

A fist aimed directly at his stomach.

Layron's body reacted on its own.

His wrist shot up, catching Victor's punch just inches from impact. His grip tightened, stopping the attack effortlessly.

The world froze.

Victor's smirk widened.

Layron, however, was stunned.

What just happened?

His pulse pounded in his ears as he stared at his own hand—his fingers wrapped around Victor's fist. He hadn't even thought about it. His body had just… moved.

Victor slowly pulled his hand back.

Layron's breathing was uneven. "What the hell was that for?!"

Victor tilted his head. "Interesting."

Layron's anger flared. "Are you trying to kill me, you old hag?! I was just recovering, and you pull this shit?!"

Victor didn't respond.

Instead, he looked at Gramps.

And Gramps, without a word, understood.

A silent conversation passed between them—one Layron wasn't a part of.

His frustration deepened. "Oi! Are you two just gonna stare at each other or explain what's going on?!"

Victor finally spoke.

"You don't realize it, do you?"

Layron scowled. "Realize what? That I'm being randomly punched by a crazy old man?"

Victor chuckled. "I wasn't just attacking you, kid."

His expression shifted—his usual smugness fading into something sharper.

"I was testing you."

Layron tensed. "...Testing me?"

Victor slipped his hands into his coat pockets. "Your body is alert—even when your mind isn't. Even while recovering, your instincts reacted instantly to my attack."

Layron frowned. He wanted to argue—but he couldn't. Because it was true.

He hadn't planned to block Victor's punch. He had felt it coming.

And he had moved without thinking.

Victor glanced at Gramps again. "It's starting."

Layron's patience snapped. "What's starting?! What the hell are you two talking about?!"

Victor ignored his outburst. Instead, he stepped forward and lowered his voice—just enough for only Gramps to hear.

"Now only you can save your grandson. Train him in what everyone else is unaware of."

"The whole village is blind to it."

"But you and I know the truth, old friend."

"It's time."

"Teach him The Forbidden powers."

Layron, of course, heard none of this.

Victor pulled away, rolling his shoulders. "I'll be off then. Take care, kid."

Layron glared at him. "Yeah, whatever."

Victor smirked. Then, without another word, he disappeared into the trees.

---

The Power of Rensho

Layron was still seething when he turned to Gramps. "You wanna explain what all that was about?"

Gramps exhaled. "Sit."

Layron hesitated before finally dropping into a chair.

Gramps stared at him for a long moment before speaking.

"There are two types of power in this world, Layron."

Layron's eyes narrowed.

"POWERS EXIST IN THIS WORLD !?? " - Layron responded

Gramps continued.

"YESS!"

"One is human."

"One is inhuman."

Layron felt a chill creep down his spine. "...And?"

Gramps met his gaze.

"The first power—the one I will teach you—is called Rensho."

Layron had never heard that name before. "Rensho…?"

Gramps nodded. "It is the foundation. The balance of mind, body, and spirit. It is refinement, control, precision. And it is the power that will determine your survival."

Layron could sense something else.

Something Gramps wasn't saying.

Layron leaned forward. "And what's the second power?"

A long pause.

Gramps' jaw tightened. His gaze shifted away.

"...That is not something you need to know right now."

Layron scowled. "What?! Why not?"

Gramps' tone was firm. "Because it is not something to be learned—it is something to be unleashed. And once it is…"

His gaze darkened.

"There is no going back."

Layron swallowed hard.

Whatever this second power was—Gramps feared it.

But that only made Layron want to know more.

Gramps exhaled, pushing aside the heavy silence. "For now, your focus is on Rensho."

Layron crossed his arms. "Fine. But at least tell me the name of the second power."

Gramps stood up.

He walked past Layron toward the window, staring out at the distant mountains.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke.

"That power…"

"Is called The Hakai."

Layron felt his breath hitch.

Gramps turned back to face him.

"And now, I will teach you how to use Rensho."

"Because if you ever awaken Hakai before mastering it—"

"It will destroy everything."

---