A Week of Reflection

The first thing Fenix noticed was the silence—a stark contrast to the violent agony he had endured the night before.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim lighting of his dorm. His body felt… different. Not broken, not shattered, but instead whole, stronger, and more attuned.

'No pain?'

That was unexpected. The first evolution of his SoulCore had been a near-death experience. He had braced himself for the same unbearable suffering this time, yet now he only felt a lingering warmth coursing through his veins, like embers smoldering beneath his skin.

Pushing himself upright, he flexed his fingers, clenching his fists experimentally. No resistance. No fatigue. His muscles felt denser, his reflexes sharper, his breathing smoother—as if his body had finally caught up with the power trying to manifest within him.

Then, he turned his focus inward.

What he saw made him pause.

Within him, no longer was there just one SoulCore.

Floating in the abyss of his inner self, two distinct cores pulsed with energy:

The first, his original core, crimson-red, burning steadily like a molten ember.

The second, chaotic black, flickering erratically, unstable, almost as if it had a will of its own.

The moment he focused on it, a low hum rang through his bones, a subtle reminder of the power he had barely tapped into—the power of Chaos.

'So this is what it means to evolve...'

His fingers twitched. With just a thought, he could feel the chaos-infused flames waiting beneath his skin, ready to be called forth at any moment. It wasn't like before, when the flames acted of their own will. Now, they responded to him.

Yet, something told him he had only scratched the surface.

Letting out a slow breath, Fenix ran a hand through his hair, feeling a small smirk creep onto his face.

'This… this is going to be fun.'

After taking a moment to compose himself, Fenix shifted his attention toward the weapon resting on his bedside table—Ashfang.

The sword looked the same at first glance—its dark steel blade glinting faintly under the soft light of the room, its worn handle fitting comfortably in his grip. But as soon as his fingers wrapped around it, a pulse ran through the weapon, like a dormant beast stirring awake.

Something was different.

His instincts screamed at him to look deeper—to connect with the blade as he had before. He focused, letting his mind drift into the sword's presence.

Then, text appeared before his eyes.

[Ashfang - Evolutionary Weapon]

[Rank: Uncommon → ???]

[Status: Dormant]

[A weapon bound to its wielder's growth.

As the user evolves, so does the blade.

Current Evolution: First Stage

Requirements for Next Evolution: ???

Addicional Information:

"A weapon made not for kings or heroes, but for those who refuse to fall. Its name is whispered among wandering swordsmen who seek a blade that never dulls, even in the face of death."]

Fenix's breath hitched.

'An evolutionary weapon?'

That changed everything.

Weapons with growth potential were extremely rare. Most weapons remained stagnant, requiring upgrades or replacements over time. But this? This was a sword that would grow with him—adapting, changing, and evolving as he became stronger.

'Just what are you, really?'

He traced his fingers along the blade, feeling a faint warmth resonating from it, almost like it was responding to him. The knowledge that this weapon had been with him since the beginning made it feel… different. Personal.

'Guess I won't need to worry about changing weapons for a while.'

His grip on the handle tightened slightly.

'If I keep pushing forward… just how strong will you become?'

This revelation only fueled his determination further. He had a long road ahead, but now he had a weapon that could walk that path alongside him.

With a final glance at Ashfang, Fenix set the sword aside and exhaled slowly.

'One step at a time.'

Fenix closed his eyes, delving deeper into the essence of his own being. He had already noticed the two Soul Cores within him, but now that he had the time, he focused on them with greater clarity.

The first Soul Core—the origin of his power—was as wild and untamed as ever. Its form constantly shifted, a swirling maelstrom of black and crimson, as if the very flames of Chaos struggled to be contained within it. The heat it emitted wasn't physical but rather something deeper—something that burned within the fabric of his soul itself.

The second Soul Core, however, was different.

Where the first raged like a storm, this one was colder, more compressed, yet somehow denser—as if it carried the weight of something far greater than himself. Its energy felt more calculated, pulsing with a rhythm too precise to be random. It was as if this Core had been forged rather than awakened, something that was shaping him into something beyond human.

'The first… represents raw Chaos. But the second… is something else entirely.'

As he examined them, a new system notification appeared before him.

[Second Soul Core Formed]

[Soul Fragment Capacity Expanded]

[Chaos Infusion Unlocked]

[Next Soul Core 0/800]

Fenix narrowed his eyes.

'Chaos Infusion.'

He had already expected that evolving would come with a new power, but now, seeing the name alone sent a strange chill through his body. He focused on the notification, bringing up a more detailed explanation.

[Chaos Infusion - Active Ability]

Allows the user to channel Chaos into their physical body and weapon using dark flames.

Enhances speed, strength, and reflexes in exchange for increased physical strain.

The longer it is active, the greater the toll on the user's body.

At maximum output, it ignites the user's body in Chaos Flames, enhancing all attacks.

Fenix exhaled, absorbing the meaning behind the words.

Unlike his Flame of Chaos, which had been a manifestation of his element, this was an entirely different kind of ability—one that turned his own body into a weapon.

A power that could push him beyond his limits… but at what cost?

'So this ability lets me reinforce myself, but it comes with a physical toll.'

It made sense. Power never came without a price—he had learned that the hard way. But the last

line…

"At maximum output, it ignites the user's body in Chaos Flames."

That part stood out to him.

'It doesn't say the flames will harm me… but can I trust that?'

If his own Chaos Flames could consume him just like they did his enemies, then this power was just as much a curse as it was a weapon.

His fingers clenched.

'Then I just have to learn to master it before it masters me.'

With that thought in mind, Fenix opened his eyes, determination burning within his crimson irises.

He had taken his first step into something much greater than himself.

Now, it was time to see how far he could go.

With his new power and weapon analyzed, Fenix shifted his focus to the Voidweave Attire he had received as a reward.

The fabric was unlike anything he had ever worn before. At first glance, it seemed like a simple black ensemble, yet as he ran his fingers across it, he noticed how light and durable it felt. The material moved like woven silk, yet it carried the resistance of hardened leather.

It was strange—like the fabric itself was alive, subtly adjusting to his movements, making sure his range of motion remained unrestricted.

He clenched his fist, channeling a faint spark of Chaos Flame into his palm.

The dark cloth absorbed the heat effortlessly, showing no signs of burning or even heating up.

'As expected… it's resistant to fire.'

That alone made it invaluable to him. His flames were wild and destructive, capable of burning through normal materials with ease. Having a set of armor that could withstand his own power meant he wouldn't have to worry about damaging his own gear in combat.

Another detail stood out—despite its durability, it was incredibly light. It didn't restrict his movements in the slightest, allowing him to fight as if he were wearing nothing at all.

'This is perfect for me.'

It wasn't just armor.

It was an extension of himself.

With a small smirk, he adjusted the high-collared cloak that came with the outfit, letting the fabric drape over his shoulders.

After equipping his new attire, Fenix decided it was time to check in with his friends. It had been a while since he last spoke with Dante and Mira, and after what happened in the Soul Realm, he felt the need to reconnect.

Leaving his room, he made his way through the halls of the academy, following the familiar path to their usual meeting spot—a common area near the dorms where students often gathered to talk or relax.

As expected, Dante and Mira were already there, chatting over a table with drinks in hand.

Before he could even greet them, Dante spotted him first.

"Well, look who finally decided to crawl out of his cave." Dante smirked, crossing his arms. "Thought you died or something."

Fenix rolled his eyes. "Good to see you too, Dante."

Mira gave him a warm smile. "We figured you needed some time to recover after… you know, everything."

Fenix exhaled, taking a seat across from them. "Yeah, it was… a lot."

Dante leaned forward, his grin turning more mischievous. "So? How does it feel to be a big-shot now? You topped the evaluation rankings, got a new badass outfit, and even spent a week in the fancy tower. Gotta say, you're living the dream, Fenix."

Fenix scoffed. "If that's your definition of a dream, you might want to raise your standards."

Mira chuckled. "Still, you did well. We all saw the reports—the instructors wouldn't shut up about your squad's performance. Even Sylis got high praise."

Hearing her name, Fenix subtly glanced away, but Dante caught it immediately.

"Oh? And speaking of Sylis…" Dante's smirk widened. "You two came back together through the Gateway, huh? Any reason for that?"

Fenix shot him a deadpan look. "You know, for someone who claims to be my friend, you really enjoy trying to mess with me."

Dante shrugged. "Hey, just making sure we don't miss anything interesting."

Mira, however, tilted her head. "Wait, Sylis of Arventis? I mean… I knew she was in your group, but are you two close now?"

Fenix paused for a moment, then simply replied, "She helped me out a lot. We had each other's backs in the fight."

Mira nodded. "That makes sense. I imagine things must have been tense after what happened with Irel."

The brief mention of Irel's death brought a flicker of darkness to Fenix's eyes.

"…Yeah." He exhaled. "We all did what we could."

Dante, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly changed the subject.

"Well, now that you're back, we should celebrate. Maybe hit the training grounds and see how much stronger you've gotten."

Fenix smirked slightly. "Let me guess… You just want an excuse to fight me?"

Dante grinned. "Guilty as charged."

Mira laughed softly. "You two are impossible."

Fenix leaned back, feeling a strange sense of normalcy return.

For the first time in a while, things felt… stable.

At least for now.

But deep inside, he knew that this peace wouldn't last forever.

And he needed to be ready when it did.

After catching up with Dante and Mira, Fenix decided to check on someone else—someone who had unknowingly become a part of his daily routine.

Garrick Drakar.

Despite their rocky first interaction, training alongside Garrick had become a normal part of Fenix's life. He wasn't sure if they could be considered "friends," but there was a mutual understanding between them.

Garrick was a warrior by birth, a product of relentless training and discipline from one of the most powerful Legacy families. Fenix, on the other hand, had started from nothing. But through sheer determination, he had slowly begun to bridge the gap—piece by piece.

The training hall was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of a blade slicing through the air.

Fenix stepped inside, immediately spotting Garrick at the far end of the room, engaged in a relentless practice routine. His movements were precise—a perfect blend of power and technique.

Fenix watched for a moment before finally speaking.

"You never take a break, do you?"

Garrick halted mid-swing, glancing over his shoulder.

"Hmph. If I stop, someone will surpass me." He turned fully, his piercing golden eyes settling on Fenix. "I take it you didn't come here just to watch?"

Fenix smirked. "I figured I'd let you know I'm still alive."

Garrick studied him for a moment, then scoffed. "Barely."

Fenix chuckled, stepping forward. "Fair. But I got stronger."

Garrick raised an eyebrow. "Did you, now?" He twirled his training sword effortlessly, the steel whistling through the air. "Then prove it."

Fenix's smile didn't waver. He had been expecting this.

Without hesitation, he reached for Ashfang, the familiar weight of his blade now feeling like an extension of himself.

It was time to see just how much he had improved.

The clash of steel rang through the air as Fenix and Garrick met in the center of the training hall.

Unlike their first battle in the arena—where Fenix had been utterly destroyed—this time, he could actually keep up.

Their swords danced, Garrick's precision meeting Fenix's adaptability.

Fenix could see it—the minute openings, the slight hesitations, the micro-expressions that signaled Garrick's next move. He wasn't just reacting anymore; he was anticipating.

Garrick, however, wasn't making it easy.

His footwork was perfect, his attacks relentless. But Fenix had something Garrick didn't.

Instinct.

Where Garrick fought by the book, Fenix fought on the edge of unpredictability—a trait honed from years of surviving on the streets.

Minutes passed. Their swords clashed again and again, sweat dripping down their brows. Neither was backing down.

Then—Garrick smirked.

"Not bad."

Fenix, breathing heavily, grinned. "Not good enough?"

Garrick's smirk widened.

"Not yet."

With a single powerful strike, he sent Fenix stumbling back, knocking Ashfang from his grasp.

The fight was over.

But unlike their first battle, this time, Garrick didn't call him pathetic.

Instead, he simply nodded.

A silent acknowledgment.

Fenix exhaled, retrieving his sword.

He was still behind.

But for the first time—he felt like he was catching up.

Later that evening, after training and another round of sparring, Fenix found himself outside, standing near one of the academy's open courtyards.

The air was crisp, the sky a deep shade of twilight.

And then—it began to snow.

Soft, white flakes drifted lazily from the sky, covering the academy grounds in a thin, pristine layer of frost.

Fenix watched in silence, his breath visible in the cold air.

'Winter already, huh?'

It was strange. In the Soul Realm, the seasons never changed. The world there was locked in a constant, unnatural stasis. But here—here, things still followed the natural order.

As he stood there, watching the first snowfall of the season, a single thought crossed his mind.

What comes next?

He had grown stronger.

He had survived the Soul Realm.

He had earned his place at the academy.

But something told him that this was only the beginning.

And deep inside, he knew—

Something was coming.

Something far bigger than just training and exams.

And when it arrived…

He needed to be ready.