"So... he’s a Dark Summoner?"
Leon narrowed his eyes slightly, keeping his thoughts to himself.
"That explains how he could steal beasts. That eerie power—it wasn’t just an oddity. It was Darkness."
Beside him, Marina stood stiffly, arms folded, eyes locked on the retreating back of Igaris. Her expression was tense.
"So what do you think?" she asked, her voice low. "Did I do the right thing?"
Leon glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
Marina bit her lip, her proud façade cracking just slightly. "After all that talk, I’m starting to doubt myself. What if your recruit ends up harming our own? What if... what if I was wrong? If something happens to the other Freedom Fighters under my watch, I won’t be able to show my face before the Five Supremes."
She looked away, eyes shadowed by worry.
Leon stepped forward and gently pulled her into an embrace. "You did the right thing," he whispered close to her ear. "Don’t let fear cloud your judgment now. I’ll talk to him. That kid isn’t lost. He’s just walking a path no one else dares to tread."
Marina closed her eyes, leaning into his warmth. "You really think he’ll understand?"
"Then... I’m relieved," she murmured, tilting her head up. Their lips met briefly in a soft, familiar kiss—one that spoke of shared burdens and silent promises.
For a moment, the tension between them melted away.
But above it all, both of them knew—darkness was never just a problem of power.
It was a question of choice.
And whether Igaris would choose to be a hero, or a disaster waiting to happen... was still undecided.
On the other side, Igaris and the other recruits were dismissed after a long session covering the basics of Summoner arts and theory.
None of them knew that Igaris was already something far beyond a beginner. Not technically a Summoner—but very much like one, if not more. His potential had already caught more than a few watchful eyes.
As he began to leave, Osama, Nagi, and Barefoot stepped in front of him.
"Igor... I’m sorry," Osama said, his voice unsure, avoiding eye contact. "Back then, under Blaze... we were just trying to survive. That’s why we didn’t stand up for you."
Igaris gave a faint smile—an amused, distant expression that didn’t reach his eyes.
Then his voice turned to ice.
The words struck like a whip.
"You and I will never be friends. I don’t need any of you. I’ve survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving on my own."
He walked past them without another glance, leaving the coldness of his words echoing in their chests.
Barefoot stared at Igor’s fading figure and clenched his fists. Regret gnawed at him. "I should have stood up for him. But I was a coward, afraid of Blaze, afraid of being left behind."
Nagi remained silent, his expression dark with guilt.
Only Osama muttered with a scowl, his pride wounded:
"Who the hell does he think he is? He hasn’t even contracted a beast yet. Arrogant bastard... I’ll show him. I’ll prove I’m better. I’ll get the strongest beast of them all."
But even as he spat those words, a flicker of unease stirred in his chest, because deep down, he feared Igaris was already beyond their reach.
After leaving the others behind, Igaris wandered the hallways of the training facility, searching for a secluded room to test his Fireball spell.
Most of the training rooms were already in use. He peered through windows, hearing shouts, clashing sounds, and bursts of energy.
And the VIP rooms were supposed to be off-limits, reserved for high-ranking Summoners.
Still, curiosity tugged at him.
He approached one VIP room and, to his surprise, found the door slightly ajar. No guards. No signs. Just silence.
Strange... but whatever.
The room was large and dimly lit, its warmth comforting. Reinforced steel lined the walls, faint magical etchings glowing softly along the corners—likely defensive enchantments. A few training dummies stood at a distance, their wooden frames scarred from countless previous tests.
Without hesitation, Igaris stepped into the center.
He raised his hand and focused.
A heat flared at his fingertips, and in the very first attempt, a spark ignited into life.
A small orb of fire floated in his palm, flickering softly, crackling with restrained energy.
His eyes lit up in wonder.
"So this is what power feels like in your hand..."
He concentrated further, feeding the fire with his will. The orb grew, swelling in size until it hovered like a blazing basketball in the air. It pulsed, unstable, as if eager to break free.
There was tension in the heat—coiled energy begging to be released.
Only one way to find out.
He hurled the fireball toward one of the distant dummies.
The impact triggered a shockwave. A burst of flame engulfed the wooden dummy, splinters flying as the reinforced wall behind it trembled under the heat blast. The runes shimmered, absorbing most of the damage, but a faint scorch mark still lingered across the steel.
Smoke curled in the air. Embers floated like dying stars.
Igaris stared at the destruction.
"Not bad... for a first try."
A sharp clap echoing from the doorway.
"Well, well. Who let you into a VIP chamber?"
A voice both amused and cold.
Igaris slowly turned, his eyes meeting those of Nina, the white-haired girl.
"Why am I not allowed to?" he shot back.
"Obviously not. But just this once, I’ll spare you. After all, you’re the special recruit my master picked," she replied with a smirk.
She was the apprentice of Master Leon.
She strode inside confidently, her gaze sweeping over the destruction Igaris had caused.
Instead of offering praise, she mocked, "That’s a lame fireball. How did you even manage to defeat Mystic with this?"
Igaris turned his back on her, instead of replying.
"I am here to train. If You’re so smart you wouldn’t have asked that stupid question."
The girl clicked her tongue. "Tsk."