Chapitre 7: A Step Towards Redemption
Orin trudged forward, his boots crunching against the brittle undergrowth. The encounter with the cloaked man weighed heavily on his mind. The man's words—cryptic yet compelling—had ignited something Orin wasn't sure he wanted to confront. *Monari-Kai blood. A key. Redemption.* The concepts swirled in his head like an unrelenting storm.
Hachi Academy loomed in his thoughts, a beacon and a threat. It was a place Sonny believed could save him. Orin wasn't so sure. Could anything save him now?
The forest began to thin as Orin approached the outskirts of **Drillsoran City**, the largest urban hub in this part of New Altera. The trees gave way to a sprawling vista of towering metal and stone structures, their angular forms shimmering under the rising sun. Bridges crisscrossed the city's central river, bustling with early morning activity—carts loaded with supplies, travelers on foot or riding hover wagons, and the hum of distant machinery.
It was a stark contrast to the wilderness Orin had just left. The city felt alive, a pulsing heart of commerce and chaos. And for Orin, it was suffocating.
Pulling the hood of his cloak low over his face, he stepped onto the dusty road leading toward the gates. His worn boots dragged slightly, his limbs still heavy with the exhaustion of the previous day. The weight of the letter in his pocket felt like a constant reminder: *You have to keep moving.*
The city gates were alive with activity. Guards stood on either side, their armor glinting in the sunlight as they inspected incoming travelers. Orin's gaze darted between the guards, his heart pounding. He'd been to cities before with The Fangs, but this was the first time he was truly alone. Vulnerable.
He joined the line of travelers, his eyes fixed on the ground as the line moved forward. When it was his turn, a guard stepped in front of him, blocking the gate.
"Name and purpose?" the guard asked, his tone curt but not unkind.
Orin hesitated, his mouth suddenly dry. His hand instinctively moved to his pocket, brushing against Sonny's letter. "Orin. Orin Slain. I'm here… for the Academy," he mumbled.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "The Academy, huh? You don't look like the usual types they send." His eyes scanned Orin's torn cloak, his mud-caked boots, the faint scars visible along his neck.
"Just passing through," Orin added quickly, his voice tightening.
The guard frowned but waved him along. "Fine. Stay out of trouble."
Orin slipped past, his shoulders stiff with tension as he entered the city. The noise hit him first—the clamor of voices, the creak of wagon wheels, the hum of engines. Vendors shouted to advertise their wares, and the scent of roasted meats and spices filled the air. The energy was overwhelming.
He ducked into a quieter side street, leaning against a stone wall to catch his breath. The forest felt a world away now. Here, the air was heavy with human life—bustling, impatient, and utterly indifferent to the turmoil inside him.
Navigating Drillsoran City was easier said than done. The streets twisted and turned like a labyrinth, with towering buildings casting long shadows over narrow alleys. Orin's instincts from years with The Fangs kicked in, his eyes scanning every corner, every figure that passed him. He clutched Sonny's letter, following the directions written inside.
It wasn't long before he found himself in a quieter district. The streets here were wider, lined with polished stone and trees in neatly arranged rows. The hum of the city's chaos faded into the background as Orin approached a tall building with angular towers that reached toward the sky.
The gates bore the crest of Hachi Academy: a sword entwined with a serpent, framed by a ring of stars.
This was it.
Orin's breath caught as he stared at the Academy gates. The air seemed thicker here, charged with an energy he couldn't quite place. His legs felt like lead, refusing to move forward.
*This is what Sonny wanted.*
The thought pushed him forward, his steps slow and deliberate.
The gates swung open as Orin approached, creaking on their hinges. A figure stepped out to meet him, their presence commanding but calm. It was a woman, her silver hair tied back in a sharp braid, her uniform pristine and adorned with the Academy's emblem. Her eyes—piercing and calculating—locked onto him instantly.
"Orin Slain," she said, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "We've been expecting you."
Orin froze. "You… know who I am?"
The woman nodded, stepping closer. "Your arrival was… anticipated. I am General Sheil Luthren, head researcher and liaison for the Academy." Her gaze swept over him, noting the torn cloak, the scars, and the exhaustion etched into his face. "You've had a long journey."
Orin's stomach twisted. "Why would you be expecting me? Sonny said—"
"Sonny was a good man," Sheil interrupted, her voice softening slightly. "He sent word ahead before… well, before his passing." She paused, her expression unreadable. "We're aware of your unique… heritage."
The mention of his heritage made Orin's chest tighten. "So you know what I am," he said bitterly. "The beast. The monster."
Sheil's eyes narrowed. "You are many things, Orin Slain. A monster is not one of them." She stepped aside, motioning toward the Academy. "Come. There is much for you to learn."
Orin hesitated. Every instinct told him to turn and run, to escape the judgment and the danger he knew awaited him within those gates. But Sonny's letter burned in his pocket, a reminder of the promise he couldn't break.
With a deep breath, Orin stepped forward, crossing the threshold into Hachi Academy.
The inside of the Academy was unlike anything Orin had ever seen. The halls were lined with intricate carvings of beasts and warriors, their forms almost lifelike in the dim light. Students moved through the corridors in groups, their uniforms crisp and adorned with the Academy's crest. The air buzzed with a strange energy—both magical and mechanical—that seemed to hum in Orin's bones.
Sheil led him through the main atrium, her pace brisk. "The Academy is a place of discipline and knowledge," she explained as they walked. "Here, we train warriors, scholars, and protectors. But you, Orin… your path will be different."
"What do you mean?" Orin asked, his voice wary.
Sheil stopped in front of a massive door, its surface etched with glowing runes. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "Your power is dangerous, Orin. Untamed. But it is also extraordinary. If you are to control it, you must first understand it."
Orin's fists clenched. "And if I can't?"
Sheil's gaze hardened. "Then it will destroy you. And everything around you."
The weight of her words settled over Orin like a storm cloud. He swallowed hard, his chest tight. The memory of the forest—the blood, the graves—flashed in his mind. He couldn't let that happen again. He wouldn't.
Sheil opened the door, revealing a chamber bathed in pale blue light. The walls were lined with ancient texts, and at the center stood a pedestal holding a single glowing orb.
"Welcome to the Hall of Binding," Sheil said, stepping aside. "This is where your training begins."
Orin stared at the orb, his heart pounding. The air in the chamber was thick with power, a tangible force that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone