Chapitre 17: The Weight Of Shadows
The Academy loomed ahead as Orin and his squad returned from the forest. The encounter with the **Black Tiger** left a heavy silence hanging over them, each step accompanied by unspoken questions. The faint hum of the Academy's barriers as they crossed back onto its grounds broke the eerie stillness, but Orin felt no relief. His mind was consumed with the tiger's glowing eyes and the cryptic words it had spoken: *You are not ready.*
Inside the debriefing chamber, **General Sheil Luthren** and **General Siegfreed Lox** waited, their expressions unreadable. The room was cold, its stark walls devoid of the warmth Orin usually felt within the Academy. The air was tense as the squad filed in, standing at attention before the two generals.
"Report," Siegfreed said, his voice calm but commanding.
Zeela stepped forward, her posture stiff. "During the mission, we encountered a Monari—confirmed as a **Black Tiger**. The creature did not engage directly but displayed intelligence and retreated after observing us."
Sheil's sharp eyes narrowed. "A Black Tiger in the Beastland Forest? That hasn't happened in decades."
Wake chimed in, his usual levity absent. "It wasn't just any Monari, General. That thing… it wasn't looking at all of us. It was looking at Orin."
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Orin, and he felt the weight of their gazes like a physical burden. He shifted uncomfortably, his chest tightening.
"Is this true, Slain?" Siegfreed asked, his tone even.
Orin hesitated, then nodded. "It… it spoke to me. In my mind. It said I wasn't ready."
Sheil and Siegfreed exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. Siegfreed folded his hands behind his back, pacing slowly.
"Do you have any idea why it singled you out?" Sheil asked, her voice measured.
Orin swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. Should he tell them about the beast inside him? About the whispers and the scroll in the Restricted Vault? No—he wasn't ready to share that. Not yet.
"I don't know," Orin said finally, his voice strained. "But it felt… familiar. Like it knew me."
Siegfreed stopped pacing, his piercing gaze locking onto Orin. "Whatever connection you have to this Monari must be explored. But for now, we'll treat this as a reconnaissance success. Dismissed."
Back in his room, Orin sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. The tiger's voice echoed in his mind, stirring something deep and primal. The beast inside him was restless, its usual growl replaced by a low, uneasy hum.
*You are not ready.*
"What did it mean?" Orin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
A knock at his door startled him. He opened it to find **Hiroshi**, his hood down for once, revealing his sharp features and piercing eyes.
"Thought you could use some company," Hiroshi said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
Orin closed the door, crossing his arms. "What do you want, Hiroshi?"
Hiroshi smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Relax. I'm not here to dig. Just… thought you'd want to talk about the big scary tiger that decided to have a heart-to-heart with you."
Orin sighed, sitting back down. "I don't even know where to start."
Hiroshi's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "Then let's start with this: why did it back off? Monari—especially one that powerful—don't just walk away."
Orin shook his head. "I don't know. It looked at me like… like it knew me. Like it was testing me."
"Testing you for what?" Hiroshi pressed.
"I don't know!" Orin snapped, his frustration boiling over. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I just… I don't understand any of this. The beast inside me, the whispers, the scroll in the Restricted Vault… it's all connected, but I can't see how."
Hiroshi's eyes sharpened. "The scroll mentioned Azail, didn't it?"
Orin nodded. "It called him the Catalyst. A Monari-Kai of shadow and flame."
Hiroshi's expression darkened. "Shadow and flame. That's not just any Monari-Kai. If Azail's involved, this goes way deeper than the Academy's politics. We need answers, Orin—and fast."
The next day, Orin found himself back in the training yard, this time under the watchful eye of **General Cleve Rain**. The day's focus was endurance, both physical and mental—a grueling series of obstacle courses and sparring sessions designed to push the students to their limits.
Orin threw himself into the exercises, desperate to quiet his thoughts. The beast inside him stirred with every burst of exertion, its presence a constant reminder of the struggle within. By the time the final sparring session began, Orin was drenched in sweat, his muscles screaming for relief.
"Slain," Cleve called, motioning him forward. "You're up."
Orin stepped into the sparring ring, facing off against **Zeela**. Her silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, and her sharp eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made his chest tighten.
"Don't hold back," Zeela said, drawing her twin daggers. "You won't win if you hesitate."
The match began with a flurry of movement. Zeela was fast—faster than Orin had anticipated. Her daggers danced in her hands, each strike precise and calculated. Orin struggled to keep up, his blade clashing against hers in a desperate attempt to hold his ground.
"Focus!" Zeela barked, her movements fluid and relentless. "You're thinking too much. Trust your instincts."
Orin gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move faster. His strikes became more deliberate, his defenses tighter. But Zeela was relentless, her attacks pushing him closer to the edge of the ring.
The beast stirred, its growl growing louder. *Let me out,* it demanded. *You're weak without me.*
"No," Orin muttered, his grip tightening on his blade. He wouldn't give in. Not now.
With a burst of energy, Orin launched a counterattack, his blade slicing through the air. Zeela dodged, but the strike forced her to retreat, giving Orin a brief opening. He pressed the advantage, his movements faster, more precise.
For a moment, it seemed like he had the upper hand. But then Zeela stepped inside his guard, her gravity manipulation pulling him off balance. Before he could react, her daggers were at his throat.
"Match," Cleve announced, his voice calm.
Zeela stepped back, lowering her daggers. "Not bad, Slain. But you're still holding back."
Orin clenched his fists, frustration boiling in his chest. He knew she was right. The beast inside him was both his greatest strength and his greatest enemy—and until he learned to control it, he would never reach his full potential.
That night, as Orin sat alone in his room, the whispers returned, louder and more insistent than ever. The name Azail echoed in his mind, a shadowy presence that seemed to loom just beyond his reach.
*You are not ready.*
Orin closed his eyes, his hands trembling as he clenched them into fists. He didn't know what the Black Tiger had seen in him or why Azail's name haunted him, but he knew one thing: he couldn't keep running from the truth.
If he wanted to survive—if he wanted to protect the people who had come to mean something to him—he had to face the shadows, no matter what they revealed.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone