章 12: Suiting Up
It was the sixth day of training. I took a deep breath, focusing on everything Sophie had drilled into me over the past week. The air around me whirled and shifted, but the moment I tried to execute the third form of Wind Breathing, I stumbled. A sudden heaviness filled my lungs, and the flow of power I'd been trying to harness dissipated like mist in the morning sun.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, leaning on my sword for support. I'd mastered the first two forms quickly enough, but this one… it felt like trying to harness a hurricane.
Before I could catch my breath and try again, a faint noise carried over from the direction of the dojo. Voices. The sound of footsteps shuffling and muted thuds. Someone was inside.
Curiosity prickled at me, and I sheathed my sword, striding towards the building. I pushed the sliding door open and paused at the entrance, surveying the scene.
Three boys, probably no older than sixteen or seventeen, were clustered around a large trunk in the middle of the hall. One of them knelt beside it, prying the latch open while the others stood by, their faces flushed with a mix of exertion and excitement. Sophie stood a few steps away, her arms crossed, watching them with a bemused smile.
When she noticed me standing there, her eyes lit up. "Just on time, Zark," she called out, motioning for me to come closer.
"What's going on?" I asked, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind me.
She gestured to the boys, who were now lifting the lid of the trunk, revealing its contents. "These boys work for Bjorn. He's a master armourer—been crafting armor for over fifty years. I had a special set built for you, and today's the delivery."
My gaze shifted to the trunk, curiosity mixing with anticipation. An armor, made just for me?
The boys reached into the trunk and began lifting the pieces of the armor out one by one. The craftsmanship was striking—each plate, each joint, and every groove was meticulously designed, yet there was an underlying sense of brutality in its form. The metal had a peculiar sheen to it, a faint black that seemed to shimmer with hidden hues when the light caught it just right. It reminded me of my father's sword, with its unique, ominous gleam.
I stepped closer as one of the boys held up the chest piece, its surface polished to a mirror finish. They moved with a practiced efficiency, securing the pieces onto me with an ease that spoke of experience. One piece at a time, the weight of the armor settled on my shoulders, around my waist, and down my legs. It felt both solid and yet strangely light, hugging my form snugly, as if it had been molded to fit me and only me.
When the final piece snapped into place, something happened.
A low hum reverberated through the metal, spreading outwards from my chest. The entire suit seemed to shudder, and then—just like the day with the sword—the armor began to glow. A deep, pulsating purple light radiated from every seam and joint, tracing patterns over the dark surface like veins of raw energy. The boys backed away, wide-eyed and muttering in awe.
I glanced at Sophie, who looked just as intrigued, her gaze following the arcs of light traveling up and down my body. The glow intensified for a moment, then gradually faded away, leaving a rich purple tint on the armor's surface. It was subtle but unmistakable—a mark of power that seemed to pulse beneath the polished metal.
"Well, isn't that something," Sophie murmured, stepping closer and running a hand lightly over the chest piece. "This armor is made from the same materials as all demon-butchering tools. And it seems to have taken a liking to you, Zark."
She took a step back, admiring the full set. "You'll be one of the very few New Bloods to own an armor like this. Enormous wealth does have its perks," she said with a wry smile, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. "Guess there's some good that comes with being a rich aristocrat's son, after all."
The boys gathered their tools and gave small nods of respect to Sophie before filing out of the dojo, leaving the room eerily silent in their absence. I was left alone with Sophie, clad in this strange, powerful armor that seemed to respond to me like a living thing. The room felt different, charged with a tense energy that hummed against my skin.
"Alright, Zark," Sophie said, her voice serious now. "I want you to focus."
"On what?" I asked, still feeling the lingering pulse of the armor's reaction.
"On the armor," she said softly. "Reach out to it, feel its presence, its weight… and then try to connect with it. If what I suspect is true, you'll find that it's more than just metal protecting your body."
I glanced down at the intricate etchings on the plates. "And how am I supposed to do that?"
She smirked, tilting her head as if the answer was obvious. "Think of it as an extension of yourself. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and just… *feel* it."
I did as she said, closing my eyes and letting out a long breath. The room around me seemed to fall away as I focused inward, reaching out with my mind as if trying to sense something that wasn't there. But the armor remained stubbornly silent, just a cold weight against my skin.
"Nothing's happening," I muttered through clenched teeth.
"Try again," Sophie urged gently, stepping closer. "You felt it react earlier. Just think about that feeling and push past it."
With a frustrated sigh, I gathered my focus once more and reached deeper. I visualized the sensation from before—the hum, the pulse of power—and tried to grasp it. This time, something shifted. A faint warmth began to spread through the metal, a sensation that grew stronger as I continued to focus. The surface of the armor shimmered faintly, and a soft glow began to emanate from it once more.
Then, out of nowhere, a burst of light erupted from the shoulder piece. When I opened my eyes, a symbol was etched into the armor—a stylized bird with wings outstretched, glowing purple against the dark metal.
"Now, that's more like it," Sophie murmured approvingly, a note of excitement in her voice. "You see that? That's a rune."
"A rune?" I asked, bewildered as I traced the outline of the bird with my finger. "Like… magical runes?"
"Exactly." Sophie's eyes shone as she moved closer, studying the symbol with keen interest. "Runes are markers of power. They grant you special abilities, and over time, the strength of the rune grows with you. Each one is unique, tied to the person who manifests it."
"So… what does this one do?" I asked, staring at the bird-shaped rune that seemed to thrum with energy.
"That's something you'll have to figure out through training and experience." Sophie's gaze flicked up to meet mine. "But what's important to understand is this: the armor is just a canvas that displays the rune. The real power comes from you. That rune is tied to your soul, Zark. The abilities it grants are yours, whether you're wearing the armor or not."
The idea was hard to wrap my head around, but I could feel the truth of her words. There was something about the rune's presence that resonated deep within me, like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place.
"Why a bird?" I asked absently, still mesmerized by the way the rune seemed to flicker and pulse.
Sophie shrugged lightly. "Runes reflect the essence of who you are. Maybe it symbolizes freedom, or speed, or something else entirely. You'll know in time."
I nodded slowly, still absorbing the information. The rune continued to glow softly, a constant reminder of the power now at my fingertips. I couldn't help but feel a strange thrill at the possibilities it represented.
"Just keep this in mind," Sophie continued, her tone turning serious again. "The rune will only be as strong as you are. As you grow and push your limits, so too will its power. It's tied to you, and you alone."
"So… I just have to train and see what it can do?"
"Exactly," Sophie said, a faint smile curving her lips. "For now, just focus on familiarizing yourself with the armor and its connection to you. You've made good progress today, but there's still a long way to go."
I glanced down at the bird etched onto the armor's surface, feeling a strange sense of pride swelling in my chest. Whatever this power was, it felt right—like I was finally stepping into the path I was meant to follow.
"I'll figure it out," I promised, meeting Sophie's gaze with determination.
"I know you will," she replied softly. "You're your father's son, after all."
There was a weight behind those words, something unspoken but heavy with meaning. I nodded, still feeling the warmth of the rune pulsing against my skin.
The path ahead was uncertain, but with the rune's power at my side, I felt ready to face whatever came next.
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