Chapter 60: Seeking Forgiveness, Seeking Power
The hallways of the Gifted Floor were quiet, the stone walls glistening under the soft light of the enchanted sconces. Ronald stepped out of his room, his expression unreadable as he moved with purpose through the corridor. He had been avoiding Edmund and Tina ever since their confrontation in the Stone Forest, and he could feel the weight of their disdain before he even saw them.
As expected, Edmund and Tina stood in the main hall, chatting with two other gifted recruits. The moment they spotted Ronald, their conversation slowed, and their gazes hardened. Ronald could feel the sting of their judgment. Edmund’s eyes were cold, and Tina’s lips twisted into a faint sneer, as if mocking him for daring to defy their expectations.
But Ronald didn’t flinch. He knew they didn’t support his choice to explore non-gifted methods to enhance his strength, but he had already made peace with it. Gloomeyes and Wolf had also faced ridicule for walking unconventional paths, but now they stood as Apostles—their success spoke for itself. Ronald was determined to follow his own path, no matter how much the other gifts looked down on him.
“They’ll see,” Ronald thought as he walked past them, his steps unwavering. “Once I become stronger and prove that this path works, they’ll have no choice but to respect me.”
He didn’t look back at Edmund or Tina as he headed toward the stairs leading down to the non-gifted floor. The air grew cooler as he descended, the warmth of the gifted floor fading behind him. The second floor, where the non-gifted recruits lived, was a stark contrast—darker, smaller, more confined. But Ronald wasn’t here for comfort. He was here to make amends and prove his worth.
…
The scene shifted to Sena's room, where the four of them—Sena, Abel, Nando, and Isabella—sat gathered in the dimly lit space. The small room felt warm despite the cool air outside, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the stone walls. They were deep in conversation, each of them reflecting on their recent changes.
“Nando, you ever gonna get a nickname like the rest of us?” Sena teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Nando, always quick with a joke, grinned. “What, ‘Shadowlord’ doesn’t suit me?” he quipped, referring to the dark aura that seemed to cling to him ever since his transformation. “Though, if you ask me, Isabella’s the one with the best nickname. Snakewitch—now that’s a title.”
Isabella chuckled, her gray snake lazily coiled around her arm. “Yeah, after some recruits saw my snake grow, they’ve been calling me Snakewitch behind my back,” she said with a shrug. “Not sure if it’s a compliment or a curse, but I’ll take it.”
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“Sounds better than Stargazer if you ask me,” Abel chimed in, though his tone was light. “At least Snakewitch has some bite.”
Nando leaned back, his expression shifting from playful to contemplative. “At least people are calling you something,” he muttered, rolling up the sleeve of his robe to reveal the black veins crawling up his arm. “All they do is avoid me like I’m carrying the plague.”
The group fell silent for a moment as they studied the dark tendrils spreading across Nando’s skin. It wasn’t just the veins—the aura surrounding Nando had changed too. There was something unsettling about it, something that made people instinctively keep their distance.
“Those veins…” Abel began, “Do they feel foreign? Like they’re something added to you?”
Nando shook his head, running his fingers over the black lines. “No. That’s the thing—it doesn’t feel like some outside force. It feels… natural, like these veins were always there, just waiting to be unlocked.”
Sena nodded, understanding the sentiment. “Same with my strength. It’s like my body’s been holding back, and now that I’ve tapped into it, it’s just… there.”
Isabella glanced at Sena, who had already gained a reputation for his overwhelming power. “You’ve been tempering yourself, haven’t you? Going out of the tower and fighting creatures just to keep the burn under control?”
Sena shrugged. “Helps keep the fire in check. And since I don’t need all the spoils, I’ve been trading them in for contribution points. Isabella’s been getting the leftovers, so it’s a win-win.”
Nando raised an eyebrow. “Guess that’s why you’ve got all the cool nicknames. Crimson Titan—pretty fitting.”
Sena laughed. “Well, I didn’t ask for it, but I’ll take it.”
Just as they were about to continue their conversation, a knock echoed from the door. Abel’s senses, heightened since his transformation, had already alerted him to someone’s presence. The gray snake around Isabella’s arm stirred slightly, sensing the shift in the room’s atmosphere.
Sena stood, his massive frame blocking the light as he moved toward the door. When he opened it, standing there was Ronald—his small, slight figure a stark contrast to Sena’s towering form.
For a moment, Ronald hesitated, adjusting his glasses as if to steady himself. The pressure in the room was almost suffocating. Sena’s aura was intense—far more intense than Ronald had expected.
“What do you want?” Sena’s voice was low, almost a growl.
Ronald cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “I came to apologize,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension. “And I have information, useful information, that I think you’ll want to hear. I just… I want to make amends.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, surprising everyone. Gifted recruits didn’t usually apologize, especially not to the non-gifted. Sena looked back at the others, who exchanged glances before nodding. Information was valuable, and an apology from a gifted wasn’t something they could afford to ignore.
Sena stepped aside, allowing Ronald to enter. “Alright,” he said. “Come in. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
Ronald stepped inside, feeling the weight of their gazes on him as the door closed behind him. The room was small and humble compared to the luxurious spaces on the gifted floor, but Ronald didn’t care about that. He was here to prove himself.
As he took a seat, he could feel the unease in the air. But he was ready. This was his chance to make things right—and he wouldn’t waste it.