The warm, orange glow of the lamp flickered in the corner of Renjiro’s tent, casting long, shifting shadows on the canvas walls. He lay on his back, staring up at the roof, his mind in turmoil. The failure at training gnawed at him, the inability to channel Lumina energy into his fists like everyone else. But what haunted him more was the other moment—the one that had changed everything. When anger had consumed him and, in a single uncontrollable strike, obliterated the training pillar.

It wasn’t just power. It had felt like something wild—something not entirely his.

He sat up, his breath heavy in the silence. What if it happens again? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with doubt and fear.

The faint sound of footsteps outside his tent broke his thoughts. He turned, eyes wide, as the flap was pulled back, and there, framed by the cold night air, stood Captain Rei.

Renjiro’s heart skipped. Why him? Now?

Without a word, Rei entered the tent, his sharp eyes scanning Renjiro as if weighing every breath he took. The small space seemed to contract around his presence, the authority he carried pressing down like a physical weight.

“I saw what happened today,” Rei said, his voice low, cold. There was no room for excuses. “That wasn’t an ordinary strike. That was something far more dangerous.”

Renjiro’s throat tightened. He hadn’t even fully understood what he’d done. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t understand,” Rei cut him off, stepping forward with deliberate precision. “You’ve been struggling with basic Lumina control, and then you obliterate a training pillar with a single blow? That’s not just ‘anger,’ Renjiro. That’s something else. Something wild.”

The weight of Rei’s judgment was heavy, each word hanging in the air like a blade.

“I was just… angry,” Renjiro stammered, the frustration from earlier still simmering under his skin. “Kairro—he kept pushing, and I—I couldn’t stop it.”

Rei’s gaze narrowed, sharp and unyielding, like he was peeling back layers of Renjiro’s soul to find the truth hidden beneath. “Show me your hand.”

Renjiro hesitated, confused by the command, but complied. He extended his hand, his palm still raw from the earlier training.

Without warning, Rei grabbed it, gripping it tightly, his fingers tracing Renjiro’s palm as if searching for something unseen. The pressure increased, and Renjiro winced as his roughened skin gave way, reopening a small cut he hadn’t even noticed before.

A few drops of blood spilled onto the floor.

Rei froze. His face paled, his expression hardening as he stared at the blood—like he was seeing something impossible.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Outside the tent, hidden in the shadows of a nearby tree, Yumeru watched silently. Her sharp eyes caught the flicker of movement inside and the sudden stillness that followed. She’d followed Rei out of curiosity, but now something more had captured her attention. Her black eyes narrowed, her senses alert.

“You’re… bleeding,” Rei whispered, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, yet it was filled with shock.

Renjiro, confused, glanced down at the cut on his palm. “It’s just a scratch,” he said, pulling back slightly.

But Rei didn’t move. He stood there, staring at the blood as if it were an abomination. “Luminarians don’t bleed,” he said, his voice hollow, filled with a quiet, terrifying certainty.

Renjiro blinked, his mind unable to grasp what Rei was implying. “What are you talking about?”

Rei’s grip loosened, and he let go of Renjiro’s hand as if it had burned him. His eyes darkened, the pieces of a grim puzzle falling into place. “Luminarians don’t bleed, Renjiro. We heal. Our bodies are sustained by Lumina energy and blood… it’s not part of us. But you…” His voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of what he had just uncovered.

Renjiro’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as the implications of Rei’s words hit him. I’m not Luminarian? But how…?

Outside, Yumeru’s calm expression flickered. She knew what Rei was talking about—every recruit knew it. Luminarians healed quicker than humans. They didn’t bleed like humans. And yet, here was Renjiro, standing in the middle of the academy, bleeding like one of them.

Rei’s face turned cold, his eyes narrowing. “You’re human, Renjiro. That’s the only explanation.”

Renjiro’s world tilted. He had convinced himself he was like everyone else here—part of the Azeron Guardians, a Luminarian like the rest. Now, in the space of a few seconds, everything he thought he knew once again was crumbling around him. “How can that be?” he stammered. “If I’m human, how am I able to use Lumina energy?”

Rei’s mind raced. There were no records, no history of a human ever wielding Lumina energy. But now, standing before him was a living contradiction. A human with Lumina power. It was impossible. And yet, it was happening.

“If this gets out,” Rei muttered, almost to himself, “if the wrong people find out about you, you’ll be seen as a threat. An anomaly. You won’t just be expelled from the academy. They’ll hunt you down.”

Renjiro felt his chest tighten, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His world was spinning, his identity slipping through his fingers like sand.

“I don’t understand…” Renjiro whispered. “I never asked for this.”

Rei’s voice softened, though the edge of authority remained. “You didn’t ask for it, but it’s yours to bear now. You can’t let anyone know—not the commander, not even General Seraphus. No one can know what you are.”

Renjiro nodded the weight of the secret pressing down on him. It felt suffocating like the walls of the tent were closing in.

Outside, Yumeru stepped back into the shadows, her mind racing as fast as Renjiro’s. The revelation had hit her just as hard. If Renjiro was human and could still wield Lumina… what did that mean for the rest of them?

Rei’s eyes fixed on Renjiro, his expression hardening once again. “You need to figure out what’s happening to you, and fast. If you can’t control this power, you’ll become a danger to everyone around you—including yourself.”

Renjiro swallowed hard. His entire life, everything he thought he knew about himself, was unraveling. And now, with this revelation hanging over him, the stakes had never been higher.

Rei turned toward the entrance of the tent but paused just before stepping outside. His voice, low and deliberate, broke the silence once more. “There’s more to you than you know. Don’t waste it.”

With that, Rei stepped into the night, disappearing into the shadows. Renjiro stood in the silence of the tent, his hand still trembling, the blood drying slowly on his palm. He wasn’t who he thought he was. He was something else. Something unknown.

But one thing was clear—nothing would ever be the same.