Gilded Ashes-Chapter 53: Latent or Dishonest

The day after, they met Eon in a room that had already survived it.

Kori decided that they were learning quickly, so she might have bribed a few professors with pastries, arranging a few Eon practice classes.

The hall sat deeper in the Academy than most regular students ever went. It was older than the rest of the building - not damaged, just built by people who expected damage and didn’t want the room to blow up. Stone ribs arched overhead. Dull luminite veins ran through the walls behind sealed glass in thin lines.

The floor was dark plates fitted together like armor, with thin channels cut between them, something that looked like thin copper grates. The room was ready for any kind of mistake you’d throw at it.

Between the columns, broad panels of matte black material waited in silence. They didn’t look like decoration. They looked like simple, efficient protection.

The eight stepped inside and lowered their voices without meaning to.

Kori leaned against a rear pillar with her arms folded, wearing her usual smirk. She didn’t announce herself. She never did. Everyone just knew she was there.

At the front stood a small old woman with a staff.

Nobody knew who she was.

But you could look at her and figure out she wasn’t joking. Straight back. Steady hands. Her eyes were sharp. Naturally sharp. Raizen read that these kind of people originated from the east. Her silver hair was neatly tied, and she had the look of someone who hadn’t been impressed in decades and had stopped expecting to be.

She tapped the staff once.

The sound echoed lightly against the walls.

"Welcome" she said. "Names - I already know them."

Esen lifted a hand anyway. Hikari kicked his ankle without looking. He swallowed the sound and nodded like he always meant to.

The old woman’s gaze swept across them. Over their luminite blades, not practice toys. Over Hikari’s staff. Over the way Keahi stood with her sword like it had always been part of her. Over Esen’s rings with their multicolor shine. Her eyes paused on Ichiro a fraction longer than the rest.

"Listen carefully" she said. "You are here to fail."

No one laughed.

"But you are here to fail in the right way" she let that settle. "Good failures teach. Bad failures just break you."

She turned and nodded toward the black wall panels.

"Those will catch what you throw wrong. Don’t make them work too hard, though. I heard enough about you lot to know not to underestimate."

A soft, thin circle marked center of the floor - just bright enough to mark the training zone.

"One at a time" the old woman said. "

For a split second, her eyes narrowed even more.

"And do not push. Do not imagine fireworks unless your bones can support a small explosion."

She pointed her staff toward the circle.

"Most of you are tone-deaf when it comes to Eon harmony. Today, you will learn to be... Half deaf."

Esen whispered, "That makes no sense."

Lynea whispered back, "That’s why you’re failing first."

The old woman didn’t look at them.

"Arashi" she called. "In the circle."

Arashi stepped forward like he’d been born for this, jacket sitting perfectly even here. He drew a slender practice blade – his luminite guns apparently didn’t qualify for this.

He took a breath.

Then another, as he slowly moved the blade through a single line.

A thin particle of light ran along the steel and died almost immediately. Barely a thumb’s length of light before it gave up.

The old woman watched without blinking.

"Pretty" she said. "But not useful."

Arashi didn’t argue (rare, coming from him) He inclined his head once and stepped back, eyes narrowed - not at the failure, but at how graceless it looked.

"Lynea."

Lynea walked into the circle without rushing and without hesitating. She placed her feet carefully, squared her shoulders, and steadied her breathing.

Her violet fragments lifted in front of her, orbiting in a tidy pattern. The fragments already obeyed her. Somehow, that wasn’t the point.

She tried something. Small and controlled.

When nothing came, she didn’t panic. Didn’t force it. She adjusted her stance by a fraction, rolled her shoulders back, and tried again - same motion, stripped down, cleaner.

A faint shimmer skated across the flat of one fragment and slid to the other, connecting them with a thin neon purple line.

The old woman’s mouth twitched. Almost approval.

"Measure first" she said. "Then commit."

Lynea stepped out without smiling. Smiling would cost focus she wasn’t willing to spend.

"Feris."

Feris entered the circle with that bright, slightly dreamy calm she carried everywhere. She smiled, and arranged her pale pink hair one more time.

She lifted her mace and lifted it to her shoulder’s height.

A tiny pulse moved through the air. Not light. Not a spark. Just a quick pressure shift - small enough to miss if you blinked. But close enough, it felt like gravity was suddenly amplified.

Feris’ eyes lit up.

"An impulse" the old woman murmured. "Based on current now."

Raizen watched from the sides. What purpose did this personal examination serve? Why was the woman trying them before she even taught them anything.

"Esen."

Esen walked into the circle grinning. "Stand back. I have a plan and it’s bad."

He set his feet too wide, realized it, narrowed them, then committed to the wrong stance anyway - because that was how Esen survived most things.

He opened his hands to his sides, and clapped his hands as hard as he could.

A shockwave burst out.

It was strong. Genuinely strong.

But it was also aimed like garbage.

The nearest black panel swallowed it whole. Ripples chased across its surface and vanished. A gust of hot air slapped Esen in the front of the head hard enough to rearrange his hair into something he shouldn’t be proud of.

Kori covered her mouth with her knuckles, shoulders shaking.

The old woman tapped her staff again.

Kori immediately stopped, with the most serious face she could pull off.

"Bleed" the professor said, sharp. "You didn’t set one. Eon went wherever it wanted." Her voice dropped. "The walls will not always catch it for you."

Esen swallowed. "Yes, ma’am."

"Again. Less theater."

He tried again. Smaller this time. The pulse didn’t burst forward this time, controlled in his own hands - exactly the way it was supposed to.

He hissed and shook his fingers out.

"Good" the old woman said. "Feel that? That’s the price. Pay small first."

Esen nodded fast, cheeks a little red, but he looked proud anyway. You couldn’t take that from him.

"Keahi."

Keahi stepped into the circle and everyone went quiet before she did anything. Something about her made people stop.

She drew her sword.

Crimson light lit up around the edge.

It wasn’t a flare. Or an explosion, like Esen expressed himself. It was a burning thread of color that formed along the steel and lifted just off the blade – thin, but steady and alive. It breathed outward in a small wave of heatless fire.

The black panels didn’t react, they didn’t need to. The fire wasn’t wild.

Everyone else stood very still.

Keahi grabbed the light thread, held it in her hand for one second, then eased it back down - careful, controlled, like she was putting something dangerous to sleep.

The professor studied her for a few seconds.

"Who taught you?" she asked, and her voice was lower now.

Keahi’s throat worked once. "My family."

She glanced down at her sword, and for the first time since Raizen had met her, she looked almost small. "They – We hunted Nyxes for generations"

Nobody made a joke. Not even Esen. Hikari’s expression shifted - something new entering it that she didn’t name.

The old woman nodded once.

"Birthright, I see." she said. "And training, yes."

Then she pointed her staff at Keahi’s elbow.

"Two mistakes. You rely too much on your blade. And you’re afraid. I don’t know why, but it’s there. Fix them."

Keahi’s cheeks warmed, and she nodded quickly. "Yes, ma’am."

"Hikari."

Hikari stepped forward with her staff like it was just another part of her. Calm, as always.

Blue lines woke inside the staff - neat lines lighting up. The glow ran along the shaft and into both ends of her staff, then settled into a clean shine and stayed there. Steady.

Hikari lifted the staff.

The light lifted with it.

She didn’t throw anything, or try anything fancy. She just let the staff spin once, slowly, then damped it with her hand and turned the glow back down.

The old woman’s eyes softened.

"Good" she said. "Don’t get too proud."

Hikari nodded. Flushed a bit from effort, not attention.

"Next... Ichiro."

Ichiro stepped into the circle without even a practice weapon because he didn’t carry one. He knelt and placed his palm flat on the floor, fingers spread.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the floor itself moved - so faintly you almost doubted your own eyes.

A ring of dust lifted around his hand. The few tiles near him raised a bit from the ground, barely a few centimeters, then immediately settled in their original place.

The old woman’s pupils narrowed.

"Again" she said, and her voice wasn’t casual anymore.

Ichiro did it again. A tremor ran from his arm down his arm and disappeared into the floor, shifting tiles the tiniest bit.

Ichiro stood and everything slid back into place like nothing had happened.

The old woman’s gaze flicked toward Kori. Very briefly.

Kori’s smile stayed the same, then she shrugged, like she wasn’t sure what they were dealing with, either.

No one spoke.

"Raizen" the old woman called.

Raizen stepped into the circle.

He drew one twin blade and left the other sheathed. He remembered Kori’s voice in the ruins. "Don’t pull. Invite. Grain. Resonance. Bleed. Don’t lie to yourself."

He set his breath low. Tried to be honest.

Nothing happened.

He adjusted his grip. Softened his hands. Tried again.

A weak snap of static bit his knuckles and vanished. More annoyance than power - like the blade had twitched in its sleep and immediately gone still again.

The old woman didn’t react.

He tried again. Less force.

The blade stayed the same it always was.

The walls stayed black.

The old woman tapped her staff again, like she had a tick. Then she looked at him for a long time.

"Latent" she said. "Or dishonest."

Raizen’s stomach tightened. "What does that mean?"

"We will soon find out which you are." she added, without explaining anything.

From the back of the room, Kori’s eyes met his. No tease. No disappointment. Just a quick wink - agreement - and he understood.

They’ll figure this out - later.

The professor straightened. "Break. Drink water, do what you want. Then you will all fail again. Preferably better, this time."

Everyone barely moved from their places. Lynea was already tracing adjustments in the air with her fingers, running corrections only she could see. Feris leaned against one of the black panels, staring in the distance. Hikari sat with her staff across her lap, thumb tracing a slow circle on the steel.

Raizen stood near a column and tried not to look like a failiure.

His blades rested against his hip. They didn’t hum here. The spark he’d made in the ruins felt far away now - like it belonged to something else he couldn’t quite reach.

He closed his eyes and counted breaths the way Kori taught him.

When he opened them, Hikari was in front of him looking at him.

"You’ll get it" she said.

Hikari never gave an encouragement speech, but this was more than enough.

Raizen’s mouth twitched. "Yeah. I hope..."

The word were mostly for himself this time.

✦ ✦ ✦

They spent the next hour failing better.

Arashi stopped trying to make things look good and got a steadier flicker in return. It wasn’t dramatic, but it held longer - and he studied the result with the expression of a man discovering that function might actually matter more than show.

Esen made a shockwave that went forward on purpose - small, controlled, deliberate - and looked so relieved when he realized he didn’t blast anyone away this time.

Hikari ran her staff’s blue lines cleanly and correctly every single time. Just precision, over and over.

Keahi’s pink flame came back thinner, but tighter and brighter. The old woman approved it with a frown that somehow counted as praise.

Raizen still produced nothing.

And the worst part - the part that sat heavy in his chest and wouldn’t move - was that it was starting to feel like his own fault.

When dismissal came, the old woman tapped her staff and the circle’s glow faded for the last time.

"No one died today" she said. "Boring, but acceptable."

A few students watching from the hallway flinched - like she’d said it too easily and they weren’t sure if she was joking.

She wasn’t.

As they started toward the doors, the old woman turned back to her lectern and began writing on a slate in small, precise letters that looked like they’d been given no choice in the matter.

Kori drifted close enough to glance at it. Far enough to pretend she hadn’t.

"Your handwriting still scares people" she murmured.

"It should" the old woman replied.

The eight filtered into the corridor together, and the air felt lighter immediately. At least less interested in testing them.

Arashi bumped Raizen’s shoulder. "Good mysterious silence today. Very artistic. I give it five out of four brooding poets."

Raizen exhaled something that almost counted as a laugh. "Was I supposed to laugh?"

Hikari tapped her staff gently against Raizen’s blade as they walked. Accidental, but there.

"Uhm... We- We could practice together, if you want" she offered.

Raizen glanced at her. "You don’t have to, but thanks."

Keahi fell into step on Raizen’s other side. Her cheeks were still warm from the effort. She hesitated, then spoke, eyes forward.

"You asked about the sword."

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to" Raizen mumbled.

"I want to." She surprised herself saying it. "Soo... My family’s been hunting Nyxes for decades. Far from here, on another continent. Our flame is ours - always has been."

She glanced down at the sheath. "This blade is something passed down from generations. When I was little, my parents only let me carry the sheath, nothing more. They said I wasn’t ready for what was inside."

Keahi swallowed. After a few seconds, she looked ahead again, jaw set.

"And as you probably already know, I came to Neoshima because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone."

Hikari’s voice came from Raizen’s other side. "You aren’t."

Keahi blinked, but didn’t respond.

Arashi drifted backward until he was walking alongside them. "Let’s all pretend that Raizen did not brood on purpose."

"I didn’t" Raizen said.

Lynea caught up with notes in hand. "If what you did in the exam was just instinct... I don’t even know what to say."

Esen pointed behind them. "I’m going to have recurring nightmares about those black panels."

"They kind of saved you" Feris said, amused.

"Exactly" Esen replied. "I don’t like being rescued by interior design."

They turned into the main passage, and the Academy felt normal again. Red banners on stone. Students flowing past in groups, talking, laughing, arguing.

Behind them, back inside the hall, the old woman stood in the doorway and watched them go.

Her staff tapped the floor once. Softer this time.

"Latent" she murmured. "Or dishonest..."

Her eyes narrowed.

"What was that dash, then?" she added, barely above a breath. "Pure pressure? Memory? Determination?"

Kori stood at the edge of the corridor.

"I have a strange feeling..."

She paused for a second, as if she was calculating her next words.

"That Raizen’s dash wasn’t just movement"

The professor raised her eyes from her slate. "What do you mean? You can move just as fast, Kori. Heck, you’ve done even worse!"

"That’s not the point. My body can handle that kind of acceleration. His can’t."

The woman now leaned fully forward, leaning on both her elbows. "Then what are you suggesting?"

Kori tilted her head, as if reconsidering whether she should say it at all.

"I’m not suggesting anything" she said softly. "I’m just saying... when he moved..."

Her special eye – the chasmis – shone a bit brighter

"...It wasn’t speed. My chasmis didn’t see any velocity."

The professor’s grip tightened on her staff.

Kori’s smile thinned. "It was like the distance folded."

The professor’s gaze sharpened. "Impossible. That kind of compression would tear muscle from bone."

"Exactly." Kori answered. "But he didn’t tear. He didn’t strain. He didn’t even stumble."

The old woman’s voice lowered. "You’re suggesting short-range displacement."

"What I’m suggesting" Kori said softly, "that space moved out of his way."

She turned and walked down the corridor, voice drifting back over her shoulder.

"And if I’m right... He’s not latent. Or dishonest."

A pause.

"He’s early."