The smoke around Ester thickened, swirling into shapes of animals—wolves, birds, snakes—all shimmering with blood-red light.
"Focus," Velquor commanded. "Reach out with your mind. Feel the life force in them. Only then will you bend their blood to your will."
Ester took a deep breath, heart pounding, and reached out into the swirling forms.
The air was heavy, vibrating with raw power. His trembling fingers stretched forward, and as his eyes narrowed, he tried to see past the illusion and into the core of the creatures. One of the smoke-wolves growled silently, its eyes glowing crimson. It lunged—but halted inches from his face, held back by Velquor's will.
"Do not fear it," Velquor's voice echoed like thunder across a void. "You must become the predator, not the prey."
Ester clenched his jaw, forcing his mind to sharpen. He visualized the blood inside the wolf—not just red liquid, but living energy, pulsing, flowing, alive. His vision flickered, and suddenly, he felt it. A warmth, rushing and erratic, like a drumbeat.
"There," he whispered.
The wolf's form stuttered, smoke curling inward. Ester stretched his hand toward it. His fingertips glowed faintly, his blood reacting. He gritted his teeth and pulled.
Snap!
The wolf howled—not in pain, but submission. Its eyes dulled, and the blood-red glow faded to a calmer hue. It sat at Ester's feet, obedient.
"I... did it," Ester whispered.
Velquor's voice was unreadable. "One... but not enough."
The remaining shapes stirred violently. The birds shrieked, their wings like blades. The snakes hissed, slithering through the smoke with hungry intent. Ester braced himself. The moment of triumph had passed. Now came the storm.
He focused on the birds next. Their flight was unpredictable, chaotic. He let his heartbeat sync with theirs—erratic, rapid. Then he twisted it. Pushed his own rhythm into them.
One bird dropped mid-flight, twitching. Another circled and then perched beside the wolf. A third exploded into mist. He had failed to anchor that one.
"You're wasting energy. Calm your emotions," Velquor snapped. "Your blood is your power. But if it boils, it burns you too."
Ester nodded, sweat dampening his forehead. He knelt, breathing steadily, drawing a symbol into the dark marble floor with his finger. A rune—one he remembered from Velquor's teachings—meant for stability.
The moment it was complete, his body pulsed with balance. The snakes lunged.
Too fast.
He threw out his hand.
One snake's blood froze mid-air. It shattered like glass. Another wrapped around his wrist, hissing into his ear. But he didn't panic. He felt its life, writhing and hot, and gripped it from within.
The snake dropped, limp.
Ester stood slowly, chest heaving. All the blood-formed animals were either subdued or fading. The smoke lifted slightly, revealing Velquor sitting atop his throne of gold, arms resting lazily along the sides.
"You're learning," he said, watching Ester with a faint curl to his lips. "But your fear is still a chain. Break it, or someone else will break you."
Ester didn't answer. He was staring at his hands—shaking, stained red. Not from wounds. From something deeper. The price of reaching into life itself.
"I don't want to become a monster," he muttered.
Velquor rose, stepping down from his throne with grace unnatural for a being of his size and presence. His golden hair shimmered like firelight, his yellow eyes piercing.
"You already are," Velquor said softly, stopping just before Ester. "But that is not a curse, Ester. That is your weapon."
A long silence passed between them. Then—
Velquor raised his hand. "Again."
The smoke returned, this time more vicious. There were no shapes—only chaos, testing his control.
Ester stepped forward without hesitation.
He wouldn't survive the world he had been thrown into by flinching. If he had to become a monster to protect himself... then so be it.
The blood called to him. This time, he answered without fear.
__
Overworld | Enji
These past few weeks had been a frustrating waste for Enji. Instead of focusing on preparing his two sons for the grueling U.A. entrance exams, he found himself stuck in endless pointless meetings—bureaucratic nonsense that drained his energy and patience.
He knew the stakes were far beyond just passing exams. It was about survival in a ruthless world that didn't care about weakness or excuses. His sons needed to be ready—not only to enter U.A., but to stand tall against whatever challenges awaited them.
Looking at them, Enji saw both the future he was desperate to protect and the storms gathering on the horizon. No one was going to hand them safety or success. They would have to earn it, fight for it, and he was the one who had to make sure they were prepared.
Those meetings slowed him down, but once they ended, all his focus would be on training. No distractions, no compromises. Failure was not an option. Not for him. Not for his family.
Hm? Shoto?
Enji stared at his phone buzzing insistently on the table. The name flashed on the screen.
He snapped, "Let's stop this meeting. Five-minute break."
Without waiting for a reply, he stood up and walked out, leaving the room cold and empty behind him.
Walking into his office, Enji answered the call.
"...Father, about Ester," came Shoto's cold, distant voice.
Enji frowned, confused. "What about Ester? Did he slack off?"
Shoto's icy tone sent a chill through the line. "No... I was wondering... why did you adopt him?"
His voice softened, almost hesitant.
Enji tapped his fingers on the table, then sighed. "Don't butt in. Just stay put like a good boy and get first place on the U.A. exam."
He ended the call, tossed his phone onto the desk, and walked away.
__
It was a dark night. Cats meowed in the distance as streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the empty streets. Near an apartment building, a boy lay curled up among piles of trash. His red hair stood out starkly against the grime and debris, glowing faintly in the pale light.
Eyes slowly fluttered open, heavy and sluggish.
Oh—Ester.
He winced as the flickering streetlight overhead strained his sensitive eyes, casting uneven shadows that danced across the grimy alley.
"Egh... Was all that training just a dream..." he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse from disuse.
The sharp, cold night air stung his throat as he shifted his gaze around the bleak surroundings.
Piles of discarded garbage bags, crumpled papers, and rusted cans littered the cracked pavement. Nearby, a dented dumpster stood like a silent guardian in the dim light, its metal surface scratched and worn.
"Dumpster... Why do I feel like I'm having déjà vu..."
A soft sound caught his attention—a faint padding of delicate paws against concrete.
His eyes locked onto a sleek black cat emerging from the shadows, its golden eyes gleaming mysteriously in the dark.
VELQOUR.
The cat paused, tail flicking once, then settled beside Ester with a quiet grace, as if it had been waiting for him all along.
"You brat, you're finally awake?" Velquor's voice purred with amused authority, rich and commanding even in his feline form.
The sleek black cat moved with fluid grace, each step deliberate and heavy with unseen power. As he approached Ester's prone body, an almost palpable aura of golden light shimmered faintly around him, casting shifting shadows that seemed to bend to his will.
Without hesitation, Velquor lifted a sharp paw and swatted Ester's cheek—a surprising gesture charged with both mockery and dominance.
"How dare you keep me waiting? I—the great Velquor—am now your master, brat!"
His golden eyes glowed intensely, piercing through the darkness as if weighing Ester's very soul. The air thickened around them, a mix of ancient strength and a strange, almost intimate tension.
Ester's fingers trembled slightly as they brushed the sharp sting on his cheek, tracing the faint redness left by Velquor's paw. A soft, almost hollow laugh slipped from his lips, breaking the heavy silence of the night.
"Haah... It wasn't a dream. Ha, haha..."
His gaze shifted downward, taking in the filthy scraps and crumpled paper tangled around his limbs. The cold, damp trash pressed against his skin, mixing with the dirt and grime that clung stubbornly to his clothes and hair.
A bitter pang settled in his chest as he slowly realized where he was—far from any place he recognized, isolated in a shadowed corner of the city's forgotten alleys.
He swallowed hard and, summoning the last fragments of his scattered thoughts, whispered, "Velquor... why did you bring me here? To this... this filth... to a place I don't know?"
His voice cracked slightly, laced with confusion, frustration, and the flicker of something deeper—an unease that gnawed at him as the chill night air wrapped around his exposed skin.
Despite the weight of the moment, his eyes never left the dark figure of Velquor, whose glowing golden eyes watched silently, waiting.
"Hphm, because you're trash," Velquor said with a teasing smirk in his voice. "Don't worry, you're not somewhere far from home. Just follow my lead, brat."
Ester's eyes twitched at the insult, simmering with quiet irritation. I'm not a brat! he thought stubbornly, though he said nothing aloud.
As Ester pushed himself up, the sharp, acrid stench of garbage clung to his clothes, making his stomach churn with nausea. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to vomit.
Trailing behind Velquor, he shuffled forward through the dimly lit alley.
Passersby glanced at him with wary eyes, quickly muttering to one another.
"Look at that homeless kid, reeking of trash..."
"Probably just some stray who's been sleeping rough."
No one recognized Ester. To them, he was just another lost boy—another forgotten soul wandering the cold streets.
The whispered judgments cut through the night, leaving Ester feeling even more invisible and isolated.
As they approached, the silhouette of Enji's house loomed ahead—tall, sharp-edged, and intimidating against the dark sky. The exterior was sleek and modern, built from cold steel and dark glass, its angular design casting long shadows. The well-kept grounds were silent, the faint hum of security systems the only sign of life.
"Ah, I'm here... Velquor? Where are you going?" Ester asked, curiosity tingling in his voice.
The sleek black cat turned, a mischievous smile curling on his lips.
"With you, of course," Velquor replied, his chuckle low and amused. "I'm your master, after all. I need to know your every move, Ester."
His golden eyes gleamed with playful dominance as he padded alongside him, a silent but unyielding presence in the night.
"Me?" Ester blinked, unsure. He glanced toward the looming house, nerves twisting in his gut. "...I don't even know if Enji would allow a cat inside."
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Hmm... I guess I can try to sneak you in?"
He didn't realize the quiet danger that still leaked within the walls of that home—resentment, judgment, and watchful eyes.
"Sneak? Haah?" Velquor scoffed with exaggerated offense. "I could slip through shadows like mist, but fine. Lead the way, my disciple. Keke."
Before Ester could change his mind, Velquor sprang into his arms, surprisingly heavy for a cat, and tucked himself beneath Ester's oversized jacket—which still stank faintly of spoiled milk and alley rot.
The warmth of the cat pressed against his chest, and the smell... well, he tried not to breathe too deeply.
"You better not cough up a hairball in there," Ester muttered, walking toward the gate.
Velquor simply purred. "Only if Enji steps on my tail."
"Haha..." Ester let out a quiet laugh, trying to keep his nerves at bay as he stepped inside the house.
The entrance opened into a wide corridor of traditional Japanese design—wooden floors polished to a faint shine, paper sliding doors lining each side. The soft creak beneath his feet felt oddly comforting, like coming home after a long, strange dream.
He glanced around cautiously. No one seemed to be nearby. The house was quiet, almost too quiet.
Carefully, he made his way past the kitchen—spotless, cold, untouched—and then past the rooms belonging to his step-siblings, doors shut tight like secrets. He avoided looking too long at any of them.
When he finally reached his own room and slid the door open, his breath caught.
The place was a wreck. Drawers left half-open, sheets crumpled and kicked to the floor, notebooks torn, and pieces of what looked like his old training equipment scattered across the room. Dust lingered where it shouldn't have, like no one had touched the space since he'd left.
Velquor poked his head out from Ester's jacket, golden eyes glinting with amused mischief.
"Oh my," he purred, "didn't think you managed to make enemies inside your own family. Everything looks like a battlefield. Keke."
"...It's fine. I can just clean everything up..." Ester muttered, his voice flat—emotionless, like he was used to this kind of treatment.
He knelt quietly, beginning to gather the crumpled papers and tipped-over books. His fingers paused at a sticky smear of dried paint across his desk—bright red, almost mocking. He scrubbed at it with the edge of his sleeve, but the stain clung stubbornly to the surface.
"He didn't need to go this far..." he whispered under his breath, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes. Why does Natsuo hate me so much?
Velquor, now lounging lazily atop a folded blanket, stretched and yawned before speaking with a grin in his voice.
"Hm? So you know who did it?" he purred. "Oh! Is it the same one who maybe sent those people to assassinate you? Keke."
He chuckled as if this were all a game—Ester's pain, his broken room, the bitter hostility wrapped in silence. It was entertainment to Velquor, though he watched Ester closely, as if studying the cracks forming in him.
Ester didn't reply right away. He simply kept scrubbing the desk, more gently now, as if he could erase more than just paint.
___
My poor Ester...Oh well, He's gonna suffer even more MUAHHAHHA