Rodrigo stood in the evaluation chamber, which was a circular room carved from white stone and steel. The air buzzed with Essence, electrifying, and his machete rested warm against his thigh. Master Juno waited near the center, his gray robe still, his pale green eyes fixed on Rodrigo with that same quiet curiosity.
Beside him stood another recruit, a man with dark hair and a steady gaze—Amada, introduced as a Class 4 Infuser like Rodrigo. The heat in Rodrigo's chest simmered, restless after the corridor whispers about "Unlocking Light." He adjusted his stance, brushing Franca's locket for steadiness.
Juno stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "We'll test your control today. Fire Essence is volatile. Strength alone won't tame it." He gestured to Amada. "You'll both demonstrate. Start with basic techniques. Adjust the flame's strength—small to large—then focus it across your body."
Rodrigo nodded, glancing at Amada. The man's posture was relaxed, almost bored, his hands empty of any weapon. A faint red glow pulsed beneath his skin, marking his Fire Essence. Rodrigo flexed his fingers, heat prickling up his arm, and drew a slow breath. He could do this.
He'd fought those ember wolves, swung his blade through chaos. This was just focus.
"Begin," Juno said.
Amada moved first. He extended a hand, palm up, and a tiny flame sparked to life, no bigger than a candle's flicker. It danced there, steady and contained, then grew with a flick of his wrist. First to a fist-sized blaze, then a roaring sphere that cast shadows across the room.
He shifted, and the fire flowed up his arm, wrapping his shoulder in a controlled mantle before fading back to nothing. His face stayed blank, not a bead of sweat, not a tremble.
Effortless.
Rodrigo's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, raising his own hand. Heat surged in his chest, eager and wild, and he pushed it outward. A small flame sputtered to life above his palm, flickering erratically. He clenched his teeth, willing it to steady.
It grew, flaring to the size of a torch, then shrank again as he wrestled it back. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his arm shook faintly. He forced the fire up his wrist, then his elbow, but it stuttered, spitting sparks before dying out. His breath came hard, frustration gnawing at him.
Juno watched, expression unreadable. "Adequate. Rough, but you hold it. Check your Essence."
Ugh. How many times did anyone tell him that his Essence was rough?
Rodrigo's glasses that Eclipse had given him peered at Amada first. Numbers flickered beside the man: 13000 Candellas, in the form of Spiritual Essence. It'd been the first time he'd seen someone specializing on this particular type of Essence, and with a Fire Element at that.
He turned the lenses on himself, catching his reflection in a steel panel. 700 Candellas, jagged and red, a fraction of Amada's strength. His stomach twisted.
Class 4, same as him, yet Amada stood leagues above. How? Just yesterday, he'd barely hit 345.
The training, the fights, his Strength Essence was climbing, but this gap felt like a chasm.
Juno produced a blade from his robe, and its edge shimmered with enchanted runes. "Try this. It's forged to channel Fire Essence. It's standard for initiates who use any form of sword melee."
Rodrigo took it. He focused, pushing heat into it as he had with his machete.
Nothing.
The blade stayed dormant, rejecting his touch. He frowned, pressing harder, but the Essence recoiled, slipping back into his chest like water off glass. He handed it back, shaking his head. "It won't take it."
Amada's eyes narrowed, a spark of interest breaking his calm. "Well I'm curious," he said, voice low. "It should bind to any Fire Infuser. That's how it always worked."
Rodrigo's hand drifted to his machete. "Let me use mine." He unsheathed it, the familiar weight steadying him—
—The blade pulsed, heat rippled through the steel, and the air around it shimmered.
A murmur rippled through the room. Two assistants near the wall stepped back, with their faces paling. Amada continued to stare, and his glasses, which were similar to Rodrigo's, glinted as he scanned it.
Numbers flashed rapidly.
700 Candellas…
7,000 Candellas…
70,000 Candellas!
Amada's mouth parted, disbelief carved into his facial features.
Rodrigo gripped the hilt tighter, heat flooding his arm. He'd controlled it before, pushed it through drills, but now it surged. He couldn't control the fire anymore.
The training and this evaluation had stretched his limits, and something snapped.
A massive flare erupted from the blade, blasted upward and seared the air. The room trembled, and the enchanted walls flared silver as they absorbed the brunt.
Flames licked at the walls, nearly breaking through. Rodrigo's vision blurred, his chest burning, and he stumbled, knees buckling.
Darkness swallowed him again.
The noise of the flames faded, leaving him unconscious for the moment.
…
…
He woke on the stone floor, head throbbing, the taste of ash on his tongue. The walls stood intact, their runes dimmed but unbroken. Amada knelt nearby, unharmed, his expression a mix of awe and wariness.
Juno stood over Rodrigo, his calm unshaken, though his eyes gleamed with something new. Recognition.
"You're awake," Juno said, voice steady. "Good. You aren't the usual Infuser, Rodrigo. Your weapon remembers."
Rodrigo pushed himself up, wincing as pain travelled through his skull. "Remembers what?" His voice was hoarse, raw from the flare.
Juno crouched, meeting his gaze. "That machete isn't of this world. It's Reborn. Forged elsewhere, carried here, and tied to your Essence. Weapons like these are exceedingly rare. Most Infusers wield crafted blades and bows and guns, attuned over time. But yours… Yours was born with you, reshaped by something extraterrestrial."
Rodrigo's hand found the machete, still warm beside him. "Why'd it flare like that?"
"First flares are common," Juno replied, standing. "A release of untapped power. Most peak at two thousand, maybe three. Yours hit seventy thousand, somehow a mix of Strength and Intelligence Essence, unbound and fueled by a Reborn blade. But still… You lack control, not capacity."
Amada rose, brushing dust from his knees. "Seventy thousand," he muttered, almost to himself. "That's… Impossible for a novice." His gaze flicked to Rodrigo, with questions he didn't voice out.
Rodrigo's chest tightened, heat still simmering beneath his ribs. 70,000..? Was that the amount of Essence he'd just poured out in that single flare?
He'd felt it. The surge, the loss, the edge of chaos. His squad flashed in his mind, their screams as bullets tore through them.
Juno extended a hand, pulling him to his feet. "You didn't destroy the room. The walls held. That's a start."
Rodrigo grunted, steadying himself. "Barely."
"Barely is enough," Juno said. "Power like that isn't unleashed. It's earned, step by step. We'll teach you." He paused, glancing at the machete. "But that blade… it's a mystery even to us. Where did it come from?"
Rodrigo brushed the locket, Franca's face steadying him. He didn't want to mention his old life. "Not in this world."
Juno's eyes widened briefly, then softened. "Then it's reborn indeed. A weapon of two worlds. Rest now. We'll resume tomorrow."
Amada lingered as Juno turned away, his glasses catching the light. "You're a puzzle, Mundragon," he said, voice low. "Class 4 with that kind of flare? Watch yourself." He walked off, leaving the words hanging.
Rodrigo sank against the wall, machete in hand. The room was silent now, with the assistants gone, and Juno's footsteps fading down the corridor. Seventy thousand Candellas. A Reborn blade.
The numbers and terms spun in his head, with meaning he couldn't really grasp in his mind. His fire had spiraled beyond reason, and nearly broken through enchanted steel.
He checked his glasses again, peering at his reflection.
Back at 700 Candellas. The flare's echo was gone. It was still a speck next to Amada's 13000, yet the machete had unleashed something monstrous within him.
Power must be earned, Juno had said. Not unleashed.