His words carried a rare warmth, a flicker of gratitude he didn't often show. Ariel, at fourteen, had always struggled to make friends, her status as the president's daughter a wall that kept others at a distance. Celine, sixteen and shy, had stepped into that void, becoming a friend when Ariel needed one most. Zane knew that value, even if he didn't say it outright. 'She's good for Ariel,' he thought, his mind guarded, 'Earlier, I pushed back on her staying because I don't like crowds, don't like relying on people. But if I'd pushed harder, I'd have to explain why, and eventually reveal Echo Sight, and that's not happening.'
Celine's voice brightened, her silhouette relaxing in his Echo Sight, her energy aura steadying. "Oh, it's nothing, Zane," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush, as if she feared he'd cut her off again. "I'm just grateful you're letting me stay here. I don't have anywhere else to go, not after… everything. The Zones are locked to people like me, no connections, no power. So, thank you." She turned, her boots clicking softly as she headed toward the staircase to choose a room, her red braid swaying with each step.
Zane waited until her outline faded up the stairs, then opened the box, his fingers tracing its contents. Two items lay inside: a pair of spectacles and a folded strip of fabric—a blindfold, its outline smooth in his Echo Sight. 'No colors, no texture, just shapes,' he thought, frustration flickering. "I'll take the blindfold," he muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble. "Spectacles would look ridiculous, and people are already wearing armor and carrying staffs like it's a fantasy game. A blindfold fits right in." The world had changed since the Tutorial, with Awakeners donning battle gear and wielding System-granted weapons, their old lives discarded like shed skin. A red blindfold, bold and deliberate, would mark him as one of them, blind or not.
He leaned back against the couch, the plush cushions sinking under his weight, his thoughts drifting to his status.
'Nine more kills for my Necrotist abilities, thirty-nine for the Dark Status. And this blindfold—it's a start, but I need to master this sight, or I'm dead.'
Ariel's footsteps echoed from upstairs, her voice calling down, bright and teasing. "Big brother, I found the perfect room for you! It's got a huge window—oh, um, sorry, I mean, it's close to mine!" Her laughter rang out, a spark in the dark, and Zane's smirk softened.
The mansion's grandeur was a half-seen world to Zane, its vastness reduced to ghostly outlines within the 10-meter radius of his Echo Sight, a fragile map drawn by sound and aura. The foyer's sweeping staircase and ornate chandeliers were mere shadows in his mind, their details lost beyond his limited range, but the air carried the rich scent of polished wood and fresh paint, grounding him in this new sanctuary. Zane stood, his white hair loose, his pale face carved with quiet resolve, his eyes hidden behind closed lids, the red blindfold from Celine still tucked in his pocket, a choice he'd yet to make. Ariel, in her blue jacket and jeans, her golden hair bouncing, led him by the hand up the stairs, her touch a lifeline, though his Echo Sight let him trace the outlines of the steps and walls with eerie precision.
"Well then, let's check it out," Zane said, his voice a steady stream, flowing with a calm that belied the storm within. He followed Ariel, her hand warm in his, her outline vivid in his Echo Sight as she moved with purpose. He didn't need her guidance—the sound of her footsteps and the pulse of her aura mapped the path—but he let her lead, a quiet reassurance for her sake.
Ariel stopped before a door, its outline solid in Zane's mind, and pushed it open with a soft creak, leading him inside. "This is your room, big brother!" she said, her voice bright, a spark in the quiet, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement he couldn't see but could feel. "It's perfect—big, close to mine, and it's got this huge window with a view of the gardens! Well, um, I mean, it's nice and quiet." Her words stumbled, catching on his blindness, but her enthusiasm held firm.
Zane's lips curved into a faint smile, his head tilting toward her voice. "You're unusually happy today, Ariel," he said, his tone soft but teasing, each word a gentle ripple in the room's stillness. He could sense her joy, a radiant warmth in her aura, born of their reunion, of a life free from their father's shadow, from the poison and mockery of his siblings. With Celine as her friend, Ariel had found a sliver of peace, and Zane would guard it with his life.
"Am I?" Ariel laughed, the sound bright and unburdened, as she pulled him toward the bed, its outline soft but sturdy. They sat, the mattress dipping under their weight, and she leaned closer, her voice bubbling. "I guess I'm just happy we're together again, big brother. No one's going to hurt you here, and I've got Celine now, too. It's like… a fresh start."
Zane's smile deepened, but his thoughts turned inward, to the question that had burned since the battlefield. "Now that it's just us," he said, his voice lowering, each word deliberate, "can you tell me how you came back to life? Back there, when I thought I'd lost you… I need to know." His tone was steady, but a quiet urgency threaded through it, a brother's fear for the one person he'd kill to protect.
Ariel hesitated, her outline shifting slightly, then nodded, her voice soft but clear. "Okay, big brother. It's my ability—[Second Life]. It lets me come back to life after I die, but only once every seven days. If I die again before the cooldown resets, I… I won't come back." Her words were heavy, a confession she'd kept close, her blue eyes searching his face, though he couldn't see them.
Zane stood, his movements fluid despite his blindness, and walked to the window, its outline sharp. He leaned against the frame, the glass cool under his fingers, his voice thoughtful. "So, you can resurrect, but it's got a seven-day cooldown. That means if you died now, you'd be gone for good?" His tone was calm, but his mind raced, calculating the risks.
Ariel's voice followed him, curious and sharp. "Most likely. But big brother, how did you know where the window was?" She stepped closer, her outline vivid, her blue eyes narrowing as she watched him lean against the glass, staring outward as if he could see the world beyond. "You moved like you could see everything."
Zane's smirk returned, a quiet spark in the dark. "Guess it's my turn to share," he said, turning toward her, his unseeing eyes closed. "I've got this ability—Echo Sight. It lets me sense living things within two meters through their sound or energy. If I clap, I can map out everything—living or not—up to ten meters. It's how I'm getting around." He paused, then added, "And I'm a Necrotist, but my abilities—Necrotic Touch and Crimson Curse—are locked until I kill twenty Awakened entities. I'm at eleven now." He kept the [Dark Candidate] status buried, its crimson screen and the Seven Masters' curse a secret too dangerous to share, even with Ariel.
Ariel's eyes widened, her voice bursting with awe. "Wow, so you can see me even if I'm behind you? Like, right now?" She waved her hand, her outline flaring in his Echo Sight as her energy shifted.
Zane chuckled, his head tilting toward the window. "Yeah, I can see you waving like an excited kid. It's not perfect, but it's enough for now." He turned, lying back on the bed, the mattress creaking under him. "You should get some rest, Ariel. It's been a long day."
Ariel huffed, her voice playful but edged with disappointment. "You're sleeping already? You're no fun, big brother." She stood, her blue jacket rustling, and stomped to the door, shutting it with a loud 'bang' to make her point, her footsteps fading down the hall.
Zane lay still, his Echo Sight fading as the clap's effect waned, the room's outlines softening. He drifted into sleep, the darkness of his blindness blending with dreams of Zoic's brutal training grounds. Hours later, he woke in the dead of night, his internal clock honed by midnight sessions with Onilia. His Echo Sight flared as he clapped softly, mapping the room, and he noticed a small outline beside him—Ariel, curled up on the bed, her breathing soft, her aura steady. 'She's scared I'll vanish again,' he thought, his smile soft, a rare warmth in his chest. 'Always watching over me, even now.'
He swung his legs off the bed, his boots silent on the floor, and moved through the mansion, his Echo Sight guiding him to an open space—a parking lot, empty of cars, its concrete expanse clear in his mind. 'Too bad there are no gravity strings here, no Onilia to push me to my limits,' he thought, a flicker of relief mixed with nostalgia. 'At least I'm free of Instructor Marius's nightmare sessions.' He summoned Ruinblaze, its red runes a faint pulse in his Echo Sight, and began swinging, his movements fluid, precise, echoing Onilia's teachings—strike fast, strike true, never falter. He trained for hours, the rhythm of his blade a meditation, until warmth brushed his skin, the sun rising beyond his sight, its light lost but its heat quietly comforting.
Meanwhile, Ariel woke, her blue eyes blinking in the dawn, and found the bed empty. Panic flared, her voice sharp as she called for Celine. "Celine! Big brother's gone!" Her blue jacket swished as she rushed downstairs, Celine following, her forest-green sweater catching the morning light, her red braid bouncing. "Where could a blind man go this early?" Ariel asked, her voice tight with worry, as they began searching the mansion, unaware of Zane's solitary training, his blade dancing in the dawn's unseen glow.