The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

"You aren't any eight-year-old child… Who are you?"

Sylves's breath caught. His entire body tensed.

His eyes widened slightly—too much for a simple question.

But then almost instantly, his calm mask slid back into place. Afterall he couldn't let anyone of this world get to know about Sylves's true identity... His soul, which was from the other world, belonged to not Sylves at first... But to Spence Raven... The young boy who died after getting stabbed protecting a random girl. Sylves wasn't sure if everything would remain stable if the word was to get into the ears of anyone of this world.

"What are you talking about… Master?"

His tone was steady. Too steady. Practiced.

Hawk's lips curled into something that might have been a smile. A flicker of Void energy surged around him—and the earth beneath Sylves cracked and trembled. A pulse of invisible force pushed Sylves backward an inch.

"Don't play dumb with me. You're more than what you show. You can't fool me."

The weight of pure Void pressure bore down on Sylves. The air thickened, the sky darkened—not naturally, but like reality itself was being squeezed.

Hawk's voice dropped an octave.

"I am the strongest wielder of Void Magic in this kingdom as everyone knows... But the best in the world, no one knows. None of them know my true potential. None of them dare to ask what I gave up to wield it. Not even the king knows."

Sylves's jaw clenched. A bead of sweat traced down his neck.

"If I use my magic on something, it is affected." Hawk continued. "If I declare this world void, It could toll the world a lot."

A faint swirl of black mist danced around his boots. The trees beyond them began to curl inward like they were aging centuries in seconds—then suddenly reversed.

"But you…" Hawk growled, eyes narrowing, "you defy that. Not your magic—your soul."

Sylves felt it then—the eye of Hawk Frost no longer looking at his flesh or aura, but deep into something untouchable.

"You hold something ancient. Something beyond Void itself… Something I can't comprehend."

The chill deepened.

And then Hawk's appearance changed.

His eyes—his entire cornea—turned pitch black. From within that void, a red iris ignited like a dying star. The colors clashed like annihilation and creation locked in tension.

Sylves's body was still.

But inside—he heard it.

A whisper.

"He sees… he knows… but he doesn't understand…"

Sylves felt something stir in his chest—an instinct older than memory. A flare of heat in his spine.

A warning.

"I am not your enemy, child," Hawk said at last, "but your soul... irritates me. It is not of this world. It's louder than my silence. And if you ever lose control of it…" His eyes narrowed, "...It will be a greater threat than the Catalysts Of Despair."

Sylves slowly rose to his feet.

He looked Hawk in the eyes—his own violet gaze glowing faintly in contrast. There was no longer any point in pretending.

"I don't know why I'm like this," Sylves said quietly. "But if I am something that threatens the world… I'll control it. I won't run. Even if I have to fight myself."

Hawk stared.

Then, the pressure vanished.

Just like that, the world returned to normal. The trees swayed again. Birds chirped far away.

Hawk stepped back, hands returning behind his back.

"Good answer."

He turned his back to Sylves and walked toward the training grounds.

"You have one hour to rest. Then the real training begins."

Sylves stood there, still tense, but slowly relaxed. He looked at his palms again.

They no longer trembled.

Sylves stepped into the cottage and let out a soft breath. The warmth of the interior, heated subtly by embedded Fire Crystals, was a pleasant contrast to the intensity outside. He quietly removed his outer robe and shirt, folding them neatly, then wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping into the adjoining bathhouse.

The bathhouse surprised him—spacious, clean, and polished like a noble's private onsen, with marble floors and tiled walls. Steam gently rolled along the surface of the heated water, giving the place a dreamlike atmosphere. The scent of herbal steam floated in the air—relaxing, almost enchanting.

As Sylves approached the water to dip his feet in, he paused.

There—in the far corner of the bath, barely veiled by steam—sat Elza, already soaking quietly. Her hair was let down, floating on the water's surface, and her pale skin shimmered faintly from the warmth.

The two locked eyes.

A beat of stunned silence passed.

Then—"Eeep!"—Elza yelped, slipping lower into the water and covering herself with her arms, cheeks flushing a bright red.

"W-why didn't you knock?!" she cried.

Sylves blinked. "You left the door open."

He turned around immediately, raising a hand to shield his vision. "I'll come back later."

He had barely taken a step before he heard a softer voice, shy but deliberate.

"It's okay… I don't mind."

Sylves hesitated, looking back over his shoulder.

"You… just screamed at me," he said with a tilt of his head.

"I said it's okay," Elza replied louder, cheeks still flushed but voice firm.

Sylves considered her for a moment, then gave a small sigh of resignation. "If you insist."

He unwrapped the towel and stepped into the water across from her, keeping a respectful distance. Elza quickly looked away, ears red.

"Don't worry," he said calmly. "I'm not going to try anything weird."

There was a brief pause.

Then, in a voice barely above the rippling water, Elza whispered, "I didn't say I'd mind…"

Sylves blinked again, this time visibly flustered. A faint pink rose to his cheeks, and he looked away sharply. Elza noticed, and a playful grin formed on her lips.

"Aha~ Even your cool can be broken. That's cute."

"Shut up," Sylves muttered, half-defensive. "You're the one saying weird things."

They both chuckled after that, the awkward tension melting into something softer—more sincere. There were no pretenses in the water now. Just two souls, less guarded, enjoying a moment of peace together.

They chatted casually—about the training, about Hawk's overwhelming aura, about their thoughts on the academy. It was easy, natural. Even with everything they'd been through, in this moment, they were just two students sharing a hot bath.

Eventually, Elza stood up, stretching.

"Come on, the training will start agai—"

She paused when she noticed Sylves looking... stunned.

Her mind caught up with the situation and she gasped, realizing that—she revealed something she shouldn't have—

"W-whaaa! Don't look!" she shouted, sinking back into the water with a splash, sending waves cascading toward Sylves.

Sylves raised both hands like a man caught in the middle of a lightning storm.

"I wasn't! I just—uh—uhm—great curve—you know—muscles!" he stammered.

"Lecher!" Elza blurted, redder than a ruby.

They both burst out laughing, the steam around them swirling like gentle clouds, the sounds of their carefree moment echoing softly within the marble walls.

---

The laughter still lingered faintly as Sylves stepped out of the bath, wrapping himself once more in a towel. Elza trailed behind him, her face pink but peaceful, a rare softness in her expression. She grabbed another towel and dried off in the changing room, the silence now companionable.

They both turned to the wooden wardrobe set in the far wall of the cottage's corridor. When Sylves opened it, a neat arrangement of black formal training suits and robes were waiting for each of them—finely tailored with silver trim and a crest stitched over the left shoulder: a void glyph surrounded by subtle arcane runes.

"So he prepared uniforms too..." Sylves muttered.

Elza reached for hers, holding it up. "They're beautiful... but really black again?"

"Void magic doesn't exactly scream rainbow," Sylves chuckled.

After changing behind separate screens, they stepped out—both now dressed in the matching black ensemble, a long coat-like robe with sleek trousers, high boots, and light belts for spell scrolls and pouches. The material was surprisingly light, and yet Sylves could tell it had been enchanted—likely to withstand heat, mana shock, and elemental interference.

Sylves buttoned his collar and turned to Elza. "Looks good on you," he said with a simple smile.

Elza blinked, taken aback. "Y-you're just saying that."

"No," Sylves said. "It suits you. Dignified… like your sister."

Her lips trembled at the mention of Sarah, but she smiled. "Thank you."

They made their way to the kitchen and dining area, drawn by the scent of warm herbs and fresh bread. The cottage was more than it looked from the outside—clearly enchanted to be larger within, built for long-term isolation training. The walls were made of polished stone and darkwood beams, the floor tiled in patterns that resonated faint mana.

On the small square dining table, breakfast had already been prepared. A neatly arranged vegetarian meal—warm spiced millet porridge, a side of buttered rye bread, lightly grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, and a pot of herbal tea still steaming.

"Looks like someone still has hospitality," Sylves said, a little surprised.

Elza sat down quietly. "It's all veggies too. Academy standards."

They began eating—slowly at first, as though unsure if they were allowed to enjoy the moment. But soon enough, hunger overrode tension. Elza poured them both tea, and they shared glances and soft conversation between bites.

"This place is so... quiet," Elza said, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "It doesn't feel like the Academy at all."

Sylves leaned back in his chair. "It's like a whole other world. Makes sense, though. They can't risk letting us be found again."

After breakfast, they washed their plates—part of the unspoken routine of cottage life, Sylves guessed—and decided to explore the cottage while waiting for Hawk's return.

The hallway near the front door split in two directions. One led to their shared dormitories—spare but comfortable rooms with sturdy beds, a shared study desk, and chests for personal belongings. The other hall, however, seemed longer… older. Intricate runes lined the walls faintly glowing with mana as they passed.

"Training area?" Elza guessed aloud.

Sylves nodded. "Or some kind of vault."

At the end of the corridor, a large wooden door stood sealed with three glowing rings and a sigil in the center—Void Magic in its purest form. Neither dared touch it.

They backtracked and checked the study room instead. Dozens of ancient tomes lined the shelves—subjects ranging from Void Theory and Advanced Spatial Bending to books with ominous titles like Collapse of Light and The Boundless Abyss.

Sylves reached for one, reading the spine aloud. "Constructing Dimensional Anchors. …This could take months just to read."

Elza stood beside him. "Is this what our training will look like?"

"If we're lucky," he replied. "If not, it might just be more sparring until we can hold our own against Hawk."

They moved outside next, stepping through the back door into a vast lawn surrounded by forest. The anti-magic barrier was almost invisible, but Sylves could sense it—like a silk veil separating them from the outside world.

"It's like living in a bubble," he said.

Elza nodded. "A bubble filled with explosions."

They sat on a wooden bench beneath a silver-bark tree, taking a moment to breathe. Birds chirped faintly in the trees. A cool breeze rustled the leaves.

Elza turned to him. "Thank you. For being here."

Sylves gave her a puzzled look.

"I mean it," she said. "You didn't have to be this kind… but you are. You keep saying you'll protect me... and somehow, I believe it."

Sylves looked at her for a long moment. "Then hold onto that belief. You'll need it."

From somewhere behind them, a faint pulse in the air told them Hawk was back.

"Training's about to start," Sylves said, standing.

"Let's survive it together," Elza replied, standing beside him, hands clenched with quiet determination.

Together, in black robes and steady hearts, they stepped back toward the cottage door—ready to face what the mysterious and powerful Hawk Frost had planned next.

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