Sei learned something unsettling the next morning.

  The numbness didn’t fade with rest.

  He noticed it first while washing his face. Cold water splashed against his skin, sharp enough to wake him fully—but his fingers lagged behind the sensation. Like they were being informed after the fact.

  He stared at his reflection, water dripping from his chin.

  “Okay,” he murmured. “That’s… new and deeply concerning.”

  He squeezed his hands into fists.

  They closed.

  A fraction of a second too late.

  The delay sent a flicker of panic through his chest, quick and hot. His breath hitched. He braced his palms against the basin, grounding himself the way he’d learned long before this world—focus on what’s solid, what’s real.

  Stone. Cold. Weight.

  It helped.

  A little.

  The guild hall was louder than usual.

  Someone had overturned a chair near the center, splintered wood scattered across the floor. Voices overlapped—sharp, angry, too close together. A pair of adventurers squared off, one bleeding from the brow, the other trembling with rage.

  “Back off,” someone shouted.

  “Or what?” came the reply.

  Sei felt the tension before he saw it.

  The pull.

  That familiar inward tug, subtle at first, like a thought you try not to finish. His fingers tingled. Warmth coiled beneath his skin, patient. Waiting.

  He stepped forward instinctively.

  “Hey,” he said, hands raised. “We can all—”

  The angrier man lunged.

  Everything slowed.

  Sei reached out—

  —and the world clicked.

  For the briefest moment, he didn’t fight it.

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  He didn’t summon anything. Didn’t shape the glow.

  He simply allowed the intent.

  The numbness vanished.

  Not gradually.

  Instantly.

  Clarity snapped into place like a joint sliding back where it belonged. His hands felt right—steady, precise, alive in a way they hadn’t been since the quarry.

  The man froze mid-step, staring down at Sei’s hand hovering inches from his chest.

  Nothing visible had manifested.

  No blade.

  No glow.

  But Sei felt it.

  Perfect alignment.

  “Oh,” Sei whispered.

  Then he pulled back.

  The relief shattered.

  Pain surged up his arm like backlash, sharp enough to steal his breath. He staggered, vision swimming, the delay crashing back worse than before.

  “Sei!”

  Eva was there in an instant, one hand on his shoulder, the other raised toward the crowd.

  “That’s enough,” she said, voice carrying authority that didn’t invite argument.

  The tension broke. People stepped back. Someone dragged the bleeding adventurer away.

  Eva didn’t let go of Sei.

  “You felt it,” she said quietly.

  He nodded once, jaw tight. “Yeah.”

  They sat on the guild’s back steps afterward, the noise inside muffled by thick stone walls.

  Sei flexed his hands slowly. The delay remained. Not as severe—but unmistakable.

  “It went away,” he said. “For a second.”

  Eva watched him carefully. “When?”

  “When I stopped fighting it.”

  Silence.

  “That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Sei added, a brittle edge creeping into his voice. “Pain goes away when you don’t do the bad thing. That’s how it works.”

  Eva looked at him then. Really looked.

  “You’re assuming the cost is moral,” she said. “Not physiological.”

  He laughed, weak and disbelieving. “Great. So my body’s pro-violence now.”

  “No,” she replied. “Your body’s adapting.”

  That word landed heavy.

  “Adapting to what?” he asked.

  Eva didn’t answer right away.

  “Being what this world needs,” she said finally.

  Sei stared at the ground, fingers digging into stone.

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “No,” Eva agreed. “It isn’t.”

  The mission posting went up before dusk.

  Urgent.Civilian involvement.Multiple casualties already reported.

  Sei read it twice.

  Then a third time.

  Someone clapped him on the shoulder as they passed. “Good thing you’re on rotation,” the man said. “You’ll keep things clean.”

  Sei smiled automatically.

  As soon as the man was gone, the smile collapsed.

  That night, alone in his room, Sei held his hands out in front of him.

  “Just… a little,” he murmured. “Just to see.”

  He let the intent surface.

  A whisper of green traced the air around his fingers—no blade yet, no shape. Just light.

  The numbness melted away.

  His hands felt perfect.

  Alive.

  Useful.

  The light faded as he pulled back, heart hammering.

  The delay returned.

  Worse.

  Sei lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, pulse racing.

  Using it didn’t feel like corruption.

  It felt like relief.

  And that scared him more than anything else so far.