The Weight of What Remains
The halls of Poverty Star always stank of disappointment. The floors creaked with every goddamn step, the lights flickered like dying bugs, and every shadow whispered the same thing:
Failure.
I kept walking. Head down. Hood up. Pretend they're not there. Pretend it doesn't matter.
"Hey! Isn't that the washed-up trash?"
I didn't stop.
"That's the guy who got dumped, right? What was her name again?"
"Georgina. Heard she's already moved on. Can't blame her."
Fuck. Off.
"Seriously — how the hell did someone like him ever pull a girl like that?"
"Look at him now. Shitty aura. Worn-out boots. Dead eyes. Fucking pathetic."
My teeth clenched. My fingers curled into fists.
Just walk. Don't give them the satisfaction.
"Heard that slut's aiming for Elias now. Makes sense — dump the loser, go for the prince."
"Gold-digging whore knew exactly what she was doing. Ride the wave, then jump ship when he sinks."
"That prince's probably just using her. Human bitches always fall for status."
"Should I make a move on her too? I've heard human girls taste real sweet."
I stopped walking.
My blood boiled. My breath caught. My vision — red.
Before I knew it, I'd turned.
I moved.
I grabbed the beastkin bastard by the throat and slammed him into the wall so hard the stones cracked. His friends yelled — one tried to kick me, but I sidestepped and drove my boot into his gut.
The next one came. Mistake.
I dropped him with a clean punch to the jaw. Then the first guy again — trying to claw at my wrist — I tightened my grip.
"Say it again, you piece of shit!"
"Nyx Akers!" a deep voice boomed.
The air shook. A force slammed into us like a war drum. My body went flying back and crashed into the opposite wall.
I groaned, blinking hard.
Only one man could hit like that without lifting a finger.
Varek Kaelthorn.
Combat Instructor. Peak Rank 8. Weapon Sovereign.
And the only damn adult in this place who hadn't given up on me.
He stormed in, fury in every step.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Akers?!" he roared.
The hallway went dead silent.
The beastkin bastard whined, "Professor, he attacked us! We didn't even touch him!"
Varek turned those blazing eyes on him.
"You think I didn't hear you? Insulting humans, laughing like fucking clowns? Do you want a direct expulsion?!"
"But he—"
"Shut up. You were asking for a fight, and you got one. But you're not walking away clean, either. One week. Punishment cell. No debate."
"But what about class?!"
"I said GO!"
The cowards scrambled like kicked dogs.
Then Varek turned to me. His voice dropped to ice.
"And you. With me. Now."
I didn't argue.
The training hall was cold. Not in temperature — in atmosphere.
Varek Kaelthorn stood with his arms crossed, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the empty marble floor. Weapons of every kind lined the walls. None drawn. None needed.
I stood ten paces away, bruised, blood drying on my knuckles, and heart hammering like a fucking drum.
He didn't speak at first.
Didn't need to.
Just let the silence crush me like a weight I couldn't dodge.
"…You lost it," he finally said.
I kept my head down. Couldn't meet his eyes.
"I warned you, Akers. You fight outside a sanctioned duel, and you get buried. One more incident like that, and not even I can pull you back."
"…I know."
"Then why?" His voice wasn't angry now. Just tired. "Why the hell would you do something that stupid?"
I stayed quiet.
Because if I said it out loud… I'd break.
But Varek wasn't letting me off easy.
"Was it Georgina?"
My fists clenched.
He sighed. "You're not the only student who's ever been dumped. Or cursed. Or abandoned. But godsdamn it, Nyx — I thought you had more fight than this."
"I do, alright?!" I snapped, finally looking up.
My voice cracked.
"I wake up every day with this fucking curse gnawing at me like a parasite. I can't train. I can't grow. I can't even fucking breathe without feeling like something's dragging me down."
I stepped forward.
"She was the last person I thought would leave. And now everyone looks at me like I'm garbage. Even the fucking teachers whisper behind my back."
Varek's jaw tightened. But he said nothing.
"I know I'm not the same prodigy I used to be. I get it. But I'm still here. Still fucking standing."
My voice dropped to a whisper.
"Isn't that worth something?"
The silence returned. Heavy. Crushing.
Then, slowly, Varek stepped forward — and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"…More than you think," he said. "But if you want anyone to believe in you again… you have to stop bleeding in the open. Lock that pain down. And survive long enough to spit in the faces of the bastards who counted you out."
My breath caught.
He leaned in.
"One more fight outside a duel, and you're out. I won't save you twice."
I nodded, throat dry.
Then, Varek turned.
Go clean yourself up," Varek said gruffly. "A first-year student will be practicing with you from now on."
I blinked. "Who is he?"
Varek glanced over his shoulder. "Arthur. Arthur Valerian. Maybe you've heard of him."
My breath hitched.
He didn't need to say more. I knew exactly who that was.
We had crossed swords once — back in the Young Champions Tournament.
Arthur Valerian. Yearlord of the First Year.
The one who shattered every expectation by surpassing Synthros, Threx, Elias, Nyssara — all of them. The youngest monster ever to be called a genius of the blade.
Varek's voice cut into my thoughts. "I've seen swordsmanship at its finest. That boy? He's not just talented. He's terrifying. No one, not even the Four Divine Prodigies, match him in pure technique."
I didn't answer.
Because I agreed. But it didn't matter.
He'd probably mock me too, just like the others. Pretend to care — then turn away like I was filth on his boots.
My chest tightened as memories bubbled to the surface — the ones I kept locked away.
Three years ago. I entered Erinoguard as a genius. One of the few handpicked to join Class S-1.
Back then, I was someone.
I was seventeen, already Peak Rank 1. My swordsmanship had no rival in my batch. Teachers praised me. Students respected me.
Varek personally offered me a private training chamber.
Georgina — my girlfriend — used to call me every night. Her father even promised our engagement once I reached Rank 4.
It was perfect.
Then everything started to fall.
A year passed. I still hadn't broken through.
No matter how hard I trained, how much mana I gathered — my core refused to respond. Energy entered… but never flowed. It just sat there. Dead.
The academy gave me resources. Training partners. Pills. Nothing worked.
Finally, Varek took me to see the Headmaster himself.
And what he said broke me more than anything else ever could.
"You've been cursed," the Dragon Emperor said. "Your core is sealed by something not of this world — the mark of a Rank 9 being. This is no ordinary curse. It's… absolute."
He tried to dispel it. Even he failed.
He said only Divine Essence could undo it.
Why would a Rank 9 curse me?
What had I done? No one knew.
And slowly… I stopped being a genius. I became a failure.
Still, I didn't give up. I kept training. Every day. Every night. My body bled, my mind screamed — but I kept swinging my sword.
Even when nothing changed.
I pushed harder.
Until I broke.
The Evans family — once my patrons — demanded repayment for every resource they gave me. Threatened legal action. I had no choice. I combined and sold personal skills just to pay them back.
Even then, it wasn't enough.
They wanted the money for the A-rank skill they gave Georgina too.
I was drowning.
That's when Varek stepped in. The only one who didn't turn his back on me.
And Georgina…
The girl who once said she loved me more than the stars — she left.
Not even a goodbye.
She just disappeared one day. Moved on. Whispers say she's with Elias now. The fucking prince. The golden boy.
And me?
I've got nothing.
No money. No family. No friends.
Just my katana.
And somewhere deep in my ruined heart…
A love that refuses to die.
Even now.
Even after everything.
Even when she didn't.
My knees gave out. I sank to the cold marble floor, knuckles white from clenching too long.
And for the first time in a long, long time…
I cried.