The quiet hum of the training room filled the air, the faint sparks from Akemi's fingers illuminating the tension among the group. Everyone sat with varying degrees of attention. Seko was absentmindedly checking his sword. Kiyomi looked focused, arms crossed and leaning slightly forward. Violet was pretending to listen but glancing at Akemi and Izanami back and forth, as if unsure who to simp over. Izanami leaned casually against a wall, quietly observing.
Akemi held a crackling strand of electricity in her palm as she began.
"You all know how people throw around terms like 'power level' or 'element type'... but energy isn't just a weapon. It's a product of who you are."
She raised her hand, and three flickering orbs materialized in the air—blue, red, and gray.
"There are three main kinds of energy: positive, negative, and neutral. They don't come from magic or birthright. They come from the tension between your emotions and your environment."
The orbs rotated slowly above them.
"Positive energy is created when your emotions and surroundings align in the right way. Calm heart, good surroundings. I fall in that category. So does Izanami. And surprisingly... Violet."
Violet beamed proudly.
Kiyomi scoffed. "Seriously?"
"His head may be filled with fanfics and fake scenarios," Akemi continued, "but emotionally? He's simple. Loyal. Focused on what makes him happy, no matter how dumb. That clarity of heart gives him positive energy."
Violet threw a peace sign. "Guess my stupidity's finally paying off."
Seko muttered, "I knew it had to be good for something."
Akemi turned to Kiyomi and Seko.
"You two are different. You wield negative energy. You both had moments that broke your trust in the world, but you survived. Even now, your strength is tied to things like guilt, pain, loss, and revenge."
Seko stayed silent. Kiyomi didn't argue.
"Negative energy isn't evil," Akemi said. "It's just power born of imbalance. You learned to fight because you had to. Not because you wanted to."
She looked at the last orb.
"Neutral energy is rare. A person has to walk the fine line between extremes. They're not ruled by pain or comfort. They just... are. Balanced. Dangerous. Not always stable."
Seko asked, "So what about Atama?"
Akemi shrugged. "Can't read him. Either he's hiding it, or he doesn't fall into any of these types. He told me not to worry about it, so I won't."
There was a moment of quiet. Seko glanced at his sword, then up at the crackling remnants of energy still floating in the air.
"Now," Akemi continued, her tone shifting, "Sujay… He was born in a warm place. Kind people, safe moments. But internally? Rage. Sadness. Loneliness. All of it buried. And because his emotions never matched his environment... what formed inside him was something sharp, wild, and twisted."
"That's why he's so dangerous," she added. "He was built from contradiction. Fed by it. He's the kind of person who knows what love is… and chooses to burn it anyway."
Kiyomi looked away.
Violet's expression, for once, dropped the goofy smile.
Seko stared at the floor, jaw clenched.
Akemi clapped her hands once, and the orbs vanished.
"Remember this during the tournament. Your opponent's energy type could tear you apart… or make you stronger. But if you embrace what's inside you, use it as fuel—then it doesn't matter what energy they carry. You'll be ready."
Just then, Akemi turned back toward Seko, her voice lowering slightly—more curious than cautious.
"Also..." she said, flicking her wrist to manifest a faint glimmer of translucent energy. "I've read Sujay's orb color. It happened while you dreamt of him the other night—your subconscious pulled me in, unintentionally."
Seko's eyes narrowed. "What... did you see?"
Akemi slowly shaped a small sphere in her hand. Unlike the earlier colored orbs, this one wasn't vibrant. It was dull, dense, and strangely fractured—like a black void trying to disguise itself as something tangible.
"It wasn't just negative," she said. "It was unstable. A core that flickered between total emptiness and overwhelming pressure. Almost like it couldn't decide whether to collapse or explode. The closest thing I can compare it to is—"
"A dying star," Izanami finished, arms crossed, lips pressed into a line. "Self-consuming, destructive… but somehow still radiating enough force to draw others in."
Akemi nodded. "Exactly. It wasn't even technically energy anymore. It was something lower. Like his very soul was rejecting the idea of existence—but refusing to disappear."
Kiyomi's voice was calm, but firm. "That's not negative energy anymore. That's... something else."
"No," Akemi said. "That's void-born. Energy formed when emotion and environment have both been obliterated. When even pain feels like a luxury."
Violet, uncharacteristically silent, muttered, "He really called himself 'Emptiness,' huh?"
Seko's knuckles were white as he clenched his hands. He didn't look up. "…That's why I said he scares me."
Atama strolled into the training hall, biting into a fruit with the smugness of a man who'd just solved a problem before it existed.
"Set it aside, bozos," he said, casually tossing the half-eaten fruit into the air and catching it without looking. "Focus on your trainings."
He passed Izanami, leaned in just enough for it to mean something—but not too much. Izanami's face held firm, eyes forward, unreadable. But Seko caught the subtle flicker—her heartbeat missed a beat, cheeks catching the faintest tint. It was gone just as fast.
Violet noticed too. But said nothing.
Atama glanced at Seko, circling him like an orbiting thought. The sword from Planet Kutol lay on a rack behind him, humming a note that wasn't sound—but pressure.
"You keep trying to become one with it," Atama said, poking Seko's forehead. "Vampy-boy, that thing's a leech. You don't wear a parasite like jewelry."
"So what, I just reject it?" Seko muttered, still catching his breath from training.
"Oppose it," Atama said. "Don't drown in it. Hold it like it's poison—but aim it like a gun. You don't have to like it, you just have to beat it."
He turned his head without missing a step.
"Or believe in science," he added. "Same thing anyway."
He tossed his fruit core away, looked at Akemi, and said plainly, "You know what to do."
Akemi was already knee-deep in a haze of holographic projections, scribbling unreadable notes with one hand, scanning blade resonance data with the other.
"Yeah, yeah," she smirked, "I'm three steps ahead of you, fruit boy."
Seko sat down, his fingers twitching from the tension still echoing through his veins. His eyes flicked to the sword. Then to Atama. Then, finally, back to his own trembling hands.
The vampire. The cursed weapon. The storm inside.
He didn't say it aloud, but the thought lingered.
How long before I become like him?