72 Pillar

I felt like I could bench press a mountain, like I could split the sea and break the very earth with just a single step. In that moment, I felt a little less than human.

With a smile on my face, I let loose my fist, allowing it to soar forward towards Madelyn's face. A loud explosion of air shot outward as my fist connected, sending us both back. I chuckled, feeling a strange thrill coursing through me.

But as my breath became ragged and my vision blurry, I realized something was wrong. "W-what's happening?" I asked myself, shaking my head.

"It was a good fight," Madelyn said, walking slowly towards me. "But this is your limit."

I stood up straight, trying not to wobble. "This wasn't over," I declared, raising my fists. "Not until I win." My smile never left my face.

I was about to rush forward, ready to attack, but a small gust pushed against my body, forcing me to close my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, Madelyn was already standing in front of me. Instead of a punch, her hand rested gently on my shoulder, calming me down.

I looked into her blue eyes, then noticed the torn sleeve revealing a bruise underneath. "I did that..." I whispered.

As the realization sank in, my smile faded. I had raised my fist against someone I cared about. "Damn..." I muttered, feeling like trash.

My energy drained away, replaced by aches and pains I didn't know were possible. I fell forward, expecting to faceplant, but Madelyn caught me. Her face was calm but sad. "You've done well," she said before everything went dark.

***

"So, he's finally reached his limit, huh?" Mr. Adams remarked as he entered the broken field, observing the aftermath of the battle.

"What do you think?" he inquired, turning to his granddaughter, who cradled Ethan in her arms as if he were royalty.

"Pillars usually start manifesting their powers around puberty," Madelyn explained, her gaze fixed on Ethan. "Our skin toughens, we get stronger, our senses sharpen. But what he just did..." She trailed off, her expression grave. "Harnessing a demon's aura like that? Even the best of us would need months of training to achieve that level."

"Indeed," Mr. Adams agreed, his arms folded.

"Grandfather," Madelyn's voice trembled with shock and disbelief. "What is he?"

"A mystery," Mr. Adams replied, his gaze lingering on the unconscious boy. "A mystery unlike any seen in the history of the order."

With that, Mr. Adams turned and walked back toward the mansion. "A pillar unaffiliated with the houses of Solomon," he mused inwardly. "A pillar without a sigil. What could this mean?"

***

As I slowly come to consciousness, the pain from the intense battle courses through my body, a constant reminder of my actions. My heart sinks as I recall the moment my fist collided with Madelyn's arm instead of her intended target – her face, her perfect face.

Self-reproach floods over me, the shame overwhelming. With a groan, I attempt to sit up, every movement sending waves of pain. I realize I'm not in my opulent bedroom, but rather another lavish room, resting on a plush dark red couch. Surrounding me are shelves of books on fashion, a wooden table adorned with a glass top, and a red-hued TV mounted on the wall.

Rubbing my aching head, I grapple with a deep-seated feeling of fear. Despite the recent surge of power I experienced, fear now gnaws at me. Reflecting on the moment I learned of the demon inside me, I remember the subdued fear lurking beneath the surface, overshadowed by the allure of my new life.

But now, I no longer feel like myself. The intoxicating power that once bolstered me now feels suffocating, a reminder of the darkness threatening to consume me. It's a realization that dawns upon me with a chilling certainty – I'm becoming her, the girl with black hair and crimson eyes. The smile I wear, the strength I wield – it's hers.

In that moment, I comprehend the concern in Madelyn's eyes. It's a shared worry, a fear that I'll lose myself to the darkness that lurks within.

My thoughts were interrupted as the door to the room slowly opened, revealing another young butler with short, neatly combed brown hair, holding a small glass of water.

"Oh..." he said in surprise. "I'm glad to see you're awake, sir," he said with a smile as he walked over and placed the glass of water on the table.

"Um, thanks," I said, realizing I didn't know his name.

"Arnold Bentley, sir," he said, slightly bowing his head.

"Nice to meet you," I replied, taking a sip of the refreshing water. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was.

"Mr. Brumfield, I've been instructed to escort you to the training grounds when you're ready," Arnold said, standing beside the couch.

"Oh..." I said, not thrilled to hear about training, especially when I was still sore. "Well then, lead the way." I stood up, offering Arnold a smirk.

I followed Arnold through the house, turning left and right until I lost track, feeling like I was navigating a maze. Eventually, we reached a small, dimly lit room that lacked the opulence of the rest of the mansion. The only notable feature was a wooden latch engraved into the floor.

Arnold approached the closed latch and, with a small grunt, opened it. He stood back, silent, as he waited by the open hatch.

"Whenever you're ready, sir," he said calmly, his expression unwavering.

I approached the latch slowly, feeling a sense of trepidation. Peering into the darkness below, all I could see was the shadowy outline of a ladder disappearing into the depths. The passage looked narrow and foreboding.

Looking back at Arnold, who wore a reassuring smile, I couldn't help but wonder if he realized how eerie it all seemed.

"Okay," I said, mustering my courage. "Down the rabbit hole I go."

***

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