『……I've seen it. Your limit.』 The fingers of his white glove pointed straight at me. The cold air of the Third Practical Training Ground, located underground, pierced my skin. Sitting on the floor against the wall, I could do nothing but stare at my own knees. In the center of the training ground, Reizen wore a fearless smile. A cursed power value of 7.8. A genius the likes of which the academy had never seen since its founding. His silver hair, shining in the light, and his narrow, pale blue-gray eyes were like blades made of ice. He stood nearly 180 centimeters tall, far taller than me. His back was perfectly straight, his uniform worn without a single wrinkle. Everything about him was different from me. "How can you even live with numbers like that? Your very existence is a disgrace to the academy." Cold laughter leaked from within the classroom. I couldn't say anything back. I just bit my lip and trembled. My unkempt black hair hid my gray eyes behind my bangs. My thin, hunched body was curled up as if to protect itself. Damn it... it's so frustrating. But I can't say a word. My cursed power value is 0.3. It's the weakest number in history, far below the academy's minimum standard of 1.0. There isn't a single person in this classroom who can use cursed techniques properly. Even the practical skills instructor has already given up. It had been like this all day, since morning. I woke up in my single room in the second boys' dormitory, the "Tsukikage Dorm." Higashiun Cursed Academy is a boarding school, housing about 480 students from the third year of middle school to the third year of high school. Because I'm treated as a problem child, I was isolated alone in this dorm where four-person rooms are the norm. I went out into the hallway without eating breakfast. "Look, the 0.3 is here." "He still hasn't quit?" Students whispered as they passed by. Some even deliberately bumped their shoulders into me. (Just gotta endure it. One more day.) During group work pairings in the classroom, no one invited me. The very back seat by the window. That was my usual spot. I'd open my textbook, hunch my back, and erase my presence. In this world, cursed power decides everything. When you turn six, everyone is forcibly measured under the "Cursed Power Registration System." A national institution called the Cursed Technique Control Bureau quantifies each person's cursed power value and records it as a lifelong record. To become a cursed technique user, you need at least a 2.0. A value like 0.3 is so low you can't even get a license as an adult. Only about 3% of the population has an aptitude for cursed power, and only 30% of those can even get a license. In other words, they're an elite group of maybe one in a hundred people. And yet, even my aptitude is at rock bottom. (Why was I born with a number like this?) When I was young, I couldn't protect my cousin from a cursed beast. A summer evening, in a small village at the foot of the Kasane mountain range. My cousin chased after hitodama bugs that glowed like fireflies and wandered into the dark forest. I was scared and just stood there frozen. "Homura-nii, help!" What bit my cousin was a spider-type Kage-watari that emerged from the shadows. I desperately threw stones, but none of them hit. In the end, an adult cursed technique user who happened to pass by saved her. My cousin was safe. But the feeling of powerlessness from that moment still aches deep in my heart even now. That's why I at least wanted to graduate from the academy. Even if I couldn't become a cursed technique user, I wanted to learn how to handle cursed power so that if someone was in danger again, I could protect them this time. With that thought, I studied desperately and managed to pass the entrance exam. But... this is my reality. "Hey, Instructor Saikawa. This is a waste of time." Reizen looked at Instructor Saikawa and laughed. Saikawa was a middle-aged male instructor, characterized by his thick eyebrows and stubbly beard. He glanced at Homura and let out a short sigh. "Homura, you just observe. If you don't have a partner to pair up with, it can't be helped." More laughter from the classroom. Looking down at us, Reizen stood at the center of the stage. "I will perform a model demonstration. This is cursed technique. Watch and learn, you small fry." Reizen's long fingers traced complex signs in the air. His cursed chant was short and powerful. "Flame Palm." His right hand glowed crimson, and in the next instant, the training target was engulfed in flames. It burned to ashes in a moment. A perfect intermediate-level fire-element cursed technique. A stir spread through the room. Cheers from the female students. Applause mixed with jealousy from the male students. Reizen walked towards me, looking satisfied as he removed his white gloves. And then came those words from earlier. (How can you even live with numbers like that?) Yeah, you're right. I think so myself. Why am I even alive? "...Heh." A dry laugh escaped me. Self-deprecation is my only special skill. If I don't do it, I feel like I'll be crushed by this pain in my chest. Still looking down, I muttered quietly. "[whispers]...Looks like today's gonna be another long day." At that moment, Reizen looked away from me and gazed out the window. (...Brother.) A shadow flickered for just an instant in Reizen's eyes. He had a brother. A brother who was completely erased from the records of the prestigious Reizen family for the simple reason that his cursed power value was low. To Reizen, Homura's existence was fear itself. Every time he saw weakness, the memory of his brother resurfaced, and he was assaulted by an anxiety that threatened even his own position. That's why he rejects it so excessively. Because he doesn't want to acknowledge weakness. Because he feels that if he acknowledges it, he'll end up just like his brother. Reizen shook his head slightly and shook off the thought. Night fell. Avoiding people's eyes, I escaped to the rooftop of the main building. I deliberately chose the distant main building instead of the dormitory rooftop because teachers don't come here, and no one else is around. Old barrier patterns were carved into it, and it felt strangely comforting. The night view of Mikazuki City seen from the rooftop was beautiful tonight as well. In the distance, the lights of the bridge over the Shirayuri River sparkled. Towards the city center, the lights of the "Hanamichi Street" shopping district. I could even see the noren curtain of the "Marutama Shokudo" diner. But the lights of this city felt too far away for me. Leaning against the fence, I looked up at the sky. "[sad]Why... am I so weak?" That's what I think. I don't mean it completely seriously. Half joking, half serious. "Well, I'm a failure because I'm weak, though. Heh." Saying it myself, I laughed a little. Suddenly, I looked at my left wrist. A faint, bruise-like mark I've had since I was little. Like my face, which is often hidden by my bangs, I usually don't pay it any attention, but today it bothered me strangely. The mark was glowing faintly red. "...Huh?" The next moment, a burning pain shot through my entire body. "Guh, aaaaaahhh!" I fell to my knees. My mind went blank. I could tell myself that my heart was pounding violently and my cursed power was rampaging. (What is this... it's hot...!) As my consciousness faded, I saw it. A translucent spirit floating before my eyes. It was a tall man. He wore ancient-looking attire and exuded a spiritual aura like flames. His long black hair was casually tied back, and his sharp gaze shone crimson. His face somehow felt like it resembled mine. The man looked down at me with an airy smile. "[laughing]So you've finally awakened. What an interesting vessel." "...Wh-what are you?" With a trembling voice, that was all I could manage to say. "I am Enou. The one who once sealed the 'Hollow King.' Though now, I am but an empty husk of a soul." Enou...? No way, I've only seen that in history textbooks. The legendary hero who, hundreds of years ago, single-handedly sealed the calamity that nearly destroyed the world. "Why is that hero inside me...?" "Who knows. I don't quite understand it myself. However, I've grown tired of your powerlessness. It's frustrating to watch." Enou laughed, but his eyes were serious. "Your own powerlessness—does it frustrate you? Do you want to change?" Those words made something deep in my chest burn. It's frustrating. Of course it's frustrating. There's no way it isn't frustrating to be constantly ridiculed, ignored by everyone, and forced to live with my head hung low, all alone. Reizen's words from today echoed in my head. (How can you even live with numbers like that?) No. I'm not living. I'm just not dead. But... if I can change. With tears welling up, I squeezed out the words with a trembling voice. "[crying]...I want to change. I want to change." A fearless smile formed on Enou's lips. "[serious]Then I shall teach you. This is the ancient 'power of will,' which does not rely on cursed power values. A technique whose fundamental principles differ from modern cursed techniques... my inherited technique." Inherited technique. "You'll... teach me?" "If you prove to be a worthy vessel. This has become interesting." Saying that, Enou held up his right hand. "I shall erect a barrier here. From now on, every night, special training on this rooftop. However, promise me one thing. Tell no one. Especially not the troublesome ones." The scenery of the rooftop wavered for an instant. Before I knew it, a thin wall of light had been deployed around us. This is probably the barrier Enou mentioned. Nothing can be seen from the outside, and no sound can be heard. "Now, we start with the basics. Prepare yourself, Homura." I nodded quietly. Deep in my heart, I felt like something had changed. The next morning. My whole body ached fiercely. A feeling of fatigue as if I had been running around a mountain all night. But, it was different. Deep in my heart, it felt like a small light had been lit. (Is this what they call hope?) I walked down the hallway. As usual, the people I passed whispered "0.3," but strangely, it didn't bother me. On my way to the classroom, I suddenly felt someone's gaze on me. When I turned around, a girl with long black hair was standing there. The student council vice president, Himuro. She had refined features, and her narrow, dark eyes were striking. She was about 160 centimeters tall, with a slender figure in a neatly fitted uniform. She always wore a cold expression, and I often saw her writing something in a notebook. Now too, she was silently staring at me. (...What?) Himuro glanced at my figure, wrote something in her notebook, and then silently walked away. A slight chill ran down my spine. (I have a bad feeling about this.) But the mark on my left wrist felt faintly warm. I could feel Enou's presence. (Do not be afraid, my disciple.) I felt like that voice echoed in my heart. Meanwhile, in the student council room. Himuro was staring intently at the cursed power observation records spread out on her desk. "...There's no mistake. An abnormal waveform from the main building rooftop last night." She wasn't dispatched by the Cursed Technique Control Bureau. However, as a disciplinarian, she believed it was her mission to grasp every anomaly in the academy. She flipped through the records. As a result of cross-referencing with the behavioral patterns of students on the problem child list, she had confirmed the fact that Homura was entering and leaving the rooftop late at night. "Homura... cursed power value 0.3. An impossible number. But this waveform is clearly evidence that something is happening." Normally, this would be a matter to report to the higher-ups immediately. But Himura thought for a moment. (This wavefo