Gouhaku reached his hand forward, feeling the flow of mana coursing through his body. He had spent countless hours this way, training himself to control the mana within. Though few knew it, Gouhaku had been doing this kind of intense training since he was young. He understood clearly that the potential inside him was far greater than what others could see.
Outside his room, sunlight began to touch the earth, casting a calm golden glow. But Gouhaku didn't care for such things. To him, mana was something to be understood, controlled, and shaped according to his will.
Slowly, his right hand moved, brushing the air before him. His focus was sharp, eyes closed, channeling all his attention toward the flow of energy inside. Starting from the small point he always felt in his gut, the mana spread quickly, tracing through his body until it gathered in the palm of his hand.
He took a deep breath. The mana began to solidify—into something.
A stone.
A small one, yet it felt heavy, dense with energy. Warm to the touch. But Gouhaku wasn't done. He gathered more mana, and with unshakable patience, he shaped the energy again. The stone grew larger, slowly but surely.
"Perfect," he murmured.
But before he could go any further, a cheerful voice cut in from outside.
"Gouhaku!"
Sinne, a five-year-old girl, came running toward him. Her short hair bounced as she moved, and her carefree smile lit up her face. "Let's play! We're going to play hide and seek!"
Behind her, Daniel—seven years old and always seeming older than his age—walked up, shaking his head slightly. "Sinne's always this hyper in the morning…"
Gouhaku gave a faint smile. "I'll join," he said. But before they could run off, he raised his hand a bit and said softly,
"Basic Air Control—active."
A light breeze wrapped around Daniel… and whoosh!
In an instant, Daniel was lifted into the air, floating like a balloon.
"WAAAA!! PUT ME DOWN, GOUHAKU!!"
"damn you!"
Sinne burst out laughing. "You're a balloon, Daniel!"
Other kids started laughing too. Gouhaku slowly lowered Daniel back to the ground. Everyone went back to playing, their day filled with laughter and joy.
But among them, Gouhaku noticed a child sitting silently on an old swing beneath a shady tree. Still, unmoving, eyes as dark as obsidian, staring at the world like he stood outside of it.
Mano.
The mysterious boy who had only arrived at the orphanage a few days ago. No one knew where he came from—not even the caretakers could explain.
The night before, Gouhaku had tried out a new skill he'd gained: Identity Screen. He just wanted to know—who exactly was Mano?
But when he focused on Mano, only one message appeared:
[LEVEL DIFFERENCE TOO GREAT]
He tried again. The result was the same:
[LEVEL DIFFERENCE TOO GREAT]
From that, Gouhaku learned something. Identity Screen had three important limitations.
First, the level difference had to be close. If it was too wide, the system refused to reveal anything.
Second, if the levels were equal, more detailed information would appear.
And third—the most important—if the target's level was lower, the full data would be displayed… without filters.
Gouhaku's eyes drifted back to Mano, who still sat silently, seemingly untouched by the world around him.
Are you… even stronger than me?
Night returned. After all the children had fallen asleep, Gouhaku sat again in the corner of his room. His hand extended once more, his mind focused. Stone after stone formed from the mana within his body.
But now, his thoughts lingered on Mano. Not just his mysterious power, but the feeling that… something immense was lurking behind this peaceful life.
And Gouhaku knew—the time to stop playing was drawing near.
Elsewhere, as Lutz lay asleep, drowning in sorrow over Reia's departure—
He woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat.
"Reia!" he gasped, jolting upright from the dream.
Suddenly, he heard something… then it vanished.
Then it returned.
A voice. A whisper, soft yet threatening, pierced his mind once more. Lutz's eyes flew open, searching for the source. But the room remained still and silent.
"Come… to the forest…"
Lutz bit his lower lip, trying to calm himself. His heart pounded erratically. The voice was clear—flooding every thought, as if it were guiding his every move. It wasn't the voice of any child or adult from the orphanage. It came from… somewhere far, far away. Lutz didn't know what to do—but his body began to move on its own.
He stood, his steps light, as though he carried no weight. He felt as if something had taken control of him—an unseen force guiding each motion. Every step, though hesitant, felt eerily natural, like something was pushing him forward.
In the thick silence, Lutz crept down the dark hallway. No sound but his soft footsteps. The back door opened by itself, letting in a cold night wind that deepened the stillness. Lutz stared into the forest before him—pitch black, as though waiting for him. The voice whispered again in his head, directing him.
"Come… to the forest…"
The whisper grew louder. Clearer. Lutz knew he had no choice. Reluctantly, he stepped into the darkness. The cold bit at his skin. Beyond the towering trees, the air thickened—something was watching.
In the distance, an old building emerged through the trees. Lutz felt his eyes drawn to it, even as dread clawed at his chest. Something was deeply wrong. But his feet kept moving—nothing could stop them.
The deeper he went into the forest, the thicker the darkness grew. Branches scraped his skin. The cold cut through to his bones. Finally, he stood before the forgotten house. The whisper returned, stronger, more urgent.
"Go inside…"
Lutz stood at the untouched door, doubt filling his mind—but again, his body moved without his will. The door creaked open, as if signaling the point of no return.
Inside, a chilling stillness filled the air. Dim light revealed only shadows of neglected furniture. Lutz stepped deeper. Each movement weighed heavier. The voice echoed in his head, pulling him onward.
"Peter Pan…" he whispered, reading a name carved faintly into the wall. It felt unfamiliar… yet not. As if he'd always known it.
Suddenly, from the darkness, a smile began to appear. Faint at first, then clearer. A grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing sharp, unnatural teeth.
Laughter followed—but it was not the laugh of a child. Lutz's skin crawled. Fear crept in.
He stepped back, but the presence grew closer. The fear became suffocating. He knew who this was. And he knew that Peter Pan was no mere legend.
He was a Primordial—something older than the world itself. Something that toyed with children's minds, tearing their souls apart.
But Peter Pan didn't kill children. He played with them. Broke them from the inside out.
Lutz tried to resist. But his body wouldn't move. He was bound—each limb controlled. Meanwhile, Peter's smile grew wider. More grotesque. The voice returned