Simon's legs felt weak, but he forced himself to stand. The fog still clung to the earth, and the air seemed to pull inward with every breath, cold and ancient.
He looked up at the creature — the coils, the unblinking eyes, the impossible stillness. The white deer remained kneeling, unmoving, as if waiting for something beyond understanding.
"Why am I here?" Simon asked, his voice hoarse. "What do you want from me? Am I… to be tested?"
The words felt ridiculous even as he said them. But what else could this be?
The Basilisk didn't move. Yet its presence pressed closer — not through sound, but thought, threading directly into Simon's mind.
Child… I invited you here. But I never forced you to come. It was all from your own desires. From the weight you carry. From the questions you never dared to ask aloud.
And no… I am not like those other righteous relics. I do not test. I know.
I have watched you since the moment you were born.
Simon staggered back a step, his mouth half-open. The weight of the Basilisk's words pressed into his chest like stone.
It wasn't the voice that shook him — it was the truth behind it.
He didn't know how he knew. But he knew.
This thing had seen him — all of him.
His silence. His smallness. His quiet victories and buried doubts.
He tried to breathe. "What do you want with me? Why me? I'm not even a mage."
The Basilisk's presence flared — not angry, but vast.
You are wrong, kid. So very wrong. Not only you — all your kind. You think mana is meant to be captured, sealed into those fragile cores of yours? Tamed? Measured?
Mana is not obedience. Mana is chaos. It is the storm before stars are born, the scream before silence, the edge of creation itself.
Simon's heart pounded in his ears. He tried to make sense of it, but the words didn't fit into anything he'd ever learned. Mana — chaotic? Untamed? Everyone he knew spoke of it like a discipline, a science.
I know you, kid. More than anyone ever has. You were born to bring chaos. Not destruction. Not evil. Chaos.
I can make you powerful. I can guide you to the true ways of mana — not the scholar's chains, not the soldier's flame.
But know this. Your future will be swallowed by chaos. With all the beauty — and ugliness — that comes with it.
Simon stood still.
The white deer remained kneeling.
And the Dark Basilisk waited.
Simon's fists clenched.
He didn't know if it was fear, anger, or something else clawing through his chest — something tangled between awe and disbelief.
"And what will be the cost of that?" he asked. "I'm sure you wouldn't help me for nothing."
The Basilisk's coils shifted slightly, the sound like stone brushing velvet.
Smart boy. But not wise — not yet. The cost is not something I can show you now. It is not a contract. It is a path.
You will see it for what it is only when you are far too deep to turn back.
Follow your instincts, Simon. But understand this — without my help, you will be nothing more than a mediocre mage. Like most of your kind.
Simon's eyes narrowed.
"You mean… I can form a mana core?" he asked, voice trembling. "How? Even the most studied minds in Dravkar can't explain why or when one awakens."
The Basilisk's head lowered slightly, its gaze never leaving Simon's soul.
You will form one. I can feel the link between you and the wild currents of mana. It sings through your blood, coils around your breath.
If that weren't true, you would never have seen the dance of mana performed by my deer spirits.
I do not know what kind of magic will awaken in you. But I know this: It will not be like your sister's.
Simon... you were not born to bring order like a Goldenstar. You were born to bring change.
The word echoed inside him.
Change.
It didn't sound like a gift. It didn't sound like a curse.
It sounded like truth.
Simon's jaw tightened.
"I don't trust you," he said, finally. His voice was quiet, but steady. "Who are you to say what the future is?"
The Basilisk didn't move, but its amusement was palpable — not a laugh, but something colder. Older.
You don't have to trust me. In fact, you shouldn't.
Not even I know if, in the future, I will be your enemy or your ally. That's the nature of what you're stepping into.
All I know is what I can give you. And that the waves of this galaxy will grow angrier with your ascension.
And that, kid... That will be something worth watching.
Deep down, Simon already knew his answer.
Not because he sought greatness. Not because he wanted to be feared or admired.
But for something harder to name.
Curiosity, maybe. The power to protect those he loved. Or perhaps… something darker. A shadow inside him he had never dared to face.
He looked up at the creature, gaze steady.
"I'll accept the deal," he said. "But don't think for a second that you'll be my master."
The Basilisk's massive head lowered slightly, and for once, the forest felt still — as if even time paused to listen.
I don't need more to command. If you were the kind to submit, you would not be the one I chose.
Then, without warning, the Basilisk's form began to collapse inward — its coils unwinding, its body compressing in on itself like stone turning to smoke. It shrank, curled, twisted into a dense sphere of black, pulsing with a faint blue glow, like a dying star refusing to fade.
The orb hovered in the air for a breathless moment — and then shot forward.
Simon didn't move.
The light struck his chest.
And entered.
He gasped.
A thousand emotions rushed through him all at once — grief, fury, elation, terror. He saw fire, ice, wind, stars being born and swallowed. He saw faces he had never met and places that may not yet exist.
He felt power.
And then — Darkness.