Re: Varekmon Saga

I stepped out of the chamber with watery eyes and scrambled senses. The smell of ozone still lingered in the air, and the ground felt firmer than ever—or maybe it was just the weight of the Gray One, now draped over my shoulder like a cold, living scarf.

The Professional Conductor was waiting outside, flashing that toothpaste-commercial smile.

— "Niko, right? Your performance was... surprising." — He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. — "I'll be sending a personal letter of recommendation. I hope to see you at the Junior Conductor Academy in two years."

I simply nodded. It made no sense to explain that, technically, I had already attended three different academies in other lives. Including the Junior one. I even had a diploma to show for it. But of course, no one remembers that besides me.

"The letter might be useful," I thought. "Not for the school itself, but for the Cordeiro Corp seal. With that, maybe I can get into the professional academy directly... and save precious time."

Time was my most valuable resource. More than energy, more than friends, more than the lives I'd already lost. Because with every cycle… time slipped further away.

I walked down the hallway with Alek and the redhead, Eloá. The three Varekmon followed behind with uneven steps—Alek's bounced around excitedly, Eloá's glided effortlessly across the floor, and mine… well, the Gray One walked in silence, as if contemplating existence. Or maybe just tired.

Outside, the courtyard was packed. The children who had watched everything surrounded us in seconds.

— "What are they like?"

— "What are their names?"

— "What do they eat?"

— "Will you enter battles?"

— "Does yours have three eyes?"

I stood in the middle of that storm of questions, trying to stay calm—until I realized… I didn't actually know what type my Varekmon was.

I looked at him. Gray. Nearly expressionless. Tail wrapped around his leg, eyes alert. A riddle. No record in school databases. No common visual clue.

How do you classify something that looks like it was made outside this world?

Then a familiar voice pulled me out of my daze.

— "You're Niko, right?" — she asked, already standing way too close.

— "Depends. Who's asking?"

— "Clara! I saw you in the courtyard. You didn't talk to anyone. I like that."

"Ah, of course. Curious about the quiet bad boy. Works even with the weirdo scholarship crowd."

— "You've got that look… like you've seen things, you know?"

— "I look like someone who doesn't sleep well. Pretty much the same."

She laughed. A little embarrassed, but still interested. Like she really wanted to know what was behind my tired eyes.

— "Hope to see you at the Junior Academy!"

She wore a huge smile, same as before, but now with something more. Determination. As if she'd already decided we were going to be part of the same story.

— "Yeah… maybe." — That's all I managed to say.

Her mother, Aura, stepped out beside the Professional Conductor, chatting naturally. Before getting into their car, she threw a quick wave in my direction—along with a smirking little smile that made me more nervous than a Varekmon facing a scanner.

We returned to the bus. The soft swaying and rhythmic sound of the wheels almost made me forget that the world could still fall apart. I leaned my head against the cold window and watched Zone 3 pass by like a worn-out memory.

I needed time—not much, just enough to understand how to cure the Gray One.

I wasn't sure, but I believed there might be a way to stop the mutation before it took over his mind. But not just that, there were other things too. People I needed to meet again. Places hiding puzzle pieces—things necessary to stop Arkhan's rise.

There were still opportunities here I had to seize before I left.

When the bus stopped, it was already night. The ride back had been quiet. Even Alek seemed more introspective. Eloá was asleep, her liquid frog resting on her lap. And me… I just stared out the dirty window, the city reflected under the purple glow of the streetlights.

We got off, each heading in a different direction. Alek waved goodbye; I heard him say he'd see me tomorrow. I waved back with a short gesture and started walking through the deformed streets of Zone 3. A light mist began to fall.

That's when I heard it.

A deep, continuous, metallic sound—slow. It was a patrol vehicle.

It passed by me like a shadow on wheels, hovering just a few centimeters off the ground. An armored car with red and white lines, the Conductor Patrol symbol on its side. Its blue lights blinked in silence—elegant and terrifying.

Next to the vehicle trotted a massive Varekmon, bigger than the car itself. It looked like a mastiff dog, but with gray scales, a flat snout, and glowing green eyes. Its steps made the ground lightly tremble. It was a Tracker Varekmon—the kind only released in serious cases.

"Why are they patrolling this area?"

I stayed silent, following the vehicle from a distance, trying not to be noticed—but it was useless.

The Varekmon stopped for a moment. Sniffed the air. Its eyes met mine.

Just a moment, but it made it clear—it saw me.

Yet it turned toward Sector G of Zone 3. And there, at that intersection of alleys and ruins, I froze.

Flash.

The memory returned.

It was there. Right there. The epicenter.

Where the first Gray One attacked. Same street. Same broken post. Same heavy air.

My vision split between what was and what is. The square-doored bar now had its entrance smashed. Officers were setting up repellent lasers to keep people away. The canine Varekmon continued its patrol.

But my memory went further.

I saw the screams again. The blood.

Varekmon going berserk, shattering windows.

Lifeless eyes of people.

That wailing siren that wouldn't stop.

Conductors barking orders.

Endless combat.

Chaos dancing with death.

"I need to get out of this city."

"I need to stop this from happening again."

I ran. Ran like hell itself was behind me. And maybe it was.

Anxiety made it impossible to even fake a carefree smile.

I got home with my heart pounding in my throat.

The automatic door recognized my signal and opened with a soft hiss.

— "Son? Dinner's on the table." — my mother said from the kitchen, as if nothing had happened in the world. She had no idea, because nothing had technically happened.

The table was set. Simple plates. Rice, plant-based protein, artificial chicken-flavored seasoning, and a piece of meat.

I sat down, still out of breath. The Gray One curled up at my feet. My mother didn't even notice.

Her name is Milena. She's in her early thirties and seems frozen in time—like the city forgot to touch her. Long, dark, wavy hair cascades down her back, streaked with a few silver strands she wears with pride—not neglect, but choice.

Her golden skin seems to glow, even under the dim kitchen lights.

She wears simple but well-kept clothes and walks with the grace of someone who knows her own worth.

She works two shifts, supports everything with what's left of my father's pension—yet still finds time to smile.

Not that fake smile, but a real one that carried me through childhood.

My father was a high-level Conductor who died defending Zone 3 in a battle against Varekmon traffickers.

I never really knew him, only old photos. They say I inherited his eyes, that he was brave and bold.

People say a lot of things…

But that wasn't the point.

I had to start planting the idea in her mind.

— "Mom… how could I leave this city?"

She glanced sideways at me, still cutting my protein into cubes.

— "Where would you go?"

I didn't answer. I just smiled in response.

...

Today on the Varekpedia we have

Species: Zephirun

Type: Elemental

Origin: Zone 4 

Evolution Stage: Infant

Threat Level: Low to Moderate (varies with sound stimulus)

Description:

Zephirun is a Varekmon as light as a breeze and difficult to keep grounded. Its body is elongated and covered in soft pastel-colored feathers with a pearlescent shimmer, reflecting light as if always in motion. Its wings are long, translucent, and produce barely audible sounds when moving — a natural symphony almost imperceptible to ordinary ears.

Its face resembles that of a slender owl, with large iridescent eyes that change color based on the mood of the environment. Zephirun is extremely sensitive to sound frequencies, able to calm down or go into a frenzy depending on the surrounding noise. When threatened, it emits a hypersound chirp capable of disorienting opponents for brief moments.

Despite its calm appearance and playful nature, Zephirun is difficult to control without a finely tuned emotional Bond. It often hovers over its Conductor's shoulders or vanishes into air currents when bored. In high-altitude or mountainous zones, it is considered a natural guide, and is seen by some cultures as a symbol of new beginnings and heavenly messages.