The cheerful mood never returned, and Khan was fine with that. Things had changed too quickly during the feast, making him yearn for some time alone with his thoughts. That moment eventually arrived, and comforting reactions preceded it.
Even after the shocking revelations, the Thilku didn't go back to their previous distrust. They couldn't talk as happily as before, but Khan didn't feel ostracized anymore. Xai also opened his locker when they returned to the corridor, showing a different general attitude toward him.
Khan felt mentally drained once he returned to the privacy of his room. He threw himself on the big bed, carrying Naoo's device. He knew he had to study, but his pensive mood had yet to wane.
Khan let go of the device and turned belly up before lifting his right arm. It hurt to close and open his hand. It wasn't too bad, but he remained far from his top condition.
'It might heal in a week,' Khan thought. 'Hopefully, it will heal.'
The plan was now in motion, and Naoo even gave it a time limit. That was the best possible outcome since Khan could coordinate with the Thilku, but worries remained. He had merely gotten a taste of what Cegnore had to offer, and those threats had also been limited to animals.
'The mutated Thilku must come next,' Khan considered, 'And they are part of the reasons the war is still happening.'
Danger lurked everywhere. Each of Khan's steps was bound to cause a mess, and standing still wasn't an option. Failure wasn't either, leaving only one path open.
'It's always about strength, isn't it?' Khan cursed, straightening his back to sit on the bed. A rune shone on the wall to his right, and he reached for it to tinker with its lines.
Khan recognized the rune, but too much had happened that night. His pensive mood was still there, so he only half-focused on the symbol, failing to use it multiple times.
"Come on," Khan complained, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm down. When he reopened them, he reapproached the rune, which activated at his touch.
The rune shrunk while red colors spread through the wall, creating a small mirror. Khan saw his reflection, noticing the dirt and blood lingering on his face. He had gotten so used to his hair that it didn't even stand out anymore, and his focus fell on his eyes to search for answers only he could know.
Khan's thoughts went on to the last battle. He couldn't forget how the air had become an extension of his mind. That was no small matter. He had worked hard to achieve similar results, which were happening instinctively now.
'Is that the next step?' Khan wondered. 'Is it just another weapon?'
Khan's battle style was a mere application of the Niqols' main arts to messy environments. It wasn't even a proper technique. He simply relied on his senses to move where the symphony highlighted favorable windows.
That battle style had many benefits. For starters, Khan was always one step ahead of his enemies. Getting surrounded or falling into traps was also impossible. He became the embodiment of efficiency in that state.
However, Khan was also empty when he fought like that. He eliminated his thoughts and inclinations, turning himself into a mere weapon ruled by his surroundings.
Many would praise that battle style, even going as far as calling it harmonious, and Khan would agree. He probably looked very shaman-like while fighting. Yet, he also recognized that something was missing.
'It lacks personality,' Khan thought, keeping his eyes on his reflection.
Flowing was in line with his senses and the mana's nature, but Khan also had to consider his element. His current battle style didn't express it at all, and the Niqols' arts seemed able to fix that.
Moreover, that battle style had formed on Ecoruta, one of the lowest points in Khan's life. He only wanted to lose himself back then, and relying on those feelings wasn't healthy, especially after changing so deeply.
'But,' Khan wondered, interrupting his considerations, 'Expressing what?'
Khan hoped to find the answer to that question in his reflection but ended up seeing all kinds of things. He was no simple character. Actually, his personality had so many conflicting aspects it was surprising he didn't develop a dissociative disorder.
Years had passed since Nitis. Khan didn't only move on. He also accumulated experience that put him far above ordinary soldiers.
That experience wasn't limited to battles. Khan's political figure had evolved in ways descendants found hard to believe. His education put him among the elites, and his relationship pushed his fame even higher.
'I know what I need to be,' Khan sighed, 'But what do I want to be?'
Jenna's teachings crossed Khan's mind as his eyes remained lost in his reflection. He could still see that ignorant and slightly naïve kid from the Slums, but other aspects were slowly eating him away, turning him into someone he struggled to recognize.
'What do I want?' Khan wondered.
Except for the Nak, Khan had a decent idea of his goals. He wanted to be with Monica and was ready to climb the political ladder for her. Yet, that journey could come in different ways and shape him into someone he might hate.
'Kindest and most domineering,' Khan thought about Monica's words.
As much as Khan cared about love, he knew he couldn't shape his life around that. He would probably try, but Monica wouldn't let him. He had to be himself and happy first, which brought his attention back to his reflection.
Khan saw the Tainted kid, still attached to the façade and lying skills he had developed in hostile environments. He spotted his desperation, a feeling powerful enough to rule every aspect of his life.
Khan saw the lover, the human who had learned forms of affection stretching past his species' limits. The bottomlessness of that feeling still raged inside him, giving birth to aspects that would scare most people away.
Khan saw his dark sides and the lengths he was willing to go to for his love. He could commit awful crimes for it and not lose any sleep over them. He had actually done his fair share of them already.
Khan saw the monster, the alien immersed in a river of corpses and blood. He had perfected the art of killing and turned it into his greatest asset. He was what every rumor described him to be and more, and his limits weren't even in sight.
In the end, Khan saw the Nak, the creature of his nightmares, the clicking cry that ran through his mind and mana. He felt his element's unreasonable and uncompromising urges and his desire to set them free.
Khan had a pessimistic view of himself but didn't ignore his good side. Most of his intentions were good. He cared more than any of his peers. He loved harder and was more loyal, even if not to the Global Army or his species.
'That's the problem, isn't it?' Khan thought. 'The more I care, the farther I'm willing to go.'
Khan didn't blame himself for that mindset. He stopped torturing himself after Jenna convinced him to pursue his happiness. He was also on the right path, and his power had to evolve accordingly.
Expressing all of that was simply impossible. Khan acknowledged the issue but still wanted to solve it. His drive began to leak out of his figure, affecting the synthetic mana in his surroundings. That energy almost screamed at the arrival of his influence, but nothing happened yet.
'It's too dangerous,' Khan commented, even if his influence continued to spread. 'It's not something that can be controlled. It's not something that should be controlled.'
The symphony transformed, gaining the iconic properties of the chaos element as it shattered and reformed. The air seemed to shake as the synthetic mana bent under Khan's will, and its density increased when he added tinges of his energy.
'Why would I even try to control it?' Khan wondered, adding more mana to the room. 'I should let loose. I deserve to be myself fully.'
The symphony thickened, growing brighter in Khan's vision, but he kept staring at his reflection. He couldn't help but like feeling his self-restraint gradually backing away. That was what his deepest instincts wanted, and his mana reflected that.
The air shook, and a faint clicking growl reached Khan's ears. Ordinary humans wouldn't see or hear anything, but a heavy tension existed in the room. Power was building up for unclear purposes.
'Why does this feel so good?' Khan cursed, a smirk broadening on his reflection. 'Why should I even bother hiding this?'
Khan's reasonable side knew the answer to those questions, but his mind was somewhere else. The mirror began to embody all the limits he had placed on himself, and blinking started a chain reaction.
The mana suddenly screamed, and cracking noises followed. The metal wall broke, creating a spiderweb of fissures with Khan's reflection as its center. The damage spread for a few meters, almost reaching the floor and ceiling.
