3.10 – Knowing Oneself

Aurora groaned, burying her face into her pillow as the sound of a bugle blaring Reveille on full blast came through the walls of their dorm room. It wasn’t coming from the intercom. That would have been too merciful. No, this was being played manually, and with enthusiasm.

Akari shrieked, bolting upright, her blanket tangled around her legs. “What the hell?!”

Asami sat up far more gracefully, though her glare was murderous. “I will end whoever is responsible for this.” Her voice was ice, but the fire in her purple eyes spoke otherwise.

The bugle continued, playing a rousing, obnoxiously loud wake-up call. Even with the supposed soundproofing, it still managed to drill into their skulls.

Aurora groaned, dragging herself out of bed. “I knew we’d pay for last night, but this is just cruel.”

Akari frantically scrambled out of bed, grabbing her anime loot from the nightstand and stuffing it under the bed as if the bugle’s source would personally confiscate it.

Asami rubbed her temples. “Whoever that is, I will find a way to ensure they never play that infernal instrument again.”

A moment later, the bugle stopped, replaced by a single, loud knock on their door.

“Rise and shine, princesses,” Rook called, his voice dripping with raucous amusement. “The Midnight Avenger’s been calling you three, and I’m just doing my duty to make sure you don’t miss the fun, hahaha~!”

Aurora scowled, throwing the door open without hesitation. Rook stood there, bugle in hand, wearing a smug grin.

She crossed her arms. “You enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” Rook admitted. “But hey, I’m just being helpful.”

Akari was too busy sputtering angrily to form coherent words, and Asami looked one step away from shoving his bugle where the sun didn't shine.

Aurora sighed. “Fine. We’re up. Now leave before Akari incinerates you.”

Rook smirked, taking a step back with his hands held up. “Suit yourselves. See you in the plaza.” With that, he sauntered off, whistling the same melody he had just played.

Akari threw a pillow at the now-closed door. “I hate him.”

Asami massaged her temples. “We will have our vengeance.”

Aurora stretched, cracking her neck. “Let’s just get cleaned up and try to look presentable before the Midnight Avenger decides to come get us himself.”

They hurried through their morning routines, still grumbling as they dressed in their uniforms and made their way to the plaza.

Standing alone in the center, waiting for them, was Dragonmage.

Aurora internally groaned. Of course it’s him again.

The older hero stood with his arms folded, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look angry at their late arrival—just faintly disappointed, which somehow made it worse.

“As I was saying,” Dragonmage began, not even bothering to acknowledge their barely-contained irritation, “to truly grow as heroes, one must first know oneself. Only by understanding our own limitations can we push past them.”

Aurora mentally checked out as he continued, launching into one of his classic long-winded speeches about self-awareness, balance, and the mystical nature of personal growth. As expected, nobody cared.

Akari stifled a yawn. Asami’s fingers twitched, and Aurora could tell she was moments away from saying something rude.

Finally, Dragonmage paused—and his sharp green gaze locked onto Asami. “We will begin with you.”

Asami scowled instantly. “Excuse me?”

Dragonmage simply nodded. “You are first.”

Aurora had to bite back a laugh at the sheer murder in Asami’s eyes.

“Why me?” Asami demanded.

“Because I said so.” Dragonmage’s expression remained perfectly neutral.

Asami’s hands tightened into fists, drifting dangerously close to her rifle. “I should—”

Aurora stepped in quickly before Asami could escalate things into something hilarious but regrettable. “So, uh… what do we do?”

Dragonmage turned his gaze toward the rest of them. “The rest of you are dismissed. You may wait in your rooms or the mess hall. However, you may not remain here.”

Rook frowned. “Not even to observe?”

Dragonmage shook his head. “No.”

Rook sighed dramatically and gave a mock salute. “Fine. Permission to withdraw?”

“Granted.”

Rook turned on his heel and strode off. Apex silently followed without a word, heading straight for her room.

Aurora frowned, stepping toward her. “Hey, Apex—”

Apex did not acknowledge her. She walked away without even looking back.

Aurora’s brows knit together. What the hell was that about? Apex wasn’t the most sociable at the best of times, but to flat out ignore her was unusual. Though, they were in the middle of a test so perhaps she just wanted to remain focused. She would have to ask Apex what was going on later.

Akari, still grumbling, tugged at Aurora’s sleeve. “C’mon. Let’s go get some food before he calls us next.”

Aurora hesitated for a moment, then sighed, following Akari toward the mess hall.

The AI hostess did not appear when they entered.

Aurora immediately noticed. The room was quiet, eerily so. The normal greeting from their holographic guide was absent.

Akari, however, was too tired to care. She slumped onto their chosen table, her head resting on her folded arms. “Wake me up when I get called.”

Aurora sighed. “Seriously?”

A muffled grunt was the only response.

Aurora shook her head and leaned back in her chair. She would have liked to step outside to soak in the sun, but that was off-limits. The plaza was restricted right now by order, and she wasn’t about to test Dragonmage’s patience today.

Instead, she called out to the AI. “Hey, could I get a coffee?”

Silence.

Aurora blinked. “…Hello?”

Still nothing.

Her stomach twisted. The AI had never ignored them before. Had she been punished for covering for them last night? Aurora frowned, drumming her fingers against the table. What the hell is going on? Was she being punished?

The wait took a good while. The whole time she dwelled on the situation and nearly fell asleep in her chair when the speakers crackled to life.

“Aurora. Report to the plaza.”

Aurora sighed deeply, glancing at Akari. “Guess I’m up.”

Akari, already half-asleep, waved her off. “Good luck… tell Dragonmage to shut up…”

Aurora grinned despite herself, then got up and made her way back toward the plaza.

As expected, Dragonmage was waiting for her. He stood in the same spot as before, arms crossed, the faint glow of magic flickering at his fingertips.

Aurora approached, giving a half-hearted salute. “Reporting in.”

Dragonmage nodded once. “Aurora. Tell me… how often does she speak to you?”

Aurora blinked. “…Excuse me?”

Dragonmage’s gaze was piercing. “The apparition. Black Angel.”

Aurora’s heart stopped for a beat. He knew.

Her expression remained neutral, but inside, she was panicking. “What makes you think she talks to me?”

Dragonmage tilted his head slightly. “Because someone like her would never allow herself to die so easily. Because the Sentinels are already watching for her return.” His voice was calm, but there was an undeniable weight behind it. “And because you… carry the shadow of her presence.”

Aurora swallowed. She had assumed the Sentinels would be wary of Black Angel’s return, but this? This was another level entirely.

Dragonmage’s gaze didn’t waver. “Do you need assistance with containing her?”

Aurora stiffened. “No, sir.”

His expression remained unreadable. “Are you certain?”

Aurora clenched her fists. “If I’m not strong enough to contain her myself, then what’s the point of anything? It’s my burden. My responsibility. If I rely on others to keep her at bay, I’ll never be strong enough to handle her on my own.”

Dragonmage studied her for a long moment… then nodded.

“Good.”

Aurora exhaled sharply.

He continued, “Had you accepted my offer, I would have been forced to flag you for further surveillance.”

Aurora’s stomach turned. “Wait—you were testing me?”

Dragonmage nodded again. “We do not watch you in your day-to-day life. We do not know your identity. We only watch what we can.” He studied her carefully. “And I assure you, the Sentinels have been very impressed with you in any case.”

Aurora felt a strange mix of relief and unease. “Well. That’s… good to know, sir.”

Dragonmage wasn’t finished. “But there is more to knowing oneself than knowing what threatens you. You must also know your power.” His eyes glowed faintly. “Tell me, Aurora—what exactly are you capable of?”

Aurora hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She hadn’t exactly cataloged every single thing she could do—it wasn’t like she had a scientific method for testing her abilities. Everything had been trial and error, instinct, and whatever felt natural.

“Well,” she started, “I can fly, obviously. I can generate light-based constructs—barriers, weapons, simple shapes. I can blast energy in various concentrated forms. I have a natural aura that protects me from most physical damage, and I heal faster than a normal person can alone.”

Dragonmage nodded, his expression neutral. “Anything else?”

Aurora frowned, thinking. “I… I have some limited ability to manipulate gravity around me, I suspect. It lets me hover instead of full flight, and I can lighten or increase my own weight and others to some extent. I can disguise myself with personal illusions. My whole costume is probably made out of light.”

Dragonmage stroked his chin. “Interesting. Have you attempted more intricate constructs? Or multiple simple objects? Constructs with any moving parts?”

Aurora sighed. “I’ve tried. The closest I’ve gotten is making simple shapes that act like they move, but they’re not true machines or anything. It’s hard. There’s a lot to keep track of. I can make cogs, but I can’t make them all turn to create a machine. I couldn’t make a clock out of light, for example. I can rotate my constructs and move them around at will but that’s about all. And whenever I create more than one ring, the previous ones disappear.”

Dragonmage nodded as if he’d expected that. “Your power is mental as much as physical. You need to expand your concept of what is possible. Limitations are oftentimes self-imposed. When our powers’ limitations are governed by our minds, such as with magic, one basic method to improve such capabilities is to unbind one's own imagination from the chains of reality.”

“So I need to just try hard to believe that I’ll be able to make multiple constructions and eventually it’ll work?” Aurora frowned thoughtfully. Come to think of it, whenever she’d discovered a power, she hadn’t worried about whether it was possible. She’d simply willed it to happen. But would that always work? That seemed too easy to her.

“Correct, but it’s very challenging to unbind one’s own mind. Success hinges upon much consideration and training.”

“The creation of constructs that move requires an understanding of how they function and the ability to keep track of all their subtle movements. A clock would require an understanding of complex mechanical systems that you don’t seem to possess. But that is a limitation that can also be overcome with effort.”

Aurora’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying that if I practice, I might be able to make actual mechanical constructs work too?”

Dragonmage smiled slightly. “Given time and discipline, perhaps. You might even be capable of autonomous creations—machines composed of light, in a sense. But that takes the concept to its ultimate application.”

Aurora stared at him, intrigued but also overwhelmed. “Honestly, that sounds insane.”

“Perhaps,” Dragonmage said, “but all power begins with boundless untapped potential.” He flicked his wrist, and the entire world around them shifted.

Aurora’s stomach dropped. The plaza vanished, replaced with a very familiar cityscape. Buildings loomed around her, cracked pavement beneath her feet. But it wasn’t just anywhere—it was San Isidro.

More specifically…

Aurora’s breath hitched. “This is West San Isidro.”

Dragonmage didn’t react to the alarm in her voice.

Aurora turned to look around, her heart pounding. There were fires in the distance signalling a crisis of some kind that was actively ongoing. But that didn’t explain the sense of wrongness. She knew her city and this was it, but only some landmarks stood out. Old landmarks. There were other things that she would have expected to find that weren’t there. It was like how this part of the city used to be. The city had been so traumatized that the rebuild had yet to be finished. Looking at the city like this, it was like the calamitous rampage hadn’t happened… Not yet. 

The air crackled with energy. And then, a boom sounded across the broken skyline.

Aurora whirled around just in time to see a massive chunk of concrete ripped from the ground, lifted effortlessly into the air as if by invisible hands.

Then she saw him.

Gravitas.

Aurora’s blood ran cold. She had seen pictures of him online, in forums discussing S-Rank threats and elsewhere. Why wouldn’t she have investigated her mother’s murderer?

The S-Rank villain was right there, standing in the street, his white hair whipping around his sharp, aged face as his piercing gray eyes scanned the wreckage. He was raging, angry at the whole world, willing its destruction with everything he threw and every punch or haymaker.

Dragonmage’s voice was even. “Tell me, Aurora. Do you know about this moment? One of San Isidro’s most tragic moments in its long history. This event took place twelve years ago.”

Aurora’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

A pulse of gravity slammed downward, and a building crumbled like sand, sending up a thick cloud of debris. Aurora’s hands trembled at her sides. Only Vanguard could hope to fight on par with him. Chills raced up her spine. For the first time in a long while she was filled with fear and she started to sweat, her heart pounding.

She remembered exactly what this was. The worst day of her life, although she hadn’t known it at the time. This was the day her father started losing his mind.

The day her mother died, leaving them alone.

She could still remember the desperate voices on the television that her father was enwrapped watching. She ignored them and her father’s reactions. She hadn’t understood anything that was happening at all. All she could see was an ultra cool supervillain rampaging somewhere far away from her, when he was actually within ten miles. The first responders—medics, firefighters, police—rushing into the disaster zone to evacuate civilians. They would surely save the day once again like they always did and then they would all go home. Her mother had been one of them. But this time not everyone got to go home. She had been slain in cold blood. Aurora’s fists balled up as she trembled.

And Gravitas? He knew nothing of her. Ever since she’d understood what happened Leona had tried to put this event out of her mind for her whole life.  Dragonmage was haunting her with the turning point that nearly destroyed her. She remembered the hunger, her thirst, the squalor of living in her own filth. However long it was she’d been in that locked box, it went on too long and she had nearly given up.

Vanguard arrived back then. He defeated Gravitas, but his intervention was too late to save her mother. Even knowing that, she didn’t blame him. Unlike her father, her admiration for him never turned into an ever consuming hatred. He remained a hero to her, always doing the best he could even if that wasn’t always enough.

Aurora turned to Dragonmage, eyes blazing. “What’s the point of this?” She hissed in uncharacteristic anger, shaking.

Dragonmage remained impassive. “I had the computer randomly select a massively destructive incident caused by a single powerful villain that occurred in your home city, but I see that Fate ties you strongly to this event. Why this? Why would the threads draw you here…?” He shook his head, focusing himself once again. “You must know your power. You must also know your limits.”

Aurora’s fingers curled into fists. “I already know my limits. I don’t need this. Make it go away.”

Dragonmage gestured toward the destruction. “Prove yourself a true hero. Show me your courage. While I didn’t realize this event held some special meaning for you, I surmise that you were helpless to help anyone then. If you had been there—as you are now—tell me what would you have done?”

Aurora’s breath was ragged, her heart hammering. She watched the devastation as Gravitas murdered figment after figment and wreaked unbelievable damage. The cries of the injured and dying echoed in her ears, even if this was just a holographic recreation this was the worst scene she’d ever come across, either while heroing or prior. 

Was this what her mother experienced before she died?

Her gaze flickered toward Gravitas.

She had been powerless that day. She was a fucking four year old. She had been oblivious, unaware that her mother was gone forever. She never imagined seeing this with her own eyes.

But now?

Now she wasn’t.

She gritted her teeth and lifted into the air, her wings flaring with light.

“Fuck this, and fuck you, sir!” She launched into the air in a fury.

Dragonmage raised one of his eyebrows.

I would be all too pleased to handle this little nuisance for you, Leona. Let me take charge and be safe from any harm. No more grief or pain. Just think about it. Let me take over. I can show you how simple it would be. I shall banish this figment that so terrifies you like the mote it is. I would even be happy to do the same to the real man, should he still be alive. My singularities will turn him into a spray, no, a fount of blood and ruptured guts. Imagine how delicious his last groans would be. Black Angel laughed seductively in the back of Aurora’s mind.