The Crimson Catalyst

The chipped porcelain teacup warmed Itsuki’s hands, a small comfort in the stark simplicity of his apartment. Maroon hair fell across his fair brow as he read, the minimalist decor reflecting his thrifty lifestyle. Despite being the heir to a considerable fortune, Itsuki preferred quiet evenings and the company of a good book. His “craziness,” as some playfully called it, manifested in his deliberate detachment from his family’s wealth, a desire to live a life unburdened by excess. What they didn’t know, what no one knew, was that his eccentricities masked a secret, a hidden power that flickered within him like a nascent flame.

The tranquility of his evening was shattered by a sharp rap on the door. It was a messenger, bearing a letter sealed with an unfamiliar crest. Itsuki’s heart quickened. He rarely received physical mail, his life meticulously digitized. The letter was from a solicitor, informing him of the passing of a distant relative, a great-aunt he’d never met. Along with the usual legal jargon, the letter mentioned a peculiar inheritance – a small, antique box.

Curiosity piqued, Itsuki attended the reading of the will. His great-aunt’s lawyer, a portly man with a perpetually perspiring brow, seemed ill at ease. He explained that the box was to be given to Itsuki personally, with specific instructions not to open it in the presence of anyone else. The lawyer’s nervousness was palpable, a subtle tremor in his voice that Itsuki, with his heightened, almost preternatural awareness, picked up instantly.

“There’s something… unusual about this inheritance, Mr. Itsuki,” the lawyer stammered, adjusting his spectacles. “Your great-aunt was a… reclusive woman. She had some… eccentric beliefs.”

“Eccentric beliefs?” Itsuki raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, well… she spoke of… energies… and… guardians.” The lawyer trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t dwell on it, if I were you. Just… take the box and… be done with it.”

Back in his apartment, the box sat on his minimalist coffee table. It was made of dark, intricately carved wood, bound with silver clasps. It hummed faintly, a vibration that resonated deep within Itsuki, stirring the dormant power within him. He hesitated. He’d always sensed the potential within him, a force he’d instinctively suppressed, fearing its unpredictable nature. But the mystery of the box, the lawyer’s unease, the strange resonance – it was too much to ignore.

He opened the box.

Inside, nestled on a bed of faded velvet, was a small, obsidian pendant. It was unremarkable at first glance, a smooth, dark stone. But as Itsuki held it, the pendant pulsed with a warm light, and the dormant power within him erupted. It was like a dam breaking, a torrent of energy flooding his senses. He saw flashes of images, heard whispers of forgotten languages, felt the very fabric of reality shift and bend around him.

“What… what is this?” he gasped, clutching the pendant.

The pendant was a key, an amplifier for his hidden power. It unlocked a potential he never knew existed, a connection to something ancient and vast. But with this newfound power came a terrifying realization: he was no longer alone. He was being watched.

That night, Itsuki dreamt of shadowy figures, their faces obscured, their eyes burning with an unnatural light. He heard their voices, whispers in a language he somehow understood, speaking of the “Crimson Catalyst,” the one who would awaken the ancient power. He woke with a gasp, the obsidian pendant clutched tightly in his hand. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that his life had irrevocably changed.

The next day, strange occurrences began to plague the city. Minor anomalies – flickering lights, misplaced objects – escalated into more disturbing events. Buildings shimmered and distorted, gravity seemed to fluctuate, and whispers echoed in empty rooms. Itsuki recognized the signs. It was the resonance, the same energy he’d felt when he touched the pendant, but amplified, uncontrolled.

He knew he had to understand the pendant, to master the power it had unleashed. He delved into research, scouring ancient texts and forgotten lore, searching for any mention of the obsidian pendant and its connection to his family history. He discovered that his ancestors were not just wealthy merchants, but guardians, protectors of a powerful energy source, the “Crimson Catalyst.” The pendant was their legacy, a tool to control and channel that power.

“Guardians?” Itsuki muttered, tracing the carvings on the box. “My family… protectors?”

But they weren’t the only ones seeking it. A secret society, known as the Obsidian Circle, had been searching for the pendant for centuries. They believed that the Crimson Catalyst was the key to unlocking unimaginable power, a power they intended to use for their own nefarious purposes. They had been watching Itsuki, waiting for the moment he activated the pendant.

One evening, a figure emerged from the shadows as Itsuki walked home. He was tall and imposing, dressed in black, his face hidden by a hood.

“Itsuki,” the figure’s voice was a low growl. “We know you have the pendant. Give it to us, and no one will be harmed.”

“Who are you?” Itsuki demanded, his hand instinctively reaching for the pendant beneath his shirt.

“We are the Obsidian Circle,” the figure replied. “We are the rightful inheritors of the Crimson Catalyst.”

“You’re wrong,” Itsuki said. “My family were the guardians. You’ll never have it.”

The figure chuckled. “You are naive. You cannot control the power you now possess. It will consume you. Join us, and we will teach you.”

“I’ll never join you,” Itsuki said, his voice firm.

The figure lunged at him, his movements swift and deadly. Itsuki, surprised by the sudden attack, stumbled back. He realized he was no match for the figure’s skill. He had to use his power.

He focused his mind, channeling the energy within him. The pendant pulsed, and a surge of power coursed through his body. He felt stronger, faster, more aware. He dodged the figure’s attack and retaliated, a blast of energy sending the figure crashing into a wall.

“You… you have the power,” the figure gasped, before disappearing into the shadows.

Itsuki knew this was just the beginning. The Obsidian Circle would not give up. He had to learn to control his growing abilities, to master the power that threatened to consume him, while protecting the pendant from the Obsidian Circle. He couldn’t rely on his family’s resources; they were too visible, too easily manipulated. He had to use his own skills, his own “craziness,” his ability to see the world from a different perspective. He had to uncover the truth about his family’s past, the secrets they had kept hidden for centuries. He was no longer just Itsuki, the minimalist college student. He was the Crimson Catalyst, and his life had just begun.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***