Ren walked back into the sterile, white laboratory of the Observatory, the heavy blast door hissing shut behind him, sealing out the howl of the storm. The adrenaline of the confrontation faded, leaving behind the familiar, deep ache in his Aetheric channels and a profound, bone-deep weariness.
Anya stood before the main holographic display, which was replaying the recording of the battle in a slow-motion, analytical loop. It showed the enemy attacks being absorbed, the azure lattice of the Aegis flaring, the whips of lightning erasing a man's defenses. She didn't turn as he entered.
"A self-sustaining, reactive, resonant-conversion field," she whispered, her voice filled with a rapturous, scientific awe. "It didn't just block their attacks; it consumed them. It broke down their chaotic Aether and converted the raw energy into a stable form to power itself. The efficiency… it's over 98%. The most advanced GAMA shields barely reach 70%."
She finally turned to face him, her eyes burning with an intensity that was more intimidating than the mercenaries' weapons. "That is not a Soul Skill. That is a mobile power plant. A perpetual motion machine fueled by your enemy's aggression. How?"
It was not a question he intended to answer. "House Barracuda will not be a problem again," Ren stated simply, walking towards the medical bay.
"Their foolishness is irrelevant," Anya countered, stepping to block his path. "That is not what matters. What matters is what you just did. That is a power that could rewrite the very foundations of Aetheric technology. It must be understood."
"Some things are not meant for a data slate," Ren replied, his voice cold.
"Tell the girl nothing," Zephyrion commanded in his mind. "Our arts are not for her to catalog and replicate. Her kind are the reason our knowledge was lost in the first place."
Anya saw the hard, unyielding look in his eyes and understood. She had reached a wall. Her usual methods—logic, deduction, intellectual traps—were useless against him now. He had demonstrated a power so far beyond her understanding that she no longer had any leverage. She could not force the truth from him. She could only bargain for it.
Her expression shifted, the fiery scientist replaced by a cool, pragmatic strategist. "You are right," she conceded, a move that surprised Ren. "But you are still injured. Your display was powerful, but I can feel the strain it put on your damaged channels. You are a cracked vessel, trying to contain an ocean. Eventually, you will break."
She walked over to a secure storage locker and pressed her palm against it. It opened with a soft hiss, revealing a single item resting inside on a bed of black velvet. It was a gnarled, obsidian-colored root, about a foot long. Faint, silvery veins pulsed with a gentle, earthy light. It was the Stoneweaver's Root.
"My agents procured it from the Kolos volcanic fields two days ago," she said, holding the box out to him. "It is yours. No conditions. No transactional analysis."
Ren looked at the root, then at her, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"This is not a bribe," she explained, as if reading his thoughts. "It is an investment. Your continued survival and growth is the most interesting scientific experiment in the world. Allowing you to shatter yourself due to a preventable injury would be a catastrophic waste of data. Heal yourself, Ren. Become stronger. Uncover more of your… 'heretical arts'."
She gave him a small, knowing smile. "And I will be there to watch. To learn. That is my price."
It was a new kind of bargain. She was no longer trying to force his secrets from him. She was now willing to aid his growth, to become his patron, simply for the privilege of having a front-row seat to his impossible journey.
Ren took the box containing the root. It was an offer he could not refuse.
That night, in the quiet of his room, he held the root in his hand. It hummed with a pure, restorative, terrestrial energy.
"The girl is a viper, but she has brought you the medicine," Zephyrion said. "Use it. We must mend the flaws in the vessel. The power you wielded today was a fraction of a fraction of what is to come. Your channels must be perfect. They must be rivers of flawless diamond, ready to contain the fury of a dying star."
Ren closed his eyes, the Stoneweaver's Root cool in his hand. The first battle of his new life was over. The long, painful process of healing the scars of his past, both physical and spiritual, was about to begin.