Ren rubbed the towel through his damp hair, then let it drop with a sigh before plopping down at the edge of his bed.
He felt... good. Better than good. Like something inside him had been quietly reassembled—each joint, each breath, even the stillest corners of his mind felt scrubbed clean.
Still, he was stunned when Sami told him it had taken six days to recover.
He remembered the first time he'd fallen asleep in a pool—after the District 6 incident. Back then, he'd been suffering from severe Vira exhaustion, not to mention the injuries he'd sustained when Anele wrecked his body. And yet… he'd bounced back in just three hours. Groggy, sure. But the injuries were gone. His Vira fully restored.
This time, though? It had taken six days.
Sami had explained it to him casually, like it wasn't anything extraordinary.
"Suspended restoration," he'd called it.
Apparently, every Viran had the potential to recover—even from fatal wounds—if they were submerged in their element before their final breath. It didn't just heal the body; it rebuilt everything: their Vira, their emotions… even their mind, if it had fractured.
But the strange part was the time it took.
It wasn't consistent. It didn't depend on how powerful you were, how fatal the injury, or how potent your Vira. Some resurfaced in hours. Others took days. Weeks. Months.
No one knew why.
Some said it came down to resonance—like the element was holding you, choosing to keep you a while longer. As if it needed something from you… or you from it.
To others, it felt like the element was shutting you off from the world. Keeping everything distant and quiet—until you were ready to face it again.
Either way, he was back. Whole again.
That also explained why his vessel felt slightly larger. While suspended in his element, he'd apparently continued absorbing Vira nonstop—at twice the usual speed.
It was something, at least. Growth was good. But he wasn't satisfied.
His thoughts kept circling back—drawn to what had happened six days ago at VHQ.
Sami had also filled him in on what exactly happened that day—and in the process, explained a few things he hadn't understood before.
To be declared Null was to be declared for death. It was the highest form of judgment—a sentence of absolute erasure. The kind of ruling only issued by the Division of Execution and Sanction, passed down by elite enforcers known as Null Judges.
They didn't imprison you. They didn't negotiate.
They went straight to execution.
The coldest part?
When someone was declared Null, the judge could choose to extend the sentence—to their family, their allies, even entire organizations. A complete purge from existence.
It wasn't explicitly forbidden to interfere with such an execution. But only a fool would try—unless they had the strength to face a Null Judge's wrath.
That day, when Ren had saved that kid from being impaled at the very start, he'd unknowingly interfered with an execution.
Apparently, the woman's husband had been declared Null. And the judge—Despair—had chosen to extend the sentence to his family.
Seeing as Ren had swooped in to save the kid, they probably assumed he was affiliated with them.
After all, no sane person would randomly interfere with a stranger's Null execution—especially not someone as weak as him.
Funny how choosing to save a kid on instinct had nearly cost him his life.
Ren let out a small laugh and dragged a hand over his face.
"Turns out my luck's trash," he muttered.
Of course the execution had to happen right in front of him—while he was still ignorant of everything.
His mood turned sour.
If he'd been stronger, maybe nothing would've changed—but at the very least, he could've explained himself. Denied any affiliation with them. And maybe… he wouldn't have felt so powerless. So utterly unable to do anything.
He lay back on the bed, feet still planted on the floor, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"I need to progress," he said quietly. "I'm tired of being stuck like this."
He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. At some point, sleep just took him.
***
Hours later, night had fallen. Starlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the far wall of Ren's room.
He sat up and yawned. His stomach growled. Activating his moisture sense, he felt the gentle rise and fall of Anya's breath—she was fast asleep.
He padded toward the kitchen and spotted a silver snack bag on the counter.
Sea-salt mochi.
Aika's favorite.
Ren didn't even like the taste—too salty. But tonight, hunger overruled preference. He tore it open and began chewing as he walked.
Then he felt it—a ripple, faint but familiar. His eyes shifted to the balcony. The glass door was open.
He stepped outside.
There, in the pool, Aika floated. Her body drifted in the cold night water, pale as death—clad in a soaked black tank and loose pants that billowed faintly beneath her.
"Hey," Ren said, settling at the pool's edge.
Aika turned lazily toward him—then her eyes widened.
"Is that my mochi? Ren. Do you want me to kill you?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he took another chip and chewed loudly—on purpose.
Aika bit her lower lip, then sighed and looked away.
"How are you, by the way?" she asked.
Ren almost smiled. He could detect the faintest thread of concern in her tone.
"I've been better." He took another bite. "But honestly? I hate how helpless I am right now. Feels like I can't do anything."
Aika turned, watching him quietly.
He continued. "What do I need to do to reach resonance? How do I become a full initiate?"
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then: "Speak to the element."
Ren blinked. "What?"
Aika swam closer, resting her arms on the pool's edge. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks.
"The element is the source of our power. Our very lives. To achieve resonance is to unlock your resonant state. And to do that... you need to commune with the element. Deep meditation."
Ren raised a brow.
"You've already achieved attunement," she went on, "so your connection is deep enough to begin. When you enter the resonant state, the element will create a realm. A place that exists solely for you. Unique. Intimate. Your soul belongs there—even if you have no control over it yet. The stronger you grow, the more it becomes yours."
She tilted her head. "Eventually, you'll be able to rule it. Shape it. But for now… it's just a home. A sanctuary."
Ren was silent, absorbing her words.
Aika went on, holding up a lazy finger.
"And then there's the derivative. That's your core ability—your elemental gift. Each element has many derivatives, but a Viran is only granted one. Mine is mist."
She looked him in the eye now.
"But what really makes a derivative powerful… is the path. That's different for every Viran. Two water-born Virans could both have the mist derivative—but use it in completely different ways. Because the path reflects the soul. It's how you were meant to fight."
She looked away, her voice quieter now.
"The path can be anything—a random object, a weapon, a concept, a creature... even an emotion. Mine is the blade. I walk the path of the Silent Swordsman."
Her tone sharpened.
"When you first enter your resonant state, you'll have a revelation. That's your path revealing itself. Pay attention. It's showing you how to wield your derivative."
She rolled back into the pool, floating on her back, eyes fixed on the oversized moon that hovered a bit too close.
"As for your derivative and the rest... you'll find that in the Whisper Script. It's a grid of runes, formed by the element to guide you. Everything will be recorded there."
She drifted slowly toward the center of the pool, leaving Ren alone with his thoughts.
He sat there for a few more minutes, processing it all.
'Deep meditation...'
He sighed and stood. "I'm going back inside."
Aika didn't reply. He hadn't expected her to. He was lucky she'd spoken this much at all.
Back in his room, Ren dropped the half-eaten bag of chips on the bedside table. The space was large, with sleek floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the shimmering skyline of District 4. A spacious closet lined one wall. And in the corner, a large fish tank glowed gently in the dark—Sami had installed it when Ren first moved in.
Ren walked over to it and knelt beside it, watching the fish drift in lazy arcs. The water shimmered faintly under soft lighting.
'Deep meditation. That's vague. How am i supposed to commune with the element through meditation?'
He exhaled, closed his eyes, and began drawing in Vira—slowly, rhythmically. He tried to focus, to feel something shift.
But nothing came.
Five minutes passed. Still nothing.
No pull. No whisper. Just the faint splash of a tail somewhere in the pond.
He opened his eyes with a sigh, frustration settling in.
'What am I supposed to say? How do you talk to something that doesn't answer?'
He had no idea what he was supposed to do. No idea how to "talk" to the element.
He wasn't tired—not after six days of hibernation. So rather than get frustrated, he decided to just sit. And draw in Vira. Slowly, steadily. Until exhaustion took him.
Time blurred.
An hour passed. Then another. Then another.
Ren stopped noticing the clock. The more he drew in, the more focused he became—and the more focused he became, the more the world around him seemed to dissolve. At some point, he wasn't sure if he was awake… or dreaming with his eyes open.
A strange euphoria settled over him. He liked the feeling.
So he stayed there. Breathing. Drawing in more.
Unaware that he had been sitting there for over thirty-six hours—what felt like only a few—Ren stayed still, eyes closed, calm.
Eventually, he sighed.
Maybe it was time to sleep.
He opened his eyes.
Only… he wasn't in his room anymore.