Alex jolted upright, gasping for air.
A dull pain ran through every fiber of his body, as though he had slept for centuries.
His vision trembled, veiled by a milky haze.
The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the room, mingling with the iron scent of dried blood.
A steady beep marked the passing of time — thin, mechanical, like a metronome separating dream from reality.
He tried to move, but wires and probes bound his limbs: Aetheric trackers, cardiac sensors, and a glowing seal etched beneath the skin of his forearm.
It burned — not like a wound, but as if something alive were trying to force its way out.
A voice pulled him back to reality.
"Welcome among the Convergents, Alex."
He turned. Agent Iver stood beside the bed.
Without his coat, he looked more human — older, wearier — yet his eyes remained sharp, calculating, the eyes of someone who had seen too many failures.
"Where… am I?" Alex asked, his voice hoarse.
"The Observation Center of the Anti-Monster Training Academy, Euris District," Iver replied, crossing his arms. "You've fully adapted to the Aether. That makes you a subject of national interest."
Alex lowered his gaze to the burning mark.
The Aether flowed beneath his skin like a luminous liquid, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Iver studied him in silence for a moment, then gestured toward the seal.
"That scar is proof of your adaptation. The cause of its formation is unknown… but in your case, it appears stable."
He paused. "I've seen your work in the lab. You have a rare talent. And I want you to live long enough to understand it."
Alex frowned. "My lab?"
"Seized," Iver said flatly. "The government will use it to analyze your data. You've got potential, kid — and the Academy is the only place where you'll survive."
Alex's stare hardened. "And if I refuse?"
Iver sighed, lowering his gaze. "You can't."
Then he looked him straight in the eyes.
"Unregistered Convergents are terminated. Your body is a weapon, and until you learn to control it… you'll be seen as a threat."
Silence spread through the room like a shroud.
The seal pulsed beneath his skin, beating with his heart.
In that moment, Alex understood that freedom had become nothing more than a memory.
After Iver left, the room fell silent again.
Only the rhythmic sound of the monitor filled the air — an artificial breath echoing through the stillness.
Alex closed his eyes.
He saw that white expanse again — the endless, breathing mist that had watched him.
The figure wrapped in a milky shroud reaching out to him.
And the words carved upon the altar: "You are the Son of the Unknown."
Then he realized it hadn't been a dream.
He had seen his Aether Tree — the place where the soul intertwined with the force that shaped the world.
Only… there had been no tree.
Just mist.
No branches, no form, no direction.
The thought cut through him like a blade:
Maybe there's nothing inside me to grow. Only a void that breathes.
But the more he tried to recall that face in the fog, the more he felt something stir beneath his skin — as though the mist were still listening, even now, from within him.
He focused on the seal.
The pain eased, and for a brief instant, the air in the room grew denser — as if something unseen had moved in response to his thoughts.
His eyes flew open.
Everything was normal again.
And yet he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
Not by someone — but by something.
He sank back onto the pillow, exhausted.
His mind swirled with questions:
What did "Son of the Unknown" mean?
Was it truly a power… or a curse?
And what if his Condition wasn't a gift, but an infection born from the Aether itself?
A fleeting thought crossed his mind, sharp and clear:
Maybe the mist isn't inside me. Maybe I'm inside it.
Then he closed his eyes.
And for the first time, sleep found him — restless and uneasy.