They moved him.
Not immediately.
Not abruptly.
But inevitably.
The door opened as it always did. The man stood there, silent, watching. But this time, he did not enter.
"Come," he said.
Ethan stood without hesitation.
The hallway felt different.
Not physically.
But perceptibly.
Before, it had been a place he passed through.
Now, it was a place he could feel.
Not through sound.
Not through sight.
Through presence.
He could sense it.
Faint traces in the air.
Other auras.
Some weak.
Some unstable.
Some gone.
He did not react.
He observed.
They walked deeper than before, past doors he had never seen opened, past sections of the facility that existed only in silence.
They stopped at a larger room.
The man stepped aside.
"Enter."
Ethan obeyed.
The room was empty.
Concrete walls. Bare floor. No furniture. No glass. No leaf.
Nothing external to command.
Only himself.
The door closed behind him.
Locked.
The man remained outside.
Watching.
Waiting.
No instructions came.
None were needed.
Ethan stood still.
He activated Ten.
His aura settled naturally.
Stable.
Controlled.
Then he released Ren.
His aura expanded outward, filling the space around him.
He felt it more clearly now.
Not as pressure.
As existence.
This was his presence.
His Nen.
His identity made real.
He focused inward.
Not on control.
Not on command.
On intent.
His aura responded.
It moved without force.
Without strain.
It existed because he existed.
And for the first time—
He felt no resistance.
No instability.
No inefficiency.
Only alignment.
His Ten adjusted automatically, reinforcing the boundary of his aura.
His Ren expanded without waste.
His control was no longer deliberate.
It was natural.
The door opened.
The man entered.
He did not speak immediately.
He observed.
Measured.
Confirmed.
"You are no longer forcing it," he said at last.
Not praise.
Recognition.
"You are allowing it."
He stepped closer.
"This is the difference between a user…"
He paused.
"…and a wielder."
The words settled heavily.
A user learned Nen.
A wielder existed through it.
The man turned away.
"Your foundation is complete."
Not training.
Foundation.
He stopped at the door.
"The next step," he said quietly, "is creation."
Creation.
Hatsu.
Not imitation.
Not control.
Creation.
He left.
The door closed.
Ethan remained alone.
But something had changed.
Before, Nen was something he used.
Now—
It was something he was ready to shape.