Ren opened his eyes slowly. It felt like waking up from a second death—colder, emptier, more painful than any physical injury could account for. The white, sterile glare of neon lights cut through the remnants of darkness still lingering in his mind. Each flicker seared against his sensitive retina, forcing his lids to snap shut briefly, as if his brain itself sought refuge from the intrusion of the real world.
His body felt foreign; every muscle screamed from the Rift impact he had just survived, yet the emotional turbulence that normally accompanied near-death experiences was tightly bound, compressed within the mechanical void that his Mark had generated. There was no panic, no grief, only an exacting, sterile clarity that unnerved even himself.
He was chained in a metallic cell, a device designed specifically to suppress ambient energy—a cage meant to contain something far beyond ordinary Diver capabilities. The links were heavy, vibrating faintly as though aware of the sheer density of energy restrained within him.
Even restrained, his Echoes screamed in his mind, flitting like trapped birds, waiting, hungering for freedom. Mira's residual trauma, the stark rage and fear, the lingering echoes of Rootbound's psychic assault—all folded into an absolute emptiness that seemed almost alive in its precision. It was an eerie calm, but a calm structured by infinite computation rather than organic thought.
The cell door groaned on its rails. A man entered—a Guild Interrogator. His face was taut with stress, his posture rigid, every movement precise. Eyes sharp, scanning for the slightest anomaly. A scanner device hummed faintly in his hand, a tool capable of probing consciousness itself, ready to read every secret hidden in Ren's complex, multi-layered mind.
"We've examined the residual Rift energy in Blackspire," the Interrogator began, his voice cutting like a scalpel. "You exited Level 3 destruction. Even the most experienced Divers rarely endure that. Are you a Diver? A Vessel? Or… something else? Explain how your Mark activated under extreme Rift pressure."
Ren swallowed, his throat dry, bitter. He didn't know, yet his voice carried the cold clarity of one stating a simple fact.
"I don't know," he replied, monotone. "It… just happened. Only survival instinct."
The vein in the Interrogator's neck pulsed with frustration. His fist slammed the metal table, rattling equipment.
"You are a Vessel. Stop pretending. How many entities are you carrying? Who trained you? Why did The Siphon Mire collapse entirely around you? And why does your data read zero? Zero is not a number in the Rift. Zero is a fracture!"
Ren's dark eyes remained fixed on the wall beyond him. "I only wanted to survive. If I am a Diver, then I am a Diver who knows nothing."
The Interrogator, undeterred, waved the scanner toward him. The device spat chaotic graphs, flickering red and yellow, dancing across the screen in defiance of physical logic. The man's face paled.
"Echo Signature: UNKNOWN. Resonance Distortion: 89%. Density: OVERLOAD."
He recoiled as if touched by a living contagion. "Density overload? You're not an ordinary Markwielder! We suspect twenty-seven residual Echoes inside this body! Explain this anomaly!"
Ren's eyes lingered on the display, recognizing the same tremor that had manifested during his survival in the Mire. Mira's most recent Echo pushed faintly against his mind, unbidden, yet he remained unaware of its true nature. He realized, however, that this lack of comprehension—the raw, untrained potential—was what terrified the Guild.
—
Hours later, Ren was escorted to the Diver Guild Main Headquarters. Two Divers accompanied him, lab coats over military attire, their movements precise, sterile, controlled. They spoke in hushed tones as they moved through corridors of steel and neon:
"The boy's resonance is too dense. Scanner failure is a red flag. The Conservative Faction demands immediate energy purification—delete the Vessel and all Echoes."
The other whispered urgently, "The Experimental Faction refuses. They claim he's the most unique Vessel ever encountered. His passive strength shattered the Siphon Mire. He could be our ultimate tool… or our most dangerous liability. We must harness him, not destroy him."
Ren's thoughts remained detached. To them, he was either weapon or anomaly; to him, he was survival itself, nothing more.
A Handler entered the corridor, middle-aged, elite, sensing Ren's dense resonance before he saw him.
"Unchain him," he ordered, voice sharp and direct. Authority radiated in waves from his presence, pressing against the ambient tension.
The chains slid open. The Handler handed him a pair of thick handcuffs—Regulators calibrated for standard Echo suppression, yet here they sufficed to dampen some fraction of Ren's overwhelming resonance.
"I can feel your mental pressure," the Handler noted, voice low. "Walking inside a Level 3 Rift is lighter than standing next to you. Your Mark burns cold beneath the skin. You are an anomaly that could trigger Rift collapse. Never remove the Regulator. It's the only thing preventing your internal Noise from erupting catastrophically."
Ren fastened the cuffs. Instantly, a mechanical chill spread through his chest. His body registered a calm that was terrifying in its precision. He longed for the clarity of computation over instinct. Mira's faint Echo pressed against his mind, subtle yet insistent—a reminder of unresolved trauma.
A whisper, fragmented, reached him:
"Release… despise… them… don't… fade… I—am—vanishing—"
Simultaneously, a pure, non-verbal mental shove struck him:
"FIGHT THE PRESSURE. YOU ARE YOUR OWN FRACTURE."
The Handler's gaze shifted, noting Ren's slight reaction.
"What are you looking at?"
Ren's reply was calculated, flat. "Nothing. Just a light distortion."
The Handler's eyes narrowed. He didn't trust the answer, yet necessity outweighed doubt.
"You are under full Experimental Faction supervision. Tomorrow, we test your limits—and theirs."
Ren's mind raced as he considered the implications. Inside him, Echoes thrummed, trapped and impatient. Every unprocessed trauma, every shard of emotional energy, every silent fragment of consciousness hungered for release. His body remained calm, measured, precise—but the potential, dormant yet vast, was palpable. Mira's faint echo, Rootbound's psychic assault, and the residual intelligence of the Mire were all cataloged in his mind. Each piece was data. Each fragment a puzzle to be understood. And even now, restrained, he sensed the latent force coiled tightly within him: the unrealized power of a Vessel who had yet to awaken fully.
He inhaled. The sterile air filled his lungs. Outside, the Guild debated his fate. Inside, he measured, calculated, waited. The Mark had not been fully understood, not by him, not by them. And that ignorance—both his own and theirs—was the quiet, dangerous edge of the next stage.
Tomorrow, they would test him. Tomorrow, the true measure of his potential would begin. And Ren… had only begun to comprehend that survival itself was not enough.