Ren's body still felt heavy and sore, but the Mark Regulator had transformed the physical pain into a cold numbness, a mechanical ache that ran along his spine and limbs. Every movement was measured, detached. He had been placed in the Diver Dormitory—a cramped, metallic barracks designed for function rather than comfort. Narrow beds lined the walls, each flanked by thin curtains meant to suggest privacy that didn't exist.
The air smelled of antiseptic, sweat, and the metallic tang of resonance-suppressing devices embedded along the walls. The entire room vibrated faintly with the collective Echo of the contained Divers. Most of them were restless, aware that Ren's presence warped their subconscious perception—he was a walking anomaly, a vessel of uncontrolled Noise, and even their instinctive caution betrayed fear. The faint hum of their contained Resonance stirred subtly around him, a reminder that every breath, every heartbeat, carried potential disaster if his internal chaos escaped.
Ren sat on the edge of his bed, hands resting on the Regulator binding his wrists. Behind it, Noise 27—the passive Echo fragments—blended into static chaos. Mira's Echo, fresh and raw, resonated more clearly than any other. Unlike the mechanical chatter of the other Echoes, Mira's presence was external yet intimate, a cold, fragile anomaly brushing against the Regulator's dampening field. Her trauma threaded into the quietest corners of his consciousness, a whisper that refused to be silenced.
Other Divers noticed. He could sense them—whispers of suspicion and unease, subtle tremors of energy shifting around him as if his mere existence disrupted their equilibrium. Some of their gazes carried disgust, veiled, carefully restrained, but still readable to a Vessel. He was not simply an Anomaly—they were convinced he was a threat waiting to happen.
Logic dictated the next step: to survive, he had to master the Noise within him and gather intelligence on the Nocturn Circle, the faction that had observed him in the Mire. His plan was simple in theory: become the Intelligent Anomaly, use his uncontrolled potential as a tool without succumbing to it.
The dormitory door slid open without a sound. Lyra Kelden entered. Her steps were light yet purposeful, moving with precision that made her presence felt immediately. The other Divers flinched subconsciously, but Lyra ignored them. Short blonde hair, sharp green eyes, uniform of a Novice Markwielder, and a Nightthread Harness slung casually across her shoulder. She was competent and cautious, but her eyes betrayed fatigue and underlying urgency.
"Looks like they just tested you, Vessel," Lyra said, her voice soft but heavy with intent. She paused, gauging his reaction, leaving enough distance to retreat if his resonance surged.
Ren's gaze was mechanical, calm. "I follow their rules. For now."
Lyra laughed quietly, hollowly. "Good. Because their rules will kill you soon. You're walking a tightrope, Ren. You activated your Echo, yes, but the Handler had to attach a Regulator because your internal Noise spiked. That wasn't control. That was panic wrapped in luck." She shrugged, a gesture that betrayed more tension than indifference. "Rumor says your distortion is enough to make experienced Handlers panic. The Guild hides data like poison, not weaponry."
Her tone dropped, almost conspiratorial. "I need you. My Mentor, an Elite, one of the best, became a Husk inside a Level 3 Rift. I have to reverse the process before someone—or something—takes over entirely."
Ren detected more than just the literal meaning. There was fear here, yes—but not for monsters. Fear of humans, of what the Guild could become when guided by desperation and ambition.
She drew a sharp breath, revealing more than intended. "There's something worse than loss. When I escaped that Rift, I saw a masked figure. It didn't walk, it floated like a broken shadow. It stopped when it saw me carrying my Mentor's contaminated body." She swallowed. "The Guild calls it the Silent Witness. No one explains what it is. Only that it appears before unnatural Huskification begins."
Mira's faint Echo brushed across Ren's back, a subtle frost tracing along his spine. He felt it even through the Regulator, a warning vibrating in harmony with Lyra's story.
Lyra spread a map on the bed, littered with small, folded notes. "I'm not asking you to fight," she said. "I need you to detect resonance. There are areas too wild for Markwielders like me. You're an Empty Vessel, a living shield. Your Noise can mask us, make us undetectable to entities that would otherwise hunt. You can walk through danger while keeping the team invisible to it, but every second, every vibration, is a test of endurance and calculation. You will feel it pulsing inside you, raw and alive."
Ren absorbed the information. He processed it coldly. Logical. Risk versus reward. "I can go," he said, monotone, "and I will be your bait. But not with this Regulator. I need freedom over myself."
Lyra's expression tightened. "Removing the Regulator alone could collapse you in hours. I've seen it happen. But… I know how to bypass one layer of security."
She left a keycard on the bed, then paused. Ren noticed a faint symbol under her collar—a subtle etching on her neck. Familiar. Wrong. His Mark reacted violently, sending sharp pain along the Regulator, triggered by recognition. Mira's Echo flared faintly, warning him.
A broken whisper, fragmented, reached him:
"don't… return… symbol… wrong… he… near…"
Lyra departed without looking back. Ren held the keycard, tension coiling through him. He understood: she was his first ally, but also a potential threat. A variable outside of pure logic.
He should sleep. He could not. Mira's Echo continued whispering, tracing threads of cold across his consciousness. He studied Lyra's map in detail, noting the red X marking the center: The Siphon Mire.
Tonight, in the dormitory of sleeping Divers, Ren remained awake, listening to the Noise within. He had to learn its language, control the Anomaly, and prepare. The Silent Witness, the Nocturn Circle, Mira's Echo—they all loomed as threats or guides. And Ren… would be neither prey nor passive.
The first steps toward understanding his latent potential had begun. Every tremor of his inner Noise, every pulse of Mira's Echo, every shadow of thought in his mind was a thread he needed to weave into mastery. Failure was not an option—not yet, not while the Mire still remembered him, and the Silent Witness still watched.