Aren took the steps two at a time, boots tapping softly against the concrete stairs underneath him. The building didn't have an elevator, because it was one of the older complexes that was built a hundred years ago.
His father used to joke that it kept them healthy when they first moved in and Aren didn't understand anything. But as he grew up, it was obvious that it was just something adults say when they couldn't afford better.
He stopped at the third floor.
Unit 3B
The door was already unlocked.
He pushed it gently and stepped inside.
Warm air greeted him first, carrying the smell of soy, farlick, and chili flakes.
"You're home," his sister's voice called from inside. "You're late."
"I know," Aren replied automatically, toeing off his shoes and nudging them against the wall.
The apartment was small.
A short hallway led straight into the living area, where the dining table sat pressed awkwardly against the wall, one leg propped on a folded piece of cardboard to keep it from wobbling.
The couch doubled as storage, its underside stuffed with old blankets and winter coats sealed in plastic.
To the left was the kitchen—really just a counter, a sink, and a portable electric stove that they got for cheap.
His father stood there, stirring a pan.
"Wash your hands," his father said without looking up. "Food's almost ready."
Aren froze.
Just for a second.
The sound of that voice, one that he hadn't heard in ages rang out.
"…Okay," he said, forcing his feet to move.
The apartment had two bedrooms.
One belonged to his father. The other was technically his sister's, though Aren knew better. It held a narrow bed, a desk, and a folding screen shoved into the corner.
Behind that screen was his own space.
He washed his hands with the lukewarm water and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Eighteen again.
His messy white hair was all over the place, along with his dark eyes. Aren exhaled slowly.
So it really was true.
Then, out of nowhere, he saw a faint glimmer in his pupils.
He leaned closer to the mirror, examining his eye.
The light deepened into a gold color that flared for half a second, taking over his entire pupil.
Aren stumbled backwards, accidentally hitting a bucket and dropping it onto the floor.
"What—!"
He blinked.
The gold was gone.
Only his own dark eyes stared back at him, as if nothing had happened.
"Big bro, what are you doing in there?" his sister called out. "I'm hungry—let's eat!"
He looked at his reflection once more before finally answering.
"Y—yeah, I'll be right there!"
The table was set by the time he reached it. Three chipped ceramic bowls filled with rice and three pairs of the same wooden chopsticks laid on the table.
His sister had already claimed her seat, elbows on the table as she leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Well?" she asked. "You gonna tell us or what?"
His father set the last dish down and sat across from him, hands resting loosely on his knees.
Aren lowered himself into his chair.
"I awakened," he said.
"Obviously. Our family has ether, so we all do," his sister scoffed. "What did you get?"
"The same as Dad's?"
Aren hesitated for a moment, deciding that telling them a half-truth would be better.
"…A Dragon-type Bloodline," Aren continued.
His sister gasped before she looked around in excitement.
"A dragon?" she repeated. "Like—an actual dragon?"
Aren nodded.
The chair creaked as his father leaned back slightly, one hand rising to rub at his temple. He didn't smile right away. Instead, he stared at the table, as if grounding himself.
"…A dragon," he murmured.
Then he laughed.
"A real dragon in our family."
It wasn't loud, more like someone who'd been bracing against bad news for years and finally found out he could stop.
"You better not be lying," she said. "Do you know what kind of Bloodlines dragons are ranked as?"
Aren smiled faintly.
It felt strange. Like stretching a muscle he hadn't used in a long time.
"We'll figure it out," his father said, already thinking ahead. "Dragon-types don't get ignored. The military, colleges—they'll notice. Tuition won't be cheap, but we can—"
"I'll take a part-time job," his sister said immediately. "There's a place near the station. They're hiring on weekends."
Aren gritted his teeth.
It had always been like this.
Coming home after school. Sitting at this table. Comfortable, even when they had nothing.
And every time, his father and sister would bend themselves thinner so he could stand straighter.
Aren decided that this time, he would be the one to support them.
"No," he said after a while.
Aren lifted his head.
"I'll earn it myself," he said.
His father blinked. "Earn what?"
"Tuition. Living expenses. Everything," Aren replied. His tone was even, almost casual. "You don't need to worry about it."
His sister laughed.
"Wow," she said. "Listen to him, his head is already full!"
"I'm serious," Aren said.
She waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Next you're gonna say you'll buy us a house."
Aren didn't hesitate.
"I will," he said. "I'll move us out of this apartment."
The table went quiet for a moment.
His father stared at him, then let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.
"Alright, alright," he said, waving it off. "Let's not get carried away. Come—eat before it gets cold."
***
Aren stood and carried his bowl to the sink. He rinsed it, set it aside, then turned without another word and slipped past the folding screen.
The moment he reached his corner, he shrugged his bag off his shoulder and let it hit the floor.
He sat down on the edge of the mattress and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
This room hadn't changed.
It was still too small.
College, he thought.
That part was simple, he'd gone to a third-rate college in another city. The tuition was cheap, but his instructors were lazy, and the school had no backing.
He had told himself that it didn't matter, that talent and hard work would make up the difference.
He was completely wrong.
This time, he wouldn't make the same mistake.
A better college would allow him to move upward quicker and allow him to reach that bastard Lucas earlier.
But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, the thought refused to settle.
Because college wasn't the next step.
Something else pressed at the edge of his thoughts.
A single event that spelled out ruin for thousands of people.
Not a distant one, or a vague possibility.
Soon.
Aren closed his eyes.
The Invasion of Sun City.
Defilers slipped in through the cracks, destroying buildings and attacking the people for seemingly no reason while everyone else scrambled to respond.
Last time, they'd left Sun City just as suddenly as they'd appeared.
Only later did Aren learn the truth.
They hadn't come to destroy the province.
They wanted something, so much so that they were willing to destroy countless lives just to get it.
Aren closed his eyes and sat in the lotus position, drawing his attention into his body.
His ether channels were filled with impurities. Even if the invasion happened tomorrow, he could do nothing about it.
Not with this body.
Aren stood up abruptly and grabbed his jacket, slipping it on before shouldering his backpack.
He needed to refine a Cleansing Pill. Not to grow stronger, not yet, but to put himself on the bare minimum starting line to survive what was coming.
To protect his family.
Aren reached for the door handle—
And stopped.
Voices came from the living room.
Strange.
Their apartment rarely had guests. And when it did, they were usually debt collectors.
Aren loosened his grip on the door handle and stepped out.
The living room was quieter than he expected.
His father stood near the table, hands clasped loosely in front of him the way he always did when speaking to someone important. Across from him sat a man Aren recognized immediately.
Captain Eric.
He wasn't in full uniform this time. The jacket was unbuttoned and he wore casual enough to look less intimidating—it didn't really work.
He sat with his back straight, one arm resting lightly on the chair.
"…Your son's Awakening was impressive," Captain Eric was saying. "More importantly, his willpower is amazing."
His father chuckled awkwardly. "Yes, since our conditions are…not good, he's always been determined."
Aren took one step forward.
The floor creaked.
Captain Eric's eyes shifted.
They landed on Aren and didn't move.
For a brief moment, the air felt heavier. Aren met the man's gaze evenly, his expression neutral.
Captain Eric stood.
"Aren," he said, standing. His tone was respectful. "Good. I was hoping I'd get a chance to speak with you directly."
Aren inclined his head slightly.
"Captain, I didn't know you'd be here."
Captain Eric stepped aside, angling his body just enough to give Aren space.
An invitation.
"I'll be direct," he said. "What you awakened today puts you on a path that attracts attention. Some of it helpful. Some of it dangerous."
Aren didn't argue.
Captain Eric met his eyes, steady and clear.
"I can help you navigate that," he continued. "Not for free. Not without expectations. But safely."
He let the words settle before adding, almost casually—
"I have a deal for you."