The sunrise in Halverin seemed normal to everyone… except to Ren.

  To him, every ray of light was a strike of awareness, a reminder that something in the world was broken. The streets still carried the scent of rain and smoke, but he felt something deeper: the city breathed erratically, as if the very air were alive and suspicious of him.

  Ren rose from the makeshift bed Mara had prepared for him. His large, watchful eyes reflected the faint light slipping through the cracks of the rotten wood. He had never slept well—nightmares chased him night after night. Dreams where the ground split open, where shadows spoke, and invisible monsters watched him.

  “I… can’t stay here,” he murmured, pulling the blanket tightly around his fragile body.

  He walked silently through the streets, observing the people. Every gesture seemed so mechanical, so predictable… and yet, he noticed things no one else could. Small fractures in the air, movements that didn’t match the body, echoes of energy no one else could feel.

  That was when he heard a muffled scream coming from the alley beside the market.

  Without hesitation, Ren ran. Each step echoed as if the ground were alive, reacting to his weight. He saw two men surrounding a smaller child, trying to tear a bag from them.

  “Hey!” Ren shouted, his voice trembling but filled with determination. “Let her go!”

  The men laughed, underestimating the thin, dirty boy.

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  “Oh, look at that… the little rat wants to play,” one of them said, raising a piece of wood.

  Ren closed his eyes for a moment. A strange sensation ran through his hand. The Rift Blade appeared, emerging from nothing in his grasp, glowing with a blue light that seemed to absorb the space around it.

  He took a deep breath. The world seemed to slow down. Every movement of his enemies was marked, as if he could see it before it happened.

  The first man lunged, but the blade was already in motion, spinning and slicing through the air. The strike didn’t wound him severely, but it was enough to send him staggering backward.

  The second tried to flank him, but the blade seemed to respond to Ren’s will, moving on its own—opening space, deflecting attacks, and striking with deadly precision.

  “What… what kind of sword is that?” one of the men murmured, terrified.

  With a swift spin, Ren slashed the air, knocking both opponents to the ground. They groaned, confused, unable to understand what had just happened.

  The child he saved looked at him with wide eyes.

  “Thank you… you… you saved me!”

  Ren took a deep breath, his chest still heavy.“It’s nothing… I just… won’t let anyone get hurt,” he said, though the words felt fragile even to himself.

  That was when he realized something: the blade was not just a weapon. There was more to it. Every attack, every movement, seemed to consume a strange energy coming from within him, as if reality itself were bending to his will—but not completely.

  As he returned to his bed, he felt that strange sensation again: something watching him from the shadows of the alley. A chill ran down his spine.

  He gripped the Rift Blade tightly, took a deep breath, and whispered to himself:

  “I will protect… even if no one else can.”

  And that night, the wind did not bring a storm.But it brought an omen.Something in the world had noticed Ren.Something that would be waiting patiently.