Ren followed Aika into the building. It was well-lit and spacious, with people moving briskly between sections, some in uniform, others in casual wear. The atmosphere buzzed with quiet urgency.
Aika led him toward a particular section. Mounted on the wall beside a sealed room was a large touchscreen tablet. She gestured toward it.
Ren stepped forward and tapped the screen. It prompted him to enter his name, which he quickly typed in. Once confirmed, he turned and made his way to the nearby waiting area.
"I'm gonna go get myself a coffee," Aika said, already halfway turned.
"Someone should call you in soon."
Then she was gone.
Ren sat down and waited. Barely a minute passed before a woman approached him with a clipboard in hand.
"This way, please."
The door opened and he walked in.
Seated at the other side of the table was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Her posture was effortless, spine straight as if molded that way, with one leg crossed neatly over the other. Her dark hair was tied back into a sleek bun, not a strand out of place. A pair of round, gold-rimmed lenses rested lightly on her nose, framing vivid green eyes that peeked up at him with surgical precision.
She wore a high-collared blouse the color of ash, tucked into dark slacks tailored so cleanly they might as well have been carved. Over it, a fitted black coat hung open—light, sharp at the shoulders, with an emblem embossed subtly on the left breast: a ring of interwoven roots encircling a single upward-sprouting branch. No excessive badges. No rank screaming for attention. Just presence.
Her lips were painted the faintest red. Her expression? Measured, like she'd already read him twice before he even sat down.
"Ren." Her voice was calm. "Please. Sit."
Ren sat down without a word.
The woman—Nala—offered a faint, practiced smile.
"I'm Nala. Nice to meet you."
Her voice was smooth, with just enough warmth to feel intentional.
"We received the sponsorship documents from your sponsor, Marie Donovan."
She tapped something on her tablet, eyes flicking back to him.
"I'll ask you a few questions, get your readings into the system, and after that I can answer anything you'd like to know."
Ren gave a small nod.
She began.
"Element?"
"Water."
"Stage?"
He hesitated for half a second. "I'm… still new to things. I'm not an initiate yet."
Her fingers paused over the screen. That drew her attention. Not accusatory—just intrigued.
Virans needed to attune and resonate with their element to avoid the worst effects of their affliction. Initiation was the baseline—for both control and survival. For someone his age to have no stage progression at all… it raised quiet questions.
Still, she nodded and moved on.
"No derivative, then. And I'm assuming"—her eyes glanced over the file—"since you're sponsored by a human, you aren't registered under any clan?"
Ren blinked once. "Clan?"
"No," she echoed softly, confirming it for herself.
She studied him a moment longer, something behind her lenses calculating, then gestured toward a smooth device embedded into the desk.
"Place your hand on the signature reader, please."
Ren set his palm flat on the surface. A faint pulse of light passed beneath his skin. He lifted it after a beat.
"All done," Nala said, tone resetting.
She opened a drawer and retrieved a thin, transparent device—roughly the size of a phone but lighter, cooler, almost weightless. She handed it across the table.
"That's your V-Comm," she said. "It connects you to the Viran network. You can use it like a normal phone—calls, texts—but it also gives you access to restricted Viran systems."
Ren turned it over in his hands, watching the glass flicker with soft internal light. No visible ports. No buttons.
"You can tap it on your television to access the Viran Broadcast Network. News, reports, regional entertainment. Everything's filtered to your access level."
She let him absorb that for a moment.
"All rules and rights you're expected to follow as a registered Viran are stored there as well," she added. "I suggest reading them when you have the time."
Ren was still staring at the V-Comm, his fingers brushing the edge.
Nala let the pause hang before continuing.
"As a regular, you now have access to civil rights and basic Viran benefits—housing priority, healthcare, rations, basic defense protocols. Details are in the device."
She gave a brief nod toward the tablet again.
"Once you reach the Initiate stage, you'll be eligible to register for field work or other employment—including internal VHQ divisions. You can apply directly from your V-Comm."
She tapped her fingers lightly against the desk.
"Get strong enough, and even without joining a division, you can apply to Protocol Umbra and make a living hunting Aberrants."
She leaned back slightly in her chair.
"Any questions so far?"
Ren blinked.
He hated that question. It always came after someone dumped too much information on him—and every time, it made his mind go blank.
"No. I think I'm good."
'I can just ask Aika any questions I have anyway.'
Nala nodded.
"Alright then, that's all for today. Have a lovely rest of your day."
Ren stood quietly, gave her a small nod, and left the room.
The hallway was quieter now. The moment the door slid shut behind him, Ren pulled out the V-Comm from his pocket, the transparent device humming faintly in his hand.
He tapped it awake and began scrolling, eyes flicking over the interface. Everything felt smooth—intuitive, even. He found the file Nala had mentioned: Viran Regulations & Conduct Protocols.
There were a lot. But a few caught his attention:
- Derivative usage is not prohibited. However, large-scale use in public must be reported to the Cleaner Corps.
- You can't kill without a kill ledger. Only the Null Judges from the Division of Execution and Sanction can issue one.
'Kill ledger, what is that?'
He continued scrolling through.
- All aberrant sightings must be reported to Umbra.
- Respect the Hierarchy. The Viran Authority and registered clans can request a kill ledger from a Null Judge in cases of direct disrespect.
- Violence against humans is prohibited, unless they're listed on a kill ledger. Even then, only the Null Judges have the right to authorize punishment.
Ren frowned slightly.
Only violence against humans was prohibited. That meant Virans could fight each other freely—they just couldn't kill each other without... whatever this kill ledger was.
And derivatives weren't restricted either. You just had to inform the Cleaner Corps afterward, like asking someone to mop up your bloodshed.
His eyes lingered on the clause about hierarchy. So the clans had enough power to request executions over "disrespect"?
He didn't like the sound of that.
Clans…
Why had he never heard of them before now? Was Aika part of one?
Also, if these laws were so strict, how had Anele done what he did? Why had no one stopped him? Had he faced any consequences at all?
He walked out of civil affairs, the questions collecting quietly in his head, heavier with each step.
'By the way, where is Aika?'
He paused, then looked around. She was nowhere to be found.
Her car was still parked in the lot.
'How far is the coffee shop?'
He exhaled, crossed the quiet street, and decided to explore VHQ in the meantime.
The Civil Affairs wing curved into a broad pedestrian zone. Ahead, a small public park opened up like a breath of fresh air tucked between the stately buildings. He walked slowly, aimless. His gaze swept over the space.
A kid was playing catch with his dad.
That familiar rhythm—throw, run, laugh—stirred something deep in Ren's chest. He blinked, and for a moment, he saw himself and his father again, tossing a ball in the sunlight. A warmth that once existed before Anele came into their lives.
His chest ached.
He let out a quiet sigh, then dropped onto a nearby bench.
Further down the path, a young boy—maybe seven or eight—bounced a ball by himself.
'Is he playing alone?'
Ren looked around.
At the far edge of the park, a woman stood with her phone pressed to her ear. She was pacing, clearly distressed, her voice carrying through the humid air.
After attunement, Ren had started noticing changes in himself. His moisture sense—one of the perks of his element—had awakened. The range was still small—only a few meters—but it had become second nature. He could feel the breath of others. Sense where people were without seeing them. Hear words and movement through the moisture in the air. He could feel the rhythm of lungs and water—as if the world whispered in vapor.
That's how he heard her.
"…what the fuck did you do this time, babe?" she snapped, hands in her hair. "You disappeared for weeks. You leave me and Tevin alone without even checking up on us. And now I get a notification you've been declared a ghost—and that's not even the worst part."
Her voice cracked.
"You've been declared Null," she whimpered. "You know what the fuck that means? You've doomed us. You've doomed him. What am I going to do? What about Tev?"
Ren tensed.
'Null?'
That word rang hollow and cold.
'I'll ask Aika when I see her.'
Just then, the boy's ball bounced off a root and rolled toward him, coming to a stop near his foot. Ren stared at it for a moment, then bent down and picked it up.
The kid jogged over.
"Thank you, sir!" the boy said with a bright grin.
Ren smiled faintly and handed the ball back.
He opened his mouth—maybe to ask where the boy's family was—
—but then the air shifted.
Moisture vibrated.
A ripple. Wrong. Fast. Approaching from behind.
Not aimed at him.
At the boy.
He didn't think. His body moved.
Ren lunged forward and grabbed the kid's shirt, yanking him back into his chest.
BOOM.
The ground shuddered as a massive black blade slammed down, cleaving the air where the child had just stood. It buried itself deep into the trunk of a nearby tree, splinters spraying outward like shrapnel.
Ren shielded the boy, heart pounding. His breath slowed. His senses widened.
There was no mistaking it—this was a targeted strike.
Then, something shifted inside him.
The pulse in his veins, wild and erratic just moments ago, began to fade. His heartbeat softened. The air slowed. A stillness crept in—not external, but internal.
His affliction.
It muted the panic.
Within seconds, it was as if the moment of chaos hadn't happened at all.
His body relaxed. His breathing evened out. His mind, once teetering on alarm, returned to its usual, unnatural calm. A hollow clarity washed over him like a tide, and everything became quiet.
The boy was shaking in his arms.
Ren gently pushed the boy behind him and looked around.
The park shifted.
Light dimmed unnaturally, as if a massive shadow had fallen across the space—not cast by any tree or building, but something heavier. Intentional.
Then he saw them.
Two figures emerged from the far side of the park, walking in step.
The one in front was a young man dressed in a black coat. His skin was dark, his freeform locs swinging slightly as he moved. A half-mask covered the lower half of his face—mouth and nose hidden—leaving only his sharp, unreadable eyes exposed.
There was something scrawled on the side of his mask: a stylized emblem—a T with an S curled tightly around the stem, like a snake around a cross.
Ren's senses, still new but honed by two weeks of training, flared.
He could feel it—the man's Vira was potent. Stronger than his own, but not by much. It hummed with tightly controlled aggression, the kind you only got from real-world experience.
But it was the second figure that made Ren's breath still in his chest.
The man walking behind him was tall—taller than both Ren and the first—and utterly silent. His coat was darker than black, made of some heavy material that hung from his throat to his heels. Emblazoned at the center of the chest was a symbol: two Ts joined at the middle like twin hammers. Ren recognized the emblem—it was the same as the one on Aika's necklace.
And his Vira—
Ren didn't need to guess. He felt it crash over him like a wave.
It wasn't just stronger. It was overwhelming.
Denser. Older. Hungrier.
His vessel was at least six times the size of Ren's—maybe more—and it pulsed with the terrifying composure of someone who no longer flinched at power. Someone who had mastered it.
He wore a white full-face mask. No eyes. No mouth.
Just smooth ceramic etched with red letters across the forehead:
DESPAIR