'Why is everything different this time? Did I miss something?'
The thought drifted through Ren's mind as he pushed himself off the seafloor, floating upward. Pain still throbbed in his side, and he clutched his ribs with one hand. He couldn't see much—just towering kelp that rose like pillars, stretching endlessly in every direction. It was dark. Too dark. And worse, he was relying on his eyes alone; his Siren's Perception wasn't working.
"I don't get it. Is this normal? Do you get tossed into some random location when you get into your resonance state? And if it is… why wasn't I told?"
The water rippled faintly as he drifted between the kelp, trying to make sense of the situation.
After his initiation, he'd come straight out, only to be hit with his sister's incident. Since then, he hadn't given much thought to his Resonance State, too caught up in training with Aika.
It was only a few days ago, after growing frustrated with how small his vessel still was, that he seriously considered returning. He needed to expand it—fast. Sure, he could have done that in the real world by drawing in Vira there, but he chose to do it here, inside his own realm, because of the benefits.
It had felt like a smarter choice at the time, especially after Aika left on urgent business. But now? Now he wasn't so sure. Should he have asked her first? Consulted her before diving back in?
But how was he supposed to know that things would be different this time around?
That he'd wake up in some part of his realm he didn't even know existed, with his only way back resting on the Aserath's Palace—the place the Whisperscript was leading him toward?
Ren clicked his teeth in frustration, then gritted them and surged forward, faster.
Even though he was flooding Vira into his injury, he wasn't worried about consumption. Not yet. This was his element, after all. Unless he used a massive amount, the water replenished his reserves just as quickly as he drained them. This was probably the only good thing about this situation.
"For now, all I need to do is get to Aziz's Garden as fast as I can," he whispered to himself as he veered slightly between the swaying kelp.
A few moments later, he began to slow. His eyes flicked around, scanning the murky depths.
Something was wrong. He could feel it.
It felt like the deeper he swam, the darker it became—like shadows were bleeding toward him from all directions, flooding the water with a creeping black. He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the Whisperscript to make sure he was still on the right path.
"Hey… is it okay for me to keep going?" he asked, voice low, uncertain.
The Whisperscript rippled in response, its glowing surface stretching wider to make room for new text. Ren waited—hopeful.
Then his frown deepened as the words formed:
[Resonance: Faint.]
"Don't freaking answer me if you're just going to say 'Resonance: Faint.' I know that already."
He let out a sharp, tired breath that barely bubbled from his lips, then turned and continued swimming slowly.
But not long after he moved again, he saw it.
A light.
It was faint at first—pale and small, hovering somewhere between silver and sickly white.
"A light? Is that… the end of this damn forest?"
He angled toward it, swimming harder now. It flickered, but didn't vanish. Instead, it grew—not just brighter, but larger, like something awakening from slumber.
But the closer he got, the more something clawed at the back of his mind.
Not fear. Not instinct. Just… wrongness.
And the further he swam, the darker the water became. Not around the light—but everywhere else.
The towering kelp vanished into void. The ocean floor lost its detail.
The light stayed fixed, glowing stronger, but it no longer felt like guidance.
It felt like a lure.
Ren slowed. He didn't stop—but each stroke was quieter now, more cautious.
His muscles tensed, eyes narrowing as the ache in his ribs flared up again.
And still, the light kept pulsing in the dark.
A few strokes forward—and it was suddenly larger than him.
Ren froze.
He didn't move. Didn't even blink. Just stared at the glowing mass, eyes wide.
Then he noticed something else—
The light was moving too. It was drifting toward him—very slowly. Almost imperceptibly, in fact.
If he hadn't stopped, he might never have noticed at all.
He reached a hand back and gently pushed the water behind him, easing himself away, never taking his eyes off the glow.
It was close now. Too close. Just a few feet.
And then—he felt it.
The water was… closing in. The pressure curling around him like invisible jaws.
His instincts suddenly screamed.
Without thinking, he activated his derivative.
Water exploded around him in a spiraling whirl, forming a vortex that hurled him backward with brutal force.
Then—
Snap.
A sound like a thunderclap tore through the deep.
A massive mouth had shut—right where he'd been a heartbeat ago.
"Dammit!"
Ren flung his hand forward, flooding the water with a surge of Vira. In an instant, the current ahead of him erupted—distorting violently, as if boiling without heat, the liquid thrashing in spirals of pressure and pull.
Then he screamed, voice raw and sharp—
"Drown!"
A deep, guttural growl answered him, rumbling through the ocean like a tremor. But Ren didn't wait.
He kept pushing himself backward with his derivative, using the water to hurl his body through the murk while his gaze locked onto the light—the only thing he could see. It was moving faster now.
Closer.
His pulse quickened, steady but forceful.
His Vira was bleeding out of him at a terrifying rate—due to the Law of Drowning.
'Shit! Die dammit, die!'
"Fucking drown!" he shouted again, his voice cracking as the water's force continued to drag him backward.
The growl came again, closer now, shaking the water around him.
And still, the light advanced.
Then—the sea around him thrashed. Not just wild, but violent, like something enormous was panicking in its final death throes.
"Ah—!" Ren gasped, struggling to stay upright as the current yanked him sideways and spun him off course.
And then, the growl returned—faint this time, but unmistakable.
The light began to change.
It dimmed, pulsing irregularly.
It flickered.
And then, slowly, it started to sink.
Ren finally steadied himself, slowing to a hover in the water. His breaths came fast and uneven, each one dragging against the tightness in his chest. His Vira reserves were nearly drained. Nausea coiled in his gut, sharp and curling. A high-pitched ringing pierced his ears, relentless and shrill, like pressure collapsing inward.
'How much longer…?'
He pushed more Vira into the water.
And just then—
The light blinked out.
Ren gasped, releasing his hold on the water. His derivative collapsed with a ripple. His body trembled with exhaustion, breath ragged and uneven.
And finally—he saw it.
As soon as the glow disappeared, the water around him cleared. The darkness faded into a cold, murky translucence. The outlines sharpened, and the creature came into view.
It was dead, lying still in the water before him.
A grotesque, six-meter anglerfish. Its skin was mottled with patches of grey and sickly black, stretched tight and rotting in places, with clumps of greenish mold growing across its bloated flesh. Its massive jaws remained slightly open, and from them jutted long, translucent fangs—so large they protruded even with the mouth shut. Its eyes were glassy and lifeless.
Ren floated there, staring. The pressure of the ocean pressed in around him, heavy and still.
He coughed and tried to steady himself shaking off the nausea as he began to take in Vira.
"What the hell is that now?"
He immediately turned to the Whisperscript, demanding an answer.
The surface rippled in response—shivering like disturbed water—then stretched as new words began to form:
[Infant-class spawn of Narael: deceased.]
"Huh?"
But then the whisperscript rippled again but this time, it was no longer writing in blue but red.
[Hear this Siren. You have slain a spawn of Narael. The blood is upon you. Narael does not forget. Narael does not forgive. Narael will come to collect.]
Ren turned sharply, shouting at the Whisperscript.
"What do you mean Narael won't forgive. This ugly thing nearly killed me. Who the hell is this Narael?"
The whisperscript rippled:
[Narael, Lord of the hollow reeds.]
Ren rubbed a hand across his face.
"Great. Just great."
He winced, clutching his side—his ribs were bleeding now, the strain having torn something open.
But then—he felt something. A strange sensation, crawling through him from head to toe, before settling in the center of his palm.
He flinched, shook his hand, trying to shake it off. Then stared at his palm.
Nothing.
'What was that?'
He tilted his head, then decided to ignore the feeling.
"Tch... Better get out of here before this 'Narael' thing decides to show up too."
Ren looked around. He could see again—the kelp swaying gently in the water around him. He activated his Siren's perception.
It worked. A soft pulse echoed through his mind, mapping the world within thirty meters. But aside from the kelp, there was nothing else.
He started swimming forward, slower now, letting his thoughts catch up.
'That creature. It made everything dark. And it blocked my Siren's Perception.
Is that some kind of power?
Does that mean every creature here has one?
No… that can't be right.
That would be messed up.
I mean, I can't be surrounded by monsters with powers who all want to kill me… right?
This is a very bad situation.
Also… what was that strange sensation I felt after killing it?'
Ren sighed and gritted his teeth.
'Nothing here makes any sense.'
And the worst part was—he had a sinking feeling it never would.