Ren confessed his accidental Essence acquisition to Genji that same night, his voice hushed, his hands still trembling faintly with the residual energy. Genji listened, his eyes wide behind his spectacles, a mixture of awe and profound fear clouding his features. He reached out, touching Ren's crackling hand, feeling the subtle surge of the Spark Beetle Essence.
"A voluntary transfer," Genji murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "From a living source. A powerful, dangerous thing. This… this is a gift, Ren. But it is also a mark."
Genji spent the next few months teaching Ren to control the subtle electrical currents, to dampen the involuntary sparks, to focus his Energy Sight – his most profound new ability. Ren could now perceive the flow of Aether and other energy signatures as faint visual or tactile patterns. He could see the power conduits within the village looms, sense hidden Aetherial Nodes, even detect the presence of other Essences, though he couldn't identify their specific type or tier yet. He could infuse tools with a low-level electrical charge, or create localized bursts of static, a skill that made fixing complicated Aether-powered devices even easier. His ambition to create a self-sustaining lantern now felt tantalizingly close.
Life in Oakhaven returned to its familiar, comforting rhythm, but with a new undercurrent of tension. Genji warned Ren of the dangers of his unique gift, of the powerful organizations that sought out such talents. "Not all value power for the good it can do, Ren. Some only see what they can take."
Their conversations became more hushed, their shared moments more poignant. Genji, usually so open, became guarded, constantly scanning the forest edges, a worried frown etched on his face. He knew the whispers of the wider world, of the Essence Syndicate, a shadowy organization that dealt in stolen Essences and trafficked in gifted individuals. News of a young prodigy in a hidden village, a boy who "tamed lightning," would inevitably reach their ears.
Ren, at fifteen, saw the worry in his grandfather's eyes, and it made him nervous. He was a master of gears and currents, not of combat. He was a thinker, not a fighter.
The peace of Oakhaven shattered on a night like any other, a clear, star-dusted night that was suddenly ripped apart by violence. There were no roars, no fire, no screams from the forest. Only the calculated efficiency of highly trained killers.
A discordant hum, so wrong it made Ren's teeth ache, pulsed through the village. His Energy Sight flared, and he saw them: dark, sinuous energy signatures moving with terrifying speed through the moonlit trees. They weren't beast-kin. They were human, but their Essences burned with a cold, predatory light.
"Grandpa! Get down!" Ren shouted, his voice cracking with fear. He saw the gleam of a weapon in the moonlight, then a shadowy figure leaping towards their workshop. He instinctively raised his hands, a surge of Spark Beetle Essence sparking across his fingertips, ready to unleash a disorienting burst of static.
But Genji was faster. Despite his age and his lack of combat Essence, the old man moved with surprising speed, grabbing a heavy, Aether-charged wrench from the workbench. He didn't have a fighting Essence, but he was a master of Aetherial flow, and he had poured that knowledge into the workshop's defenses. He activated a hidden circuit, and the very air around the workshop shimmered, a barrier of crackling Aetherial energy flaring into existence.
"Run, Ren! Use the back passage! Run!" Genji roared, pushing the boy towards a concealed trapdoor beneath a pile of sawdust. He turned, the heavy wrench humming with stored Aether, ready to face the intruders.
"No, Grandpa! I can fight! I have the Essence!" Ren cried, tears stinging his eyes. He saw the approaching figures now: two of them, their forms unnaturally fluid, one emitting a chilling aura of cold, precise power. These weren't mere thugs. These were operatives of the Essence Syndicate.
"You are a builder, Ren! Live to build! Live to uncover their secrets!" Genji commanded, his voice filled with desperate resolve. "Go! Now!"
Ren hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but that was all it took. One of the figures, cloaked and unnervingly silent, slipped through a momentary gap in Genji's Aetherial barrier. Its hand, glowing with a sickly, purple light, lashed out. Genji, turning to block, met the blow with the Aether-charged wrench. There was a blinding flash, a shriek of tortured Aether, and then, silence.
Ren heard the sickening thud as his grandfather's body hit the ground. A sob tore from his throat. He saw the retreating figures, their mission apparently accomplished, vanishing back into the shadows. He crawled out from beneath the workbench, his heart a raw, bleeding wound. Genji lay unmoving, the wrench still clutched in his hand, a faint, lingering hum of Aether around it. His eyes were wide, unseeing, fixed on the workshop ceiling.
Ren collapsed beside him, clutching his grandfather's lifeless hand. The warmth was gone. The familiar scent of sawdust and ozone was now tainted by a chilling new smell: death and the bitter tang of corrupted Aether. His grandfather, his mentor, his only family, was gone. Murdered. And he knew, with a horrifying certainty, why. They had come for him. They had murdered Genji to get to Ren, the boy with the unique Essence, the prodigious mind.
On the ruined workbench, scrawled in a hasty, almost mocking fashion with what looked like a charred stick, was a symbol: a stylized, multi-limbed creature, hinting at "The Black Market Sovereign." The Essence Syndicate's calling card.
A cold, burning rage, unlike anything he had ever felt, began to simmer in Ren's gut, chasing away the paralyzing grief. His analytical mind, usually so calm, was now consumed by a single, terrifying question: Who are they? Why did they want me? He would find out. He would tear their organization apart, piece by agonizing piece, just like they had torn apart his world. Clutching a small, worn toolkit and the raw power of his Spark Beetle Essence, Ren Kaito, the boy who talked to machines, turned his back on the ashes of Oakhaven. His new purpose was clear, chillingly so. He would use every ounce of his intellect, every spark of his unique Essence, to make the Essence Syndicate pay. The path to the Hunter Guild, where power was honed and secrets were uncovered, was now the only schematic that mattered.