Zay sighed, steadying his breath as he rose from the chair, lowering himself onto the ground with deliberate movements. His hands pressed together tightly, and a faint glow of violet aura coiled around his fingers, flickering like a electric current. It pulsed erratically, as if resisting him, but he ignored the instability.
He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
The world around him began to fade. The walls of his room, the wooden floor beneath him, the dim candlelight—all of it melted into an endless abyss. The Seal Realm was starting to form.
A glimpse. A void laced with shifting violet patterns, cascading numbers, and the blurred outlines of distant gates.
Suddenly, his aura flickered wildly across the room.
Then, in an instant, it vanished completely.
Zay gasped sharply, his body convulsing as he was pulled back into reality. His limbs trembled, slick with sweat that clung to his clothes. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving.
"Tch… I knew this would happen… but I thought I'd at least get a chance." His voice was low, strained. He could barely lift his arms. The backlash of aura overuse weighed on him like invisible chains, leaving his muscles aching and unresponsive.
With a slow, shuddering breath, Zay forced himself upright. The moment his feet touched the cold wooden floor, his legs almost gave under his weight, but he grabbed onto the bed before moving toward the door. His vision swam, the edges darkening as he staggered into the hallway, making his way toward the bath to wash away the sweat that drenched him.
But just as he neared the door, his vision blurred completely.
His body collapsed before he could react, slamming against the wooden floor with a resounding thud.
Renzo heard the impact and got up from his bed and slammed opened his door as he looked in the hallway before seeing Zay on the floor. He at his brother's side in an instant. "Zay!" He knelt, shaking him gently, but there was no response.
"We need the doctor!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the house, waking everyone.
Their father, Dale Yuso, groggily opened his door, rubbing his eyes. "Doctor? For what? It's the middle of the—" His words died as he caught sight of Zay, unconscious in Renzo's arms. Instantly awake, he turned and made his way toward the kitchen, grabbing the old rotary phone from the counter and dialing.
After a few rings, a tired but alert voice answered. "Yes? This is Dr. Garrick. How may I help?"
"It's my son, Zay Yuso. My other son found him collapsed in the hallway after we heard a loud noise. Can you help?" Dale's voice carried the weight of exhaustion and concern.
There was a pause, followed by the rustling of fabric as the doctor began gathering supplies. "I can help. But I can't bring everything with me this time. Can you bring him here?"
"Yes, we'll be there soon." Dale hung up without hesitation and rushed back through the house.
"We need to get to Dr. Garrick's office. Now," he said, lifting Zay into his arms with extreme ease. Renzo opened the front door to the house, stepping aside as his father carried Zay out into the cool, windy night. Together, they hurried down the stone streets of the Ovaris Empire.
"S-shouldn't we go with them, Lily?" Maple, one of Zay's older sisters, asked, her voice thick with worry.
Lily sighed, wrapping an arm around Maple's shoulders. "Maple, we'd only slow them down. Neither of us trains enough to keep up with them."
Maple looked down, her fingers tightening against the fabric of her nightgown. "But—"
"Don't worry so much," Lily reassured her. "You always overthink things. Zay's strong. He'll be fine. He always is fine. Though… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried." Her voice softened, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through. "The last thing I want is to see our youngest brother like this."
Maple swallowed hard before nodding.
From the doorway, their mother, Rosemary, watched quietly. She exhaled a deep sigh, rubbing her temple as she listened to her daughters. "Maple… she's always been so soft-hearted, so anxious for everyone else. I love that about her, but I also worry. She carries too much on her shoulders."
Without another word, Rosemary stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind her. She flipped on the light switch, illuminating the quiet house.
Lily released Maple from the hug, glancing down at her. "You okay?"
Maple hesitated before nodding slowly. "I-I'm fine… I promise."
Lily studied her for a moment before sighing and sitting down on the couch. Maple lingered before finally turning and retreating down the hall to her room.
As she closed the door behind her, she whispered into the darkness, "I-I hope Zay will be okay…" Before curling into bed, pulling the blankets tightly around herself.
The night air was crisp and filled with the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures as Dale and Renzo sprinted up the worn stone road, their heavy breaths blending with the rhythmic pounding of their boots against the uneven ground. The path, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon, the dimly lit lanterns casting flickering shadows against the old stone walls. For thirty long minutes, they continued running.
They arrived before a sturdy, medium-sized structure built from aged stone and reinforced bricks. Above the arched wooden door, a weathered iron sign swayed gently with the night breeze, its bold engraving reading: Doctor Garrick's Clinic.
Wasting no time, Renzo shoved the door open, triggering the loud clang of a service bell that echoed sharply through the clinic's dimly lit interior. The scent of herbs and antiseptic filled the air, a mixture of medicinal remedies and lingering candle smoke.
A moment later, a door at the back of the room swung open, and Garrick emerged, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto the unconscious Zay. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and strode toward another door, his voice calm but firm.
"Follow me."
Dale and Renzo exchanged a brief glance before trailing closely behind him. The narrow hallway ahead stretched into darkness, both sides lined with closed doors, each labeled with neatly carved numbers. The sound of their hurried footsteps against the smooth wooden floor echoed through the silent corridor.
At last, Garrick came to a stop before a door marked 1771. Without a word, he pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit examination room. The air inside was slightly cooler, the faint scent of lavender mixing with the sterile aroma of treated linens.
Dale carefully lowered Zay onto the waiting bed, its surface a blend of supple leather and the finest silk. The mattress barely sank under the boy's weight, its craftsmanship evident in the careful stitching along the edges. Flickering candlelight cast soft, shifting shadows against the stone walls, their golden glow illuminating the floral carvings along the window frame. The glass panes stood slightly ajar, allowing a gentle night breeze to drift in, rustling the curtains ever so slightly.
After one last glance at Zay, Renzo and Dale stepped back, exchanging a few hushed words before silently exiting the room. They made their way back through the long corridor, returning to the waiting area near the front of the clinic, where wooden chairs and a single dim lantern awaited them.
Garrick remained behind, his expression unreadable as he stepped toward a wooden table positioned against the far wall. He reached for a thick file made of paper, flipping through its neatly organized pages with a critical eye before setting it down with a quiet thud.
"Alright…" he murmured to himself, rolling his shoulders. "Running all the necessary tests and analyzing the results is going to take some time. Shouldn't be more than an hour or two."
He reached for a pair of pristine white gloves, pulling them over his hands before adjusting the cuffs. Next, he secured a clean mask over his face, its fabric muffling his quiet exhale. His gaze flickered toward the tray beside him, where various medical instruments gleamed under the candlelight—scalpels, vials, rolls of sterile bandages, and a handful of other arranged tools.
Renzo picked up one of the recently allowed newspapers for the middle-class district, the ink still slightly damp from the press. Unfolding it, his eyes skimmed the bolded headlines before settling on an article that caught his attention.
"Father," he muttered, his brows furrowing. "It says here that King Jinro has begun military advancements toward the western frontier... but there's no mention of why."
Dale glanced up from his own reading, setting his book down momentarily to peer over the top of the newspaper. His eyes scanned the lines, expression unreadable. "Strange," he murmured. "What could be the point of such a sudden push?"
Without an answer, he returned to his book, Tides of War: The Seventeen Ways to Conquer Seventy-One Nations, running his fingers absently along the aged spine. The room was filled with the quiet rustling of paper as the two fell into momentary silence.
After a while, Dale shut his book with a soft thump and turned toward his son. "Have you decided on what you'll do yet?" His tone was casual, but there was an underlying expectation in his words.
Renzo exhaled, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. "I've been thinking about it a lot," he admitted. "I think I'll either go into lumber work or join the city guard. I don't think I'm cut out to be an adventurer like Silver."
Dale nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tapping against the wooden armrest of his chair. "I see… Well, if you want to learn lumber work, come with me one day. I'll show you the ropes, and if it suits you, there might be a spot open with the crew I work with."
Renzo gave a slight nod, but his gaze had wandered toward the window. The steady patter of raindrops had begun to tap against the glass, faint streaks forming as water trickled downward. The sky outside was the same as it always was—a curtain of dark clouds stretched across the heavens, casting the world beneath in a muted, gray haze.
"All it ever does here is rain," Dale sighed, rubbing his temple before shifting in his chair.
Renzo let out a short chuckle. "Well, we do live on the Pluvialis Continent… 'A land where the sky is almost always draped in darkened clouds, where rain is as constant as the breath in our lungs. Towering mountains loom in the distance, and rivers carve through valleys. The mist that clings to the earth is as much a part of life as the stone-built cities, their walls darkened by centuries of rainfall.' Or something like that. I remember the teachers drilling it into us back in school."
Dale let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "I know where we live, Renzo. I meant it as a damn observation."
Renzo smirked but wisely said nothing.
Dale ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath before standing up with a quiet groan, stretching out his back. The wooden chair creaked slightly as he settled back down, shifting into a more comfortable position.
The rain continued its relentless pour outside, drumming against the clinic's windows in a steady rhythm—a sound so familiar that neither of them truly noticed it anymore.
After two long hours of waiting, the wooden door creaked open, and Garrick stepped out. He exhaled slowly, peeling off his gloves before setting them onto the polished stone table. His face remained unreadable as he shuffled through a few papers before finally speaking.
"I've run every test I know, checked everything twice… and I can't find anything wrong with him. The illness that weakened him is vanishing on its own. There are still traces of it in his system, and he may feel weak for the next few weeks, but at the rate his body is recovering… he's as healthy as any young man his age should be."
His voice was steady, but there was an underlying disbelief. He lowered himself into a wooden chair across from Renzo and Dale, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Renzo furrowed his brows, gripping the newspaper in his hands. "How is that possible? Last time, you said he wouldn't be able to do much for at least a year. That his body was too weak."
Garrick sighed, running a hand through the thinning strands of his hair. "I'll be honest, I don't have a definitive answer. If I had to guess… I'd say it's nothing short of divine intervention. There's no logical reason for his body to recover at this rate." He paused for a moment before adding, "Well… there is another possibility. Aura."
Dale glanced up, brow furrowing. "Aura? What's that?"
Garrick leaned back slightly, folding his arms. "Aura is a rare phenomenon that grants certain people abilities beyond normal human limits. It's an energy that very few can tap into, and even fewer can control. Most people don't awaken it until their twenties—if they ever do at all. It allows them to do things others can't, things that defy reason."
He paused, his gaze shifting toward the window, where the rain continued its steady descent. "Take Prince Julius, for example. He's what's known as a 'Gateway.' That means he's formed a contract with a divine entity, granting him abilities tied to that being's domain. There are different types of contracts, each unique. And then, there are Seals."
Renzo narrowed his eyes. "Seals?"
Garrick nodded. "Unlike Gateways, Seals aren't granted by a divine being. Instead, those who can manipulate aura can enter a place called the Seal Realm. There, they can form a contract with a Seal, gaining access to its power. Each Seal comes with three distinct routes, granting different abilities based on which path the wielder chooses to develop."
He reached into a drawer, pulling out an old, worn journal and flipping through its pages. "I've only ever seen documentation of one Seal in my life—'The Seal of Eternal Blooms.' It belonged to a woman who could control entire forests, manipulate the very ground beneath her feet. According to her writings, she felt a deep connection to the Seal within the Seal Realm before contracting it. Whether this is truth or fantasy, I can't say. But if Gateways exist, then I'd wager Seals do as well."
Garrick closed the journal and set it down, looking up at them. "That being said, the odds of your brother having either of these things—especially at his age—are slim. It's a rare gift, after all."
Renzo's expression darkened as he crossed his arms. "So you're saying my brother might have a Seal or a Gateway? And that's why his bedridden illness suddenly disappeared?"
Garrick shrugged. "It's a theory. But as I said, the only documented case I've read could've been written by a lunatic. The far likelier explanation is divine intervention by Vaelisir."
Dale scoffed. "Divine intervention? You're saying Vaelisir, the God of Rain and Healing, suddenly decided to heal my son? That makes no sense."
Garrick sighed, rubbing his temples. "Divine beings work in ways we can't understand. Who's to say why they do anything?" He stood up, stretching his arms. "Whatever the reason, call it a miracle if you want. Give him a week or two of proper rest, hot meals, and time to regain his strength. He'll be back to normal in no time."
As he finished speaking, the door creaked open, and Zay stepped into the room.
"… Let's go," he said calmly.
Renzo grinned, standing up with a stretch before cracking his knuckles. "Well, well, well. The miracle man himself is up and moving. What do you say... to a fight?"
Zay exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Another time idiot. Right now, I just want to rest."
Renzo huffed, grabbing Zay's shoulders and giving them a firm squeeze before stepping back. "Fine. Another time, then." He turned toward the door, pushing it open with a little too much force as it swung outward.
Dale glanced at Garrick apologetically. "I'm sorry about him. He has… an odd way of showing affection."
Garrick chuckled, shaking his head. "It's fine. I had sons of my own once. That kind of banter… it's refreshing."
With that, he turned and disappeared down the hall, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor before fading into silence.
The three of them stepped out of the clinic and onto the streets. The rain had lessened to a light drizzle, but the streets still glistened with moisture. Their boots clacked against the worn cobblestone, the cracks in the stone deepened by time and the relentless weather.
As they walked, Zay's gaze lifted to the night sky. Despite the ever-present clouds, one lone star gleamed through the misty veil, flickering for a moment before settling back into the glow of the heavens.
His lips pressed into a small smile.
"I need to hurry…" he thought to himself, amethyst eyes narrowing. "There's not much time left before I'm forced into action."
The cold night air wrapped around him, rain dripping from his long black hair as his fingers clenched at his sides.
The three of them continued down the worn stone paths, their footsteps echoing softly against the rain-slicked streets. The city around them was quiet, save for the occasional distant chatter of late-night travelers and the sound of raindrops against rooftops.