That struck deeper than it should have. His shoulders slumped. Right. No Aether. No flame. No strength. 'this bastard body don't have access to Aether'.
He turned away slightly, eyes darkening. "So… I really am a failure."
A quiet moment passed.
Then Seraphina stepped forward. "Would you like to experience it?".
'Experience it? How?'.
He turned slowly to face her. "You're not going to punch it into me, are you?"
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "Of course not."
She raised her hand and placed it against his upper back. For a second, he tensed—then, warmth.
No, not just warmth.
Weight.
It wasn't heavy like a burden. It was heavy like meaning. Like gravity. Like existence itself thickening around him.
The air trembled, his breath caught. The world's edges softened. Aether—foreign but inviting—coursed through his body in waves. It didn't burn. It didn't chill. It throbbed with purpose, pulsing like a second heartbeat, strength suddenly filled him, his body became lighter, the hairs on his arm stood up as goosebumps surfaced.
And then—
—it came.
Words etched themselves into his mind like silver flame on black parchment—
LIMBO—BORDER JAIL
He gasped, stumbling forward slightly as the vision faded. "What… was that?"
Seraphina stepped back, hands never leaving his back, watching him carefully. "What did you see?"
He looked down at his hands. They didn't glow, didn't shimmer, but something was there. He could feel it—space itself answering his call.
"I saw…" he began slowly. "Limbo. A place between places. Border Jail—it… locks space."
He turned his palm toward a tree nearby and willed it.
The air shimmered.
The space around the tree stilled—like reality took a breath and held it. The leaves stopped mid-fall. The trunk's gentle sway from wind became motionless.
He reversed his hand toward his chest. The same shimmer happened near him—only this time, it condensed, thickened. The air hardened around him, like invisible armor. The world tried to move through him—and was denied.
"I can harden space near enemies to stall their attack," Zephyr whispered, "and harden space near me for defense…"
Seraphina's brows rose. Even she looked a little surprised. "That… is not an art I've seen before."
He glanced over his shoulder with a grin that was both relieved and triumphant. "Guess the world's joke finally got a punchline."
As the shimmering veil of hardened space dissipated, Zephyr slowly turned his head to Serena, his chest rising and falling with excitement he hadn't felt since arriving in this world. But when their eyes met, something in hers shifted.
Her brows furrowed slightly, and she took a quick step back, dropping her hand from his back as if suddenly realizing its placement. "Forgive me," she said, tone clipped, her posture straightening with practiced discipline. "That was… inappropriate. I was only meant to assist with your Aether sense, not—"
Zephyr blinked, still high on the rush of the experience, before realizing just how close they'd gotten—how natural it had felt to lean into the warmth of someone else.
But now, there was a noticeable gap between them.
She folded her hands neatly in front of her, the air around her retreating like she was sealing herself behind an invisible gate.
Yet, even without her touch… the feeling remained.
His eyes widened. That pressure, that rhythm—like a heartbeat pulsing beneath his skin—it hadn't left.
He focused, drew in a breath, and reached inward. There—deep within his chest, buried like embers long since thought extinguished—was a flicker of heat. A pulse. Faint but steady.
His own Aether.
It wasn't being lent to him anymore. It was his.
The dried-up well inside him had begun to refill. The cracked, dormant core buried in his soul… now pulsed with its first breath of life.
"I… I think I have Aether," he muttered, awestruck.
Serena turned sharply toward him. "What?"
"I can feel it. My Aether—it's mine now. You must've—" he stopped himself. "You jump-started me, didn't you?"
She stared for a moment, then her gaze dropped to the earth beneath them. "That wasn't my intent. I only meant for you to sense it, not…"
But it was too late. The process had already begun. His Aether Core—long assumed barren—was now alive.
As Zephyr's Aether Core flickered to life for the first time—raw, unstable, and furious—his birthmark carved itself into his flesh with brilliant force. And pain.
Zephyr hissed through clenched teeth as a sharp, searing pain lanced through his right hand. It was sudden—violent—like molten wire being threaded beneath his skin. He jerked his hand upward, breath catching in his throat.
And there it was, symbol was burning itself into his skin.
The symbol was a circular, arcane seal inscribed in blaring red ink. At its center, there is a bold pentagram (a five-pointed star) enclosed within two concentric circles. Each point of the pentagram touches the inner circle, anchoring it in place like a ritual symbol.
Surrounding the pentagram, within the space between the two circles, are words written in Aether language that only the owner of the birthmark can decipher. And on the case of zephyr the word—
JAILER
And along the bottom arc, it says—
SPECTOR
In the middle, overlapping the pentagram or just beneath it, another phrase is etched:
WARDEN
The overall effect is ritualistic and gothic, evoking the image of a binding seal or sigil used to control supernatural forces. (Once again imagine the symbol on the back of the palm of alucard from Hellsing). Finally Zephyr has been recognized by the world and has been bestowed a birthmark.
As the surging Aether receded the blood red ink shifted to black, two of the words dulled leaving only the word JAILER prominent. Signifying his ascendence to rank Zeta.
The first rank of Aether-kind. The bottom of the ladder—but a step nonetheless.
Zephyr clenched his fist, eyes gleaming. He could feel it. The world was no longer distant, untouchable. For the first time since waking in this body… he had power of his own.
"I'm a Zeta," he whispered, not to her, but to himself
Serena gave a single nod, her face filled with excitement.
He added with a wry grin. "Eat your heart out, cousins."
She didn't respond, simply turned toward the path leading out of the forest.
"We should return," she said. "You'll want to stabilize your core before overexerting it."
Zephyr stared after her for a moment before following. And as he walked, a grin tugged at his lips. The clan might still hate him. But he wasn't going to lay low anymore, let the world hear of my legend.
'i will recreate Sakuna's glory or is it Obito's! Doesn't matter I will recreate them both'.