The room felt smaller as the PDF scrolled.
No one sat comfortably anymore. Everyone leaned in, shoulders tense, eyes glued to the screen. Questions flew from every corner—half-formed thoughts, interrupted sentences, disbelief layered on disbelief.
Then they reached the first bold subtitle.
How are seals broken?
Veyron read it out loud.
No one spoke.
He scrolled.
His voice returned, steady at first.
"Seals can't be broken forcefully or manually. From our tests, and from questioning various types of sealbreakers—"
"Stop."
Nyra's voice cracked.
She was already standing, eyes glossy, hands trembling. Memories rushed in—night extractions, cold floors, restraints, people dragged away and never coming back.
She turned and walked quietly into the kitchen.
Veyron pushed his chair back instantly.
He followed her.
Yuki took over without hesitation.
"All sealbreakers—"
"That's us," Shin muttered.
Yuki shot him a sharp look.
"Cut it."
Shin's jaw tightened. He said nothing more, but his eyes burned. He stood, walked past the table, and stepped outside. The door closed softly behind him.
Yuki swallowed and continued.
"All sealbreakers provided similar life patterns. Loss of dear people, places, or ideals."
Her voice stayed firm—but her hands shook.
"Extreme emotional expression. No clear moment of activation recorded. Subjects learned to use abilities independently. Conclusion: timing cannot be predicted—only speculated."
She paused.
Her eyes widened.
"…What?"
She leaned closer to the screen, rereading the next paragraph. Her voice dropped, fragile now, as she forced the words out again—slowly, carefully—for everyone to hear.
"Our expectation is that seals are broken when a person lets go of the thing, person, or concept they love most.This release alters the subject's core frequency.The seal then breaks naturally.The manifested power appears directly linked to what was lost."
Silence. Heavy. Absolute.
Goro stared at the wall.
Axel looked away, jaw clenched.
Akari sat perfectly still, glowing butterflies circling her unconsciously.
Reina whispered, barely audible—
"…It can't be forced," She looked at Akari. At the butterflies.
"At all." Reina finished.
No one replied. The room stayed quiet.
Twenty minutes passed.
The PDF was closed now, but its weight still lingered in the room.
Axel stood by the table, finishing his explanation—repeating the key parts, slower this time, making sure everyone understood. No more theories. No loopholes. No shortcuts.
When he finished, Yuki didn't say a word. She just nodded and walked outside.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The air inside felt stale.
Veyron sat across from Axel, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. He stared at the floor like it might give him a different answer if he looked long enough.
"So that's it," Veyron said quietly. "No training. No trigger. No pushing."
Axel shook his head. "You can't brute-force your core frequency. It changes only when you change."
Veyron exhaled sharply, almost a laugh—empty.
"Hope then it unlocks as soon as possible," he said. "Because right now, hope is all I've got."
The door opened.
Shin stepped back inside, Yuki behind him.
"Don't worry," Shin said, voice calmer than before. "It'll come. Everyone lets go of something eventually. Even if they don't want to."
Veyron looked up at him.
"Yeah," he replied. "But I need it fast. If we're really doing this—if we're doing it right—I don't have the luxury of time."
No one argued.
Because no one could.
Night fell over Old Yagami's place.
The house went quiet, lights dimmed one by one.
Veyron slept on a thin mattress on the floor, placed beside the bed where Nyra and Yuki rested. His breathing was slow, uneven—dreamless.
In her sleep, Nyra shifted.
Her hand slipped off the edge of the bed, fingers brushing the floor. Veyron stirred slightly.
Their hands touched. Not fully holding—just barely there. Neither of them woke up.
Downstairs, Shin slept alone, sprawled across a couch in his own room, boots still on.
Upstairs, Akari and Reina shared a room, soft light reflecting off faintly glowing butterflies that hovered near the ceiling before fading one by one.
Axel slept on the living room couch, arm over his eyes, chest rising steadily.
Only one person was still awake.
Goro.
He sat in the bathroom, slumped forward on the toilet, eyes half-closed. His limbs felt impossibly heavy. Like something was pulling energy straight out of his body.
His head dipped.
He fell asleep where he sat.
Outside. Old Yagami's farmhouse stood quiet beneath the stars. A figure waited by the front door. He chuckled softly to himself.
Red wolf–cut hair. Pale skin. Black biker jacket.
Rhett Kael.
One of the men from the mayor's office.
He placed his hands slowly against the door.
A dark, transparent square spread outward—thin as glass, vast as a shadow—forming inside the house.
Covering it.
And the night held its breath.