Ren sat cross-legged, his breaths even and steady. For eight long hours, he had meditated in perfect silence. His elegant, eerie blue eyes fluttered open, their strange brilliance cutting through the shadows like a knife. He sighed heavily, the weight of mental exhaustion pressing against him.


Eira, leaning casually against the doorframe, tilted her head and smiled. "How do you feel?"


Ren paused, considering. The throbbing ache in his temples had dulled, but the hours of intense concentration had left him drained. "Better... I think. The headaches are gone," he said softly, his voice edged with fatigue. "But all this meditation... it’s made me so tired. I just want to go home."


Eira’s expression turned curious. "And your abilities? How’s your control?"


Ren closed his eyes, reaching inward. He could feel it now—a steady hum in his veins, the gravitational energy flowing through him like a calm river. A faint smile touched his lips. "I think... I think I can control it. My gravitational powers. To some extent, at least."


Eira clapped her hands, her voice filled with pride. "That’s incredible! Controlling gravitational force in just one day is no small feat." She grinned mischievously. "Can you show me a little? I’m curious to see how far you’ve come."


Ren’s fatigue gave way to a spark of excitement. If his master was proud, that was worth something. Rising to his feet, he focused, feeling the gravitational force shift under his command. As he lowered the gravity around his body, his movements became faster, his jumps higher and more fluid. He leapt effortlessly into the air, his speed blurring.


"So this is what happens when I reduce gravity by fivefold," he called out, landing gracefully.


Without pausing, he shifted the force again, this time increasing it dramatically. His feet slammed into the rock he was meditating on, with a deafening thud, completely shattering that big stone. Pain shot up his legs, and he winced.


Eira burst into laughter, clutching her sides. "Look at our hero—wobbly legs and all!"


"Hey!" Ren snapped, his cheeks flushing. "You shouldn’t be saying that, oldie!"


Without missing a beat, Eira threw a shoe at him, smacking him squarely in the face.


"Seriously?!" Ren groaned, glaring at her. "This is the third shoe! Where even are you getting these?!"


She giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s a secret."


Ren grinned. "Oh, is it? Why don’t you try this? I shall call this gravitational surge" He raised his hand, channeling his powers. The air around them warped and twisted, a pulse of gravitational force rippling toward her.


Eira dodged easily, the wave smashing into a row of trees behind her and splintering them into debris. "Master is running!" Ren laughed.


She crossed her arms, smiling but wary. "Alright, show-off. Let’s not destroy the whole forest, hmm?"


The playful banter faded, replaced by a rare moment of seriousness. Ren looked at her thoughtfully. "By the way, Master... I know I’m always sarcastic, but we only met yesterday, and yet it feels like we’ve known each other forever. Why do you always support me? Even when I’m a pain?"


Eira’s smile softened. "Because we’re alike," she said simply. "Our personalities just… fit."


Ren’s lips curled into a genuine smile. "Fair enough. How about this, let’s take a break. Grab some coffee, talk a little. My treat! But don’t go ordering anything expensive, alright? My dad’s just a mechanic."


Eira laughed. "Alright, kiddo. Coffee sounds perfect."


They sat in a small café, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Ren stirred his cup absentmindedly, his gaze distant.


"You know," he began hesitantly, "I don’t talk about this often, but… I was abandoned as a toddler. I don’t remember much, just vague images of faces I never saw again. The old man my ‘dad,’ as I call him he found me wandering near his workshop one day and took me in. He’s gruff and annoying, but he’s the only family I’ve ever known."


Eira sipped her coffee, her expression unreadable. "You’re stronger than you think, Ren. Life’s hardships have a way of shaping us into who we’re meant to be."

"And you?" Ren asked, leaning forward. "What’s your story, Master?"

Eira hesitated, her fingers tightening around her mug. "It’s… complicated. My closest friend is the leader of the Night Walkers, and through her, I became one of them."

Ren froze. "The Night Walkers?"

Eira smiled faintly, changing the subject before he could ask more. "Let’s just say I’ve walked a different path. One that not everyone would understand."

Ren frowned but didn’t press further. He trusted her—whatever her secrets were, they could wait.


Eira dropped Ren off at his home, the familiar clang of tools and machinery echoing from the workshop. The old man rushed out, his face a mix of annoyance and concern.


"Brat! Where were you last night?! Do you know how much I was wor—" He cut himself off, quickly shifting to gruffness. "I mean, how much work is left undone!"


Ren rolled his eyes. "Relax, old man. I’m fine."


The old man’s gaze fell on Ren’s glowing blue eyes. "What the—are you wearing contacts?!"


Ren smirked. "Nope. I awakened."


The old man’s eyes widened comically. "Awakened?! You—" He stumbled over his words, then started babbling excitedly. "We’ll throw a party! I’ll brag to everyone—Rik from the parts shop, old lady Miko, even that annoying baker down the road—"


"Calm down, old man," Ren interrupted with a chuckle. He turned to Eira, bowing slightly. "Thanks for dropping me off, Master. Should I come tomorrow too?"


Eira smiled. "Of course. Get some rest, kiddo. You’ve earned it."


As she walked away, Ren watched her go, a newfound determination settling in his chest. This was just the beginning.


Ren pushed open the creaky door of his small, cluttered room and stepped inside. The soft hum of the workshop faded into the background as he shut the door behind him, sealing himself in a pocket of quiet. Without bothering to change or even kick off his boots, he collapsed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight.


He stretched out, his limbs heavy from exhaustion, and sank into the pillows. Turning his head, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind a swirl of thoughts. The pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting faint, silvery streaks across his face.


From above, his expression came into focus—a mixture of weariness and quiet resolve. His elegant features were sharp yet softened by the shadows, and his eerie blue eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. They stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as if searching for answers hidden in the cracks and patterns above.


In that moment, the world felt still, and his thoughts—of powers, of purpose, of the enigmatic woman who had become his master—danced silently in the space between wakefulness and sleep.