The North Tower of Newhaven did not feel like a part of the city; it felt like a gargantuan spear-tip thrust into the belly of the sky. As Renji followed Lyra along the windswept battlements, the sheer scale of the fortification began to settle into his bones. The wall was wide enough to hold a four-lane highway, paved with white stone that felt warm to the touch, humming with the captured energy of the twin suns. Every few hundred yards, a massive ballista, its bolts tipped with glowing blue crystals, stood manned by silent sentinels in heavy grey plate.
They approached the tower, a monolithic cylinder of black basalt that seemed to absorb the light of the Rose Sun. As they crossed the threshold, the warmth of the suns was instantly replaced by the artificial, recirculated chill of stone and sorcery.
"Welcome to the belly of the beast," Lyra said, her voice echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings.
The interior was a hive of activity. Squires ran between armories, carrying bundles of enchanted arrows; mages in silver-trimmed robes stood over holographic maps of the Tundra, their fingers dancing through streams of data-light. But as Lyra and Renji walked through the main hall, a hush followed them. It wasn't a respectful silence; it was a hungry one.
At the center of the hall stood a man who radiated a sense of absolute, predatory order. He was older than Lyra, with hair the color of ash and eyes that looked like two polished coins of cold iron. He wore a heavy breastplate etched with the sigil of the Iron Covenant—a clenched fist holding a lightning bolt—and a cloak of deep, bruised crimson.
This was Arch-Commander Draven.
"Captain Thorne," Draven said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that carried a subtle, dangerous edge. "I was beginning to think the Deep Veins had finally claimed you. And this... this is the anomaly?"
Draven stepped toward Renji, his boots making a heavy, rhythmic thud on the stone. He didn't look at Renji's face; his eyes went straight to the right hand, where the silver brand was currently a dull, dormant grey.
"Commander," Lyra said, her posture stiffening into a formal salute. "Subject Renji Sato. Recovered from Sector 4. Manifested a Class-A Architect's Cipher during a standard labor dispute."
"A labor dispute," Draven chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering over a grave. He reached out with a gloved hand, grabbing Renji's wrist with a grip that felt like a vice. He turned the hand over, squinting at the star-shaped brand. "It's beautiful. Pure. The resonance of the Source Code, trapped in the flesh of a common paper-pusher."
Renji tried to pull his hand back, but Draven's grip was absolute. "Let go," Renji said, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and a sudden, sharp spike of anger.
Draven's eyes flicked to Renji's face. "The tool speaks. Tell me, Sato—how did it feel when the power took hold? Did you feel like a man, or did you feel like the world was finally making sense?"
"I felt like I was dying," Renji replied.
"The two are often indistinguishable in Aetheria," Draven said, finally releasing his wrist. He turned back to Lyra. "The High Council is impatient, Lyra. They want to know if he's a catalyst or a catastrophe. We have a selection of other 'Potentials' from the latest harvest. Put him in the pits for the Selection Trial. If he survives the first night, we'll see about his training."
"He hasn't even been fed, Commander," Lyra countered, her hand tightening on her sword-hilt. "He's just undergone a three-mile atmospheric transition."
"Then he'll be hungry for victory," Draven dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "The Trial begins at the turn of the glass. Don't be late, Sato. The Covenant doesn't reward tardiness with anything but a shallow grave."
The 'Selection Trial' took place in the subterranean levels of the North Tower, in a circular arena known as the Cinder Pit. The air here was thick with the smell of old blood, cold iron, and a lingering, acrid spice that Renji would later learn was the scent of raw Aether-exhaust.
Renji was shoved into a holding cell with twenty other men. Most of them were from the bus. He recognized Darius, the construction worker, who was sitting in the corner, his large hands buried in his hair. There were others—a young man in a university hoodie, a middle-aged salaryman clutching a tattered briefcase, and a few others who had already lost the light in their eyes.
"Renji?" Darius looked up, his face gaunt. "They gave us these."
He pointed to a rack of weapons against the stone wall. They weren't the elegant blades Lyra carried. They were rusted iron shortswords, blunt maces, and wooden shields reinforced with scrap metal.
"They told us we have to 'prove our latency,'" Darius whispered. "What does that even mean?"
"It means they want to see who the System likes," Renji said, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at his own hand. The brand was pulsing again, a low, rhythmic silver light.
Suddenly, the heavy iron gate at the end of the cell groaned open. A voice boomed from the speakers above—a magical amplification that made the stones vibrate.
[ SELECTION TRIAL: PHASE ONE ] [ OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE UNSTABLE RESONANCE ] [ TIME REMAINING: 10:00 ]
The twenty men were ushered out into the arena. Above them, in the viewing galleries, Renji saw Draven and Lyra. Draven was leaning forward, his chin resting on his hand; Lyra was standing perfectly still, her face an unreadable mask of silver.
In the center of the arena sat a floating, jagged crystal of obsidian. It was cracked, and from those cracks, a thick, oily black smoke began to pour.
"What is that?" someone shouted.
"A Corrupted Node," Renji whispered, the information appearing in his mind like a remembered dream.
The smoke didn't just drift; it moved with intent. It formed into shapes—shadowy, multi-limbed creatures with eyes of burning orange. They were Corrupted Echoes, the low-tier remnants of things that had died in the Tundra.
"Pick up your weapons!" Renji shouted, grabbing a rusted shortsword from the ground.
The attack was a chaotic blur of shadow and steel. The salaryman with the briefcase was the first to fall, his throat torn open by a smoky claw before he could even scream. Darius let out a roar, swinging a heavy iron mace with the desperate strength of a man who had built skyscrapers, crushing the skull of a shadow-beast.
Renji found himself backed against the stone wall. A shadow-beast, its body a swirling mass of black smoke and jagged teeth, lunged at him. He swung the shortsword, but the blade passed through the smoke as if it were air.
The creature's claws raked across Renji's chest, tearing through his ruined suit and into his skin. The pain was cold—a freezing, jagged agony that felt like it was trying to drain his heat.
[ WARNING: HEALTH AT 65% ] [ CORRUPTION SEEPAGE DETECTED ]
"Think, Sato!" Lyra's voice echoed in his head, though she hadn't spoken. "The blade is a conduit, not the weapon! Channel the brand!"
Renji looked at the silver star. He closed his eyes, ignoring the snarling of the beast. He didn't try to fight the shadow; he tried to find the "Static" within it. He reached out with his mind, feeling the silver fire in his palm, and forced it down his arm, through his grip, and into the rusted iron of the sword.
The blade didn't just glow; it screamed.
The rusted metal turned white-hot, humming with a frequency that made the shadow-beast recoil in pain. Renji swung. This time, the sword didn't pass through. It cut.
The shadow-beast was bifurcated, its smoky body dissolving into a shower of black ash.
[ LEVEL UP: RENJI SATO - LEVEL 2 ] [ STRENGTH +1 | WILL +2 | AETHER CONDUCTIVITY +5 ]
But the trial wasn't over. More shadows were pouring from the crystal. Two of the survivors were already down, their bodies being absorbed by the black smoke.
Renji looked at Darius, who was being swarmed by three of the creatures. He looked up at the gallery. Draven was smiling. This wasn't a test of skill; it was a harvest. They were feeding the weak to the crystal to see which of them would "ignite" under the pressure.
"Darius! To me!" Renji shouted.
He held the glowing sword aloft, the silver light of the Cipher expanding into a small, protective dome around him. It felt like holding back a tide with his bare hands. Every strike of the shadows against the light felt like a hammer blow to his skull.
"Renji, I can't... I can't hold them!" Darius gasped, stumbling into the circle of light.
"You don't have to," Renji said, his voice dropping into that strange, resonant register.
He didn't just channel the Aether; he pushed. He shoved his branded hand against the flat of the glowing blade and released a pulse of Architect's Resonance.
The wave of violet and silver light didn't just kill the shadows; it shattered the obsidian crystal in the center of the room. The explosion of light was so bright that the spectators in the gallery had to shield their eyes.
When the light faded, the arena was silent. Only five of the twenty men were still standing. The rest were nothing but piles of grey ash on the stone floor.
Renji fell to his knees, the rusted sword shattering into a thousand pieces in his hand. He looked up at the gallery.
Draven stood up, his applause slow and rhythmic. "Remarkable. A Level 2 triggering a resonance-burst. Lyra, you were right. He is a variable."
Lyra didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on Renji, and for a fleeting second, he saw the flash of something that looked like sorrow before it was buried under the steel of her mask.
Renji looked at his hands. They were covered in the blood of his friends and the ash of his enemies. He looked at Darius, who was sobbing quietly on the floor.
Year One had only just begun, and the "insurance man" from Tokyo was already buried beneath the weight of a thousand deaths. He realized then that Lyra was wrong about one thing: the Vanguard didn't just sharpen weapons. They broke the souls of men until only the edge remained.