The pressure came without warning.
It didn't strike his body. It didn't touch his skin. And yet Ethan felt it everywhere at once—pressing against him, surrounding him, sinking into him.
The others reacted immediately.
One boy gasped and fell to his knees, his hands clawing at the air as if trying to escape something invisible. Another stumbled backward, his balance collapsing beneath him. A third didn't even make a sound before his body gave out completely, his small frame hitting the floor with a dull, final weight.
Fear spread faster than understanding.
But Ethan didn't move.
He felt it.
That invisible force. That suffocating presence.
And somewhere deep inside his mind, he recognized it.
The man walked slowly between them, his footsteps calm, controlled, untouched by the pressure he himself was creating.
"You feel it," he said.
It wasn't a question.
It was a truth.
"In every human body," the man continued, his voice steady and indifferent, "there are nodes. Points through which life energy flows."
He stopped near one of the unconscious children and looked down briefly, not with concern, but with confirmation.
"For most people, these nodes remain closed."
He turned slightly, his eyes settling on Ethan.
"They live their entire lives without ever knowing what exists inside them."
The pressure increased.
Not wildly.
Precisely.
Like a hand tightening its grip.
Ethan's muscles trembled. His lungs resisted each breath. His instincts screamed at him to kneel, to escape, to surrender to something his body could not fight.
But he didn't kneel.
He endured.
"There are two ways to open these nodes," the man said.
He began to walk again, his presence filling the room more completely than the pressure itself.
"The natural way is through training. Years of discipline. Gradual exposure. The body learns. The mind adapts. The nodes open safely."
His voice held no emotion.
"No damage. No loss."
He paused.
"And then there is the faster way."
The pressure surged.
Violent.
Unforgiving.
It crashed into Ethan like an unseen force trying to tear him apart from the inside. His vision blurred at the edges. His legs weakened. His heart pounded harder, faster, fighting against something it could not understand.
Around him, the last of the others collapsed.
Their bodies had reached their limit.
Only Ethan remained standing.
Barely.
"This method forces the nodes open," the man said.
He stopped in front of him.
"It is faster."
Ethan's body trembled under the weight of it. His breathing faltered. Every instinct begged him to fall, to escape the suffering.
"But it is dangerous."
The man's eyes watched him closely now.
"Most who experience it are broken."
Another surge followed.
Sharper.
More focused.
"Their bodies fail. Their minds collapse."
He stepped closer.
"They die."
The word hung in the air.
Unavoidable.
Unimportant.
Because none of this had ever been about protecting them.
This was never training.
This was selection.
They were not students.
They were survivors.
Or casualties.
And those who failed—
Did not matter.
The pressure reached its peak.
For a moment, Ethan felt himself slipping.
Not physically.
Internally.
Like something inside him was being forced open against its will.
Pain spread through him—not across his skin, but beneath it. Deeper. Older. As if something that had been sealed his entire life was breaking apart.
His instincts told him to resist.
His fear told him to collapse.
But his mind—
His mind told him to endure.
He slowed his breathing.
Not fighting.
Not rejecting.
Accepting.
And then—
It happened.
Not violently.
Not suddenly.
Quietly.
Like a door opening in a place he had never known existed.
The pressure didn't disappear.
But it no longer crushed him.
It flowed around him.
Through him.
Part of him.
The man noticed.
Of course he did.
The pressure vanished instantly.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Ethan remained standing.
Alive.
Awake.
Changed.
The man studied him for a moment longer, his expression unchanged.
"This is Nen," he said.
The word settled into Ethan's mind with quiet certainty.
"The power that exists within all living things."
He turned and began walking toward the door.
"The ones who survive this will learn to control it."
He stopped briefly.
"The rest were never meant to."
The door opened.
He left without looking back.
Ethan stood alone in the room, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of those who had failed.
He looked down at his hands.
They were the same.
But he wasn't.
For the first time since arriving in this world—
He wasn't just surviving it.
He was becoming part of it.