The boy was still there.
He hadn't spoken. Hadn't moved more than necessary to remain standing. His fear had settled into something quieter now. Not panic.
Acceptance.
Ethan understood it.
This place did not need to explain itself.
It demonstrated.
The door remained closed.
No guards came.
No instructions followed.
This, too, was intentional.
Ethan stepped forward.
The boy tensed immediately.
Not from pain.
From expectation.
Ethan stopped a short distance away, studying him.
Not as a person.
As resistance.
As structure waiting to be understood.
The man's words repeated in his mind.
Conditions.
Rules.
Limitations.
Force consumed energy.
Structure reduced cost.
He activated Ren, slowly. His aura expanded outward, thinner than before, but more controlled. He did not push it forward.
He let it exist.
Then he spoke.
"Raise your hand."
The boy hesitated.
His body resisted.
His mind rejected.
Ethan felt it—the instability, the inefficiency. His aura pressed against the boy's resistance, wasting energy fighting something that refused to yield.
He stopped.
This was wrong.
Not the command.
The method.
He remembered what the man had said.
Conditions gave power shape.
Without them, control was incomplete.
Ethan looked at the boy.
Then he changed the command.
"If you raise your hand," Ethan said quietly, "I will release you."
The words were simple.
Clear.
A condition.
Not force.
Exchange.
The boy froze.
His mind processed it.
Hope entered the space where fear had lived.
A reason.
A choice.
His arm rose.
Slowly.
Trembling.
But willingly.
Ethan felt it immediately.
The difference was absolute.
His aura did not struggle.
It did not push.
It guided.
Supported.
The resistance was gone.
The command cost almost nothing.
The boy's hand reached shoulder height.
Ethan ended Ren.
His aura returned to Ten.
Contained.
Stable.
The boy lowered his arm, breathing unevenly.
Ethan stepped back.
He understood now.
Control was not domination.
It was agreement.
Even if the agreement was created by him.
The door opened.
The man stood there, watching.
He had seen everything.
"You learn quickly," he said.
Not praise.
Confirmation.
His eyes moved briefly to the boy.
Then back to Ethan.
"You created your first condition."
Condition.
Rule.
Structure.
The man stepped inside.
"This is how abilities are born."
Not given.
Built.
He turned toward the boy.
"Leave."
The boy did not hesitate.
He walked past Ethan, past the man, out into the corridor.
He did not look back.
The door closed again.
Ethan remained where he stood.
The man looked at him one final time.
"Power does not belong to those who demand it," he said.
He paused.
"It belongs to those who define it."
Then he left.
Ethan stood alone.
His aura rested beneath his skin, quiet and obedient.
He raised his hand slowly, activating Ren.
He did not command anything.
He simply felt it.
Conditions.
Rules.
Exchange.
The foundation of his Hatsu had begun.
And this time—
It did not feel forced.
It felt inevitable.