The Clearwater Foundation possessed many buildings across the country of Westoria, but few qualified as true headquarters. IrvingHayes oversaw the Foundation's Western department, a position that came with both influence and indulgence. He lived in a sprawling estate, the kind reserved for elite clans who believed wealth was proof of virtue. The Foundation occasionally held gatherings there, guarded by his private military and surrounded by walls meant to project authority rather than defend it.
The idea of the Hayes being involved in a charity made anyone's stomach churn. Disgusting.
Irving stood in his dressing room, adjusting his attire while admiring his reflection. A wide grin sat comfortably on his face. "Lookin' good," he muttered, nodding to himself.
Beyond the room, the estate was alive with activity. The central courtyard led into a vast open meeting hall. Hundreds of guards were stationed throughout the grounds, with dozens of high-ranking Clearwater officials already present. Laughter drifted through the halls. Conversation. Comfort.
A servant hurried into the dressing room, breath shallow, eyes wide.
"Why're you interrupting me right now?" Irving shook his head, still smiling. "Wait. First tell me if I look good in this."
"Uh…" The servant swallowed. "Yes, sir. You do."
"I knew it." Irving placed his hands on his hips. "Alright. I think I'm ready to be seen."
He brushed past the servant, shoulder checking him aside as he strode forward. The doors flew open and slammed against the frame.
Snow.
Irving froze mid-step. "Huh?" He stepped outside, holding a hand out as flakes settled into his palm. "My perfect day… ruined?" His brow furrowed. "Snow at this time of year?"
A sudden wind cut through the courtyard. It was sharp, biting, unnatural. Irving stumbled back a step as the cold sank through his clothes.
"Why is it so cold?" he muttered. "Hold on…"
"That's what I wanted to say, sir," the servant started.
Irving did not listen. He broke into a run toward the front entrance. The hallway felt endless, stretching longer with every step. He nearly tripped as he reached the massive doors and pulled them open.
A blizzard swallowed the estate.
Snow fell in violent sheets, piling faster than it could melt. The temperature crushed down on him, stealing his breath. His blood felt like it slowed inside his veins.
Bodies littered the front grounds.
Guards lay scattered across the snow, twisted and broken. Blood stained the white drifts, dark and unmistakable. The sight hit him all at once, and his legs threatened to give out.
"The Snow Child…" Irving whispered.
A lone figure stood in the distance.
A black cloak snapped violently in the wind. Beneath it, white clothing blended with the storm. Gloves. A sword held loosely at his side.
Ren walked forward.
Each step was steady, deliberate. His grip tightened around Crystalis until his forearm ached. The cold meant nothing. It was his. The storm was his. A passive world shaped by something hollow and quiet inside him.
"This isn't revenge, Hayes," Ren said, his voice carrying effortlessly through the storm. "It's justice for your corruption."
He raised Crystalis, the blade pointing toward the estate. "I could freeze and crumble everything you stand on in one move."
His eyes lifted slightly.
"But will I?"
That moment was all they needed.
Guards rushed in from every side, using his pause as an opening. They moved with trained coordination, weapons drawn, spells already forming. They mistook his restraint for hesitation.
Ren moved.
Crystalis left his hand in a clean, precise throw. One soldier stepped forward and lost his arm in an instant, the limb splitting apart mid-air before hitting the ground. Ren was already turning. Ice wrapped around his arm as he spun, the frozen mass tearing through three more men without slowing.
He surged forward.
Another guard dropped in front of him. Ren drove his ice-clad arm through the man's chest and left him crumpled in the snow. A spell flared to his right. Ren flicked his hand. The caster froze solid, expression locked in terror.
Irving stood frozen where he was.
Every instinct screamed at him to run, yet his body refused to respond. He could not tell if it was the cold locking his muscles or fear tightening around his spine.
Ren lifted his armored hand toward the sky.
The storm answered.
Massive icicles formed overhead and rained down in a deafening barrage. Stone shattered. Walls collapsed. The ground split beneath the estate as frost tore through its foundation. Destruction fell from above without mercy.
Ice crawled up Irving's legs. He looked down, breath hitching, and understood.
He was not escaping.
Irving screamed. High and broken. The sound tore from his throat like that of a frightened child.
⸻
Inside the residence, Ren stepped into the meeting room.
Silence slammed into the officials gathered there. They stood scattered, half-risen from their seats, minds still catching up to reality. Every one of them wished they had fled earlier.
Ren walked to the table.
Slowly, deliberately, he removed his gloves and placed them down. He pulled a chair back and sat.
"Where are you going?" he asked calmly.
The room erupted.
Blood splashed across the walls. Screams cut short. Some tried to run. Few made it far.
Ren stopped before two servants, a man and a woman clinging to each other. Their bodies shook as they waited for death.
Ren looked at them once. Then he looked away.
They were not the targets. People like them never were.
When it ended, the estate was gone. What remained was rubble, corpses buried in snow, freezing wind, and blood seeping into the ground from every direction.
Ren stood alone amid it all.
He told himself how many lives this had saved. He repeated it again and again, clinging to the thought. Anything to drown out the weight in his chest. Anything to forget the blood on his hands.
He stumbled through the snow, mana draining faster than ever before. Crystalis cracked in his grip, the blade crumbling into fragile ice. The storm raged on, but this one was not his doing.
"We need to talk."
Ren flinched.
Thunder ripped through the air, violent and close.
Sosuke stood only a few steps away.
Sosuke had regained his power.
"Are you here to stop me?" Ren asked. The words came out strained. Blood slipped from the corner of his mouth, not from any wound inflicted by another, but from pushing his own power far past what it should have endured.
Sosuke crossed his arms and let out a slow breath. "I've been down this road, Ren. It doesn't end where you think it does. It takes you somewhere you won't want to be."
"I'm not going to make the same mistakes." Ren shook his head, jaw tightening, his brow drawing together. "I do not need the same connection you did." His voice rose despite himself. "So if you're here to arrest me, or kill me, then I suggest you do so."
Sosuke raised a brow, head tilting as he studied him. He scratched at the side of his head, eyes drifting as he searched for the right words. "I'm not doing either." He paused. "I found you before anyone else because of Lyra. She knew no one else could handle your powers if it came to that."
He closed his eyes briefly. "It's your choice. Once you keep going, there's no walking it back. I'll respect whatever you decide and I won't say a word."
"Seriously…?" Ren muttered. Of course Sosuke would understand. Out of everyone, he always would. Still, Ren needed to hear it plainly. He needed it to be said. "Why?"
"I killed people who didn't deserve it," Sosuke said quietly. His gaze dropped to the snow packed beneath their feet. "I did it when I was alone and convinced myself it was necessary." His jaw set. "But you didn't. You avoided killing anyone who wasn't guilty of something real. I don't agree with everything you've done, but I won't condemn it the way others will."
The blizzard began to thin. The wind softened. Patches of blue sky broke through the heavy clouds as the fog slowly lifted.
Ren walked forward. He slowed when he reached Sosuke's side. They did not look at each other when they spoke.
"Thank you, Sosuke."
"I know you'd do the same."
Ren continued on without another word. He never looked back.
Sosuke's sense of justice was strong, but it was anchored by scars and lessons learned the hard way. Ren did not have that weight yet. And even if regret waited for him down this path, he believed one thing with certainty.
If he kept walking, fewer people would die.