Ren woke to a world that felt like it was made of lead.
Every breath was labored it burned in his chest. His lungs felt restricted, as if they were being compressed by invisible bands.
When he tried to shift his weight on the infirmary cot, a sharp, white-hot pain flared in his joints, making him gasp.
He tried to remember the exact moment he blacked out but his head was a swirl of violet fog and the sound of something breaking.
He tried to lift his right arm to rub his eyes, but it wouldn't move. He felt a cold, dead weight anchoring him to the bed.
Ren forced his eyes open, squinting against the harsh, magical light of the infirmary. Bolted around his right wrist was a thick, obsidian-iron cuff. It was nearly three inches wide, etched with jagged, glowing runes that hummed with a low-frequency vibration. This wasn't the elegant, silk-silver of the Prince's lead; this was the Secondary Damper.
'I can't feel them,' Ren realized, a cold spike of panic piercing through his exhaustion.
'I can't feel my magic at all.'
He thought the cuffs were supposed to be small.
He closed his eyes, desperately searching for the silver stitches in his palm. Usually, they were a warm, rhythmic pulse, a secret life-line that tethered him to his core. Now, they were faint, like a heartbeat.
He could feel the Damper doing exactly what the Sages intended… it was suffocating his connection to his own power like drowning the stitches in a sea of artificial static.
"It's designed to keep you from 'overflowing' again," a smooth voice said from the shadows.
Ren turned his head slowly.
Julian was sitting in a high-backed velvet chair by the window, idly peeling an orange with a small silver paring knife.
'Always Julian.'
He looked perfectly composed, though his left arm remained in a silk sling—a reminder that even the 'emerald prince' hadn't escaped the forest unscathed.
'He looks like a wounded peacock. Also they were supposed to have extra ordinary healing?' He'd heard whispers that if ordinary nobles could heal within seconds then the three princes were basically on a god level. Like they were on everything.
"The Sages don't like things they can't measure, Zero," Julian continued, tossing a slice of the orange onto the small table beside Ren's bed.
"A Null who can swallow a Level Seven mana-cascade is an immeasurable variable. In their eyes, you are a ticking bomb. The Damper stays on until they decide you aren't going to spontaneously combust and take the North Tower along with West Wing with you."
"It... it hurts," Ren rasped, his throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper.
"It's supposed to," Julian replied, his emerald eyes cold and analytical.
"A Damper of that grade doesn't just block mana; it suppresses the nervous system to ensure no 'accidental' surges occur. It's a reminder that your life was bought by the Valerius name, not given by the Heavens. Cian is currently being grilled by the High Council. They're trying to find any reason to strip him of his hunt-points for the 'instability' of his party. He's furious. And when the Sun Prince is furious, he's careless. Try not to be the thing he breaks when he finally returns."
Julian stood up, the half-peeled orange forgotten on the table. He walked over to the bed and leaned down, his face inches from Ren's. The scent of expensive sandalwood and something sharp—like crushed herbs—filled Ren's senses.
"I watched the recording from the invisibility stones the Processors dropped before they fled," Julian whispered, his voice a silk-wrapped blade.
'Wtf? Invincibility stones have the ability to record stuffs? Ha~ I should have known there was no lying to Julian.'
"The beast didn't explode on its own. You didn't just 'ground' the impact of that beast, did you?" Julian continued ignoring Ren's facial expression.
"I saw it, Zero. You touched it, and a Level Seven Chimera didn't explode. It undid. It turned to ash before it even touched your skin."
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs, the sound deafening in his own ears.
'What does he know now? Everything or..?'
"I told you," Ren whispered, forcing his voice to tremble. "It was an accident. I was dying... I didn't want to die. My core just... opened. I don't know why it fell apart. I don't know anything."
Julian stared at him for what felt like an eternity, his gaze searching for the flicker of a lie, the tell-tale sign of something he claimed not to be.
Finally, he straightened up, a thin, predatory smile stretching his lips.
"Perhaps. Accidents like that usually have a name in the history books. I'll find yours eventually. For now, enjoy the 'quiet' the Sages have given you. You'll need the rest for the classes tomorrow. It may be epic."
After Julian left, the infirmary fell into a heavy, oppressive silence.
The sun began to set, casting long, jagged shadows across the room that looked like reaching fingers.
Ren stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. Every minute the Damper was on, he felt more of himself slipping away, being buried. It wasn't just his power; it was his will. The vibration of the iron was designed to make him submissive, to turn him into the "bucket" the Princes wanted him to be.
'I'm becoming a tool again,' Ren thought bitterly. 'A "Super-Null." A prize dog with an iron muzzle.'
Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped. The flickering candles near the door died out, and the shadows in the corner of the room began to knit together.
Ren watched, paralyzed, as a figure detached itself from the darkness.
It was the man in the robes. He didn't walk; he simply existed in a new space, standing at the foot of the bed. His face was hidden this time.
"The iron is a wall," the ghost whispered, the voice vibrating directly in Ren's teeth.
"But a Weaver does not climb walls. A Weaver finds the gaps in the stone."
"I can't feel the stitches," Ren cried out in his mind least someone hears, his eyes watering. "The iron... it's too loud. I'm empty again."
"You are never empty, little King. You are the Void itself. You are looking with your eyes, blinded by the physical world. Look with the hunger. The Damper feeds on the surface, sucking the excess mana like a leech. Go deeper. Find the thread that connects the iron to the earth, and pull."
Ren gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate, sweat beading on his forehead. For someone like him who had gone from having absolutely nothing to having great powers, it was incredibly hard not to feel desperate.
He ignored the crushing weight of the cuff and the dull ache in his bones. He reached inward, past the static of the Damper, searching for the tiny, silver pinprick of the Fifth Stitch.
He found it. It was buried under a mountain of iron-gray mana, flickering like a dying candle in a storm.
He didn't try to fight the iron. He knew he wasn't strong enough to break it yet—not without alerting every Sage in the tower. Instead, he did what he had done to the Chimera. He looked for the 'master thread' of the Damper itself.
In his dimmed Mana-Sight, he saw it: an ugly, knotted cord of violet magic that hummed with a parasitic rhythm.
Ren didn't unravel it.
Instead, he gently nudged it with his mind. Using the Fifth Stitch as a needle, he shifted the thread just a fraction of an inch, creating a tiny "blind spot" in the suppression field—a small pocket where the magic ignored him.
Suddenly, the Fifth Stitch flared to life.
The weight didn't leave his arm, and the iron was still bolted to his flesh, but the fog left his mind. He could feel the his core again. The world stopped being normal and started being threads once more.
"Good," the man in the robes murmured, his form beginning to dissolve back into the shadows.
"The Sages gave you a cage. You have turned it into a whetstone. Practice, Weaver. The next hunt will not be for beasts, but for your heart. And the Princes... they are starting to crave the 'quiet' only you can provide. Necessity is a more dangerous bond than silk or iron."
Ren lay back, his chest heaving, his forehead soaked in sweat. He looked at the heavy iron cuff.
To the Princes, he was a broken tool that needed a leash. To the Sages, he was a neutralized threat to be studied.
But as he touched the Fifth Stitch, feeling its steady, silver pulse, Ren knew the truth.
The Damper wasn't just keeping him in. It was keeping the world out. It gave him a reason to stay silent, to watch, and to learn. The Princes thought they were protecting their "Super-Null," but they has actually giving him the perfect place to hide.
'Let them think I'm broken,' Ren thought, his fingers curling into a fist beneath the bandages. 'Let them fight over who owns the bucket. While they're looking at the iron, they won't see the needle.'
He looked at the orange slice Julian had left.
It was a reminder of the luxury that was now his prison. He reached out with his left hand, the one without the cuff, and took a bite. It was sweet, but all he could taste his own blood along with it.
Tomorrow, he would have to return to the Academy halls. He would have to face the students who hated him, the Princes who "owned" him, and the Sages who wanted to dissect him. He would have to do it all while dragging five pounds of obsidian iron on his wrist.
'Pathetic.' he whispered to the empty room, echoing his own thought about Cian in the forest.
He wasn't sure if he was talking about the Princes or himself.
As the moon rose over the school, Ren fell into a dreamless sleep, the silver ring in his eyes glowing faintly in the dark, hidden by his closed lids.
He heard the howling of something, the hunt wasn't even close to being over for him.
A heavy knock sounded on the door.