'Huh… I'm alive?'
The thought barely formed as Ren's eyes blinked open—only to be met by a blinding glow that forced them to squint. He groaned softly as the world sharpened into focus: humming ceiling panels, sterile white lights bleeding into every corner.
The air smelled like antiseptic and metal. Bleach, blood, and something faintly sour—like old bandages and fear.
He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain clamped down on his chest, stealing his breath halfway.
"Ah… shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, sinking back into the stiff mattress. His ribs screamed. Every breath felt like broken glass dragging through his lungs.
Instinctively, his hand reached toward his head.
His fingers brushed stiff fabric.
Bandages.
Tightly wound. Fresh.
He stilled, heart pounding.
'Where am I?'
The thought struck him like a splash of ice—
'Wait… what day is it?'
And then it hit him.
The memories didn't come in pieces but in a sudden surge like floodgates opening—the sky cracking apart, the red rain falling, screams echoing under a bleeding sun. His mother, his father, their faces—all gone. Everyone.
He squeezed his eyes shut as a sharp breath caught in his throat.
'...Everyone... that bastard… he killed everyone in the city. Mom... Dad...
I thought he killed me too... so how?'
His eyes widened, sharp and alert. A sudden tightness gripped his chest.
'Anya!…What about Anya?'
He scanned the room carefully before releasing a long, steady breath of relief.
Anya.
His little sister was curled up on the adjacent bed, arms wrapped tightly around a worn brown teddy bear, her chest rising and falling softly.
She was alive.
He was glad—she was the only family he had left.
"Thank..." He tried to speak, but his throat was raw and painfully dry—so dry it felt like sandpaper scraping the inside of his mouth.
'What the hell?'
Sure, drinking water is a perfectly normal human need—every biology textbook agrees. But Ren? He basically lived like a cracked desert floor in constant need of a flood. Ever since he was little, he'd needed to drink at least four liters of water every thirty minutes to an hour just to stay alive.
He could never explain it—why he needed such inhuman amounts of water just to function, or how he hadn't drowned himself from the inside out by now. No doctors had answers. No tests ever helped. It was just his reality.
One thing was certain: if he didn't drink enough—if he didn't flood his system constantly...his body would start to crack.
Literally.
Like a drought was always waiting just beneath his skin.
And right now, his entire body was screaming for water.
With effort, he twisted his aching body toward the table nearby. A jug of water sat there, glass beside it. Without hesitation, he grabbed the jug and emptied it in one desperate gulp.
But the dryness only worsened, as if the water itself had been swallowed by a desert storm inside him.
'What the fuck is wrong with me?'
The jug was empty now, and he was still too weak to get up and search for more.
He glanced sideways and noticed a small fishbowl with a few goldfish swimming slowly inside.
He hesitated.
'Should I...?'
***
Outside the hospital, just a few blocks away, leaning against his car, a pale man in a worn police uniform dragged on a cigarette. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck, not from the heat, but from the icy chill that had settled over him as he stared at the tablet in his hands.
'Man… How the hell is this even possible?'
He flicked the screen. Satellite images of District 6 lay before him—a city reduced to rubble. Skyscrapers were toppled, streets cracked open like dried earth, and everywhere were the silent bodies of victims.
Some had their blood drained, their pale, hollowed faces frozen in terror.
His jaw tightened. The horror burned behind his eyes as he scrolled further.
A photograph appeared: a man walking calmly away from the ruins, carrying a severed head in one hand.
He knew what this man was. One of those beings who called themselves Viran.
Virans—rare, feared, and often misunderstood—were elemental beings born with powers far beyond human comprehension. They lived quietly among ordinary people, woven into the fabric of society.
Most civilians knew they existed: those strange individuals who could bend water, ignite flame, or fracture the earth with a glance. Some worked with the government—helping curb crime or advancing key industries. A handful were revered, even worshipped in secret.
But true knowledge about Virans—the origin of their power, the nature of their afflictions, their limits—remained buried beneath layers of rumor and half-truths. Most people went their entire lives without ever meeting one in person.
Only the highest levels of government and the upper echelons of law enforcement possessed fragments of the truth. And even they feared what they didn't fully understand—because within the Viran race existed a handful so powerful, so far removed from human limitation, they were spoken of like gods.
But still, for two powerful Virans to clash in the middle of a city—leveling an entire district and killing everyone in it—was beyond anything anyone could have imagined.
'I thought there were rules to prevent stuff like this?'
Kevin was still lost in thought when the sound of approaching footsteps pulled him back.
A woman rounded the corner, slipping her phone into her coat pocket as she walked briskly toward him. Her black ponytail swayed with each step, sharp and purposeful, like someone used to delivering bad news.
"What do we have?" he asked, voice low but steady.
"I just got word from the hospital," she replied. "Two survivors from District 6 are awake. The girl's selectively mute, but we might get something from the boy."
He nodded, eyes narrowing.
"That's something," he muttered, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground as he turned to enter the passenger seat.
She was already sliding into the driver's side, adjusting the mirror without a word. The engine roared to life as they pulled away from the curb and drove toward the hospital.
***
Minutes later, Kevin and his assistant entered the hospital and headed to the upper floors—Ward 19B. Kevin paused outside the door, a sudden chill crawling down his spine.
He swallowed hard and knocked twice before pushing the door open.
The cold hit him instantly.
'Why is it so damn cold in here?'
The small ward was brightly lit, the overhead lights humming with sterile intensity. On the table, an empty fishbowl sat askew—its glass streaked with droplets, and inside, two goldfish flapped weakly against the bare glass, their bodies twisting in slow, desperate motions.
'Okay, that's not creepy at all.'
Kevin's gaze shifted to the boy lying in the bed. He looked soaked, as if he'd just emerged from a storm or a desert mirage—wet and exhausted, skin clammy against the crisp hospital sheets.
Kevin's knowledge of Virans was limited but enough to recognize the signs. The boy was one of them. The pale draining that plagued Virans with an affinity to water was written clearly on his face and in the faint aura leaking around him.
'No one told me one of the survivors would be a Viran.
And why the hell is he leaking Vira like this?'
Ange stepped in, shivering.
"Woah, it's cold in here," she muttered, scanning the room before frowning at the inactive air conditioner. The eerie atmosphere made her skin crawl, and all she wanted was to get out.
The boy on the bed simply stared at them in silence, his expression unreadable. His ocean-blue eyes, clear and sharp despite the exhaustion etched across his face, seemed to hold a quiet storm beneath their calm surface.
The little girl on the adjacent bed had turned her back to them, clutching her worn teddy bear tightly. It was clear she wasn't in the mood for visitors.
Kevin cleared his throat, stepped forward, and held up his ID to begin the difficult conversation.
"Good day, Ren. Anya," Kevin said with practiced calm. "I'm Officer Kevin, and this is my assistant, Ange. We're here to ask a few questions. I promise we won't take much of your time—I know you're still recovering. May I sit?"
Ren stared at him silently for a moment before nodding faintly.
Kevin pulled up a chair beside Ren and gave a small nod to Ange. She clicked her pen, flipped to a fresh page in her notebook, and prepared to take notes.
"How are you, by the way, Ren?" Kevin asked, his voice softening with genuine concern.
Ren's eyes met Kevin's briefly before he spoke, his voice flat and dry.
"Thirsty."
Kevin exchanged a quick glance with Ange.
"Could you get him some water, please?" he asked.
Ange nodded and stepped out of the room to fetch a glass.
A minute later, Ange returned with a glass of water. Ren sat up slowly, a grimace flickering across his face. He took the glass without hesitation, drained it in one sharp gulp, and handed it back to her. Without a word, she set it down carefully on the table beside the empty fishbowl.
After a brief silence, Kevin cleared his throat and began—calm, but serious.
"You and your sister are in District 4 now. It's been a week since the incident."
He paused to let that settle, then added,
"You were both found at the edge of the wreckage and brought here by the Department of Civil Recovery. You've been unconscious ever since."
Ren blinked slowly, processing the information.
'Oh... so that's what happened.'
Kevin adjusted slightly in his seat.
"Can you please tell us what you remember—anything at all... before everything went… wrong?"
Ren didn't respond immediately. The silence stretched. Then:
"…It was Anya's birthday."
His voice sounded detached, almost distant—like he was recounting someone else's memory.
"My family and I were at the park. We were just about to head home when a strange man came up to Mom. I didn't hear everything, but they were arguing. Then..."
His brows knit. His voice dropped.
"...He did something. I don't know what it was. But the clouds—they changed. They went dark... but not just dark. They were covered in something. A veil. A veil of blood."
Ange's hand froze over her notebook. Ren continued, barely blinking.
"It started to rain. Thick. Red. It wasn't water.
It was warm. It smelled like iron. People started screaming... running... but it didn't help."
His eyes locked on Kevin's now. There was no fear in them—only a deep, still horror.
"It wasn't the sky that changed. It felt like the world itself was shifting—something ancient, something wrong, unraveling beneath our feet. And then I heard it..."