She turned away from the desk and headed toward a restricted elevator at the end of the corridor.
Two elite guards stood watch, their armor embedded with glowing sigils.
They stepped aside immediately.
The elevator descended.
Past administrative levels.
Past tactical command.
Past armory vaults.
Into the medical sector.
The atmosphere changed. The air here was cooler. Sterile. Quiet in a different way — not oppressive like the Assembly Hall, but fragile. Controlled.
The Imperial First-Class Medical Wing was reserved for individuals of extreme importance: Divine Generals, royal bloodlines, or strategic assets deemed irreplaceable.
Rows of white corridors extended under soft blue lighting. Advanced life-support constructs floated beside sealed rooms, projecting holographic readouts of vitals and Aether fluctuations.
Yurei stopped in front of one particular door.
Room 01-A. First-Class Preservation Unit.
She placed her palm against the access panel. It scanned her Aether signature and slid open soundlessly.
Inside, the room was spacious and immaculate. A large reinforced window overlooked the distant skyline of the Capital.
Sunlight filtered in gently, illuminating the central medical bed surrounded by floating diagnostic arrays.
On that bed lay a small girl.
She looked no older than eight.
Silvery-white hair spilled across the pillow like moonlight. Her skin was pale but flawless. Long lashes rested peacefully against her cheeks.
A faint oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose, though the machines indicated she no longer truly required it.
She appeared to be sleeping.
But she had not woken in two years.
The monitors displayed stable vitals.
Heartbeat steady.
Brain activity present.
Yet she remained in a coma.
Yurei stepped closer.
Her usually sharp posture softened — just slightly.
The girl's small hands rested atop the blanket. One of them twitched faintly, as though responding to something far away.
"You're still quiet as ever," Yurei murmured.
No response.
Only the gentle hum of machinery. The girl was not officially recorded in public archives. Even among the Divine Generals, only a handful knew she existed.
A survivor of an incident erased from history.
An anomaly.
A vessel.
Yurei reached out and gently brushed a strand of silver hair from the girl's face.
"I activated it," she said softly. "The full power."
Her Blessing pulsed faintly beneath her collar.
"For the first time… I might actually have a chance."
Her gaze lowered.
"Hiro Yukishima."
The name lingered in the sterile air.
"The Aether he released that day… it resonated."
Not just with her.
With this room.
With the sleeping child.
When Hiro's power erupted during the battle in Central City, the monitors here had spiked violently.
For the first time in two years, the girl's brainwaves had surged.
As if responding to a familiar frequency.
Yurei's expression darkened with thought.
"You reacted to him."
The machines hummed softly.
"Who is he… really?"
Outside the window, the Capital shimmered in the fading afternoon light.
Inside the room, the little girl's fingers twitched again — more noticeably this time.
Yurei's eyes sharpened.
"…So you felt it too."
She straightened. "I will fix that region. I will silence the Council. And then…"
Her gaze returned to the sleeping child.
"I will wake you."
For the briefest moment, one of the monitors emitted a slightly irregular spike.
And deep beneath layers of sedation and sealed consciousness—
A faint pulse of unfamiliar Aether stirred.