Jewel eyed Xaden, seemingly awaiting a reaction.
Instead, his lips pursed.
'Huh.'
If he were to be honest, between his ability getting a god-level ranking and being whatever the Crucible called a chaos incarnate, his being 'kinda dead' honestly wasn't very surprising.
He didn't flinch at Jewel's explanation. His chest rose and fell steadily; his eyes were curious. Jewel, on the other hand, frowned, once again perplexed as she studied his reaction.
People tended not to react so calmly after having been told they were meant to be in their funeral spire in that very moment. She couldn't help but wonder just what the young man had faced in his life.
"Within human DNA," she began, regardless, tapping away at her tablet, "there exists a dormant anomaly. A mutated cellular structure embedded at the genetic level. Or MC for short."
She tapped the tablet lightly, and a projection flickered to life between them. A rotating strand of DNA appeared, magnified, sections highlighted in faint gold.
"This is the basis of all awakened abilities."
The strand zoomed in further, isolating a single, faintly blinking point.
Xaden leaned forward despite himself, visibly intrigued. He had never really understood the point of Threshing. If everybody already had these dormant abilities, why couldn't regular people just awaken them at their own time instead of having to risk their lives in Threshing?
"Although the mutated cells don't function like a normal cell. It doesn't divide, it doesn't degrade, and in most individuals… it never activates."
Xaden frowned. "So… what does it do?"
"It responds," she answered. "Under extreme stress conditions—physical, psychological, or environmental—the cell begins to awaken. It restructures neural pathways, amplifies cognitive processing, and manifests what we classify as 'abilities.'"
Jewel's tone hardly changed. Calm. Almost detached, even, like she was explaining something she had repeated a good portion of her life.
"Threshing exists to force that awakening."
Xaden's jaw tightened slightly, feeling something he knew all too well somewhere deep inside his heart. "And if it doesn't?"
Jewel paused, an unreadable expression forming in her face.
"Then the candidate dies inside the simulation." She deadpanned.
Suddenly, Xaden could feel the weight of silence fill the room. Almost like a physical force, restless, forcing out the air inside his lungs.
"In your case…" She continued, glancing down at the glass tablet again, her brows drawing together slightly. "Your readings during the Crucible showed no activation."
Xaden blinked. "Meaning?"
"No neural spike. No special resonance. No cellular response. Nothing." She looked back at him now, dark eyes studying. "Your vitals flatlined for a period of forty-three minutes."
The words landed heavier than anything else she'd said.
Flatlined.
Whatever that meant, it sounded bad.
"You were classified as non-responsive," she added. "From our perspective, you did not survive the first crucible."
Xaden felt something cold settle in his chest.
"…But I'm here." He dug his fingernails into his palms to make sure he would feel it.
"Yes." Her gaze didn't waver. "That's the anomaly."
She tapped the screen again, and the DNA projection shifted—highlighting the same dormant cell. Still dim. Still inactive.
"Even now, there is no measurable activity in your preternatural structure. By all known metrics, you should not have awakened an ability."
Xaden stared at the projection.
No activity?
That didn't make any sense.
He could still feel it—the faint, coiled presence under his skin. The echo of something vast and burning, just out of reach.
But she couldn't see it.
No one could but he.
"To be clear," she continued, her voice sharpening slightly, "your survival is… unexpected. But without proper activation, it is unlikely you will progress through subsequent stages."
"As you know the first Crucible is only the beginning," she elaborated. "Stage one of Threshing identifies viable candidates. The following stages refine, strengthen, and, in some cases…" she paused briefly, "…eliminate instability."
Jewel's eyes flicked over him again, almost measuring. Xaden wondered if this was how she was with all her patients, going from a simple, empathetic young lady to a distant professional in her field.
"You should prepare yourself."
He let out a slow breath, his mind racing.
He was dead for forty-three seconds.
No activation.
No ability.
And yet…
"To us," she said over her shoulder, "you are a weak candidate who should not have survived."
The weight of the words lingered in the air a while after Jewel had said them. He didn't believe them, of course, not unless everything about being the chaos incarnate and harbinger of whatever had all been a near-death infused hallucination, which, honestly, may actually be true.
But he felt it now. This feeling under his skin he had never felt before. A power, however weak and insubstantial, a power no less, settling somewhere between his fingertips, waiting for him to wield.
He felt it deep in his bones; he was changed. Altered.
Awakened.
The people had no clue about his evaluation. Meaning wherever he had been sent to after opening Heaven's Door was somewhere not even the Crucible had anticipated.
'This could be better, actually.'
He would be placed in a dangerous situation both during the remaining days of Threshing and in the war college if people were to find out about his ability getting an ancient god-level ranking. Xaden would just have to lie low, at least for now, till he had accumulated enough strength.
The door opened without a sound.
Xaden stopped breathing.
It wasn't the movement that drew his attention—it was the shift in the air. Subtle. Almost nonexistent. But something about the room felt… tighter. Like the space itself had gained awareness.
Even Jewel paused.
Xaden turned towards the one who had just walked inside.
The man standing at the doorway wasn't large. If anything, he looked almost unremarkable at first glance—lean build, relaxed posture, hands resting loosely at his sides, maybe a little handsome with his raven black hair and stormy grey eyes, not that he cared much.
But the moment Xaden's eyes settled on him, something in his chest tightened.
Perhaps it was due to his newly awakened senses being enhanced, but he could practically feel the waves of raw power emanating from him. Raw, compressed power, like a blade sheathed too tightly, every deadly edge hidden but unmistakably there.
The man's gaze flicked to him, his bored grey eyes settling on him.
He said one word. "Awake."
His voice was low, even, carrying no emotion.
Xaden eyed him a bit, observing the golden markings that ran along his forearms and lower neck, just reaching above the point where his dark leather clothes couldn't hide.
The healer beside Xaden's bed slightly straightened. "First Lieutenant Ryven." She greeted.
So he was the Lieutenant.
It made sense.
Lieutenant Ryven fully stepped into the room, boots making soft contact against the sterile floor. His presence didn't grow—but somehow, it filled more of the space anyway.
His eyes lingered on him for a second longer than necessary.
"You have five minutes." He said, already turning back towards the door.
Xaden blinked. "Five minutes for—"
"Get dressed," Ryven didn't look back. "And meet me outside."
No explanation.
No room for argument.
Xaden was dumbfounded; he hadn't even fully processed the fact that he had survived, let alone whatever came next.
"I just woke up," he said, a bit sharper than he intended. "I can barely even—"
Ryven's stormy gaze met his again, and that was all it took for the rest of the sentence to die in Xaden's throat.
Not fear, but something far deeper; instinct.
The same instinct that had kept him alive in the first Crucible. The same instinct that had helped him survive by himself all those years alone in sector 45 screamed one thing very clearly: Do. Not. Push. Him.
Kael held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded once, as if confirming something only he understood.
"Five minutes," he repeated.
Then he was gone.
The pressure in the room lifted instantly.
Xaden let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his pulse quickening, slowly fading.
"…Who the hell was that?" he muttered.
Jewel let out a huff of air, once again fiddling with the piercing on her lower lip, seemingly lost in thought.
"Lieutenant Ryven," she said calmly. "One of Sector 45's strongest."
A pause.
Then, almost as an afterthought:
"Try not to keep him waiting." She once again gave him a reassuring smile, assuming her original state of being the cute Healer.
'Not that I care.' He lied to himself.
Xaden glanced toward the closed door.
That same instinct told him something else. Lieutenant Ryven was not someone to be kept waiting.