The tension outside Zen's room wasn't just thick—it was suffocating.
His parents' voices, sharp and raw, cut through the sterile quiet of the hospital corridor.
"I told you this would happen!"
His mother's voice trembled between anger and something deeper, something close to fear.
"You keep filling his head with that Exterminator nonsense, and now look where he is, on a hospital bed and it's all your fault!"
His father stood stiff, jaw clenched. He didn't snap back immediately. Just exhaled, slow and measured, like he was holding something back.
"I didn't force him into anything," he finally said, voice low.
"Zen makes his own choices."
"Oh, please." Her laugh was bitter.
"You adore this, admit it. The idea of him following in your footsteps—just like he did."
Silence.
A long, stretching silence.
Zen's father didn't speak right away. Didn't move. But the shift in the air was palpable. The weight behind her words sat heavy between them.
When he did answer, his voice was quieter.
"Zen is not me." A pause. Then, firmer, "And he's not him either."
His mother swallowed hard, looking away.
The argument could've kept going. Probably would've. But neither of them wanted to be the one to say the next name.
What neither of them knew, though, was that just a few feet away, Zen was awake—awake and listening, staring blankly at his bedsheets while the heart monitor beside him beeped a steady, hollow rhythm.
Nath and Lyra sat beside him, tense and silent. Neither of them asked if he was okay.
They already knew the answer.
Zen exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the IV stand beside him.
His fingers tightened around the cool metal as his jaw clenched.
"Have they no shame?"
With a deep breath, he pushed himself off the bed, steadying his legs beneath him. The IV stand wobbled slightly as he took a step forward, the dull beep of the heart monitor matching the thudding in his chest.
Nath and Lyra noticed immediately.
"Yo dude, what are you—" Nath started, but Zen raised a hand, cutting him off.
"I just need to deal with this real quick," he muttered.
Lyra looked unconvinced, stepping in his way. "You sure?"
Zen didn't answer. He just gave her a look—one that made her hesitate just long enough for him to step past her and reach for the door.
As soon as he opened it, the voices outside became clearer.
"—because of you, he—"
"That's not fair, you—"
Zen's eyes hardened.
"Enough."
His voice wasn't raised, but it cut through the tension like a blade. His parents immediately fell silent, their heads snapping toward him in shock.
He stood there in the doorway, one hand gripping the IV stand, the other braced against the doorframe.
His face was unreadable, but the way his brows furrowed, the way his fingers curled into his palm—it was clear he was holding back a lot more than just exhaustion.
A heavy silence fell between them. His mother looked away first, exhaling through her nose as if trying to reel back whatever words she had left.
His father, however, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably but saying nothing.
Zen's grip tightened on the IV stand. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.
"Not here. Not now."
Neither of them moved.
Zen barely had time to react before his mother closed the distance between them.
Her arms wrapped around him, trembling as she pulled him close, burying her face into his shoulder.
She just stood there, holding him like he'd disappear if she let go.
Zen stiffened. He had been ready for an argument—for shouting, accusations, or another wave of disappointment. But this?
His mother wasn't scolding him. She wasn't blaming anyone.
She was just… relieved.
A deep sigh left her, warm against his shoulder.
"You're okay…" Her voice cracked slightly. "Thank god…"
Zen's annoyance wavered. He let out a small breath through his nose, his shoulders easing just a little. His hands hesitated before slowly wrapping around her, returning the embrace.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine."
She held him tighter.
His father, standing a few feet away, remained silent. His gaze was unreadable, but his jaw was tense, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.
Zen finally pulled away, just enough to look at them both. His expression hardened, though there was still a lingering softness in his eyes.
"But seriously…" he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "The hell are you two doing, arguing like that in a hospital?"
His mother wiped at her eyes quickly, avoiding his gaze. His father crossed his arms but said nothing.
Zen shook his head.
"I wake up to a slap, and now I get front-row seats to this?"
He gestured vaguely between them.
"You guys could at least try to act like functional adults."
Another heavy silence settled in. His mother exhaled shakily, looking down.
His father clenched his jaw, but his expression shifted slightly—less defensive, more… regretful.
Zen sighed, feeling the exhaustion creeping back into his bones.
"Whatever. Just… not here. Not now."
He turned, dragging the IV stand with him as he stepped back into his hospital room.
Before he shut the door, he hesitated—just for a second.
"…I'm okay, Mom." His voice was quieter this time. "Really."
Then, with a soft click, he closed the door, leaving them outside in silence.
Zen stepped back into the room, rolling his shoulders with a tired sigh. He barely made it two steps before stretching his arms over his head.
"Alright, that was exhausting. I'm going back to sleep."
Nath and Lyra just stared at him.
"…Dude, you just woke up," Nath said, eyebrows raised.
Lyra crossed her arms. "Are you serious?"
Zen was already making his way back to the bed, dragging the IV stand along with him. He flopped down onto the mattress with zero hesitation.
"My body's still sore," he muttered, pulling the blanket over himself.
"Wake me up when something not stressful happens." he gestures with a dismissive wave, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Nath scoffed. "Yeah, good luck with that."
After Nath and Lyra had left, the room fell into silence.
Zen peeked over at the door, making sure they were really gone before flipping onto his back.
He stared up at the ceiling, letting out a deep sigh as he draped an arm over his forehead.
Today had been way too much. His head was pounding just thinking about it.
Zen lay there for a moment, his eyes wandered around the room. Then, the thought hit him—Where's the blade?Ashen?
He sat up slightly, glancing around, but the feisty broadsword was nowhere to be found. Was it still with him? Did someone move it? He frowned, feeling a bit uneasy. Where did it go?
"That lump of metal... The nerve... What was that about earlier anyway?
Zen sighed, feeling exhausted just thinking about it.
" Wait... What's...this?"
Zen's eyes drifted to the wrist of his right arm, a dark grey wristband wrapped around it.
"That's weird... How come I only noticed this just now? But.....then again, I didn't have much time to think that well after waking up"
Zen recalls what had transpired after he was awaken from his long slumber, Vivian's minor tantrum, Nath and Lyra's visit and just recently, his parent's argument.
Zen's train of thought was broken when his father walked in, his face still carrying that same uneasy expression.
Zen raised an eyebrow as his father closed the door behind him and walked toward the bed.
"I need to talk to you,"
his father said, his voice low.
"Just the two of us. And... it's best you keep this between us, especially from your mother."
Zen sat up slightly, unsure of where this was going. He nodded, motioning for him to continue.
His father kneeled beside the bed, the heavy fur coat he wore draping onto the floor.
The Pillar insignia on his shoulder stood out, a mark of his high rank, while the scar across his jaw—etched deep from years of battle—caught the light, adding a somber edge to his presence.
Zen looked up at him, a sense of unease washing over him. His father's expression was serious, almost unreadable. For a long moment, they just stared at each other before his father spoke.
"Zen," his voice was low, measured, "do you know about the broadsword?"
Zen blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. "The weird looking stick?" he asked, voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.
His father continued, his gaze narrowing. "Yes, the weapon you were holding onto yesterday."
"That... geonite blade. I need to know if you've resonated with it."
Zen's heart skipped a beat. The question hit him harder than expected, was he perhaps talking about Ashen? He didn't respond immediately, but the weight of his father's words sank in.
His father was watching him closely now, waiting for an answer.
Zen nodded and raised his arm, showing the wristband that was once the powerful broadsword, still processing the weight of the conversation.
But his father's eyes narrowed slightly, a sense of unease creeping into his features. After a moment, he exhaled deeply, as if struggling with something he wasn't sure how to say.
"I know what you're thinking," his father began slowly.
"But what you've gotten yourself involved in... it's more than you realize." His gaze dropped briefly before returning to Zen.
"That sword... I'm sure you've felt it—what it can do. You've seen what happened back at that building."
Zen's chest tightened, but he said nothing, letting his father continue.
"That weapon..." His father's voice softened, "it was never meant for anyone to wield. Especially not... you." He let that hang in the air, a deep, unspoken weight settling in the room.
Zen furrowed his brows, but his father wasn't finished yet.
"If you truly resonated with it—well, it's not just about the power. It's a mark. A target on your back. And not just from golems."
His father's tone became more cautious, his gaze darting for a second as if searching for the right words.
"There are others... people, organizations out there.. they're not easy to spot. They don't play by the same rules."
Zen's head spun. His father's words left an odd sense of ambiguity in the air, as if there was something more his father wasn't saying but couldn't fully reveal.
The vague reference to these "others" didn't sit right with Zen, and the fact that his father's tone grew guarded made him uneasy.
"You don't fully understand the dangers yet,"
his father added, his voice taking on a quieter edge.
"But I'll be keeping an eye on you. The Order will protect you... just know that as long as the Order and I exist, we won't let anyone lay a finger on you."
Zen didn't know how to respond, the uncertainty lingering in his chest. Was this all truly as dangerous as he was making it sound? And who exactly were these people that would come after him?
The air in the room thickened, and Zen felt a growing tension, something unresolved between them. His father looked at him one last time, his eyes filled with a quiet resolve, before he stood to leave. Zen's mind raced as he tried to make sense of it all.
His father paused at the door, his hand resting on the frame.
"Goodbye, Zen," he said quietly, almost as if it was a weight he had to force out.
"The Order will pick you up tomorrow once you're discharged. I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll take care of it."
Zen could only nod, but his father's next words caught him off guard.
He let out a low sigh, a flicker of something between frustration and resignation in his eyes.
"For the sake of the secret between us," his father continued,
"the Order will make sure to cover up your... involvement. We'll spin it, make up something believable, maybe say it's for a special summer program, or something like that. But you should know..."
His voice dropped, a hint of a warning there.
"Your mother's not going to buy it easily. She's tough, and she's smart. I'm barely convinced she'll be persuaded on the first try."
Zen absorbed the words in silence, his father's tone heavy with an undercurrent of stress.
His father gave him one last look before exiting, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.
Zen lay there, deep in thought, his mind still swirling with the weight of everything that had been said. But he was certainly beginning to understand that he couldn't escape what was coming next.