Amidst the Waves [Wuthering Waves]

It was a serene afternoon that lulled the world into a gentle rhythm. The sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its golden rays spilling over the ridges of Mount Firmament.

The air was crisp yet tinged with warmth, whispering faintly of an approaching winter. Kyorin moved deftly among the rocky outcrops, plucking herbs with practised precision.

His gloved fingers brushed against the shrinking patches of greenery, a faint sigh escaping him. 'Winter is on the horizon,' he mused, noticing how the herbs grew sparser each day.

Setting aside his tools and freshly gathered harvest, he focused on another task. It was time to hunt, not just for sustenance but for the guests who would soon arrive.

Crackle-crackle.

The fire embers danced and crackled, their warmth contrasting with the crisp mountain air. Five quails, skewered and seasoned, roasted over the flames. Their savoury aroma mingled with the earthy scent of the mountain ridge.

Kyorin, seated beside the fire, tilted his head at the sound of hurried footsteps. A voice called out, playful yet familiar. "Xiao Ky!"

His brow arched ever so slightly, betraying his curiosity. 'That's new,' he thought, turning his gaze to the approaching figure. Changli, with her ever-spirited energy, quickened her pace, closing the distance.

"What's with the nickname?" Kyorin's tone, as cold as a winter draft, cut through the moment. Yet, as always, it failed to deter Changli, who had grown accustomed to his frosty demeanour.

Scratching her cheek, she offered a sheepish smile. "Well, since you don't like Ky-chan, I've decided on Xiao Ky— 'Little Kyorin.'"

His eyes, as unreadable as a polished mask, rested on her. "You won't stop until you give me a nickname, will you?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth but tinged with resigned understanding.

Changli nodded with a grin. "You're sharp," she affirmed.

Kyorin could have countered with logic and could have pointed out the absurdity of nicknames when they hadn't even exchanged first names in earnest.

Yet he held his tongue. He knew all too well that Changli's persistence was a force of nature—unyielding, relentless, and oddly admirable in its way.

With a small sigh, he returned his attention to the roasting quails, letting the conversation drift into the crisp mountain air as another guest showed up.

"Hmm, are we expecting additional guests today?" Xuanmiao's husky, weathered voice broke the serene crackle of the fire as his gaze fell upon the surplus of quail roasting over the flames.

Kyorin, crouched near the fire, didn't look up. "Yes, I've called upon some performers," he replied simply, his voice as cool and detached as the mountain breeze.

Xuanmiao arched a grizzled brow, his curiosity piqued. "Hoh, and who might these performers be?"

"Some familiar faces," Kyorin replied, his tone giving away little.

The elder leaned forward slightly, stroking his thin beard as if the motion might conjure clarity. "How familiar?"

Kyorin glanced at him, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "That depends entirely on how they choose to present themselves."

Xuanmiao chuckled softly, the sound gravelly yet amused. 'This brat… Which poor souls has he cornered this time?' he wondered, the pieces falling into place.

"But," Changli interjected, tilting her head in genuine confusion, "I thought performers charge commissions to perform. What did you offer them?"

"Merc—," Kyorin replied with deliberate calm, the weight of his words lingering like the edge of a blade.

But before his words could fully conjure, Xuanmiao cut in, his voice suddenly louder, though laced with sly humour. "Money! Yes, money! He offered them money."

Kyorin's expression remained impassive, the stoic mask he always wore unbroken. Yet, the faintest glimmer in his eyes betrayed an amusement so rare it caught Xuanmiao's attention. The elder's brows lifted slightly as he observed the fleeting spark.

'Hmm, so that icy facade is not impregnable,' Xuanmiao mused, his intrigue deepening. It was an unexpected discovery, though he didn't consider for a moment that it might be a deliberate move from the navy-haired brat.

Changli, however, furrowed her brows, glancing between the two. Something about Xuanmiao's hasty deflection didn't sit right with her, but she let it slide, for now.

"Speaking of performance," Kyorin thought it would be wise to complete a few tasks before those goons for guests arrived.

Taking a rare initiative, he started a conversation, saying, "Elder Xuanmiao, do you remember our discussion from yesterday?"

Xuanmiao, growing cautious of Kyorin's uncharacteristic eagerness, was sceptical but decided to humour the young man's curiosity.

After all, he believed that this was a child's excitement to showcase discoveries. "Indeed," he replied, his voice steady but watchful.

Kyorin's gaze shifted to Changli, the winter in his voice never wavering as he continued, "I believe one time you asked me what my forte was, correct?"

Changli blinked, caught off guard by the question. She nodded slowly, "I did... but…" Her voice trailed off as she glanced uneasily toward Elder Xuanmiao. "Will it be okay?" she asked, her uncertainty palpable.

Xuanmiao, sensing something unusual in Kyorin's tone and behaviour, felt his caution heighten. The young man was acting strangely open—an approach so foreign to his usual demeanour that it almost felt alien to him.

In Kyorin's mind, DEVA's voice cut through the silence, dripping with her usual sardonic tone: "You know, you're quite the manic for pulling stunts like this," DEVA reprimanded him, her thoughts like a sharp, biting wind.

"Someone as antisocial as you thinking you can just open up... Do you truly believe you won't be suspected of ulterior motives?" He remarked, questioning his intelligence for something so stupid.

Her mocking tone lingered as she assessed his behaviour. 'This is amateurish,' she added with a dismissive huff. 'You're acting far too open for someone whose usual demeanour is the complete opposite.'

Kyorin couldn't help but smirk inwardly, aware of her judgment but undeterred. He was steadfast in his methods, his confidence radiating like a calm flame.

"I believe it's better to say it now," he said coolly, "rather than wait until they arrive, I don't want to speak of my Forte in their presence."

Xuanmiao's sharp eyes narrowed, the weight of Kyorin's words pricking his curiosity. "Alright then, who exactly are our guests?"

Kyorin's voice remained level, almost nonchalant, as he replied, "Just some uncles who cornered a kid in an alley."

He paused, letting the fire's crackle fill the moment, before adding with faint amusement, "Only for the kid to be saved by a husky old man."

Recognition dawned on Xuanmiao's face. Stroking his beard, he chuckled dryly. "Ah, those two." Though he now understood who Kyorin referred to, the purpose behind inviting such hooligans eluded him.

Still, he decided not to question it further. Instead, he shifted the conversation back to where it was earlier. "But… are you okay with revealing your Forte to us?" His probing eyes glinted with intrigue.

"No." Kyorin's curt reply was delivered without hesitation.

"Then why?" Xuanmiao pressed, his tone tinged with both confusion and suspicion.

Kyorin's cold demeanour remained unwavering. "Well, I can't prove you wrong about yesterday's musings without explaining what my Forte is supposed to do."

Xuanmiao's lips curled into a knowing smirk. 'So that's his angle—just enough to keep us curious without giving away the whole game.' Now this was much Kyorin-like.

"Well then, stop being coy and spill the beans already," Xuanmiao urged. Beside him, Changli strained her ears, her curiosity all but palpable. She had been eager to uncover the mystery of Kyorin's Forte for as long as she could remember after their first fight.

"Ingan (人間)," Kyorin replied, the single word slipping from his lips like a riddle carved in stone.

Changli tilted her head, utterly lost, but Xuanmiao's eyes narrowed, his mind churning. He mused aloud, his voice heavy with thought, "Ingan, huh? The transient nature of life and the inevitability of decay within human and natural systems."

"Can you tell me what your element is?" Xuanmiao asked, his voice steady, though curiosity flickered in his aged eyes.

"Havoc," Kyorin replied, his tone as cold and unyielding as ever.

Xuanmiao nodded, the answer fitting seamlessly with his perception of the young man. "Makes sense."

"And how do you plan to prove me wrong?" Xuanmiao pressed further, leaning forward slightly.

"Havoc essentially means destruction," Kyorin explained, his voice measured, "and the abilities Resonators of this element gain are based on aspects of destruction—or aspects of havoc, however, you wish to phrase it."

Xuanmiao and Changli both nodded. This explanation aligned with the fundamental workings of Solaris III.

A Resonator's elemental abilities could cause elemental damage, but their Resonance skill was never a direct manifestation of the element itself.

Instead, it embodied an aspect of the element or a physical interpretation, materialized in a form that best suited its wielder's perception of it.

As Kyorin spoke, Xuanmiao's thoughts began to wander, caught in the currents of memory. 'Havoc...' he mused, a flicker of reminiscence sparking in his mind.

He recalled an old friend—a kindred spirit who once bore the same element. 'Old friend, you possessed the flames of destruction as your Resonance skill when you wielded the Havoc element.'

This was the essence of Resonance abilities. Flames, the most destructive among the five common elements, could be shaped into a skill for a Havoc Resonator. It was never just fire—it was destruction refined into purpose.

"My Resonance can decay the ability of another Resonator, nullifying their power almost instantly," Kyorin explained, his voice calm, almost indifferent, as if speaking about the weather.

Xuanmiao's expression hardened. Such an ability wasn't something one spoke of lightly. It bordered on the extraordinary—a power that could be considered the pinnacle of Havoc, an anti-resonance ability.

Yet, it puzzled him. For a one-star Resonator like Kyorin to possess such a rare and potent skill seemed... unorthodox, if not impossible.

"Ingan..."

The word reverberated in Xuanmiao's mind, like a bell tolling in realization. Slowly, the pieces fell into place, and he nodded to himself as understanding dawned. 'Ah, so that's why.'

"Ingan isn't just a word," Xuanmiao began, his tone thoughtful. "It's a philosophical idea—a reflection of the balance between humanity and nature.

"It emphasizes the transient nature of life and the inevitability of decay within all systems, human and natural alike." He continued speaking about the philosophy. "It's a call to embrace harmony with these cycles, rather than fight against them."

His gaze drifted toward Kyorin, who stood silent, his cold demeanour betraying no emotion. 'It's said that nature balances humans, and humans, in turn, balance nature.'

The philosophy of Ingan aligned perfectly with Kyorin's Resonance ability. To decay and nullify was not just destruction; it was a return to balance, a force that dissolved what was excessive or unnatural.

Xuanmiao mused further. If Kyorin had been a five-star Resonator with such a skill, it would have been an anomaly—an unnatural imbalance in itself.

But as a one-star, his powerful Resonance Skill made sense, aligning with the philosophy of Ingan: transient, humble, and yet capable of resetting even the strongest force back to equilibrium.

"Changli," Kyorin called out, his voice as cold and detached as ever.

"Yes?" she responded, turning toward him.

"What is your Resonance Skill?" he asked directly, without preamble.

Changli hesitated, her lips pressing together in thought. It wasn't an unreasonable question—after all, Kyorin had just shared his own.

Yet, the personal nature of Resonance's abilities made her pause. Her uncertainty didn't go unnoticed.

"Tell him," Xuanmiao interjected, his tone firm but reassuring.

Gazing at her teacher for a moment, Changli nodded. "It's called Eternal Blaze," she began, her voice steady despite her initial hesitancy. "I can compress flames into delicate feather-shaped projectiles."

Kyorin's eyes subtly shifted, drawn to her left hand and the tips of her hair. He noticed what she likely wished to hide—the signs of a Resonator struggling with control.

Her salmon-pink hair had begun to fade at the tips, the once-vibrant hue dimmed by the creeping effect of her ability.

On her left arm, faint feather-like burn marks glowed with a fiery luminescence, a physical manifestation of Eternal Blaze. These marks were more pronounced now than they had been before, evidence of her growing struggle.

Though she tried to stand tall, her hands betrayed her, trembling ever so slightly. Kyorin's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he spoke. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

Changli looked down, caught off guard by the observation. "I can handle it," she said quickly, her tone defensive but lacking conviction.

Xuanmiao watched the exchange silently, his old eyes narrowing. He could see it too—the toll Eternal Blaze was taking on her. Yet, he chose to remain quiet, trusting the moment to unfold between his student and Kyorin.

"I know I might be asking too much, given your condition, but can you create one single fire feather for me?" Kyorin's tone carried a rare hesitance, his normally unwavering gaze betraying a faint tremor.

It was clear this request didn't come easily to him. His eyes softened as he added, "I promise I'll take full responsibility if anything happens to you."

Changli turned away, hiding her conflicted expression. "Who wants you to take responsibility, huh?" she muttered, her voice laced with feigned annoyance.

After a pause, she sighed, her bangs concealing her face as she extended her hand. With her palm facing upward, a fiery feather began to materialize.

Kyorin approached slowly, his movements deliberate. He placed his hand below hers—not touching but hovering close, mirroring her gesture with his palm upturned.

"W-What are you…" Changli began to question, but Kyorin silenced her with a simple gesture—his finger pressed to his lips.

"Shh."

Changli's protests died on her lips as she began to notice something unusual. Her body, which normally grew unbearably warm when channelling her Resonance, felt… cool. The oppressive heat that always accompanied her ability was absent.

'Eh? I don't feel hot,' she thought, her brows furrowing in surprise. Instead, a soothing coolness spread through her hand, counteracting the strain she typically endured.

From the side, Xuanmiao observed intently, his keen eyes noting the shift in the air around them. The heat from Changli's flames hadn't vanished entirely—it was dissipating into the surrounding atmosphere.

'So, it doesn't eradicate the energy,' Xuanmiao mused, his internal tone thoughtful. 'It disperses it into the surrounding.'

'Still,' his sharp gaze narrowed. Something about Kyorin's demonstration didn't fully convince him. 'He isn't proving me wrong,' Xuanmiao thought, stroking his chin. 'He's simply practically applying his Forte—helping Changli manage her physical condition. Nothing extraordinary.'

As though sensing the old man's doubts, Kyorin met Xuanmiao's eyes briefly before his focus shifted to the feather hovering between his and Changli's hands. Almost instinctively, Xuanmiao's attention followed.

"What the…" Xuanmiao's eyes widened as he stepped closer, his composure visibly shaken.

Changli, too, turned her gaze toward the fiery feather. At first, she couldn't discern what had caught Xuanmiao's attention. But as her teacher's next words cut through the air, realization dawned.

"Such stability," Xuanmiao murmured, astonished.

"Eh?" Changli blinked in confusion before looking back at the feather more carefully. And then she saw it. The flames forming the feather weren't flickering or distorting as they normally would. They held their shape perfectly, steady and unyielding.

"Your power…" Changli muttered, her wide eyes shifting to Kyorin. "It's helping it maintain its shape. But… how?"

Kyorin didn't answer immediately. His attention remained fixed on the feather, his hands steady as if cradling something fragile yet powerful. The air around them hummed faintly, the energy palpable but contained.

Xuanmiao, standing nearby, watched with wide eyes. His thoughts churned as he pieced together the phenomenon unfolding before him.

The stability of the feather wasn't natural—it defied the very nature of Changli's Forte, which thrived on intensity and instability.

As realization dawned, Xuanmiao's voice cut through the silence. "You're using your Resonance skill in a way that's reducing the normal rate of decay to nearly zero."

Changli blinked, her head snapping toward her teacher. "What? But… how is that even possible?"

Kyorin finally spoke, his tone calm yet deliberate. "Havoc isn't just about breaking things apart. To me, it's about understanding how they fall apart. If I can control that process…" He gestured subtly toward the feather. "…I can preserve instead of destroy."

Xuanmiao's expression hardened as he absorbed Kyorin's words. "That's… beyond what most Resonators can achieve. You're essentially manipulating the essence of decay itself, slowing it to a crawl."

The old man's gaze flicked between Kyorin and the feather, his astonishment evident. This wasn't merely a demonstration of Havoc's destructive nature—it was overriding its purpose.

By applying his Resonance skill with precision, Kyorin had achieved a feat that blurred the line between destruction and preservation.

Changli stared at the feather in awe, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're not just stabilizing my flames… you're preserving them as if they're immune to decay."

Kyorin nodded slightly. "Everything follows a pattern of Ingan. All things crumble. But, what if that rate of crumbling could be slowed down?"

He paused, his tone steady but weighted. "That's what I am doing—manipulating my own Forte to a level where the decay is virtually nonexistent."

"Instead of Havoc, now it's preservation—a complete contradiction to what my element and Resonance are supposed to be," Kyorin simply explained.

Xuanmiao's eyes flickered as he recalled Kyorin's words from the prior day: "Cognitive adaptability is a must for one to realize their Forte's full potential."

Kyorin's gaze turned distant as he spoke with finality. "This is my Forte."

As Kyorin reached this point, he suddenly felt his blood stir, a strange sensation coursing through him.

Unknowingly, the words escaped his lips, whispering in a tone audible only to himself. "I call it: Mandate of Shā (杀命令 Shā mìnglìng—The Order of Death)."

To be continued...