The tent was quiet.
Then suddenly— it wasn’t.
Shuan remained seated in silence, but his body no longer obeyed that silence.
Sweat slowly gathered across his forehead.
Tiny droplets.
In this freezing world, where people lost fingers to cold before they ever sweated… it was unnatural.
His breathing became uneven.
At first he tried to hide it, keeping his shoulders still, forcing slow breaths through clenched teeth.
But the heat inside him kept rising.
Burning.
Spreading beneath his skin like fire trapped inside ice.
“No… not now…” he muttered quietly under his breath.
His fingers dug into the thick animal fur beneath him as if trying to ground himself.
The air inside the tent suddenly felt suffocating.
Too warm.
Too small.
Hol noticed immediately.
The old man’s eyes narrowed sharply.
Then he stood up so suddenly that the wooden staff in his hand slammed hard against the floor.
“What are you doing to yourself?!” For the first time since meeting him, Hol’s voice rose with genuine alarm.
He stepped toward Shuan quickly.
“How did you survive outside in that state?!” he demanded.
“When we found you, you were barely conscious!
You should have died out there!” Shuan slowly raised his head.
But his eyes were unfocused.
Unstable.
His vision blurred around the edges as waves of heat pulsed through his body.
“I’m… fine…” he said weakly.
A lie.
An obvious one.
Sweat rolled down the side of his face and dripped from his chin despite the freezing air inside the tent.
His hands trembled harder now.
He quickly curled them into fists, trying to hide it.
Trying to stay calm.
Trying not to panic.
But his own body was betraying him.
Hol tightened his grip around the staff.
“This isn’t normal…” he said sharply.
The old man’s expression changed.
Not confusion anymore.
Concern.
No… fear.
Then— A sound outside the tent.
Heavy footsteps crunching against snow.
Several of them.
Fast.
Purposeful.
Hol immediately turned toward the entrance.
The fabric covering the doorway suddenly shifted.
Then opened.
Cold wind burst violently into the tent.
Soldiers entered.
Three— No.
Five.
Their appearance was nothing like the settlers outside.
They wore light metallic armor covered beneath thick thermal layers, dark frost-resistant fabric wrapped tightly around their bodies.
Thin streams of vapor escaped from small devices attached near their collars.
Each carried long weapons resembling ancient rifles, but heavily modified with strange tubing and circular mechanisms glowing faint blue near the barrels.
Cold radiated from them.
Not emotional cold.
Literal cold.
The temperature inside the tent seemed to drop the moment they stepped in.
They stopped near the entrance.
Then, in one synchronized movement— their weapons rose.
Pointed directly at Shuan.
Silence crashed over the tent like frozen steel.
Even the fire seemed quieter.
Hol slowly turned toward them, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“What is this?” he asked in a low but razor-sharp voice.
One of the soldiers stepped forward.
“Move away from him.” His voice was calm.
Empty.
Without emotion.
Shuan remained where he was.
Another drop of sweat slid down his face.
But now his body had begun trembling instead.
Not from fear.
Not entirely.
Something inside him was reacting.
Changing.
Hol did not move.
“This boy is from the settlement.” The soldier shook his head once.
“No.” A pause.
Then he added: “We are tracking traces of an abnormal thermal disturbance.” His eyes locked directly onto Shuan.
“And we found it.” Shuan did not understand.
Not completely.
But his body did.
The heat inside him intensified violently.
His chest burned.
His veins felt molten beneath his skin.
And for the first time— he realized he was no longer merely trying to survive the cold.
Something inside him… was beginning to awaken.