Chapter 3: The Scent of Protection

The days that followed were a strange dichotomy for Briet. By day, he was the doting older brother, making Lena her favorite breakfasts, listening patiently to her school woes, and even attempting to help with her dreaded math homework (though his "combat algorithms" advice proved, predictably, unhelpful). He'd found a temporary job stocking shelves at a local market, the monotonous work a welcome distraction from the buzzing strangeness within him. But by night, the backyard became his dojo, his laboratory. He pushed, he pulled, he strained, trying to coax the crimson mist back, to understand its limits and its nature. Each attempt left him weary, a stark reminder of the immense resistance the "memory" had warned him about.

One morning, Briet woke with a jolt, his mind reeling from another vivid dream. This wasn't the stark, brutal imagery of the crimson warrior. This was something else entirely. A **silhouette, ethereal and deep pink**, swirled before his inner eye. It wasn't a person, but a concept, abstract yet undeniably potent: **love weaponized, love as a wellspring of power and protection.**

Mysterious **dark shadows, formless and menacing**, lunged towards him in the dream, but as they neared the pink silhouette, they simply dissolved, like smoke in a strong wind. There was no struggle, no violence, just an effortless negation. A profound sense of warmth and unwavering security washed over him. Briet felt a rush of **unconditional affection, a deep-seated care** that radiated from the pink essence, actively repelling negativity.

He awoke with a gasp, the lingering scent of **sweet, warm roses** filling his nostrils. It wasn't just in his dream; the air in his room, faint but distinct, carried the delicate fragrance. He inhaled deeply, a sense of calm washing over him. This was a different kind of power, softer, yet no less potent.

He slipped out of bed, the rose scent trailing faintly with him. As he walked into the kitchen, he saw Lena, hunched over her textbook, a look of utter concentration on her face. A tiny sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed her temples. The sight of her, so earnest and slightly overwhelmed, pulled at something deep inside him.

Without thinking, Briet walked over to her. "Hey, Lena-bug," he murmured, gently wrapping his arms around her from behind. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo, feeling the warmth of her small body against his.

Lena tensed for a moment, surprised, then relaxed into his embrace, leaning back against him. "Briet! You startled me. What's wrong?" she asked, her voice muffled against his arm.

"Nothing," he whispered, holding her closer. He felt a surge of **fierce protectiveness**, a pure, unadulterated love that filled his chest. And then he felt it—a subtle shift, an almost imperceptible hum beneath his skin. The faint rose scent in the air around him seemed to intensify, wrapping around them both. It was the power from his dream, awakening, triggered by his affection for Lena.

He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on that feeling. **This was a power born of caring, a shield against sadness and despair.** It wasn't about fighting, but about protecting, nourishing, and uplifting. He realized, with startling clarity, that his own emotional state was a crucial conduit for this new ability. The deeper his feelings of love and care, the stronger this power became.

Lena, seemingly unaware of the ethereal glow he felt emanating from him, snuggled deeper, a shy smile touching her lips. "You're being clingy today, big brother," she teased softly, but her voice was full of warmth. She twisted slightly, giving him a quick, affectionate pat on his hand. "Are you hungry? I can make us toast."

He released her, the rose scent subtly receding as his immediate focus shifted. "Toast sounds great," he said, his voice a little rough with emotion. He watched her move about the kitchen, her presence a beacon of normalcy and pure joy. He realized, more profoundly than ever, that **only by holding onto his feelings, his genuine affection and care, would he avoid being lost to the raw power or the ambition that came with it.**

Throughout the day, Briet found subtle ways to express his gratitude to Lena. He made her favorite lunch, meticulously slicing the fruit into perfect shapes. When she was engrossed in a book, he brought her a glass of her preferred iced tea without being asked. And when he caught her sighing, lost in thought about her upcoming math test, he gently ruffled her hair and launched into a playful, exaggerated story about his own struggles with algebra, making her laugh until her shoulders shook.

Each act of care, each moment of shared warmth, subtly reinforced the unique power blossoming within him. He noticed that the rose fragrance would reappear, faint but comforting, whenever his focus was purely on Lena's well-being. It was a silent, internal bloom that seemed to retreat when his mind wandered to mundane tasks or worries. It was a secret, invisible shield, specifically for moments when negative emotions threatened.

As the evening stars began to prick the deepening sky, Briet stood in his backyard, no longer training, but simply breathing. The cool night air felt refreshing against his skin. He looked up at the vast expanse of the heavens, a sense of peace settling over him. He was a common human, yes, but he was also a brother, a protector, and now, a vessel for a power born of love.

He closed his eyes, the faint, comforting scent of roses still lingering in his memory. He hoped, more than anything, that he could navigate this strange new path, that he could continue to live a normal life, even as the extraordinary unfolded within him.