《The Unchaining》 Prologue Matter moved through the busy street following a man in front of him, his footsteps soft against the cracked pavement, as mist curled around his legs like a living thing. The mist, thick and undulating, alive in its strange, shifting colours crept low to the ground, pushing up along the edges of buildings, spilling over the sidewalks in thick blankets, a fluid tapestry that seems to pulse with a life of its own, never settling, always reaching. It pressed at his cloak, testing its edges, but never quite able to touch him. The city thrummed around him, alive in ways few could see. Johannesburg¡¯s streets were lined with towering glass buildings and old brick structures, their surfaces a layered history of graffiti. The murals whispered their defiance, each stroke carrying a story long buried beneath the streets. But beyond their defiant colours, just below the surface of its reality, another world slithered and pulsed. Strange, bioluminescent flora coiled around buildings, their curling leaves glowing faintly in the mist, tendrils slinking along walls like searching fingers. Their roots clawed at the walls, creeping along the streets, drawn to the mist, feeding off the strange energy that it was made from. Above, the sky churned in an ever-shifting mosaic of unnatural colours. Clouds coiled and unravelled, deep blues bleeding into neon greens and dark purples before collapsing inward, twisting into rusted oranges, vivid pinks, and searing nuclear yellows. Streaks of lightning cracked in colours that had no place in the natural world, illuminating winged shapes that drifted through the storm. Their forms wavered, indistinct, shifting like shadows refusing to be pinned down, impossibly large from so far away. Insects, like tiny metallic specters, flit through the air¡ªshimmering wings vibrating in the thick, heavy atmosphere. They darted between the strange flora, feeding on the strange plant matter, while other creatures moved between the branches, unseen behind the thick foliage, their presence barely perceptible but undeniably there as every now and then an insect will venture to close, only to be grabbed in a flash, their insistent buzzing cut off by a large crunch and the sound of feeding. The air was thick with the hum of creatures, their shapes flickering in and out of perception, merging with the swamp''s restless energy. The people on the street moved with purpose, absorbed in their daily routines. They walked without a second thought, oblivious to the strange world layered just beyond their senses. Some clutched coffee cups, others scrolled on their devices, their faces set in the monotony of everyday life. Each person was enclosed by a faint, golden orb¡ªtheir bio-fields¡ªpulsing gently, a barrier that separated them from the alien reality overlaying their own. The shielded barrier kept the two worlds apart, an invisible wall that protected them from the mist curling at their feet, the unnatural growth creeping around buildings, and the creatures lurking just out of sight. Only a few creatures had the ability to breach this barrier and influence those hidden within. Matter observed one of the most common of these¡ªthe Adgnats¡ª carrying out its programmed nature. Unlike most, the insect was drawn to the glowing field rather than repelled by it. It drifted through the crowds like a firefly, its tiny metallic body shimmering as its wings flashed with corporate logos¡ªSamsung, Burger King, Apple¡ªlike flickering television screens. Occasionally, one would land on a bio-field, its minuscule stinger piercing the golden surface. For a brief moment, the branding would flash across the shield as the creature fed and injected its maker''s will, before it took off again, leaving behind its subtle influence, its victim none the wiser. Ahead, Matter¡¯s target wove further into the shifting crowd, but his presence was impossible to lose. Where others moved encased in steady, golden light, his target¡¯s shield wavered¡ªflickering at the edges like a failing bulb. The stable fields around him cast a quiet, even glow, but his pulsed erratically, a beacon of instability against the surrounding calm. Matter¡¯s cyan eyes remained locked onto the failing shield. ¡®It¡¯s weakening again.¡¯ He thought. Each flicker, each dimming pulse, marked him. ¡®The mist would notice soon. It always did¡¯, as the golden glow kept dimming until it could barely hold out against the pressure of the mist. Matter muttered an incantation under his breath, as a glow of light starts building up brighter and brighter in his hand, he curls his finger as he finishes, causing a stream of the golden energy to flow from his hand, attaching itself to the man¡¯s flickering bio-field. The field flares brighter and brighter as he transfers the need Karma, pushing back the encroaching mist. ¡°That should hold for a while¡± Matter hopes, but he could already see the draining of energy continue. A faint trickle¡ªalmost imperceptible¡ªkept pouring from the Field into the chest of the man being shielded. A guttural growl rumbled from within the mist. A shadow coiled, shifted, and then lunged. A blur of darkness surged toward his target, sensing the previous vulnerability in his weakening shield. ¡®Too late.¡¯ Matter smirks. The golden barrier flared in defence, releasing a sharp crackle of energy. The creature yelped, thrown back into the mist, where it slithered away with a low, frustrated hiss. Hungry. Hunting. Deciding to rather search for something weaker. Matter barely spared it a further glance. His focus again locked on his target, who hadn¡¯t noticed anything wrong and was still making his way blindly through the press of bodies. The crowd was starting to increase, glowing orbs bobbing around him in the mist like lanterns in the deep. More people. More fields. More distractions. Above, the Aether was growing heavier, the pulse of the sky becoming more erratic. The air shivered with static, pressing down on the city. The clouds twisted and churned into even more unnatural hues¡ªshades of purple browns, neon greens, and puss yellows¡ªeach layer of cloud pressing closer and closer together. It was as if the sky was too full, pressed too tightly together, ready to burst. The air shivers with static, as though everything in the city was holding its breath. And then, as if on cue, the rain begins. It¡¯s not a gentle shower, but a torrential downpour, each drop a tiny spark of electricity, sharp and biting as it strikes the pavement. Matter barely notices storm, his cloak heavy with the weight of the rain as the energy arcs off of his body, his eyes still fixed on the man in front of him. ¡®Twenty-one years.¡¯ Matter¡¯s footsteps were soundless against the cracked pavement as he continued to trail the man ahead, his gaze unwavering from the flickering golden field. The intervals between top-ups were shrinking. Each time, the shield failed faster. Each time, Aster needed more. ¡®It won¡¯t be long now.¡¯ For two decades, Matter had followed him, waiting, watching, feeding just enough Karma into the Bio-Field to keep it intact¡ªbut never enough to stop its inevitable decline. It was a slow unravelling, a measured collapse. And soon, after all these years, the journey would reach its end. He exhaled, steadying his thoughts. The weight of time pressed against him, but he remained patient. He always had been. ¡®One last stretch.¡¯ Aster turns another corner as he moved out of the bustling area into a dingier one with rubbish littering the sidewalks and abandoned buildings dotting the streets like missing teeth, any open space that could shelter someone from the elements were crowded by those less fortunate. Seeming to have spotted his destination, Aster crosses the street, quickening his pace as he heads towards a nondescript storefront tucked between two other buildings. From a distance, the store doesn¡¯t stand out, its faded sign barely legible under the grime of the streets. But Matter notices something¡ªthe faint, sickly pink glow hovering just above the entrance. It flickers, almost like an optical illusion, drawing the eyes. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The lure. He knows it instantly. ¡®A Scam Angler.¡¯ Aster strides unaware of the creature, past its lure and into the store, the soft clink of the door¡¯s bell echoing in the empty space. Matter follows, his senses heightened, every instinct alert. The shop is nondescript¡ªan old corner store with cluttered shelves, dim lighting, and the faint, musty smell of dust. However, the robed man¡¯s senses immediately sharpen. His eyes flick over every corner, the air thick with the subtle hum of strange energy that most would ignore. Seeing another feint glow in the corner, the man shifts his gaze to the lure source as he sees the creature¡ªits body large and grotesque, its scales shimmering faintly beneath a translucent, slimy skin. Its huge, bulbous eyes stared unblinking, the kind of eyes that seem to see everything and nothing at once. The lure, that sickly pink light, danced hypnotically above its head, drawing anyone nearby closer. Matter¡¯s mind sharpens. Four of them. The presence of one Scam Angler outside the store was one thing, but four in this space? This wasn¡¯t a casual encounter. He could feel the weight of the deception throughout the building¡¯s atmosphere, a hum of energy feeding the creatures¡¯ insidious power. Their very existence thrived off the lies and anger generated by the actions of those who used scams and cons to make a living, helping to draw in unexpected victims ¡ª the emotions that would inevitably spiral in a place like this would feed them and help them grow. He narrows his eyes. Four of them in here. It¡¯s rare for the creatures to group like this. There¡¯s potent energy being fed off from somewhere in this room, something nefarious enough to attract them all. But the people milling about, each encased in their glowing shields, were blissfully unaware of the creatures¡¯ presence. Aster, still oblivious to the astral dangers, steps deeper into the store, brushing past a shelf of dusty trinkets, making his way to the fridges in the back. His field hums quietly around him, a golden cocoon shielding him from the unseen dangers of this world. The cloaked figure watches Aster closely, his senses heightened. The glow of his field was already much less brighter than it had been when they walked in. He feels his chest tighten and he fears the worst as he sees Aster¡¯s shield start to flicker. No, no, not now... Aster¡¯s shield, dims even further, as the man steps closer, already starting the incantation, his hand outstretched, ready to recharge the failing orb before it collapses completely. But at that moment Aster brushes against one of the lures of the scam anglers, causing a spark before the glowing field suddenly shatters completely. Instantly the shield that had kept Aster unaware of the Astral Plane evaporates, suddenly plunging Aster into a world of chaos. The mist, held back by the orb till this point, suddenly rushes into the empty space, the faint haze that had been surrounding him, that he¡¯d never noticed until this point, suddenly floods in. It swirls around him in thick, undulating tendrils, coiling around his legs, crawling around his body like an electric cloying tide. Aster staggers back, his breath catching in his throat as he stumbles and falls into the thick carpet of mist surrounding him. Gasping, his hand flyout in front of him as though wanting to push the fog away, but it slips through his fingers like smoke, twisting and moving as though it had a mind of its own. Finally getting back to his feet he gasps for air as he emerges from the cloud only to find himself in a twisted version of the convenient store he had entered. Sensing their prey, the lures of the Scam Anglers flare to life at once, their pink glow pulsing more urgently now. They shift, their grotesque forms now fully visible, their slimy bodies shaking in anticipation in the thick fog. The creatures¡¯ eyes¡ªwide, unblinking¡ªlock onto Aster. His chest tightens. His heart beats faster. He feels the primal, insistent tug of the creatures hungry, ¡®this was something dangerous.¡¯ Then the creatures move. They are fast¡ªtoo fast. The first one darts forward, its body slithering toward Aster, the lure above its head glowing bright, its mouth opening wide, sharp teeth flashing in the mist. Aster freezes, unable to comprehend what he¡¯s seeing. He has no context for the terror that suddenly appeared in front of him. His breath quickens as the creature¡¯s shadow looms larger, and the air grows thick with a low, buzzing hum. Aster¡¯s feet shuffle back, his limbs slow and uncoordinated as if the fog itself was pulling at him, weighing him down. His pulse rings in his ears as he tries to process what was happening¡ª ¡®Where the hell am I??¡¯. Before Aster could react from the first, a second creature was already charging from the other side, its lure swinging excitedly. The creature lunges, its body wriggling violently, and Aster falls backward, barely avoiding its grasp. He barely understands the danger as the creature snarls, its mouth opening wider, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth that gleam in the mist. His mind races. He can¡¯t think, he can¡¯t breathe. He¡¯s not prepared for this. He¡¯s not prepared for the sudden hunger, the desperation that filled the air. A robed man is suddenly there in an instant, his cloak swirling as he steps between Aster and the creatures. With a flick of his wrist, a shimmering barrier materializes just in time, absorbing the brunt of the first Scam Angler¡¯s strike as it slams against the shield with a sickening wet sound, the force of the impact sending a ripple through the mist. The creature lets out a high-pitched screech of frustration, writhing against the invisible force, its body twisting as it attempts to break through. The robed man¡¯s eyes narrow, and with a swift motion, he condenses a second barrier, pinning the creature between the two, before suddenly slamming them together, the sickening crunch of the creature¡¯s body drowning out it¡¯s screams as it¡¯s cries is suddenly cut short followed by a torrent of gore as it¡¯s remains rained down over the store. "Move!" the robed man orders sharply, as he tries to fend the creatures off with one hand while reforming the shield around Aster in the other. Aster doesn¡¯t register his word at first. He¡¯s too disoriented, too lost in the confusion of the shifting astral world around him. His head spins, the mists swirling like a storm. The second creature lunges, and the robed man is there again, his movements fluid, his strikes precise. A platform of energy forms beneath his feet, launching him upward as he slams his palm into the second Scam Angler¡¯s chest. It lets out a screech and is flung backward into the wall, hitting it with an audible splat, before falling wetly to the ground. The robed man doesn¡¯t have time to rest. He presses forward, his eyes scanning the fog, his senses still attuned to every movement. The creatures are hungry, but they are weak compared to him. Still, the fight is draining, his attention is split¡ªthe spell slowly taking shape around Aster, the orb was almost back in place. Aster¡¯s eyes dart around as his vision jumps between the normal convenient store and this twisted version of it as the orb flickers weakly, struggling to reform. The creatures sense this vulnerability. Another Scam Angler¡ªthis one larger, with a flickering, elongated lure¡ªslithers through the mist, drawn to the figure in the uncomplete orb. But the robed man isn¡¯t about to let it happen. His free hand moves in a sharp arc, and a blade of golden light slices through the air, splitting the creature in two. It collapses, as it¡¯s body slides apart, spilling more gore over the floor. But there is no time to relish the victory. More creatures were coming. The other two Scam Anglers were already closing in on Aster, their jaws snapping and lures swirling. The robed man leaps forward again, his movements precise, each strike a deadly dance. He steps through the air like walking on thin ice, each motion seamless and fluid. One of the Scam Anglers attempts to lunge for Aster¡¯s exposed back, but the robed man is there, his hand raising sharply to form another platform of force that strikes the creature down mid-lunge. It crashes into the ground with a brutal slam, disorienting the creature momentarily. With a powerful twist, the robed man sends a shockwave of energy toward the creature, sending it sprawling into the far corner of the room. The fourth Scam Angler, undeterred, takes the opportunity to strike from behind, its large eyes glowing maliciously as it swings its hook-like lure. Aster, still panicking, doesn¡¯t see it coming. The robed man sees it, though. His hand moves faster than a blink, and with a sharp movement, a transparent shield forms in the air, pushing the Scam Angler back with an explosion of force. The creature is slammed into the wall, and before it can react, the robed man closes the distance, his foot planting firmly on its head as he presses down, a cracking sound is swiftly followed by a squelch as the man crushes the creature¡¯s skull. Aster, wide-eyed and shaking, watches in horror, unable to comprehend what¡¯s happening¡ªwhat he¡¯s seeing. The world around him jumps in and out of focus, the creatures now scattered across the room in various stages of defeat. The Scam Angler that had been knocked to the corner, slowly comes back to its feet as it ready¡¯s another attack on Aster. The robed man, not allowing it the chance, calls upon more power as he pushes through the strain of protecting Aster to dispatch the creatures. With a final, decisive move, he summons a towering platform of force, the air crackling as it forms in the air above them. With a flick of his hand, he slams the platform down over the remaining Scam Angler, crushing it in a final, horrific burst. The store falls silent. The creatures are no more, their bodies were already drawing more creatures from outside as their roars could be heard drawing closer. Matter finishes the last part of the spell just in time, and Aster¡¯s bio-field flickers back into existence, its protective glow instantly returning, shielding him again from this world, leaving him scared and confused, uncertain if what he had just witnessed was an hallucination. To the people in the convenience store, Aster appeared as a frantic figure, pacing and wide-eyed, his movements erratic as if dodging invisible threats. His face was pale, his body trembling, as if caught in a panic they couldn¡¯t see. They backed away from him, giving him a wide berth, their expressions a mixture of confusion and wariness, assuming he had lost his mind. Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Aster''s phone buzzed in his hand, the screen lighting up with the familiar dread. A notification from his bank. He¡¯d been counting on the deposit¡ª*needed* it¡ªmore than he wanted to admit. With a shaky breath, he unlocked the screen. The account balance blinked back at him, flat, empty. Bounced. Payment not processed. His stomach dropped, the sensation all too familiar. But today? Today, it felt like something had cracked in him. There had been something of hopefulness in the back of his mind, a shred of light that perhaps this time, things would be different. But as the digital message burned into his vision, that hope shriveled and died, crushed under the weight of a curse that had followed him since birth. He stood motionless on the sidewalk, watching the stream of people pass him by, their lives continuing as if his world hadn¡¯t just shifted into oblivion again. It was a strange thing, how the world could keep moving even when your own life had come to a screeching halt. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. It was a steady walk to the bank, the sound of his shoes on the pavement the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. The streets felt like they were mocking him¡ªevery step a reminder of the endless cycle of misfortune he couldn¡¯t escape. At the bank, he stood in line, watching the other customers come and go, all of them moving like there was something important in their lives. Something he would never have. Each of them had purpose, a goal, a direction. They didn''t have to worry about a paycheck evaporating before they could even touch it. They didn¡¯t know what it felt like to have everything slip through their fingers with a single phone notification. When it was his turn, the teller barely looked at him, too absorbed in her own quiet misery to acknowledge the man who was already a ghost in this transaction. "How can I help you today?" she asked, voice flat, distracted. Aster set the phone on the counter, tapping the screen so she could see the notification. "I got paid today," he said, forcing the words out. "But the payment bounced." She glanced down at the phone, nodding like it was a routine matter. ¡°Let me take a look.¡± Her fingers moved across the keyboard as if she had memorized the motions, every movement deliberate, as though it could somehow take less time if she ignored the human being standing in front of her. After a moment, she glanced back up, her eyes cool and professional. "It seems there was an issue on the company¡¯s end. You''ll need to contact them directly." Of course, they¡¯d say that, Aster thought bitterly. It was always someone else¡¯s fault, never theirs. He didn¡¯t even bother to ask any more questions. It wouldn¡¯t change anything. They couldn¡¯t help him. ¡°Thank you,¡± he muttered, turning to leave. Out in the streets again, the day had grown darker, the sky thickening with clouds that threatened rain. It had been like this for the last few days, a constant overcast that seemed to match the weight of his mind. Aster walked back to his boss''s office with a sinking feeling, the shadows of the city pulling at him from all sides. He didn¡¯t know why he bothered to hope that maybe today would be different. He should have known better. He reached the building, a rundown office complex that had seen better days¡ªlike him, it was barely holding on. The neon "OPEN" sign buzzed weakly as he approached the door, the flickering light making his pulse race. When he tried the handle, it didn¡¯t budge. Aster knocked on the door, hoping for something¡ªa sign, a miracle, a human being behind the glass who could help him. He knocked harder, but no answer came. Frustrated, he stepped back, scanning the parking lot for his boss¡¯s car. His boss had been a flake¡ªalways late, always putting things off, promising the world and delivering nothing. But Aster had been desperate enough to believe him when he offered him a job. That had been months ago. Months of hard work, late nights and constant excuses, all for this: nothing. And now? The office was empty. He turned to leave but stopped when he noticed a group of his coworkers standing near the back entrance, talking in low voices. Aster hesitated, unsure if he wanted to hear what they were saying. But curiosity won out. ¡°Hey,¡± one of them, a woman named Miriam, looked at him with a tight smile. ¡°Did you get your check?¡± He nodded slowly. ¡°It bounced.¡± Aster had been expecting sympathy, or at the very least, the vague acknowledgment of mutual suffering. Instead, Miriam gave a sharp laugh that seemed too bitter to be real. "Yeah, it bounced for me too," she said, shaking her head. "No surprise though. You hear the news?" Aster frowned. ¡°What news?¡± ¡°Boss skipped town. Took all the money. Everyone¡¯s checks are gone. We¡¯ve all been *had*." The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. It was bad enough to be out of a job. But to find out that the man who had offered him work had stolen from everyone¡ªincluding him¡ªwas almost too much to process. It was the final kick in the gut. Aster¡¯s hands clenched at his sides. ¡°That¡¯s¡ªunbelievable.¡± ¡°No kidding.¡± Miriam''s eyes were full of something between anger and disbelief. ¡°What¡¯s he going to do with all of it? Flee the country and live with the Guptas?" she laughs harshly. The weight of the world pressed down on Aster at her words, heavier than the rain that had started to lightly fall outside. He didn¡¯t even care about the rain anymore. It was just one more thing. Without saying another word, Aster turned and left. He had no plans now. No leads, no money. No future. But he couldn¡¯t help the sting of it all¡ªthe feeling that no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, everything was slipping through his fingers. That feeling had been with him for as long as he could remember, like an old friend, one who never left and only made things worse. Aster shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he walked, eyes scanning the sidewalks as though he might find something¡ªanything¡ªthat would pull him out of the quicksand he was sinking into. In his peripheral vision, something flickered¡ªjust a brief shadow, but it was enough to make Aster¡¯s heart race. He looked to the side, as he the mist started rolling in, thick and swirling in it¡¯s unnatural hues. Aster¡¯s pulse quickened. No. Not now. Not when he was so close to losing his grip on his sanity. But the world around him kept shifting. The mist crept in, thickening, taking shape. The edges of his vision distorted, as though reality itself were warping. His chest tightened. It¡¯s happening again. He couldn¡¯t stop it. He knew what was coming, even if he didn¡¯t want to acknowledge it. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Then, suddenly, the figure appeared. The robed man¡ªcloaked in darkness, his face obscured except for those burning cyan eyes¡ªmaterialized directly in front of him, startled, he jumps back, falling out of the way, as in the split second that follows, a minibus taxi roared past him, tires screeching as it narrowly missed where he had just been standing. Aster hit the ground hard, his body crashing against the wet pavement. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he lay there, breathless, eyes wide with shock. The angry curses of the taxi driver broke Aster¡¯s confusion . "Uhlanya! Hlupheki!" The driver curses him in Xhosa, followed by a honk and a screech of tires as he sped off. Aster slowly pushed himself to his feet, his hands trembling. The mist was gone. The figure was gone. The rain started to fall heavily, the cold droplets mixing with the shock still settling in his bones. The streetlights flickered on as day moves over to night, casting long shadows over the empty street. Aster stood there for a moment longer, trying to catch his breath, feeling the weight of the confusion settle heavily over him. The vision was gone. But was it really just a hallucination? Or had something else just stepped in to save him? _________________________________________________________________________________ The rain had turned into a downpour by the time Aster reached his apartment. The sound of water splashing against the pavement was deafening, as if the storm itself was mocking him. His clothes clung to him, soaked through. But it wasn¡¯t the rain that weighed on him; it was the feeling that something had snapped inside of him. He had no job, no money, no way out of the mess his life had become, plus it seemed he was slowly starting to lose his grip on sanity. Each step felt like it took him deeper into a pit, one that he wasn¡¯t sure he could climb out of anymore. As he rounded the corner to his building, he saw it before he even reached the door. The rain didn¡¯t let up. It came down in sheets, drenching Aster to the bone, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to move. He stood there, staring at the pile of his belongings dumped haphazardly onto the sidewalk, His belongings, now thoroughly soaked through, was a perfect reflection of his life¡ªruined, forgotten, unwanted. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and no matter how many times he tried to pull air into his lungs, it felt like he couldn¡¯t get enough. He¡¯d known it was coming. The eviction notice had been there for weeks, a looming threat he could do nothing about. The rent had piled up, unpaid, month after month. His landlady had given him the cold shoulder every time he tried to explain, every time he begged for more time. And now, it had come to this. Aster¡¯s eyes moved over the mess¡ªthe clothes that were soaked through, the torn cardboard box with his few remaining belongings¡ªand all he could do was stand there, numb. He didn¡¯t care that his feet were freezing, that the cold was seeping into his bones. He didn¡¯t care that his stomach was gnawing at him, that his last hope¡ªwhatever little there was¡ªhad just evaporated. What was the point? He stared at the ground, unable to look anywhere else. The lights from the streetlamps cast long, grim shadows, blurring in the downpour. It all felt surreal, like he wasn¡¯t even in his own body anymore. He wasn¡¯t even sure if he was still alive or if he had already drifted somewhere beyond the edge of the world. This wasn¡¯t living anymore. It hadn¡¯t been for a long time. ¡®How did I end up here?¡¯ He ran his fingers through his wet hair, the cold water mixing with the sweat on his forehead. There was no one to blame but himself, right? He¡¯d been given chances¡ªso many chances¡ªand he always fucked them up. Always. Maybe it had started when his parents died. That was the first crack in his life. His family had been wealthy, successful, admired by the community. They had everything¡ªeverything, that is, until they suddenly didn¡¯t, then the accident. It was supposed to be quick¡ªclean. But it wasn¡¯t. They were gone in an instant, leaving behind a life that Aster hadn¡¯t been prepared to live without. Then came the adoption. He was too young to understand it at first¡ªtoo small to realize that his new mother had only adopted him for the money. The state grant that came with him was worth more than any love or care she could¡¯ve offered. She locked him in a world of secrecy, cutting him off from everything he might have had a chance at: a future, an education, a life of his own. Instead, he had been forced into a life he didn¡¯t want, one that existed in the murky shadows of crime and desperation. His foster mother, a woman who claimed she cared for him, had dragged him into the dark underbelly of society. Drugs, scams, extortion¡ªit was all part of the package. She used him, and he let her. Because what else was he supposed to do? He never had a choice. Aster shut his eyes tightly, as if he could block out the memories that were rushing back. The shadows of that life still clung to him, no matter how much he wanted to forget them. Every time he¡¯d tried to get out, it felt like his bad luck followed him, dragging him back into the mess. Now here he was¡ªon the street, standing in the rain, with nowhere to go. His foster mother had died on his eighteenth birthday, the result of a drug deal gone wrong. Aster had tried to pick up the pieces, to make something of himself, but it seemed like everything he touched turned to shit. Every job he managed to get fell apart, every paycheck bounced, every promise broken. And now¡ª*this*. His possessions, dumped on the sidewalk. His life, scattered like refuse. Aster¡¯s fingers twitched at his sides, but he didn¡¯t reach for anything. He didn¡¯t want to. There was nothing left to reach for. No last-ditch effort. No spark of life left in him. He had burned through every ounce of hope years ago, and now, there was nothing but the heavy, suffocating darkness of it all. His mind was numb, like a distant echo of who he used to be. But the real Aster? The person who might¡¯ve cared, who might¡¯ve dreamed of better days? He was gone. That person had died along with his parents, back when life had collapsed around him. When had he stopped fighting? When had he given up? He couldn''t remember anymore. All he could feel was the weight of the years, pressing down on him, grinding his spirit into dust. Aster¡¯s chest tightened, his body trembling from the cold, but it wasn¡¯t the rain that made him shake. It was the knowledge that nothing was ever going to change. He wasn¡¯t meant to survive. It wasn¡¯t just bad luck¡ªit was him. Something in him had broken a long time ago, and now there was nothing left but the remnants of what had been. No future. No purpose. No reason to keep going. What had he been hoping for all these years? A job? A home? Friends? Love? He couldn¡¯t even remember what any of that felt like anymore. All that was left was the hunger, the exhaustion, and the endless cycle of disappointment. It had never been enough. Aster couldn¡¯t hold back the bitterness that bubbled up in his chest. He laughed, though it didn¡¯t sound anything like humor. It was a hollow, bitter sound that came from deep within him. Aster let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes against the torrent of rain. He could hear the distant sound of traffic, the rhythm of the world continuing on without him. People going about their lives. Families eating dinner, kids playing in the park, couples laughing together. He could almost see it in his mind¡ªthose people, so full of life, of purpose. They weren¡¯t burdened by what he was. They didn¡¯t carry the weight of a life broken from the inside out. And it was in that moment¡ªstanding in the middle of the street, drenched, empty¡ªthat Aster realized he didn¡¯t even know if he wanted to be one of them anymore. He didn¡¯t know if he wanted anything at all. For a while, he didn¡¯t move. He couldn¡¯t. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the exhaustion from the past few days, the months, the years, or if something in him had just finally shattered completely. He wasn¡¯t even sure how long he had been standing there¡ªminutes? Hours? It didn¡¯t matter. Nothing mattered. Aster reached down, his fingers grazing the wet pavement as though he were grounding himself, feeling something solid beneath him. But it didn¡¯t help. Nothing helped. The people who had walked past him earlier hadn¡¯t noticed him. No one ever did. He was just another face in the crowd, another lost soul on the streets. But that had always been his life. Always. People passed by him like he was nothing, and the world never stopped to give him a second glance. Maybe, just maybe, that¡¯s all he was¡ªnothing. He was just¡­ nothing. Aster¡¯s legs gave out, and he sank to the curb. His body shuddered as the cold soaked deeper into his skin. But it wasn¡¯t the cold that made him feel hollow. It was the emptiness inside him, the complete and utter absence of anything to live for. He was used to the pain, the hunger, the exhaustion. He had become numb to all of it. But this¡­ this was different. This was surrender. There was no fight left in him. No future to look to. Nothing to hold on to. His eyes fluttered shut, and the rain pelted down on him like it was trying to wash away the last remnants of a life that had already been forgotten. Aster didn¡¯t know how much longer he sat there, but when he opened his eyes again, the world hadn¡¯t changed. It was still raining. It was still cold. The lights from the streetlamps still flickered, and the city around him still buzzed with the same mechanical rhythm it always had. But inside him, everything was still. And that was enough. Because at that moment, he realized he didn¡¯t care about anything anymore. The rain kept coming. It didn¡¯t care. The world didn¡¯t care. And Aster didn¡¯t care. And so, he stayed there, broken and empty, no longer searching for a way out, because there was no way left to escape. Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Aster could feel the cold sinking deeper into his bones as the rain poured down relentlessly. His clothes, soaked through, clung to him, each drop of water feeling like ice. He had been chased away from the curb by his landlord, then from three other places where he¡¯d sought shelter. The night had become an insurmountable wall, one that no amount of effort seemed to be able to climb. Giving up, he curled into a small ball in the alleyway, covering himself with a discarded newspaper and hoping to sleep through the night, though he knew better. The bitter cold was seeping into his very soul, the tremors in his limbs the only sign that his body was struggling against the hypothermia that threatened to take him. He was dangerously close to slipping into unconsciousness, and he knew that if he did, it would be the end. Yet, there was a strange warmth that had begun to creep over him, lulling him closer to sleep, to oblivion. It was so tempting, and yet his mind screamed at him to stay awake. His thoughts grew sluggish, disjointed, as he struggled to find the energy to rise. He couldn¡¯t escape the weight of his misery, the endless cycle of failure and disappointment. His life had been a series of unfortunate events, each one worse than the last. He had promised himself he¡¯d fight through it, but now, after all these years, he was running on empty. The well of hope had long since dried up. Aster¡¯s eyelids fluttered, his head growing heavier, closing his eyes as the hum of the city slowly fades into silence. The air starts to thicken as Aster opens his eyes again seeing his hallucination having taken hold again. The mist swirled around him, vibrant and strange. Soft blues, neon pinks, and periwinkle hues seemed to mix and shift with each breath he took. He felt no fear this time, only a detached sense of awe, as if this was just another piece of his mind¡¯s descent into madness. But then, the touch came. A hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him sharply out of his drowsy stupor. Aster lurched forward, spinning around, heart hammering in his chest. His gaze locked onto a figure standing behind him¡ªa man. The same man who had appeared during his visions, who had saved him in the convenience store from that... that thing, and had warned him about the taxi. ¡°You can see me,¡± the man said, his voice a little too calm, a little too knowing, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Aster¡¯s eyes flickered. His throat went dry. He was hallucinating again. There was no other explanation. This was just another warped image his mind had conjured up, a cruel trick to torment him. ¡°Of course I can see you,¡± Aster scoffed, the words coming out hoarse with exhaustion. ¡°I¡¯m the only one who CAN see you, that¡¯s how insanity works!¡± The man¡¯s cyan eyes glimmered with a strange mixture of frustration and something like relief, as though he wasn¡¯t surprised by Aster¡¯s response. ¡°I¡¯m not a hallucination.¡± Aster blinked, then chuckled darkly. ¡°Right, sure. You¡¯re... real. As real as monsters, fairies and Santa Clause. What stage of psychosis am in?¡± His eyes darted to the side, looking at the swirling, shifting mists around them, above them, the sky was a churn of multicolored storm clouds. A Green lightning strike lights up the sky as it¡¯s violent flashes cuts across the sky like jagged streaks of neon. Creatures, shadowy and indistinct, moved within the clouds, their forms shifting and darting through the colours. The ground beneath Aster¡¯s feet felt strange, too. The usual asphalt of the city street felt soft and cloying under the vibrant mist. Strange, exotic plants sprouted from the cracks, their roots twisting and reaching, as if they too were alive, drinking in the mist. Chuckling to himself he turns back at the man. ¡°Which level of psychosis makes you think you¡¯re in Narnia?¡± The man¡¯s brow furrowed in frustration as he stepped closer, almost pleading with his eyes. ¡°Listen to me. I know this is hard to accept, but you¡¯re not crazy, Aster. I¡¯m not a hallucintaion, I¡¯m real and I¡¯m here to help you!¡± ¡°Help me?¡± Aster repeated, shaking his head, the cold fear creeping into his gut. His heartbeat louder. ¡°Help me with what? I¡¯m talking to a figment of my imagination and you¡¯re going to help me? How?¡± The man¡¯s gaze sharpened, his voice growing more insistent. ¡°This isn¡¯t just in your head. I know it¡¯s hard to believe, but if you don¡¯t listen, you¡¯ll die out here. You¡¯re standing on the edge of something, and if you don¡¯t take action, it¡¯ll be too late.¡± Aster stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or scream. The desperation had built up too long inside of him for him to dismiss the man¡¯s words immediately, but he couldn¡¯t give in to the madness. Not yet. ¡°And if I do listen? If I follow whatever... instructions you¡¯ve got for me?¡± His voice was trembling with uncertainty. ¡°What happens then? You finally convince me that this is all real and I kill a mall Santa because you claimed it was the Antichrist?¡± The man stepped back, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. ¡°No... No nothing like that, I just want you to hear me out, seek shelter, and from there, if you wish to seek me out, will be up to you. But I¡¯ve only got so much time to explain, and if you waste it, you¡¯ll not make it to your twenty-first birthday.¡± Aster is too shocked at his words to respond for once, giving the man the chance to explain. The man¡¯s expression turns serious, his cyan eyes unwavering. ¡°You¡¯re in the Astral Plane,¡± he said, his tone calm "It¡¯s a layer of reality that exists right alongside your own, but it¡¯s not something most people can see." ¡°The... Astral Plane?¡± Aster repeated, still trying to make sense of it. "You mean that stuff hippies and druggies talk about?" His voice was laced with scepticism. ¡°Exactly,¡± the man said, his eyes lighting up as though finally getting through to Aster. Aster let out a harsh laugh ¡°So, this is it, huh? This is the DMT trip I¡¯m supposed to go through before I die?¡± He swallowed, trying not to dwell too long on the thought that he was dying, rather trying to work through his thoughts around the growing certainty that he was losing his mind For a moment, the man said nothing, simply staring at him with a mix of pity and understanding. Then the slap came. The sound of it cracked through the damp air, sharp and sudden. Aster¡¯s face stung, his head snapping to the side as the shock of it registered. The world around him seemed to freeze for a second. The man¡¯s voice cut through the silence, harder now, done with being gentle. ¡°I¡¯m a friend of your father, Howard. He made me promise to help you when the time came,¡± he looked at Aster making sure he understood the gravity of what he was saying ¡°and the time has come, I¡¯m here to help, but I need you to believe me if you¡¯re going to get through this¡± Aster stood frozen, his mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened and what he was saying. He had been slapped by someone who didn¡¯t exist¡ªor did he? And they were saying they were sent by his father? His thoughts were a tangled mess. He didn¡¯t know how to process the pain in his face, or the fact that this man somehow knew his father, an hallucination would know his father¡¯s name, but that slap was no hallucination. For a moment, he could hear nothing but the rain, or the pulse of his own heartbeat in his ears. ¡°Look,¡± the man continued, his voice softening, but the urgency still there, ¡°I know this is a lot for you. But you¡¯re slipping. If you don¡¯t act, this will be the last conversation you ever have. I¡¯m real, Aster. And I¡¯m trying to save you. You need to trust me.¡± Aster closed his eyes, hands shaking. He couldn¡¯t trust him. Not yet. But¡­ maybe. Maybe it was the fear and the desperation that gnawed at his insides, maybe it was the slap, or the sudden sense of purpose that surrounded this hallucination which felt like the first semblance of hope after so long having only despair. He rubbed his face, the sting from the slap still there, real, not imagined. He looked up at the man again, his mind already unravelling but still holding on by a thread. ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± Aster said, though every part of him screamed that this was absurd, that it didn¡¯t make sense. ¡°But I¡¯m telling you, if you¡¯re some ... twisted hallucination¡­.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. The man ignored Aster¡¯s words as he started ¡°You are on the Astral plane, this world has more influence on your world than I can feasibly explain at this moment, just know that you have been afflicted by a type of infection, a parasite that is slowly driving you to your death which will occur on your twenty-first birthday, three weeks from now¡± making sure he still had Aster¡¯s undivided attention he continues. ¡°I have been helping you, protecting you from the worst of its effects, but it¡¯s worsening, and I can¡¯t help you for much longer. Listen carefully, if you wish to survive this parasite, you¡¯ll need to come seek me! I have a house three blocks from here.¡± The man explains ¡°The keys are hidden under the third brick on the fourth step, the address is 7 Heart Lane. I won¡¯t be able to reach you again. You¡¯ll have to find me on your own. I¡¯ve left instructions for an elixir that can help you cross over as well as some assistance to help you make it. If you gather the ingredients and follow the instructions, I can explain more. But for now, wake up.¡± Aster blinked, confusion still clouding his thoughts, but something deep in him¡ªa dark, nagging instinct¡ªtold him not to ignore the man¡¯s words. As his mind tried to make sense of it, the world around him began to shift, the alley slowly blurring into a strange, indistinct haze. He blinked again and found himself lying on the ground, the damp, bitter cold biting into his skin. The sensation of warmth he had felt earlier was gone, replaced by a deep, hollow chill. He lay there for a long moment, still struggling to wake fully, as if his body was dragging him back into a half-sleeping state. The man¡¯s words echoed in his ears. Cross over. Find me. It was insane. He was delusional. He closed his eyes, the weight of exhaustion too much to resist. The pull of slumber was almost unbearable, like a gentle lullaby coaxing him to surrender. ¡°What a strange dream,¡± Aster muttered to himself, his mind slipping again, seeking escape in sleep. But before he could let the darkness fully consume him, a sharp slap struck his cheek. Aster¡¯s eyes shot open wide, his breath catching. The alley was still there, the mist gone, but now the world felt even more real, too real. The sting on his face was undeniable. The sensation¡­ that wasn¡¯t a dream. With a soft groan, Aster sat up, the coldness of the night seeping into him. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared into the rainy night. The man¡¯s presence was gone, but his words¡ªthe instructions, the house¡ªstill lingered in the air like smoke. Aster didn¡¯t know whether to laugh or scream. The line between what was real and what was a hallucination was more blurred than ever. But that slap¡­ it was real. And somehow, he found himself getting to his feet, despite the overwhelming exhaustion. He didn¡¯t know why he was doing this. He didn¡¯t know if it was the last vestige of his sanity or a desperate need for meaning, but the words kept echoing in his mind. Cross over. Find me. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy,¡± he whispered to himself, though his voice wavered, betraying his uncertainty. His feet moved on their own as if guided by something invisible. Aster didn¡¯t know how, but he was already walking toward the unknown. Aster¡¯s hands shook as he lifted the third brick on the fourth step of No. 7 Heart Lane. Beneath it, the cold, metal key glinted faintly in the dim light. He stared at it, his mind sluggish, trying to process how, or why, he was doing this. His body felt weak, his muscles aching with exhaustion, and the damp chill from the street air clung to his clothes. He barely had the mental capacity to process how absurd all of this was¡ªhe had just barely made it the three blocks to get here. Twice, he''d been motivated only by another slap from his hallucination of a man. Shivering uncontrollably, he placed the key in the door, his hands trembling so violently that it took three attempts before it finally slid into the lock. With a deep breath, he turned it, hearing the satisfying *click* as the mechanism inside gave way. The door creaked open slowly, and Aster pushed past the fear gnawing at his chest. Barging into someone''s home. What if there''s a family inside? A kid? What if I scare the shit out of them? But he was too far gone. Desperation had a way of clouding logic. Inside was nothing like he expected. The hallway stretched out before him in an elegant, almost regal fashion. High ceilings, wooden floors that looked like they¡¯d been polished to perfection, and soft shadows playing on the walls from the streetlight outside. Three doorways branched off from the passage, but the house was completely dark save for the faint shadow of his own form, cast on the floor by the soft light outside. Aster swallowed. "Hello?" he called out, his voice awkward in the silence, uncertain. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m not a murderer... and if anyone is here, I¡¯ll leave?¡± There was no reply, just the stillness hanging in the air. He waited a beat, then sighed. Maybe no one was home. Maybe it was *his* house now, for all intents and purposes. He took a few more steps in, and his foot splashed in a small puddle of water on the floor. He blinked and looked down at his dripping shoes¡ªhow had he gotten so wet? It didn¡¯t matter. His teeth chattered as he scanned the space, feeling awkward and alien in this stranger¡¯s home. Next to him, a light switch beckoned. He hesitated but then flipped it. The hallway flooded with a warm, amber glow, the light soft and inviting, like something out of a dream. But that didn¡¯t make him feel safe¡ªno, it only made him feel more exposed. Still, the cold seeped into his bones, and the feeling of water running down his legs made him uncomfortable. He needed warmth, something to anchor him. A bathroom, maybe? He found the door, which opened to a spacious bathroom with a massive shower. Without thinking, Aster rushed toward it, already undoing his wet clothes as he went. He turned the hot water on low at first, not wanting to shock his system, but the heat felt like a searing brand against his skin. It didn¡¯t matter; the burn was better than the biting cold. For thirty minutes, he stood there, letting the water wash over him, slowly thawing his chilled body. But it wasn¡¯t just the cold he was trying to escape¡ªit was everything. This house. The hallucinations. The strange man. Finally stepping out of the shower, water dripping from his skin, leaving faint footprints behind as he made his way to the mirror. Aster stopped, staring at his reflection for a long moment, letting the silence settle around him. Almost twenty-one, but to him, he looked much older. His features were a blend of both parents¡ªhis mother¡¯s deep, dark complexion melding with his father¡¯s lighter skin, creating a warm beige tone, like cappuccino swirled with cream. His nose was strong, a trait inherited from his father, while his lips were full, soft like his mother¡¯s. His eyes, a gentle brown, were the most striking reminder of her. But beneath the surface, the wear of time and stress was evident. The bags under his eyes were a constant reminder of sleepless nights, and his hair¡ªstill damp¡ªclung to his forehead in wild curls, untamed and rebellious. His beard was no better, scruffy and barely managed, as if he had given up the effort of keeping it neat long ago. He sighed, the reflection staring back at him more like a stranger than a person he recognized. He blinked, staring at the foggy mirror. A man in a dream¡­ told me where to find house keys in a secret spot¡­ and told me to live here until I could make a magical elixir to contact him again¡­ ¡®Nothing weird about that," he muttered to himself in disbelief. Aster¡¯s breath caught in his throat, and he let out a harsh laugh. ¡°Fuck that¡­ that¡¯s... extremely weird!¡± He suddenly felt very, very naked. The weight of the strangeness of it all pressed down on him, and he quickly wrapped a towel around himself, ignoring the wet clothes in the corner. There was no use in putting them on¡ªthey¡¯d just make everything worse. Stepping out of the bathroom, he called out again, his voice almost sounding foreign to him in the quiet, ¡°Helloooo? Anyone here?¡± His words felt desperate, more of an invitation to himself to feel something other than the anxiety gnawing at him. The house remained eerily silent. The interior was well-kept, almost... sterile. Soft brown sofas, white walls, carefully placed carpets to break up the monochrome aesthetic of the place. The high ceilings gave the home an air of grandeur, and artwork hung tastefully on the walls, like something from a catalogue. It felt... impersonal. Like a place no one truly lived in, just staged for someone who could afford it. As his eyes scanned the space, he couldn''t help but notice the sense of emptiness in it all. His mother had taught him how to read class and taste like a book¡ªsomething to notice, something to recognize. This home screamed upper-middle class with refined tastes, but it was so meticulously done, so... *empty*. Aster had to force himself to think about something else before he spiraled. His wet skin, the cold sinking into him again¡ªhe couldn¡¯t keep standing around naked like this. So, he moved toward one of the doorways he assumed led to the bedroom area, the light flicking on automatically as he entered. The room was spacious, with a neatly made gray bed in the corner. On the opposite wall, massive closets stood open, revealing dozens of sets of brand new clothes, all in his exact size. Aster froze. ¡®The coincidences just keep coming.¡¯ He pulled out a pair of trousers and a shirt without thinking, slipping them on almost mechanically. His mind couldn¡¯t keep up with the absurdity of it all. On the verge of death only hours ago, he was now standing here in a stranger¡¯s house, dressed in clothes that fit perfectly, all based on instructions from a man who might, or might not be a hallucination. Aster collapsed onto the bed for a moment, trying to sort through it all. ¡°A man in a dream¡­ told me exactly what to do. Told me to come here... and now I''m supposed to brew some potion, contact him again¡­ Nothing weird about that, right?¡± He groaned, running a hand through his hair. ¡°No. Fuck that. This is so messed up.¡± As he pondered this, his mind kept wandering to the list. The man had mentioned a list of ingredients for a potion, instructions to contact him again. ¡®If the list is real, then this couldn¡¯t be a hallucination, right?¡¯ he thought to himself. His heart began to race. He needed to see it. He couldn¡¯t back out now, not when everything else had come true. The list. The elixir. He rushed toward the kitchen, hoping to find the yellow note the man had mentioned. Sure enough, when he entered the living room, there it was¡ªtacked to the fridge with a small magnet. The page was yellowed with age, and the heading, scrawled in large, looping letters, read: ¡®Astral Potion¡¯. Aster¡¯s heart beat faster as he reached out for the paper, his mind filled with questions. ¡®If this is real... if this is the recipe for the elixir, could he really drink it?¡¯ The question lingered in the air as he studied the ingredient list¡ªDMT was the first on the list. He stood there, frozen for a long moment, wondering if this was the moment he truly lost his mind. Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Aster woke up around 2 p.m., feeling more rested than he had in *years*. The bed was the perfect balance of softness and support, the kind of comfort he''d never had access to before. The noise-canceling and light-blocking windows had worked their magic, and he had unknowingly slept for almost twelve hours. For most, that might have been nothing, but for Aster¡ªwho had been surviving on a mere four hours of sleep a night since he was seventeen¡ªit felt like he¡¯d gotten nearly three full nights of rest. He slowly rolled out of bed, stretching the kinks from his back. The warm sun outside didn¡¯t reach him, but he could still sense the day drifting by. There was no sense of urgency. No pressing need to rush. His stomach growled, reminding him of the other, more immediate problem: hunger. His body had become so accustomed to neglecting itself, to feeding on scraps when it could, that the sudden emptiness felt foreign. With an absent-minded groan, he shuffled toward the kitchen, his bare feet hitting the cold floors. He was still trying to piece together everything that had happened the day before, but one thing was certain¡ªthis house, this strange place he¡¯d woken up in, was... different. Somehow, it felt like the first real safe space in his life. Ignoring the yellow page still stuck to the fridge, Aster opened the cupboard, his eyes lighting up as he spotted three full bags of coffee beans. He smiled a little. He hadn¡¯t even realized how much he¡¯d missed the simple things¡ªhow much he¡¯d missed living. After a few moments of eager fumbling with the barista station, he had everything set up. He wasn¡¯t a stranger to coffee; he¡¯d worked as a barista twice before in his life. The smell of the freshly ground beans hit him instantly, filling the space with an intoxicating scent that brought a rush of nostalgia. He steamed the milk, drizzled in honey, and with the first sip, a wave of warmth flooded his senses. The rich, velvety taste of the coffee hit his tongue, and the creamy mouthfeel of the milk soothed his nerves. It was a taste of normalcy, a taste of life he hadn¡¯t experienced in so long. His stomach growled again, this time reminding him he wasn¡¯t just thirsty. Aster had eaten nothing proper for at least a month. He hadn¡¯t even bothered to eat after yesterday¡¯s bizarre events. He hadn¡¯t had time, or the energy, to care. Moving to the fridge, he purposely ignored the list again, focusing instead on the food. Opening the door, he found it stocked with everything a person could want¡ªmeats, vegetables, eggs, cheese, fruits. His mouth watered as he grabbed a few ingredients and started cooking himself a feast. For the next hour, he lost himself in the rhythm of cooking¡ªpancakes, eggs, bacon, fresh scones from the oven, all paired with more coffee. The satisfaction of eating good food after so long filled him with an unfamiliar kind of peace. By the time he was done, the house smelled like a perfect Sunday morning, even though it was well past midday. Sitting back, he felt an odd sense of fullness¡ªnot just from the food, but from the strange comfort of being cared for, even if it was by someone he couldn¡¯t yet explain. He absently scanned the room, still enjoying the warmth in his stomach, when his gaze fell on the yellow page again. He sighed heavily, realizing he could no longer avoid it. No more excuses. ¡°What the hell,¡± he muttered. ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡± He picked up the list from the fridge, his fingers brushing against the cool paper. There was no message this time, no hidden note. Just a simple list, along with a set of instructions that seemed... odd. Aster snorted under his breath as he read the first few lines. ¡°Blessed by the full moon... oh, *fantastic*. That¡¯s not cringey at all.¡± He skimmed through the process. It wasn¡¯t too complex. If he could cook and bake, he could follow these instructions. And if he was being honest, he''d cooked all sorts of strange things over the years. He had helped his foster mother cook up her own concoctions, often for clients who would¡¯ve paid a pretty penny for the substances. Chemistry wasn¡¯t unfamiliar to him. He sighed, scanning the list of ingredients. The first group made sense¡ªpsychedelics, including DMT, salvia, and psilocybin. The second group was filled with crystals and rare stones. And then there was the final section he referred to as Random. Aster read through the final group again, shaking his head. Dassie fur? Seashells? He almost laughed out loud, but that just felt like an easy escape. ¡°What the hell does any of this mean?¡± He read through the list two more times, hoping something would click, but it didn¡¯t. Everything about this felt... too random, too out of place. The idea of collecting all these ingredients felt like something straight out of a fantasy novel. Pushing his chair back, Aster groaned. ¡°It¡¯s a recipe,¡± he muttered, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. ¡°I don¡¯t need to understand it. I just need to follow it.¡± But before he could leave the kitchen, his eyes caught another detail on the fridge. A padded envelope, stuck to the side with a magnet. His heart skipped a beat as he stepped toward it. Reaching out, he pulled it off the fridge, his hands trembling slightly. Tearing it open, he half-expected more instructions or some cryptic clue about what to do next. Instead, inside was a single sheet of paper. Aster unfolded it, and his breath hitched. It wasn¡¯t a note or a list. No, it was something much more tangible. It was the deed to the house, made out in his name. Alongside it, a bank card and a pair of car keys. _________________________________________________________________________________ A rusted-out beetle sputtered and wheezed as it rolled into the McDonald''s parking lot, trailing a cloud of smoke behind it. The car came to a jarring stop, and a girl in her late twenties swung the door open with a loud squeak of the rusted hinges. She stepped out, her bare feet slapping against the pavement as she made her way toward Aster. Her appearance was striking¡ªbarefoot and in a white dress that was clearly well-worn and stained with dirt. A woven backpack, adorned with colorful tribal designs, hung from her shoulder, and more tribal trinkets were fastened around her wrists and ankles. Her hair was tangled and filthy, hanging in wild, unkempt waves, and she looked like she hadn¡¯t seen a proper shower in days. ¡°Did you get the apple pie?¡± she asked, cutting straight to the chase without even so much as a greeting. Aster raised an eyebrow, a little thrown off. He had met this woman through one of the members of his foster mother¡¯s crowd, and to say she was ¡®eccentric¡¯ was an understatement. When he had first met her, he¡¯d been surprised to learn that she considered herself a witch¡ªone who believed she could source anything from sacred herbs to mystical crystals. Despite the absurdity of it all, Aster had told her the truth: he was crafting an elixir after being shown a vision by a mysterious man. She had nodded sagely, as if this kind of thing happened all the time, like it wasn¡¯t the first time someone asked her for such a request. Aster, not really expecting much, reached for the brown bag resting on his car¡¯s bonnet. But before he could hand it to her, Ocean grabbed the bag from him with surprising speed and ripped it open. She immediately found the apple pies, peeled off the cardboard wrapper, and shoved one into her mouth. Aster winced, expecting the worst. Then came the inevitable. Ocean gasped, flailed her arms, and started frantically sucking air through her mouth. Her eyes bulged, and she finally spat the pie out, dropping it onto the pavement. ¡°You could have told me you just got it!¡± she shrieked dramatically. ¡°Are you trying to burn me to death?¡± Aster blinked, still taken aback. ¡°I didn¡¯t get a word in before you ripped the pie out of my hand...¡± he began, but decided against arguing. Their interaction was weird enough already. ¡°Did you get all the ingredients on the list?¡± he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. Ocean paused for a beat, licking her lips after her brief apple-pie-induced meltdown. She looked almost offended for a moment before responding. ¡°I did,¡± she said, then hesitated, her eyes narrowing. ¡°But... man. A lot of the things you wanted are pretty strong. They could really mess you up. I¡¯m happy to take your money and go on my merry way, but I don¡¯t want to end up reading about you in the papers because you ended up in a psych ward. Can¡¯t I interest you in the recipe for one of my love potions instead?¡± Aster could almost feel his eye twitching. When he first met her, he had been intrigued by her claims of being connected to the Astral Realm. But after some probing questions, it became clear that she was more into cosplaying witchcraft than anything remotely supernatural. Her "love potion" was just a concoction of ecstasy mixed with kombucha brewed under a full moon¡ªdefinitely not what Aster was looking for. ¡°Just the materials are fine, thanks,¡± Aster replied, cutting her off before she could begin another round of her lecture about lunar deities and space landings. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Ocean shrugged, biting into the now-cool apple pie with a satisfied grunt. "Sheesh, it¡¯s your funeral, man," she muttered before handing him a turquoise plastic Checkers shopping bag filled with the materials. Aster sifted through it quickly to make sure everything was accounted for, then pulled out a roll of hundred-rand bills and handed her the agreed-upon payment. "Enjoy the stars," she called, offering a lazy wave as she turned to head back to her car. With a loud squeal, the door of the beetle slammed shut, and the engine sputtered back to life, releasing another cloud of black smoke. The jarring sound of Janis Joplin blared from the speakers as Ocean lit a cigarette, waving again through the open window. She didn¡¯t look before merging into oncoming traffic, almost causing two cars to collide. Aster watched, incredulously, as she sped off, the sound of Joplin fading into the distance. He shook his head, muttering to himself, ¡°I better make sure this doesn¡¯t turn me into her. Her brain¡¯s mashed potatoes.¡± He felt an uncomfortable shiver crawl up his spine as he climbed into his own car. Ocean was a living warning. The very thing he could become if he didn¡¯t keep his mind tethered to reality¡ªif he didn¡¯t keep himself grounded while chasing this wild, dangerous path laid out by the mysterious figure from his hallucinations. She had danced too far in her search of the mystical, and now she was a ghost of herself, living proof of the madness that could come from dabbling in things that shouldn¡¯t be messed with. Aster¡¯s grip tightened on the steering wheel, and for a brief moment, he thought about throwing the whole damn thing away. The list. The recipe. The elixir. But then he remembered that vision¡ªthe way the man¡¯s words had crawled into his mind. He¡¯d promised answers. And right now, Aster couldn¡¯t afford to back out. As he started the engine, he told himself that as long as he kept his feet on the ground, there was no way he¡¯d end up like Ocean. She might¡¯ve been off her rocker, but he still had some sense left. Right? _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster wiped his hands on his pants, exhaling a heavy breath as he stepped back and surveyed his work. The electrolysis tank sat before him, humming gently¡ªa Frankenstein¡¯s monster of wires, crystals, and brass components. It looked like something out of a mad scientist¡¯s fever dream. Hours of meticulous work had gone into this¡ªfollowing the cryptic, half-coherent instructions that often made his head spin. But now it was done. Or at least, as done as it could be. He had double-checked everything: the precise methods for extracting and emulsifying the materials, the exact frequencies to activate the crystals, even the bizarre rituals that made his skin crawl just thinking about them¡ªlike the chanting, which still made him want to laugh and gag at the same time. But there it was, humming away, the tank glowing with a soft, otherworldly blue light that flickered in the small, dim room. He sat down for a moment, running a hand through his hair, his mind racing. The instructions were a mess¡ªhalf science, half spiritual gibberish, and wholly inconsistent. He didn¡¯t know what the hell he was doing, but there was no denying the results. Some ingredients had seemed laughably absurd¡ªdassie fur, for example¡ªwhich had to be burned to ash and added to the solution. But the water had turned from a dull yellow to a vivid, almost unnatural blue. And it wasn¡¯t any chemical reaction he was familiar with. Whatever the hell it was, it had worked. Aster glanced at the brass wire in the center of the tank, now bathed in the electromagnetic fields generated by the four carefully placed crystals. The instructions had been clear about this: the elixir¡ªwhatever the hell it was¡ªwould crystallize over the wire in the next twelve hours. He had no idea what would come next. None. But still, here he was, watching the machine hum away, wondering if he¡¯d finally crossed the line into something far beyond his understanding. The strange coincidences still rattled around his mind like loose change in his pocket: the house that had appeared out of nowhere, the key exactly where he¡¯d been told it would be, the increasingly elaborate process that had brought him here. It felt like some cosmic joke, or maybe a test¡ª or a twisted game. But Aster couldn¡¯t allow himself to believe it. It had to be some elaborate con, a hallucination, or just a byproduct of his worn-out brain. He wasn¡¯t the type to blindly accept the strange happenings that had brought him here. But the tangible results were getting harder to ignore. Aster shook his head, trying to clear the fog. He didn¡¯t have time for these thoughts right now. He had a damn recipe to follow, and he¡¯d followed it to the letter. The chanting was done, the materials were emulsified, and the electrolysis tank was working just as it was supposed to. He would just have to waite for the next 12 Hours as the machine forms the elixir. With a sigh, he moved away from where he had been inspecting the crystal next to the tank. Looking the process over once more, he nods in satisfaction before turning off the lights and closing the door. Moving to the living room, he settles onto the couch as he felt the weight of exhaustion settle on his shoulders like a physical burden. The past few nights had been a blur of work, anxiety, and way too little sleep. But now, with the machine running, he could finally allow himself to rest¡ªif only for a little while. He thought about checking the tank one more time, but the instructions had been clear: wait¡ªit would take twelve hours for the process to finish. There was nothing he could do but let it play out. He collapsed onto the couch, his mind still buzzing with a thousand thoughts, but his body was too worn out to entertain them. He flipped on the TV, choosing something mindless to drown out the noise in his head. The soft flicker of the screen cast an eerie glow across the dark room. Aster closed his eyes, letting the hum of the TV fade into the background. It wasn¡¯t long before his breathing slowed, the tension in his body began to loosen, and he drifted off into a light, uneasy sleep, unaware of the strange energy that was silently building around the electrolysis tank in the other room. As he slept, the air around the crystals began to crackle, the atmosphere thickening with an unseen force. The hum of the machine continued, almost imperceptible, as the process carried on without him. The vibrations in the room were subtle at first, nothing that would catch his attention if he weren¡¯t already on edge. But they were there¡ªbuilding, pulsing, feeding into the growing mystery that surrounded him. The night passed. The transformation in the tank unfolded quietly, like something alive, working on its own time, beyond the realm of Aster¡¯s understanding. But for now, he was lost in the comfort of sleep, unaware of what was quietly unfolding in the room next door. Whatever was happening next, he would be ready¡ªor so he thought. _________________________________________________________________________________ The shrill beep of the alarm jolted Aster awake, and he was on his feet instantly, his body alert, his mind sharp despite the lingering fog of exhaustion. The TV was still playing softly in the background, but the twelve hours were up. He had no time to waste. His hands moved instinctively to start the coffee, the rich smell of brewing beans already grounding him, helping him focus. He moved quickly to the garage where the tank was set up, the hum of the electrolysis machine still faintly vibrating through the air. The moment he laid eyes on it, he could tell something had changed. The solution that had once been a vibrant blue had cleared, the liquid now almost perfectly transparent. But that wasn¡¯t what caught his attention. It was the small, glowing crystal¡ªsitting right in the center of the brass wire. It was no bigger than his pinky nail, but it seemed to pulse with a faint, almost imperceptible glow. The light in the room made it hard to be sure, but that faint shimmer was enough to make his heart race. Aster didn¡¯t care if it was glowing or not. He moved to the tank, his fingers gently taking hold of the wire, pulling it free. He leaned in close to examine the crystal. It was square¡ªan odd shape, though not impossible. Square crystals weren¡¯t unheard of, just rare, especially with crystals that had grown naturally. But what really took him by surprise was the growth pattern. It wasn¡¯t the sharp, spear-like form he was familiar with. Instead, it had an intricate, spiraling stair-step pattern, almost like a miniature staircase. It reminded him of Bismuth, but it was different. It was... otherworldly. For a moment, he simply stared at it, slack-jawed. He couldn¡¯t help it. This was it. This tiny crystal. It was the ticket to another world, another life. Whether it was magical or just part of an elaborate trick, Aster couldn¡¯t deny that this was proof¡ªsomething tangible, something real. His hands trembled slightly as he held it, the weight of what he was about to do settling into him. He was on the precipice of something huge, something beyond anything he could¡¯ve imagined. He was about to cross into the unknown, and no matter how insane the instructions had been, he was going to follow through. With the crystal now in hand, he knew the next step was upon him. The instructions had been clear. He needed to go to the attic, where a ritual circle awaited him. A quick search of the house had revealed the latch to the attic, hidden away behind an old, dusty bookshelf. Aster had climbed up, his heart pounding with every step as he found himself in a dimly lit attic space. There, in the center of the floor, was a brass circle, etched with strange, esoteric symbols. The symbols seemed to shift in the low light, their meaning eluding him, but he followed the instructions with exact precision, placing the necessary items in their designated spots. Crystals, totems, and offerings¡ªthe ritual was bizarre, but Aster didn¡¯t hesitate. Candles were placed around the room, their flames flickering gently as he completed the final touches. He could almost feel the air growing heavier, thicker with some unseen energy, but he shook it off. He had done everything the instructions said to do. Now, it was time to take the crystal. His body was as ready as it was going to get. The instructions had mentioned it¡ªhe had to be in the right state of mind, steady and centered. Aster took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. This wasn¡¯t the time to panic. This wasn¡¯t the time for second-guessing. He pulled out a glass contraption, looking at it briefly before shaking his head. The glass piece looked ridiculous, like something a junkie would use. But Aster wasn¡¯t some desperate addict looking for a quick high. No, this¡ª*this*¡ªwas part of something bigger. He had to remind himself that. As he prepared himself to follow through, a part of him couldn¡¯t help but feel like he was spiraling. This path, this madness¡ªwas it really the right thing? Or was he simply on the edge of losing his mind completely? Aster squatted down in the center of the brass circle, his legs folded beneath him, and assumed a meditative posture. The instructions had said to steady his mind, focus, and prepare. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling in rhythm. He needed to keep it together. He had to focus. There was no turning back now. He held the crystal over the glass, eyeing it carefully before placing it inside. The sharp scent of the lighter fuel filled the air as Aster struck the flint. The flame flickered to life, and he bent low, bringing it to the underside of the crystal. The heat started to build, and almost immediately, the surface of the crystal began to melt. A thick, bright blue smoke began to curl and rise from it, filling the air with an electric charge. Aster inhaled deeply, the smoke swirling over his tongue, sliding down his throat, and filling his lungs. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. The taste was bizarre¡ªa strange combination of licorice and grapefruit, sharp and sweet, but with an undeniable bitterness underneath. The smoke felt electric, buzzing like a live wire as it entered his chest. He took another pull, watching as the crystal slowly disappeared, its essence dissolving into the air around him. He held the smoke in his lungs for a long moment, pushing every ounce of willpower into keeping calm, to maintain control. But the sensation was overwhelming. The energy coursing through him¡ªhe could feel it in his fingertips, in his skin, in his very bones. His heart raced, his breath quickened, but he held it in, holding the smoke deep in his lungs for what felt like an eternity. The moment he released it, the violent cough wracked his body, and the room spun out of focus. The last thing Aster remembered was the sensation of falling into blackness. The world around him seemed to melt away, the edges of reality fraying as his consciousness slipped beyond the veil. Then... nothing. Chapter 4 Chapter 4 Aster¡¯s eyelids fluttered open, the world around him coming back into focus slowly, as though he were wading through thick fog. He could feel a gentle pressure on his shoulders, someone shaking him. The disorientation was immediate¡ªhis head felt clouded, and his body was heavy, as if weighed down by a thousand invisible hands. But through the haze, he saw it. The face of the man from his visions, now very real, staring down at him with cyan eyes wide with concern. ¡°You made it!¡± The man¡¯s voice was filled with relief, the words rushing out before he could contain them. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if you''d go through with it!¡± The man let out a loud, breathy laugh, looking skyward as though to release a burden that had been pressing on his chest. The sound filled the air with lightness as if the tension that had surrounded him was evaporating all at once. Aster¡¯s mind was still foggy, the edges of his vision dim and unfocused. But as he stared into the man¡¯s eyes, his heart stuttered. There was something oddly comforting about the way the man looked at him¡ªa sense of connection, of being seen. After a moment of shared silence, the man seemed to collect himself, and his expression grew serious again. His gaze fixed on Aster, the immediacy returning as quickly as it had disappeared. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± the man said, his voice softer now. ¡°I haven¡¯t been around people in a while... seemed to have lost some of my manners and social grace.¡± He extended his hand to Aster. ¡°Matter,¡± he said, his voice warm and welcoming despite the strange nature of the situation. Aster blinked, still reeling from the strangeness of it all. There was hesitation in his eyes, his mind still working to process what was happening. He had just crossed into this surreal new reality, and now this man, Matter, was standing before him, his hand outstretched. Aster found himself shaking it without even thinking, though confusion clouded his expression. What was going on? ¡°Aster,¡± Aster finally managed to say, the words tasting strange on his tongue. Matter grinned, his cyan eyes glinting with something that might have been amusement¡ªor something else entirely. He gave Aster¡¯s hand another firm shake before letting go. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have loads of questions,¡± Matter continued, his tone now turning more businesslike. ¡°And I¡¯m here to answer them to the best of my ability.¡± Aster couldn¡¯t hold back anymore. The questions were pounding against the walls of his mind, his thoughts like a whirlwind as he struggled to catch his breath. He felt the weight of the moment¡ªhis reality had been shattered. Everything he thought he knew had just been turned upside down. ¡°What is the Astral Realm?¡± he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. ¡°Why is this happening?¡± Matter didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t seem caught off guard by the suddenness of the question. Instead, he paused for a moment, his gaze turning inward as if carefully considering his answer. ¡°The question about the Astral Realm,¡± Matter began, his voice calm and measured, ¡°is both a simple answer and an impossibly complex one.¡± He turned toward an open window, indicating for Aster to follow. Without thinking, Aster stood up, his body feeling strangely weightless all of a sudden. But as he moved, he stopped mid-step, sensing something behind him, he turned back coming face to face with his own still form in the middle of a large golden dome seemingly created by the brass metal circle he had been sitting in before taking the elixir. He looks at his hands, expecting some spectral glimmer, but finds it perfectly real and solid. His heart stuttered again. What was happening? He turned back quickly, racing to catch up with Matter, who was already out the window and heading further up the roof. But Aster''s thoughts were in disarray, the confusion growing by the second, ¡®Was I a ghost?¡¯ When he finally caught up, he stood at the edge of the roof, his breath coming in short gasps. ¡®Do I even have lungs anymore?¡¯ Aster thinks momentarily. Matter was waiting for him, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the city below them. For a moment, Aster stood there, trying to catch his breath, but his thoughts were interrupted by the view. The city stretched out before him, sprawling into infinity. The sky above was a writhing mass of colours¡ªswirling, shifting hues that Aster couldn¡¯t even name. The clouds, in every imaginable colour, seemed to dance, weaving in and out of each other like living things. And below that sky, the city itself appeared to be alive. The buildings pulsed with light, glowing in hues Aster couldn¡¯t name. Between the towers, enormous glowing trees stretched, their roots and branches entwined in the urban sprawl, as if nature itself was reclaiming the city with strange beasts moving in between the giant foliage. Suddenly, a massive insect¡ªroughly the size of a Great Dane¡ªwhizzed by, so fast that it nearly gave Aster a heart attack. Before he could fully comprehend what had just happened, it¡¯s followed by a massive, birdlike creature appearing out of nowhere, the size of a mid sizes sedan, its wings beating the air as it closed in on the insect. Aster froze, watching in stunned silence as the bird¡ªa creature that seemed to have the body of Pterodactyl and the face of wolf¡ªswooped down, its powerful jaw latching onto the insect. The bird¡ªonly referred to as such because of the bright orange feathers covering it¡¯s body ¡ªdidn¡¯t seem the least bit bothered by the two humans standing mere meters away from it. It calmly began to feast, tearing into its prey as if the world around it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°This is the Astral Plane,¡± Matter said suddenly, his voice cutting through Aster¡¯s stunned silence. He gestured to the vast world around them, as if presenting it like a map. ¡°A plane of existence that borders and overlaps our own. This section,¡± he waved his hand across the expanse between the earth and the clouds, ¡°is called the Astral Cradle, the largest overlap between the Material Plane¡±¡ªhe looks at Aster¡ª¡°what you would refer to as your world, and the Astral Plane.¡± ¡°Everything in the Astral Plane, everything you see, is layered over our world. It¡¯s like a veil. You can¡¯t see it, you can¡¯t touch it, unless¡­¡± He let the sentence hang for a moment, his eyes locking onto Aster¡¯s with a certain weight. ¡°Unless you let go.¡± Aster frowned, confusion deepening. ¡°Let go? Let go of what?¡± Matter¡¯s gaze softened. ¡°Your barrier. Your Human Bio-Field Aster¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Bio-Field?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Matter said, his tone becoming a little more serious. ¡°The barrier is a golden orb that surrounds every living being in the Material Plane. It shields you, keeps your spirit bound to your physical form. The only way to access the Astral Plane is to let that barrier dissolve and to allow your spirit to escape from the material body.¡± Aster looked down at himself, feeling the odd sensation of his body not quite feeling like itself, ¡®so this is my spirit, my real body was still in lotus position in the attic on the material plane¡¯ He tilted his head slightly towards where they came from in the attic, ¡°You dissolved the barrier when you took the elixir. That allowed your spirit to slip free. To step into this world.¡± Aster glanced around again. The swirling colors, the mist, the glowing city¡ªit all felt so real. Aster couldn¡¯t understand how two realities could both exist simultaneously. Not allowing Aster to further try and make sense of it, Matter continues. Pointing at the multi-coloured clouds above them. ¡°That is the Astral Storm,¡± he said, his voice soft. ¡°The border between the Astral Cradle and the Astral Archipelago. It¡¯s made up of the collective conscious of human thought, and it¡¯s what made our feathered little friend over there.¡± He gestured vaguely toward the distant creature, the enormous, bird-like figure. ¡°An amalgamation of human psyche, emotions, and psychic energy taken form from the vast raw potential our conscious minds have on the Astral Plane.¡± Aster followed his gaze, watching the creature as it finished its meal and started cleaning itself lazily on the opposite roof. He still couldn¡¯t quite process how something so strange could come from human thought and feeling. ¡°The Astral Archipelago is a chain of floating islands,¡± Matter continued, ¡°that start appearing from around 10 kilometers above the Cradle¡¯s surface. These islands span the entirety of the globe, and their collective surface area surpasses the Material Plane¡¯s land mass by about three times.¡± He looked at Aster with a quiet intensity. ¡°This is where the majority of the Aware make their home¡ªvast cities, kingdoms, and other pockets of the Aware have grown here over thousands of years.¡± Aster opened his mouth to ask who the Aware were, but before he could get a word out, Matter raised a hand, stalling his question with a sharp glance. Aster fell silent, and Matter continued speaking. ¡°Following the Astral Archipelago,¡± Matter went on, ¡°past its highest point, we reach the Astral Caverns. A vast network of caves running through 1,000 kilometres of solid rock. These caverns are so expansive that they contain caves the size of entire countries. The Aware have explored these caverns for thousands of years and have mapped the right paths to navigate through them. These paths lead to the rawest, wildest part of the Astral Plane¡ªthe Astral Wilds.¡± Matter paused, looking at Aster, his cyan eyes probing, as if waiting for something. Aster opened his mouth, but then shut it again. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His mind scrambled, his thoughts a blur, as if he were struggling to breathe underwater. It felt like too much¡ªtoo many worlds, too many questions, too much to grasp all at once. ¡°So¡­ all of this,¡± Aster finally murmured, ¡°isn¡¯t another world, but a type of reality overlapping our own?¡± Matter nodded, his expression softening but his eyes still intense. ¡°Yes. Exactly.¡± Aster hesitated for a moment before continuing. ¡°On this plane, human thought somehow has some kind of impact on it, causing these coloured mists and those clouds.¡± He points at the storm above him. He thought back to the alley, the mist that had emanated from him, filled with the emotions of despair, acceptance, and death. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that his own psyche must have produced those energies, through the strange sense of relief he''d felt upon anticipating his death. He shivered at the thought. ¡°To be more precise, the clouds are born from our emotions and thoughts,¡± he corrected himself. His mind shifted to the strange forests he¡¯d glimpsed growing between the city. ¡°And somehow, those energies take shape, becoming something that¡­¡± He glanced at where bird-wolf creature was still cleaning itself ¡°Somehow feeds these creatures, allowing a type of ecosystem to evolve around it?¡± Matter¡¯s eyes widened with excitement. ¡°That¡¯s exactly it! Well, sort of,¡± he corrected himself. ¡°Humans¡ªspecifically human consciousness¡ªhave the ability to generate these clouds, which we refer to as Psychic Aether. This ¡®essence¡¯ is a very polluted form of a special Aether found in the rest of Astral Plane, starting from the Archipelago and beyond, called Elemental Aether.¡± Matter continued, explaining with fervour. ¡°All Astral life forms are made up of these essences. Every form of consciousness interacts with these essences, absorbing them, making use of their nature to grow and strengthen. That process is called Cultivation. All life forms are in a constant state of Cultivation, growing, strengthening, and surviving. Each stage of growth allows them to move higher and higher through the Astral strata, with the strongest being able to reach the Astral Wilds.¡± Aster imagined life forms growing, evolving, and shifting across layers of the Astral Plane. Stopping himself before he lost concentration on what Matter was saying, quickly rather deciding to file all of that away for later, thinking, ¡®I¡¯m in a magical world filled with magical things. No point in trying to understand it all at once¡ªbetter to gather more information and make sense of it later.¡¯ ¡°Who are the Aware?¡± Aster ventured, his curiosity piqued by this new term. Matter seemed all too pleased that Aster was grasping the concepts he was laying out. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°The Aware are the people who have discovered the Astral Plane and crossed over,¡± Matter explained, his voice almost reverent. ¡°The Astral Plane was, for the longest time, only accessible to our ancestors in the past, called the Forgotten. They were a primitive people around fifty thousand years ago who were able to cross over in their dreams. Over time, they figured out the recipe for the elixir and were able to cross over permanently, showing others the way.¡± He looked at Aster, his eyes gleaming. ¡°Those who followed them are called the Aware. It¡¯s a broad group of people from all around the world who, over thousands of years, carved out a civilization on the Astral Plane. And by knowing about it, you yourself can count yourself as part of the Aware.¡± Happy with the explanation Aster goes on to the questions that have been nagging him the most ¡°How do you know my father and what is this parasite you mentioned¡± he asked, the words finally tumbling out after what felt like an eternity of internal hesitation. Matter¡¯s gaze shifted away for a moment, his eyes clouding as if he were lost in memories. He seemed to be taking a deep breath before he finally turned back to Aster, his expression darkening with an emotion Aster couldn¡¯t quite place. There was sorrow, regret, something heavy in his gaze as he spoke again. ¡°I met your father in Galamad,¡± Matter said, the name heavy on his tongue. He paused when he saw Aster¡¯s confused look. ¡°Galamad¡­ It¡¯s an Astral school, located in the Astral Archipelago. It represents the South African branch of a vast Astral network that trains and teaches Initiates, like you, in the ways of the Astral Plane. If everything goes correctly, it will be the next step in your journey.¡± Aster opened his mouth to ask a question, but Matter¡¯s intense gaze silenced him, making him hold back. There was a weight in the air, an unspoken understanding. Matter continued, his voice softer now. ¡°Your father and I didn¡¯t like each other at first. We were both too similar, too stubborn, to see eye to eye. But after we met your mother, everything changed. She became the stabilizing force between us, a peacekeeper. We had to learn to get along, for her sake. To keep her from being torn between us.¡± Aster listened intently, the tension between his ribs growing. His mind raced, trying to piece this together, but Matter kept speaking. ¡°The three of us excelled in our studies,¡± he said, ¡°and we grew close, very close. We became prominent figures in the Astral Caverns. That¡¯s when your father and mother¡¯s families started talking about marriage, to unite the two powerful families under a single heir.¡± Matter¡¯s gaze flickered toward Aster, his meaning clear. ¡°That heir, Aster, is you.¡± Aster¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Me? The thought echoed in his mind as he processed what he had just heard. He wasn¡¯t just some random kid thrown into this world¡ªhe was part of something much bigger. But Matter wasn¡¯t finished. He looked down for a moment, the weight of the next part of the story seeming to press on him. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Matter said, his voice turning grim, ¡°this union angered the Mesha family. They stood in opposition to the marriage of the two families, and in their spite, they cursed the unborn child¡ªcursed you¡ªby sending a creature from another plane. A very dangerous parasite called a Void Wyrm to infect you soon after birth¡± Aster''s stomach dropped, unable to stop himself, he blurted out. ¡°A what?¡± Matter¡¯s face grew more serious, his eyes meeting Aster¡¯s with a certain weight. ¡°A Void Wyrm,¡± he repeats, his tone steady but heavy with the enormity of the words. ¡°It¡¯s an entity from a plane bordering the Astral Plane. A creature of unimaginable destruction. It is not something easily dealt with.¡± Aster¡¯s mind swirled with the implications of what he was hearing. A parasite. A Void Wyrm. His own family had been cursed. Matter paused, sensing Aster¡¯s confusion. ¡°This is where things become quite complicated to explain,¡± he said, his voice tinged with the weight of experience. Aster, however, wasn¡¯t about to let that go. ¡°Complicated?¡± Aster snorted in disbelief. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this is already complicated enough.¡± He shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "A curse, a Void Wyrm, and I''m supposed to just accept your word on this?" Matter smiled faintly, as if amused by Aster¡¯s reaction, but there was no humour in his expression. ¡°Explaining how the Void Wyrm works with your current understanding,¡± he said, ¡°would be akin to me trying to explain the history of the oil industry to a primitive to make him understand why a car ran out of gas.¡± Matter sighed, seemingly conceding to the fact that he was going to have to explain this to Aster. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he said, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I¡¯ll try. You won¡¯t be able to navigate the Astral Plane without understanding this part anyway, so here goes.¡± He took a deep breath before continuing. ¡°As I mentioned before, the Forgotten were the first to gain access to the Astral Plane, but they found themselves in a wild, unforgiving space. A place they had to visit every single night, no matter how dangerous. Many of them didn¡¯t make it.¡± Matter¡¯s voice grew sombre. ¡°But those who did, well¡­ they struggled. The creatures, the flora, the entire plane was hostile to them. It was a curse, in many ways, they were forced to live with¡± Aster, his mouth slightly agape, watched Matter intently as the older man went on. ¡°Until they discovered Faith,¡± Matter continued, his tone changing slightly, ¡°Now, Faith, unlike the psychic essence we release into the Astral Plane, manifests differently. It¡¯s pure, undiluted energy¡ªraw power. It can be used in a variety of ways, and it gave the Forgotten the edge they needed to survive on the Astral Plane. It was a discovery on the same scale as the discovery of fire on the Material Plane.¡± He paused, watching Aster¡¯s reaction. ¡°Faith became the force that allowed them to finally stand a chance.¡± Aster¡¯s mind was whirring, trying to piece this all together. Matter noticed Aster¡¯s stunned silence and continued. ¡°The Forgotten soon learned that Faith could be collected from others¡ªspecifically, from other tribe members¡ªthrough the right channels. They made use of constructs, ancient figures they¡¯d found, and used those figures to focus the Faith of their people into a funnel that they would be able to collect and use. This was the beginning of what we now call religion. It was the foundation upon which everything that came after was built.¡± Aster was about to open his mouth to speak, but Matter raised a hand, answering him before he could ask. ¡°Yes, those religions, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, etc. Big printing presses on the Astral Plane churning out Faith on mass scale¡± he said, causing Aster to stare wide-eyed with awe as he continued without missing a beat. ¡°With the strength of Faith behind them the Forgotten quickly conquers the Astral Cradle, entering the Archipelago and seeing for the first time the true vastness of The Astral Planes. Knowing their numbers stretched thin, they decide to incorporate specially chosen Unaware into the Astral Plane, creating the Aware as we still referred to this day¡± Matter explained, his eyes distant, recounting something long past. ¡°Now, with the growth of their numbers, civilization began to take shape on both the Astral Plane and the Material Plane. As with all civilizations, commerce was established. At first, people bartered¡ªtraded goods and services¡ªbut over time, that changed. Currency became the new standard of exchange. And that, Aster, is when something unexpected happened.¡± Matter stopped for a moment, watching Aster carefully, almost as if weighing his words. ¡°For currency to hold value,¡± he continued, ¡°Faith is required. The faith people had in for example a gold coin¡¯s value, would appear on the Astral Plane in the same way that Faith had been generated by the people through religion. That¡¯s when merchants within the Aware realized that Faith wasn¡¯t just something you could generate from beliefs or prayers¡ªit was something that could be harvested from the very fabric of the Material Plane itself.¡± Aster¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°Wait¡ªso by us believing something had value, that value would result in Faith on the Astral Plane?¡± Matter nodded. ¡°Exactly. They discovered that the value of currency was tied to an equivalent exchange of Faith. But what happened next is¡­ complicated.¡± Aster waited for the rest, his mind already spinning. Matter¡¯s gaze grew even more intense. ¡°Within a day of using the faith contained in that coin,¡± Matter explained, ¡°Fate would intervene on the Material plane to make that you¡¯d either lose the coin through chance, or you¡¯d find that Fate would redirect your destiny itself so that you couldn¡¯t receive that coin¡¯s value in the future. It was a way for the Astral Plane to ¡®balance the books.¡¯ But it was also the first time in history the Astral Plane directly affected the Material Plane. The very act of using Faith in the Astral Plane would cause Fate to affect the Material Plane.¡± Aster was reeling from all of this. ¡°So¡­ my bank account for example has an equivalent worth on the Astral Plane called faith?¡± he asked, trying to wrap his mind around it. Seeing Matter nod he continues "So if I was to use some of it on the Astral Plane, Fate would intervene in my life for me to somehow lose what I had spent?" "Yes," Matter replied with a grim nod. ¡°Everything that has value will be effected by it, your new house for example. You wouldn¡¯t know this but as soon as it appeared in your name, a water leak had sprung up which has slowly been spreading and reducing the value of your property. This is caused by the parasite residing inside of you, the Void Wyrm, which has been feeding of off that energy¡± Aster¡¯s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. ¡°The Void Wyrm¡­ is connected to my Fate?¡± Matter¡¯s voice grew darker. ¡°Yes. The Void Wyrm, that was transplanted inside of you as an infant, feeds off that energy,¡± Matter continued, his tone heavy with the weight of the explanation. ¡°It uses the cosmic scales of Fate to steer you along certain paths, causing your good fate to unravel. This dissipates into the same energy that Faith generates, allowing the Void Wyrm to feed and grow inside of you. Because material wealth and money are linked to that very same energy system, it becomes the easiest available energy source, and the Void Wyrm starts with that. It will start by first bringing ruin to its victim¡¯s fortunes, worsening their luck, bit by bit from there, until all possible good fate is completely eaten away, cancers and other possible misfortune make quick work of the victim from there. At that point, just before the Material Death of your physical form, the creature bursts forth and wreaks havoc, terrorizing both the Material and Astral Plane.¡± Aster¡¯s face went white. He struggled to process the gravity of the situation, but the horrifying implications slowly began to dawn on him. ¡®Was my constant bad luck caused by the parasite?¡¯ Matter nodded somberly, finishing the thought for him. ¡°Yes, the parasite is relentless, especially since it was implanted in you so young. It first drained your family¡¯s wealth over a decade. I¡¯m sure you remember how you had to keep moving to smaller and smaller homes?¡± Aster¡¯s eyes glazed over as he thought back to his childhood¡ªeach new house growing smaller, each move a reminder of something he couldn¡¯t fully understand at the time. He felt a lump in his throat, realizing with sudden clarity how much his parents must have suffered because of him. His chest tightened, and tears began to well up in his eyes. His breath quickened, and his mouth felt dry as he awaited the next part. ¡°Followed,¡± Matter said quietly, his voice breaking, ¡°by the death of every single member of both your family¡¯s bloodlines, next was your mother, and then, finally, your father.¡± Matter¡¯s words were barely a whisper by the end, and Aster could see the pain in his eyes. Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes, Matter rushed through the last part of his explanation, his voice hoarse with emotion. ¡°Your father made me promise on his deathbed to continue protecting you and help save you from this fate. The Wyrm was relentless after their passing, steering you into the worst outcomes again and again, it took all my energy to save you from the very worst of them. All I could do was steer the creature to points of luck that I could weave throughout your life to keep the creature fed and prolong the inevitable. The Wyrm will feed through the Faith contained in your home and your bank account within the next year. But we don¡¯t have that long, the creature will burst forth on your twenty-first birthday, even if you have faith left or not. You are coming of age and this occasion has profound meaning on the Astral Plane, this is the period when the Spirit has matured enough to allow the crossover. This is also a feast for the creature It will not pass up on. I¡¯m here to attempt to integrate this creature into your Astral Vessel through a complex ritual surgery before that happens. If everything goes well, it will become part of you, and you¡¯ll gain power over it. This will help you escape your fate and even allow you to take up the mantle and inheritance left to you by your family on the Astral Plane.¡± Aster stared at him, wide-eyed, his expression a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Matter¡¯s sudden, abrupt finish left him feeling as though he¡¯d been run through a whirlwind pitch for a timeshare. The rushed conclusion left a bitter taste in his mouth, and without thinking, his mind went to his usual skeptical roots. ¡°Are you trying to steal my organs?¡± Aster blurted out, suspicion rising sharply in his voice. Matter, not expecting this reaction, nearly fell off the roof in surprise. ¡°How the hell did you get that from everything I just told you?!¡± he asked, genuinely flabbergasted. Aster shrugged his shoulders apologetically, his gaze still sharp. ¡°I can¡¯t explain away the Astral Plane,¡± he said, pausing to glance at the orange wolf-bird lazily grooming itself, ¡°that seems real enough. But you can¡¯t expect me to believe that both my parents¡¯ deaths and my lifelong string of bad luck were caused by a single entity that you somehow have the cure for by doing surgery on me. That¡¯s a black market organ trafficking pitch if I¡¯ve ever heard one. Thanks for showing me this magical place, but I¡¯ll be on my way from here.¡± Aster stood up, ready to leave, but before he could take a step, Matter muttered something under his breath, just loud enough for Aster to hear, ¡°Don¡¯t freak out,¡± as he reached forward and touched Aster¡¯s chest. In an instant, Aster was no longer standing in the quiet, ethereal landscape. Instead, he found himself face to face with a colossal creature¡ªa beast the size of a medium-sized mountain. Its body was covered in thick, plate-like armor made of chitin. Hundreds of legs ran down its segmented body, and its head was a grotesque blend of dragon, centipede, and larva features. The mandibles clicked as they moved, and Aster could feel the chill of its many eyes¡ªa mass of multilensed orbs¡ªglaring at him with an intelligence that felt cold, alien, and terrifying, as though it was staring directly into his very soul. A suffocating, hungry energy radiated off the creature, and Aster''s breath caught in his throat as a wave of recognition washed over him. This feeling¡ªit had been with him his whole life. Aster suddenly knew implicitly that this was the thing responsible for all of his misfortune, for the slow unraveling of his life. This was the thing that had poisoned everything, from his parents'' fall to ruin, to their eventual deaths, to the endless suffering he''d endured throughout his life. He knew it, in his very core. This Void Wyrm was why his life had never worked out. His stomach churned, but instead of the fear or panic that Matter had expected to see, raw, unbridled rage and hatred surged within him. He could feel his entire being burning with fury as the realization settled in. This creature had murdered everyone who could have ever cared for him. His parents were dead because of it. His entire life had been a product of its malicious influence. Aster¡¯s fists clenched at his sides, his teeth gritting, his heart pounding. He had lived with this shadow for so long, unknowingly, but now, in the presence of the creature itself, all of that anger, that grief, bubbled to the surface like a poisonous tide. He was seething. His mind was a whirlwind of violent thoughts, but just as quickly, a memory of his father flickered through his mind. Despite the overwhelming fury, Aster knew that his father had wanted something different for him¡ªthat there was a way to end this, to rise above it, to reclaim what was taken. In an instant, Aster was yanked back, and the overwhelming presence of the Void Wyrm was gone. He looked across at Matter, who was giving him a look that screamed ¡°I told you so,¡± as if he¡¯d expected exactly this reaction. Aster exhaled slowly, trying to regain his composure. He couldn¡¯t deny the truth anymore. "Okay, fine, I believe you," he relented, the fight draining out of him for the moment. He sat back down, his gaze steady but focused. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± Chapter 5 Chapter 5 For several long days, Aster had fasted at Matter''s instruction, enduring hunger and fatigue. Each night, his mind would cross over into the Astral Plane, as though his body and spirit had been severed for brief moments of time. He quickly adapted to the strange ritual¡ªfalling asleep and waking up in the Astral Plane as if it was just another part of his existence. Matter, in the rare instances he would answer Aster¡¯s questions, told him that with time, Aster would be able to cross over through deep meditation as well. He spoke cryptically about a ceremony called the "Sever Ceremony," which, when Aster reached ¡°Acolyte rank,¡± would allow his consciousness to split. Both halves would experience the Astral and Material Planes simultaneously, a process Aster couldn¡¯t quite grasp. ¡°You¡¯ll learn all that at Galamad,¡± Matter had said dismissively. ¡°I¡¯m busy. Why don¡¯t you go do some more Will practice?¡± Will practice had become Aster''s least favourite activity, like an incessant, maddening game. It was like the old childhood toy where you had to move a wire along a loop without letting it touch¡ªonly it was a thousand times worse. He had to move a gem through a narrow, wire mesh tube using only his focus, keeping his eyes locked on it. If his concentration slipped, the gem fell. A buzzer would sound, a cruel reminder of his failure, and the whole process would reset. On the third day, Aster finally managed to finish the circuit, but Matter wasn¡¯t satisfied. He swapped the wire mesh for a solid tube. ¡°Try again,¡± he instructed. Aster had protested. ¡°I can¡¯t see the stone in there. How am I supposed to move it?¡± Matter¡¯s only advice was simple. ¡°Feel it.¡± Aster had no idea what that meant at first, but he reasoned that it had to be some kind of magic¡ªperhaps an extension of the powers he had seen Matter demonstrate. Matter had manipulated objects around the room without touching them, even slaying a dangerous creature with barely a glance. Surely, this was related. Determined, Aster had tried to feel the stone in his hands first, but the sensation was indistinguishable from his own touch. Frustrated, he placed it on the table and attempted to focus again, his eyes trained on the stone. Slowly, he could feel something¡ªa subtle pull, a sensation of weight, but it was fleeting. Allowing his focus to raise the stone in the air again, he tried to maintain that feeling. Holding onto it, he tried closing his eyes, but the stone would always drop. It was maddening. Day after day, he tried. Hundreds of failures. But something changed on that day. Despite the gnawing hunger that pulled at him, he felt a difference¡ªsomething like a connection, a way to feel the stone''s weight in his mind. He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to concentrate. The stone wavered in midair, but it dropped once more. ¡°I need to focus on its weight,¡± Aster reminded himself. He opened his eyes and adjusted, allowing the stone to rise again and keeping the sensation of its weight at the forefront of his consciousness. And then, it happened. He felt the weight of the stone as clearly in his mind eye as he did holding it in his hand. For the first time, it wasn¡¯t just his eyes working¡ªthe stone was there, connected to him, and he felt the pull, the resistance, the gravity of it. But just as he got it into place, it fell again. But Aster didn''t give up. He repeated the process, dozens of times, until finally¡ªhe closed his eyes and instead of the telltale drop of the stone, there was a pause, suddenly realising he had done it, he lets his focus slip, which is of course followed by the sound of the stone dropping. ¡°It fell, but only after a second! I held it completely without looking!¡± Aster shouted. From across the room, Matter watched with surprise, his eyes wide. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d figure it out so quickly, did you?¡± Aster grinned, feeling an unexpected rush of pride. Matter cleared his throat, looking a little guilty. ¡°The Absent Labyrinth is used to test and train Will at the Saint level,¡± he said. ¡°I needed to be sure you had enough strength in your will just to lift the gem. That was the minimum to survive the surgery. The fact that you were able to finish the first level of the Labyrinth ¡ªwell, that¡¯s an accomplishment at your level. But the fact that you mastered it and could maintain your focus with your eyes closed... that¡¯s the first step to Divine level.¡± Aster blinked, confused. ¡°Saint level? Divine level? What are you talking about?¡± Matter gave him a sideways glance. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much you¡¯ll understand, but that¡¯s the scale we¡¯re working on here. The higher your Will, the higher the chances the surgery will succeed.¡± Aster didn¡¯t fully grasp what Matter meant, but those words sounded impressive enough. Lifting the stone without effort now, he absentmindedly caused it to drift in a lazy eight pattern. Chuffed at his mastery, he gave Matter self-satisfied smirk. ¡°So why have me practice all this extra stuff if lifting the stone was all you needed?¡± Matter paused, scratching his head sheepishly. ¡°Well... the higher your will, the more likely the surgery is to work. And, uh...¡± He looked away, a little embarrassed. ¡°It also kept you busy so I could get some work done without your constant questions.¡± Aster flings the stone at his head using a surprising amount of force which simply bounces off Matter without leaving a mark. ¡°Wow you¡¯re really getting good at this¡± he exclaims, causing Aster to storm out of the room before he tried to throttle him. _________________________________________________________________________________ ¡°The ritual is ready¡± Matter suddenly disrupts Aster¡¯s concentration on the stone as it falls on the side of the closed tubing causing the hated alarm to go off, essentially screaming ¡®Loser¡¯ to Aster as he cursed this contraption, he had made it halfway through and had hoped to complete it before the surgery. Suddenly realizing what Matter said, he quickly let go of his frustrations as he turns his attention to Matter ¡°I just finished though so I¡¯m quickly going to get ready, but you can head over to the tablet. You remember what you need to do?¡± Matter asks. Aster rolled his eyes but grinned. "Yes, I remember." He had heard the instructions so many times, it felt like it was seared into his consciousness. ¡°When you feel the sharp pain go off the guided path, use your will to keep it straight.¡± Matter seemed happy with his answer and moves to go, but suddenly stops as he seemed to want to say something more. After a long pause, with his back still turned to him he finally says ¡°You¡¯re Parents really did love you, never forget that¡± before leaving the room and leaving Aster to ponder the meaning behind what he meant. The cold marble of the tablet pressed into Aster¡¯s bare back as he lay down, the coolness sending a shiver through him. His body felt tense, rigid with anticipation as the ritual groves on the stone etched deep lines into his skin, forming an intricate map¡ªlines of power and meaning that connected him to the unknown. He didn¡¯t fully understand it, but he could feel the hum of magic beneath his skin, pulling him into the centre of whatever was coming. His heart raced, but he steadied himself. This was it. He had to trust Matter. There was no going back now. The room was dark, the sky above just beginning to lighten with the first whispers of dawn. The atmosphere felt thick with latent energy. Calm before the storm, Aster thought, taking a deep breath. He could almost hear the pulse of his own heartbeat in the stillness. Suddenly, the soft rustle of cloth broke through his thoughts. Matter appeared; his figure dressed in a jet-black robe that shimmered in the dim light. The fabric seemed alive, swirling with stars and galaxies, as though the robe was made of the night sky itself. There was something ethereal about him, an aura of power that made Aster feel small, insignificant in comparison. For the first time since he had met him, Aster felt a flicker of awe. ¡°Ready?¡± Matter asked, his voice calm, though Aster could sense the weight of the moment in it. Aster took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°As ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡± Matter checked the ritual setup one last time, his eyes scanning the space with sharp attention. He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small white disk. Both sides of it glowed with brilliant red symbols that pulsed like flames. Aster¡¯s pulse quickened as he watched it.. ¡°After I activate this artefact,¡± Matter explained, his voice steady as he held it up, ¡°you¡¯ll be transported to the Wyrm. The ritual will begin then. Remember what I told you¡ªguide the pain to the marked path. Don¡¯t let it overwhelm you.¡± Aster nodded, though his mind still reeled. Guide the pain? What did that even mean? How would he manage it? But Matter was looking at him with those piercing cyan eyes, as though reading his thoughts. Aster swallowed his uncertainty, forced himself to focus. ¡°Good luck,¡± Matter said quietly, but there was something more in his voice¡ªsomething that sent a chill down Aster¡¯s spine. It was as if he knew something Aster didn¡¯t. As if he understood what was truly at stake. Before Aster could respond, there was a crack, a sudden violent shift, and then everything went dark. The world around him spun, and he fell, tumbling through endless blackness. Aster couldn¡¯t scream, couldn¡¯t even draw in a breath. Then¡ªpain. A sharp, raw pain erupted in his forehead, a flare of agony that tore through his skull. He gasped, feeling his body twist, pulled in directions he couldn¡¯t comprehend. His vision blurred as he tried to hold on to himself, to keep some semblance of control. His eyes snapped open. Before him, the Wyrm loomed. It was vast, its form twisted and grotesque, an insectoid creature the size of a mountain. Its skin was slick and alien, reflecting the darkness around it, and its eyes¡ªcold and unfeeling¡ªlocked onto him. It was as if it could see straight into his soul, as if it were measuring him, calculating his worth in some unfathomable way. Hunger radiated from it, a dark, endless hunger, but there was no malice, no cruelty. Just an innate, primal need to consume. Aster¡¯s breath caught in his throat, but he didn¡¯t look away. He couldn¡¯t. Not now. The pain surged, rippling through his body as though it were tearing him apart. His mind screamed in protest, but he held on, forcing himself to stay grounded in the presence of the Wyrm. The world around him seemed to shift. The Wyrm twisted and writhed, its immense form thrashing, and yet Aster could see something new. A massive ritual pattern stretched across the ground beneath them, intricate and vast, glowing faintly in the void. The symbols pulsed with a strange energy, as though alive, and at the center of it all¡ªthe Wyrm, the focus of the ritual. Above, a brilliant light began to move. It started as a dull white glow but slowly grew brighter, shifting to a radiant gold. Aster felt the call of it, as though the light wanted him to act. It was his path¡ªhe had to guide it. With what little strength he had, Aster focused on the light, pulling it through the geometric pattern. Pain erupted with each step. The light burned as it moved, slicing through his soul, but Aster forced himself to keep it steady, guiding it along the path, weaving it through the runes with all his will. The Wyrm¡¯s body began to convulse violently beneath him. Its movements were frantic, desperate, but Aster did not stop. He could feel it, a resistance building, but he had to keep moving. Hours passed¡ªor perhaps it was days, time seemed irrelevant in this place¡ªand Aster¡¯s focus never wavered. Finally, after an eternity, he felt the ritual reach its peak. The pain in his body reached its limit, his muscles screaming, but the light was moving steadily through the pattern now. And then¡ªnothing. Aster felt a wave of confusion. Had it worked? Was the ritual over? Was he finished? Before he could even begin to process what had happened, a bright flash of light appeared before him, blinding him. Squinting against the glare, Aster saw a figure materializing in front of the Wyrm. It was a man¡ªa tall, radiant figure, glowing with golden light. His presence filled the space, and Aster felt a surge of recognition. The figure turned slowly, and Aster¡¯s heart stopped. It was Matter. His cyan eyes locked with Aster¡¯s. But they were different now¡ªfilled with a deep sadness, a sorrow that echoed through Aster¡¯s very soul. But there was something else too¡ªsomething resolute, something almost joyful. "Aster," Matter¡¯s voice echoed in his mind. "I¡¯m sorry. There was no other way. For the Wyrm to enter chrysalis and complete the ritual, it had to feed on a spirit. I promised your parents I would look after you." Tears filled Aster¡¯s eyes as he saw Matter, glowing with radiant energy, standing before him. But before he could react, the Wyrm moved. With a terrifying roar, its immense form lunged forward, jaws snapping shut around the spirit of Matter, consuming him in an instant. Aster¡¯s heart shattered as the figure of Matter disappeared into the Wyrm¡¯s gaping maw. His voice echoed in Aster¡¯s mind one last time: ¡°Shake this world, Aster. For me. For Howard. For Seni.¡± And then, with a deafening explosion of light and sound, Aster¡¯s consciousness shattered, falling into an endless void. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster woke with a searing pain radiating through every fiber of his being. His muscles screamed in protest as if they had been stretched and torn, and his head throbbed with a dull, relentless ache. The last thing he remembered was performing the ritual with Matter, but now¡­ he wasn¡¯t there anymore. The air around him felt different¡ªthinner, colder, yet charged with an otherworldly energy that made his skin prickle. As his vision cleared, he realized he was no longer on Earth. He lay on a flat, invisible surface suspended in an endless expanse of stars. Galaxies swirled in the distance, their vibrant hues of blues, purples, and golds painting the void. Nebulas stretched like cosmic brushstrokes, their ethereal glow casting faint light across the scene. Aster¡¯s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sheer vastness of it all. He was floating in the middle of an ocean of stars, and the sight was both breathtaking and terrifying. ¡°So, you¡¯re finally awake,¡± a deep, guttural voice growled, snapping Aster out of his awe. The voice was heavy, commanding, and carried an edge of menace that made Aster¡¯s instincts scream in warning. He turned his head, wincing at the pain, and saw a figure standing a short distance away. The being was massive, standing at least four meters tall, with a muscular frame that exuded raw power. His head was that of a lion, with a golden mane that shimmered faintly in the starlight. His eyes glowed with an amber hue, piercing and predatory, as they locked onto Aster. The lion-man¡¯s presence was overwhelming, like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. He wore a suit of armor that seemed to be forged from the very stars themselves, its surface shimmering with constellations that shifted and moved as if alive. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Aster tried to push himself up, his body trembling with the effort, but before he could even get to his knees, the lion-man let out a thunderous roar. ¡°Insolence!¡± The word reverberated through the air like a shockwave, and suddenly, an immense weight pressed down on Aster, forcing him back to the ground. It felt as if a small horse had been placed on his shoulders, crushing him into the invisible surface beneath him. ¡°You dare to stand in my presence!?¡± the lion-man bellowed, his voice dripping with contempt. ¡°A mere worm, thinking himself my equal?!¡± The weight doubled, and Aster gasped as the pressure intensified, making it feel like his bones were about to snap. ¡°You stay on your knees and know your place!¡± Anger flared in Aster¡¯s chest, hot and defiant. Who the hell does this guy think he is? he thought, gritting his teeth against the pain. He had just woken up in this bizarre place, and now this overgrown house cat was treating him like dirt. Aster had faced bullies before¡ªhis foster mom had been one of the worst¡ªbut no one had ever broken his spirit. He wasn¡¯t about to let this lion-faced tyrant be the first. Straining against the crushing weight, Aster slowly pushed himself up, his muscles trembling with the effort. The lion-man¡¯s eyes narrowed, and with a flick of his hand, he increased the pressure fivefold. Aster was instantly driven back to the ground, his body screaming in agony as it felt like every bone was on the verge of shattering. Insolent, me? Aster thought bitterly, his vision blurring from the pain. I¡¯d worship you if it meant getting rid of this pressure. He could feel his ribs cracking under the strain, and for a moment, he wondered if this was how it would all end¡ªcrushed by some cosmic lion in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, a soft woosh echoed through the void, and the weight vanished as quickly as it had come. Aster gasped, drawing in ragged breaths as the pain began to recede. ¡°Still love torturing initiates, I see, Rhyden?¡± a woman¡¯s voice said, her tone laced with contempt. Aster wanted to look up, to see who had saved him, but he kept his head down, his body still trembling from the ordeal. He had learned his lesson with the lion-man¡ªrebellious as he was, he wasn¡¯t stupid. ¡°And so what if I squash an insect or two?¡± Rhyden replied, his voice dripping with disdain. ¡°There are millions of them.¡± Aster couldn¡¯t help but think, This guy must be a real joy at parties. ¡°That is in complete violation of the Astral Charter,¡± the woman retorted, her voice sharp. ¡°But looking past that, you still can¡¯t harm this one. That¡¯s why we¡¯ve all come together.¡± More wooshes echoed through the void, and Aster felt the air around him grow heavier as more beings appeared. The pressure of their presence was almost as suffocating as Rhyden¡¯s weight, but Aster kept his head down, determined not to draw their attention. ¡°You can look up if you wish,¡± the woman said, her tone now tinged with amusement. Aster hesitated, then slowly raised his head. Blood trickled from his nose, and his body ached from the ordeal, but he forced himself to meet the gaze of his savior. The woman was unlike anything he had ever seen. She radiated light, her very being seeming to be constructed from the warmest sunlight. Her skin glowed with a white-hot brilliance, and her hair roiled with flames that danced like the corona of a star. She was beautiful, but in a way that was almost painful to look at, as if her very presence could burn away the darkness. Aster stared, slack-jawed, until the woman cleared her throat, snapping him out of his daze. ¡°I asked, do you know where you are?¡± she repeated, her voice patient but firm. Aster blinked, realizing he must have missed her the first time. ¡°The Astral Plane,¡± he ventured, his voice hoarse. The woman sighed. ¡°Do you know who we are?¡± she asked, gesturing to the figures around her. Aster glanced at the others¡ªtwelve in total, each one more bizarre than the last. Rhyden wasn¡¯t the only one who looked part monster, and the sun woman wasn¡¯t the only one made of energy. There was a man who seemed to be made of magma, his body glowing with molten heat, and another who swirled with ash, his form constantly shifting. A woman with the body of a spider loomed in the background, her many eyes glinting with malice, while a pair of figures stitched together from mismatched parts grinned unsettlingly at him. ¡°Hopefully very friendly people?¡± Aster answered, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ¡°He¡¯s an idiot,¡± the magma man exclaimed, his voice crackling like lava. The sun woman sighed again, clearly exasperated. ¡°Let me fill you all in before this devolves further,¡± she said, her tone commanding. ¡°This boy is the lost heir of the Elchen family.¡± Murmurs of recognition and shock rippled through the group, though some still looked confused. ¡°The one infected by the SS-level void wyrm as a baby in the womb,¡± she added, her voice heavy with significance. ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± the magma man protested. ¡°The Elchen and Sikewe families were wiped out more than twelve years ago. He should have hatched ages ago.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯ve asked you all here today,¡± the sun woman replied. ¡°This boy has not only survived being a void wyrm host, but it seems he was transfused with the wyrm into a SymbioCultivator with the parasite.¡± The group erupted into chaos, some demanding proof, others calling for Aster¡¯s immediate execution. The sun woman raised a hand, silencing them. ¡°I¡¯ve already made a copy of his engravings onto a tablet for each of us to study. However, I doubt we¡¯ll find much use for it.¡± She paused, letting her words sink in. ¡°The ink used for his engravings was made from sap harvested from the eternity tree.¡± The group fell silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air. ¡°Not only that,¡± she continued, ¡°but the man who performed this ritual was a Celestial-rank enchanter. He cultivated the sap in his own body for over twenty years, using his very will to shape the runes. He even sacrificed himself to complete the ritual.¡± As the group erupted into chaos again, with some demanding proof and others calling for Aster¡¯s immediate execution, a new voice cut through the cacophony. It was low, measured, and carried an undercurrent of danger that made even Rhyden¡¯s growl seem tame by comparison. ¡°Enough,¡± the voice said, and the room fell silent. All eyes turned to the speaker. ¡°Rheno Mashe, you have the stand¡± Aerothena said as she steps backwards allowing an older man, his electric blue hair and beard shimmering like a storm-lit sky, to step forward . His glowing eyes, a piercing shade of cobalt, scanned the group with a calculating intensity. He was dressed in flowing robes that seemed to shift and ripple like the surface of a calm sea, and his presence exuded an air of quiet authority. Unlike the others, who radiated raw power or elemental energy, Rheno¡¯s aura was more subtle¡ªa coiled tension, like a blade waiting to be drawn. Aster¡¯s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his composure. ¡®Mashe,¡¯ he thought, trembling with a mix of anger and fear. ¡®Matter said they were the ones who infected me with this parasite?¡¯ ¡°This boy,¡± Rheno said, his voice cold and precise, ¡°is not just a curiosity or a potential resource. He is a threat. A living, breathing weapon that could unravel the very fabric of our existence.¡± He turned his gaze to Aster, who flinched under the weight of those glowing eyes. ¡°The void wyrm is not a parasite to be tamed or a tool to be wielded. It is a force of annihilation. And this boy¡ªthis host¡ªcarries it within him.¡± Aerathena¡¯s fiery gaze narrowed. ¡°Rheno, your fear is understandable, but your conclusions are premature. We have no evidence that the wyrm¡¯s influence is active or uncontrollable.¡± ¡°No evidence?¡± Rheno¡¯s voice rose, sharp and biting. ¡°The boy survived a transfusion that should have killed him. He bears engravings made from the sap of the eternity tree, burnt into him by the sacrifice of a Celestial. Do you truly believe such power comes without a cost? Without a purpose?¡± He stepped closer to Aster, his movements deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. ¡°The void wyrm is not a passive entity. It is a predator, a destroyer. And it will use this boy to fulfill its purpose.¡± Aster¡¯s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but the weight of Rheno¡¯s presence¡ªthe sheer, coiled power radiating from him¡ªkept him rooted in place. ¡°You don¡¯t know me,¡± Aster said, his voice trembling but defiant. ¡°Your family¡­ they¡¯re the ones who infected me with the void wyrm. You¡¯re the reason I¡¯m like this.¡± Rheno¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver, but his glowing eyes narrowed slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey. ¡°A bold accusation,¡± he said, his tone dripping with condescension. ¡°And one you have no proof to support. The void wyrm is a force of chaos, boy. It does not discriminate. It does not take sides. To blame my family for your¡­ condition is not only baseless but foolish.¡± Aster¡¯s fists trembled at his sides. He wanted to argue, to lash out, but the words caught in his throat. Rheno¡¯s calm dismissal was infuriating, but it also planted a seed of doubt. What if he was wrong? What if Matter meant someone else in the Mashe family? Aerathena stepped forward, her fiery presence cutting through the tension. ¡°Enough,¡± she said, her voice firm. ¡°This is not the time for accusations or personal grievances.¡± She looks hard at Aster conveying that her words were meant for him, before turning to the other individuals. ¡°We are here to decide the boy¡¯s fate, not to dredge up ancient history. Make your point and let the council decide¡± Rheno inclined his head, his expression smooth and unbothered. ¡°Of course,¡± he said, though his glowing eyes lingered on Aster for a moment longer, as if silently warning him to tread carefully. ¡°My concern is for the safety of the Astral Plane, nothing more.¡± Aster glared at Rheno, his mind racing. He didn¡¯t trust the man¡ªnot for a second. But without proof, without any way to back up his claims, he knew he was powerless. For now, he would have to bide his time, to watch and wait. But he wouldn¡¯t forget. And he wouldn¡¯t let Rheno¡¯s calm facade fool him. Rheno¡¯s lips curled into a cold smile. ¡°I know enough. I¡¯ve seen what the void wyrm can do. I¡¯ve seen countries reduced to ash, civilizations erased from existence. And I will not stand by while he¡ªwhile it¡ªthreatens everything we¡¯ve built.¡± He turned to the group, his voice rising with conviction. ¡°I move that the boy be put to death. Immediately. Before it¡¯s too late.¡± The room erupted into murmurs, some of agreement, others of protest. Aerathena raised a hand, silencing the group once more. ¡°Rheno, your concerns are noted. But we are bound by the Astral Charter. The boy has the right to make it through to his severing ceremony, to be given a chance to grow and prove herself.¡± ¡°The Charter,¡± Rheno spat, ¡°was not written with creatures like him in mind. It was written to protect the innocent, not to shield a ticking time bomb.¡± He turned to the others, his glowing eyes sweeping across the group. ¡°How many of you are willing to risk everything for the sake of curiosity? How many of you are willing to gamble the fate of the Astral Plane on the hope that this boy can be controlled?¡± The magma man stepped forward, his molten body crackling with heat. ¡°I stand with Rheno. The boy is too dangerous to be left alive.¡± The ash man nodded, his form shifting and swirling like a living storm. ¡°Agreed. The void wyrm is a threat we cannot afford to ignore.¡± The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, a man covered in metal with two small moons orbiting him stepped forward, his expression thoughtful. ¡°What do you propose, Aerathena?¡± he asked. ¡°That the boy be studied,¡± she replied. ¡°We may learn something that could help cure those stricken by the void. But he is also the heir of two legacy families, and under the Astral Charter, he must be allowed to attend his studies and undergo the severing ceremony. My proposal is to let him grow. We don¡¯t know how this transfusion will influence his development, and I, for one, am curious to find out.¡± The metal man nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll take a vote.¡± Aerathena looked relieved. ¡°All those in favor of allowing him to be schooled and grow, raise your hands.¡± Seven hands went up, including Rhyden¡¯s, much to Aster¡¯s surprise. The others who voted in favor included a bearded man, a young boy, a man with closed eyes holding a sword, the metallic figure with two moons orbiting him, a floating sphere of water, and lastly a large, tree-like entity that resembled a well-pruned shrubbery. ¡°Those opposed?¡± The opposition consisted of darker figures¡ªthe magma man, the ash man, the spider woman, the stitched-together pair, and Rheno Mashe himself. Aster shuddered at the thought of what ¡°opposed¡± might mean to them, especially after hearing the stitched man¡¯s earlier suggestion of dissection. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled,¡± Aerathena declared. With a series of wooshes, the others disappeared, leaving Aster alone with her in the vast, star-filled void. _________________________________________________________________________________ ¡°Are we actually in space?¡± Aster cautiously asked the sun-being, trying to start a conversation. His voice echoed faintly in the vast, star-filled expanse, the sound swallowed by the infinite void around them. The woman¡ªAerathena¡ªturned her radiant gaze toward him, her eyes like twin suns that seemed to pierce through his very soul. She smiled, and for a moment, Aster felt a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold, otherworldly environment. ¡°We¡¯re in a pocket dimension,¡± she explained, her voice calm and reassuring. ¡°We use it to travel to and from the Astral Wilds to the lower strata. The energy down here is too thin for us to remain stable, so this pocket dimension acts as a bridge, allowing us to interact with cultivators like yourself. The ripples of your ritual reverberated throughout the Astral Planes, catching our attention, I sent Rhyden to fetch you while I gathered the rest, he¡¯s a brute but as you saw with the way he voted, he¡¯s a good person.¡± Aster swallowed hard, his throat dry, and asked the question that had been gnawing at him since he woke up. ¡°Did Matter really do something that had never been done before? Why did he have to die?¡± The weight of Matter¡¯s sacrifice suddenly hit him like a tidal wave, and he fell to his knees, his chest tightening with grief. ¡®I knew he was acting weird at the end,¡¯ Aster thought, his mind swirling with regret. ¡®I thought he was just awkward, like me. I thought we¡¯d have more time to get to know each other. Damn it!¡¯ Aerathena¡¯s expression softened, her fiery hair flickering gently as if in sympathy. ¡°Nothing like this had ever been attempted before,¡± she said, her voice tinged with both awe and sorrow. ¡°No one had even considered it¡ªand for good reason. The Eternity Tree is a colossal entity that exists in a realm only accessible to those who have mastered the Law of Time. Its sap holds the essence of time itself. While benign within the tree, once removed, it becomes wildly unstable. Imagine time as a series of polarities¡ªforward, backward, present, and stop. Now imagine those polarities reduced to the size of atoms, ripping through the stable flow of time around them. One part of you might age centuries in seconds, while another reverts to infancy. The result is¡­ catastrophic.¡± She paused, her glowing eyes studying Aster as if weighing how much to reveal. ¡°This Matter you speak of¡ªlikely a pseudonym for a genius Celestial-rank enchanter who disappeared around the same time you and your parents did¡ªsomehow transfused the sap into his own body without degrading. He attuned it to his will, stabilizing it and turning it into the most durable and potent body enchantment medium I¡¯ve ever seen. And he used it to contain the void wyrm within you.¡± Aster¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Is the void wyrm really that bad? Matter mentioned they were an invasive species, but I didn¡¯t really understand why they¡¯re so dangerous.¡± Aerathena¡¯s expression darkened, her fiery aura dimming slightly as if the mere mention of the wyrm dampened her light. ¡°Worse than you can imagine,¡± she said, her voice heavy with gravity. ¡°The void wyrm is a parasite from a plane of existence that borders our own¡ªa plane that is anathema to everything we know. They first appeared in the late 1800s, though we don¡¯t know why. The destruction they leave in their wake is unimaginable.¡± She took a deep breath, her flames flickering as if agitated. ¡°Once a wyrm infects its host, there is no cure¡ªor at least, there hasn¡¯t been until now. When they hatch, the true nightmare begins. After feeding on their host¡¯s Faith and good karma, they enter their next phase, devouring the host¡¯s spirit and causing their body to fall into a coma. The wyrm then forms a chrysalis, drawing in the surrounding essence to build its body from the very fabric of our plane. Within 24 hours, it emerges as a fully grown Void Form, capable of manipulating fate on a massive scale. It feeds on the karmic fate of towns, cities, countries, and even continents.¡± Aster¡¯s stomach churned as she continued. ¡°The threat level of each wyrm is measured from E to A, with special cases designated as S, SS, SSS and finally, god-level threats: Beta, Omega, and Alpha. The wyrm inside you is classified as SS due to its distinct cross horn shape¡ªa typing that indicates immense destructive potential. The last time an SS-rank Void Form was born, it triggered WW2¡ªa global conflict that started with the economic collapse of Germany, the descent into madness of its people, which eventually culminated in a war that stretched the globe. Every bomb dropped, every building destroyed, provided fuel for the wyrm, each act of destruction liquidated that asset¡¯s worth of faith on the Astral Plane for the Wyrm to absorb and become stronger from. We only stopped it by rallying our own karmic fate to contain its destruction before finally destroying it¡ªat great cost.¡± Her voice trembled with sorrow, and Aster felt a chill run down his spine. ¡®If he remembered correctly, World War Two resulted in more than Sixty million deaths,¡¯ he thought, his mind reeling. ¡®Maybe more. And the thing inside me could be even worse?¡¯ He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to process the enormity of it all. ¡°If I¡¯m this dangerous,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible, ¡°why keep me alive at all? Why not just kill me and study the ritual from my corpse?¡± Aerathena¡¯s fiery aura flared brightly, forcing Aster to shield his eyes. ¡°The Eternity Sap used in your ritual is the strongest binding I¡¯ve ever seen, just to study this process would make it worth it to keep you alive¡± she said, her voice filled with conviction. ¡°But what''s more is the bindings itself is a cultivation technique known as ¡®Symbiocultivation¡¯ ¡ªa well-studied method that fuses two beings into one, creating a new, more powerful cultivation type which allows the cultivator to get access to the cultivation of the being they''re fused with. The fact that you¡¯re in control and the wyrm is not means we don¡¯t need to worry about you losing control at the moment. But we can also study how the fusion has changed your Astral Vessel and whether you can harness its Void typing, if you can, you could theoretically remove other Void Wyrms as the Void typing would have a much better effect on them.¡± Aster felt a flicker of hope, though it was quickly overshadowed by doubt. ¡®Void typing?¡¯ he thought bitterly. ¡®With my luck, the only void power I¡¯ll develop is probably developing stomach cancer.¡¯ Seeing his doubt, Aerathena¡¯s expression softened. ¡°The knowledge that Matter was able to seal the wyrm, will reverberate throughout the Astral Plane,¡± she said. ¡°Countless lives have been lost to the protocol of executing wyrm hosts. Now, there¡¯s a chance to save them. That will make you a hero to many¡ªbut if they ever learn the impossible means used to achieve it, they will hate you.¡± Her words sent a chill through Aster, despite the warmth radiating from her fiery form. ¡®Such dark and somber words from a walking sun,¡¯ he thought, his skin prickling as it began to sunburn from her proximity. ¡°That¡¯s why we won¡¯t release the details of the ritual to the public,¡± Aerathena assured him. ¡°It will be classified as SS-level, need-to-know only.¡± She paused, her gaze shifting to the swirling galaxies around them. ¡°Speaking of which, you are to be enrolled in Galamad. Have you heard of it?¡± Aster frowned, ¡°Matter mentioned it once or twice. It¡¯s a school on the floating island above the¡­ emotional clouds?¡± ¡°Peninsula and Astral Storm,¡± Aerathena corrected, her tone patient. ¡°It¡¯s the South African branch of an educational institution with schools in every country. It¡¯s the starting point for all new initiates. You¡¯ll be about three months behind the other first-years, but I¡¯m sure we can figure something out.¡± Aster nodded, though his mind was still reeling from everything he¡¯d learned. ¡®I¡¯m finally starting my cultivation¡¯ he thought, a mix of excitement and apprehension bubbling in his chest. ¡®What have I gotten myself into?¡¯ Chapter 6 Chapter 6 The richly furnished classroom was a picture of order and elegance, its walls lined with shelves of ancient tomes and its floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. Sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, casting golden beams across rows of wooden desks where students sat in attentive silence. The air hummed with the faint scent of incense and the quiet rustle of parchment. But the tranquility was shattered in an instant. A sudden tear ripped through the fabric of reality, and a window of swirling light appeared in the center of the room. Through it stepped Aster, disheveled and wide-eyed, followed by the radiant figure of Aerathena. Her presence was overwhelming, a force of nature that pressed down on the room like a collapsing star. The students gasped, clutching their chests as the air grew thin and heavy. One by one, they crumpled to the floor, moaning and struggling to breathe. The teacher, a wiry man with a stern face, managed to stay upright, but his knees trembled under the weight of her aura. Aerathena tsked, her fiery hair flickering like a dying flame. With a wave of her hand, the pressure lifted, and the room filled with the sound of gasping and coughing as the students struggled to recover. The teacher dropped to his knees, his forehead pressed to the floor in reverence. ¡°Lady Thena,¡± he stammered, his voice trembling. ¡°How may we serve the Sun Goddess?¡± Aerathena¡¯s expression flickered with mild embarrassment, but she quickly brushed it aside. ¡°I have a new student for you,¡± she said, her voice calm but commanding. ¡°He has an unusual cultivation type and will require special attention to ensure his growth.¡± She turned to Aster, her glowing eyes softening as she handed him a letter and a ring. ¡°Rhyden found these next to you when he first discovered you. You are the heir to both the Elchen and Sikewa families and entitled to your Inheritance. Wield their legacy wisely, and master the power of the creature within you.¡± Before Aster could respond, she tore another window in space and vanished, leaving him standing awkwardly in the center of the room. He looked down at the letter and ring in his hands, his mind racing. ¡®Inheritance? What inheritance?¡¯ Someone clears their throat, and Aster snaps out of his thoughts. He suddenly realizes that all eyes are on him. The room is filled with curious gazes, the thirty students now focused solely on him. "Was that really Lady Thena, Mr. Xiou?" a young woman in the front row breaks the silence, her voice laced with awe. "Yes, it was," the teacher, Mr. Xiou, answers absently, his mind processing the situation. He looks at Aster and straightens, finally addressing him. "Your name?" he asks. "Aster," Aster stammers, still reeling from the encounter. "Aster Elchen." "Mr. Elchen, I¡¯m Professor Xiou," the teacher introduces himself, still recovering from the shock. His gaze sweeps across the classroom, landing on a blonde woman with glasses. "Ms. Bramble, you¡¯ve finished your required reading over a month ago, and I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t miss much. Would you mind taking young Mr. Elchen to registration and showing him around the school? Help him get oriented." The girl, Lena, looked momentarily disappointed but quickly perked up as she realized the opportunity. She stepped forward, linking her arm with Aster¡¯s before he could protest. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Ellena Bramble,¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°But my friends call me Lena.¡± Without waiting for a reply, she led him out of the classroom and into the grand hallway beyond. The hallway was a marvel of architecture, its walls carved from dark gray marble that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. The ceiling soared nine meters above, supported by towering columns adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures. Windows lined the walls, offering glimpses of the sprawling landscape outside. The floor stretched endlessly in both directions, broken only by branching hallways and the occasional classroom door. Lena leads him towards a large mirror, standing alone in a spot that seems to be of special importance. Aster can¡¯t quite place the significance of it, but he¡¯s distracted when the mirror suddenly lights up, and a group of students steps through it. "I said, how do you know Lady Thena?" Lena asks again, raising her voice slightly to bring Aster back to the present. Still in shock from the teleportation he¡¯s just witnessed, Aster stumbles over his words. "She helped me... from being executed... for having a bug inside of me?" Lena stops in her tracks, her brows knitting in confusion. "A bug? Why would you be executed for that?" Aster seemed to realise something as he suddenly looks sick before asking ¡°Do people frequently have bugs inside of them here¡± ¡°Here?¡± Lena slowly asks, trying to talk slower as her assessment of Aster¡¯s simpleton levels was slowly being raised with each sentence. ¡°You know¡± Aster gestures around him with his arms ¡°The Astral Plane?¡± ¡°Yes they do¡± Lena answers matter of fact. ¡°The Rhenus family as well as the Soqwe family both use cultivation types that incorporate implanting insects into themselves and that¡¯s just from our own year¡¯s initiates, many families practice cultivation techniques that incorporate insects into themselves around the world. So why did they want to have you executed for having an insect inside you?¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t an ordinary Insect¡­. it was a void wyrm¡± Aster tries. Lena¡¯s eyes widened, and she nearly jumped back in alarm. ¡°A void wyrm?!¡± she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. Aster quickly reassured her, explaining that the wyrm had been sealed away. Lena¡¯s expression shifted from fear to disbelief, then to awe as she realized the implications. She is silent for a long moment before her disbelief melts into something else¡ªrealization, and maybe a bit of awe. "They were able to cure you of your Void Wyrm?" she asks cautiously. "Kinda," Aster replies, hesitating. "A family friend figured out the cure, but Aerothena and her friends warned me not to share too much. She said it''s very difficult and that they¡¯re still working on it." Lena doesn¡¯t fully understand what Aster means by "Aerothena''s friends," but her mind quickly connects the dots¡ªThe Celestial Council. Her eyes widen in shock. She almost stumbles, catching herself just in time. Her expression shifts, becoming somber. "A friend of mine had a Void Wyrm. A Class D... not necessary for the protocol. Her family had a choice¡ªeither all die, or execute her. They were a poor family with only each other. They chose to die together, one by one. As each person ran out of Faith and Karma for the Wyrm, they each died followed by my friend going into a coma, and then the officials... dispatched her. It¡¯s a horrible affliction. I wouldn¡¯t wish it on anyone. I¡¯m glad you were saved." Aster¡¯s heart sinks as he listens, realizing the true horror of the Void Wyrm. He thought his experience was a nightmare, but hearing about Lena¡¯s friend and the tragedy she faced makes him feel a pang of guilt and determination. He hadn¡¯t realized how devastating the void wyrm was for others. His own suffering had been unbearable, but the thought of entire families being wiped out was unimaginable. He made a silent promise to himself: he would do whatever it took to help others like him. He turns to look at Lena again, really seeing her for the first time. Her disheveled appearance, messy hair, and oversized glasses hid a beauty that he hadn¡¯t noticed before. She was kind, and her warmth made Aster feel something inside him that he couldn¡¯t quite explain. "Are you going to show me how this portal works, or are we just going to stand here all day?" Aster asks, his voice light, trying to shift the mood. Lena glances around, noticing the impatient students trying to squeeze past them to use the mirror. "Oh, right," she says, flustered. _________________________________________________________________________________ Moving from one side of the mirror to the other felt instantaneous. Aster could have half his body on one side and the other half on the other without feeling anything out of place. "If that gate collapses while you''re halfway through, you¡¯d be split in half, you know," Lena remarked, standing patiently as Aster experimented¡ªmoving his hand, leg, torso, head, and then his crotch through the gate, utterly fascinated by what was happening. Aster yanked his crotch back in pure terror, his face draining of color. "I thought you said it was safe!" he cried, white as a ghost. Lena burst into laughter at his reaction. "I was just kidding! But, to be fair, those who cultivate space can cut you in half like that, so I wasn¡¯t entirely lying." Aster continued to glare at the gate like it had tried to bite him, subconsciously covering his crotch protectively. "So... where''s the registration office?" he asked, eager to change the subject. "Just a small detour first. We need to get your typing first." "That''s not the first I¡¯ve heard people mentioning ''typing.'' What is that?" Aster asked, his curiosity piqued. "I figured you wouldn''t know," Lena said. "The Astral Plane is made up of seven different energy types: Earth, Fire, Water, Air, Wood, and Lightning. Each person is born with their Astral Vessel aligned to one of these elements¡ªthat¡¯s what I mean by typing." Aster mulled over her words. ¡°You only just listed only six elements. What¡¯s the seventh type?" "The seventh type is... tricky to explain. It¡¯s a rare typing that not many people have, so let¡¯s first get your typing confirmed. I''d rather avoid diving into the technicalities of cultivation right now." As they turned a corner, a large courtyard opened up before them, revealing a vast arena-like area the size of a park. Jagged pillars of crystal were evenly spaced throughout, with people moving between them. Some touched the crystals while others scribbled notes. Aster¡¯s eyes widened as he watched one crystal suddenly glow a dark rust-red. The person who had touched it jumped into the air with joy. They approached an unoccupied crystal where a woman in a white uniform stood beside it. "We''d like to perform a typing," Lena informed her. "Only typing?" the woman asked. "Yes, please," Lena answered. "What else can it measure?" Aster asked, curiosity getting the better of him. "A lot¡ªstrength, endurance, speed, will, spiritual power, and more. But don¡¯t bother looking at that stuff now. It¡¯ll just bum you out." Anticipating his next question, Lena continued before he could ask, "Because right now, your strength is about a three. Mine is an eighteen. I¡¯m not even a strength type, and I could wipe the floor with you six times over. But that¡¯s only for now. Cultivating your chosen typing will gradually increase your stats. Even though I¡¯m six times stronger than you, I still rank F- in strength, just like you. We won¡¯t reach F until 100, and F+ until 200." Aster quickly did the calculations in his head and blanched. "So an A+ would have a strength of around 1800?" he exclaimed incredulously. "More or less, yes." Aster didn''t consider himself particularly strong in the material plane, but he wasn''t weak either. He had worked labor jobs before, alongside a gym-head who frequently talked about human potential. The record for the heaviest weight lifted by a man was around 2,500 kilograms. That gym-head had trained for two years and managed to lift 300 kg, whereas Aster had maxed out at 100 kg. If 100 kg translated to a strength of three, then a strength of 1800 should be about 60,000 kg! Even the world record holder would barely rank a 75¡ªstill falling in the same F- category as him and Lena. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ''What kind of monsters do I share this world with?!'' he thought. "And above A+, the ranks double¡ªS, SS, SSS, Beta, Omega, and Alpha. An Alpha strength is around 120,000," Lena casually mentioned as she nudged Aster toward the crystal. Shoving his overwhelming thoughts aside, Aster focused on the woman¡¯s instructions. "Place your hands on the crystal. Your typing will appear as a color: red for Earth, orange for Fire, yellow for Air, green for Wood, blue for Water, indigo for Lightning, and purple for Spirit. Ready?" Aster nodded and took a deep breath before pressing his hands against the crystal. A strange magnetic pull latched onto his hands as they made contact, locking him into place. He felt a current surge through him, linking him to the crystal. The crystal suddenly turned a deep purple. "Typing: Spirit," the attendant announced, handing him a printed form listing his attributes anyway. Lena wasn¡¯t wrong, everything was F-, except for his Will, which was an F+. Lena peered over his shoulder. "Wow, Aster! An F+ in Will? That¡¯s insanely high for an Initiate. I¡¯ve barely made it to F in Spellcraft, and my parents have been tutoring me since I was sixteen. With your Will so well developed, picking classes for you will be a lot more straightforward." Aster hesitated. "You said earlier that Spirit typing was different from the others. What did you mean?" Lena sighed. "I¡¯d rather not explain all of cultivation right now¡ªyou¡¯ll eventually learn it in Cultivation Studies. But I''ll give you the basics." She adjusted her glasses and continued, "Imagine your Astral Vessel as a prism that refracts light. Since there are different types, imagine seven types of prisms, each refracting only one of the seven colors. Each typing consists of seven hues that define the attributes of that element. For example, Fire has Ash, Heat, Smoke, Ember, Combustion, Destruction, and Astral Fire, also called Fire Spirit or Fire Essence. A cultivator can use the different hues of their own element, with the final hue being that element¡¯s spirit." Aster nodded to show he was following. "Spirit typing is unique because you can interact with all elements¡ªbut you can''t cultivate the powerful energies of the other hues. You can only use their spirit, which is like the nucleus holding the other hues together. Every material is made from different hues, complexities, shapes, and functions, all bound by their spirit which acts as its identity. That¡¯s the foundation of spellcraft, enchantments, rituals, and artifacts. The downside? Spirit typing cultivation is much harder than others. But don¡¯t worry," she reassured him, seeing his downcast expression. "There are ways to overcome these limitations¡ªand even excel. Three members of the Celestial Council have reached celestial ranking with Spirit Typing. You just need to choose your classes carefully to maximize your strengths and cover your weaknesses." She smirked, lifting her head high and looking down at him over her glasses. "Lucky for you, you¡¯ve run into me. I¡¯m frequently referred to as the ''Class Build Goddess.''" Aster raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I know exactly what classes you need to sign up for," she continued confidently. "Let¡¯s head to registration." _________________________________________________________________________________ ¡°We can quickly go pick your classes, register you, and get your prescribed materials list and uniform. After that, we¡¯ll take a quick detour to show you the highest place in Galalamad and get you familiar with the layout before heading to the markets to gather everything you need to start tomorrow,¡± Lena explained as they stepped through another mirror into a large corridor. This one was made of bright white marble that shifted hues with each layer, patterned with intricate designs of varying colors. Aster could only nod. The consecutive shocks of his new reality had left him somewhat numb. Just two weeks ago, he was living on the streets¡ªnow, he felt like he had stepped into Narnia. They entered another grand room, where statues and intricate engravings converged around a wall of desks behind large windows. Each window had an attendant assisting long lines of students waiting their turn. ¡°When we reach the front, you¡¯ll be asked which classes you¡¯d like to register for. Each Initiate must choose seven classes to pass before advancing to Year Two. The first four classes I want you to take will help you establish a strong foundation and understand the Astral Plane: Cultivation 101, Combat 101, Spellcraft 101, and History 101. The remaining three are tailored to your Spirit Typing: Artificing 101, Alchemy 101, and Scripture 101. These classes will best utilize your strengths and depend heavily on Will, which you already excel in.¡± ¡°Do you have any questions for me?¡± she asked as they queued up. ¡°Tons, honestly, but I doubt you could answer them all at once, nor that I¡¯d even understand everything right away. But I trust you, and I believe you know what you¡¯re doing,¡± Aster admitted. Lena smiled, appreciating his trust. ¡°If you don¡¯t know anyone here, you should hang out with me and my friends. We¡¯ll meet them at lunch after we see the view. One of my friends is also a Spirit Type user¡ªshe uses artifacts to compete on equal footing with the elemental users in our year. I¡¯m hoping she can tutor you in Artificing, while I can help you with Cultivation, Spellcraft, and Alchemy. Another acquaintance, Musa, will assist you with Combat and Scripture. We¡¯ll get you up to speed in no time.¡± They reached the front, and Lena nudged Aster forward before he could respond. He gave his name, type, and preferred classes. After registering, a printed schedule and list of lesson requirements were handed to him before he was ushered away for the next student. Lena, already speaking to another student, motioned for Aster to join them. ¡°Aster, meet Musa. He¡¯s the acquaintance I mentioned who will help you with Combat and Technique.¡± Aster examined Musa¡ªa tall, muscular African man, draped in a cheetah skin over his white uniform. He exuded confidence, triggering Aster¡¯s internal ¡®Do not mess with him¡¯ alarm. Clearly, Musa was someone who knew how to handle himself. Aster hoped he¡¯d be able to teach him to do the same. ¡°Nice to meet you, Musa,¡± Aster greeted, extending his hand. Musa¡¯s handshake was like gripping solid steel. ¡°So, you just finished registration?¡± Musa asked. ¡°You literally just saw him walk away from the desk, and I just told you,¡± Lena teased. ¡°I¡¯m taking him to see the school¡¯s viewpoint before lunch. After that, we¡¯ll hit the market for his supplies,¡± she continued. Musa nodded, turning to Aster. ¡°Before you go to the market, you should visit the Weapon Depository with me. There are tons of weapons and scriptures there. Most Legacies don¡¯t bother since they just follow their family scriptures, but I checked it out after signing up and found several high-end scriptures¡ªgreat for starters like yourself or for reference while refining your own.¡± Aster was lost. Weapons were easy enough to grasp, but scriptures? Was magic actually based on quoting Bible verses? He imagined two priests battling with increasingly elaborate sermons while holy beings fought on their behalf. Musa and Lena exchanged glances, waiting for Aster to say something, but he was clearly lost in his own head, grinning dumbly. They shrugged. ¡°Tell Aster to meet me at the Depository entrance after lunch. I¡¯ll take him to the market afterward,¡± Musa said. ¡°We¡¯ll meet at Material Needs in Alloy Alley.¡± Lena had secretly hoped Musa would want to join them at the viewpoint. Many students went there for its romantic atmosphere and breathtaking views. ¡°That works for me. See you at Alloy Alley.¡± She says dejectedly. Musa departed, disappearing into the mirrors below. Lena turned to Aster, who was still lost in thought, completely oblivious to her time and Musa¡¯s departure. Irritated, she grabbed his ear and twisted it, dragging him up the stairs. With only a fraction of her strength, Aster had no choice but to comply, yelping in pain. ¡°What did I do?!¡± he cried out, baffled by her sudden aggression. As they ascended, students snickered and whispered. Many came to the viewpoint to make out, and they hadn¡¯t expected Lena to be so direct with the new Initiate. The girls cheered her on, while the guys could only grumble in jealousy. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster had to make sure his ear wasn¡¯t torn from the side of his head as he pouted in the corner, well away from Lena¡¯s reach. ¡°How long are you going to sulk about that?¡± she asked, far too amused. They were on the last set of stairs before the viewpoint. She would have dragged him up the rest of the way by his ear if his screaming hadn¡¯t turned so high-pitched and frantic that she¡¯d let go out of sheer alarm. ¡°I don¡¯t see any blood,¡± she pointed out innocently. Aster refused to answer. He confirmed there wasn¡¯t any, but that wasn¡¯t the point. The real wound was to his pride. He had known Lena was stronger than him¡ªwhat he hadn¡¯t expected was just how much stronger. Swallowing his frustration, he followed her up the final steps, stepping into an open plaza. The space was lively¡ªbenches tucked beneath elegantly twisting trees, pathways weaving between small, rolling grass hills. Students moved about, some in heated discussions, others practicing spells. Floating lanterns bobbed gently in the air, flickering with a soft golden glow despite it seemingly being broad daylight. Lena took his wrist and pulled him forward. ¡°Come on.¡± They stopped at the railing, and Aster¡¯s breath caught as the world opened before him. Below him sprawled a massive floating island stretching to the horizon, an entire civilization hanging in the sky. The scale was overwhelming¡ªan entire continent suspended above the clouds, defying every law of nature he had ever known. And at its heart, rising like the crown of a forgotten god, was the school. To call it a school felt like an insult. It was a fortress, a city, a kingdom all in one. Seven impossibly tall towers dominated the skyline, each one forming the backbone of the city, their sheer faces dropping at least a kilometer before they thickened into massive stepped strata. From above, the towers resembled an enormous ring, their foundations merging seamlessly into the landscape, their placement forming a protective barrier around the center. They weren¡¯t just buildings; they were mountains shaped by human hands, stretching thousands of meters into the sky. The tower he stood atop was the tallest, the highest point of them all. The others stood in formation, each crowned with spires and adorned with intricate archways that gleamed under the sun. ¡°You¡¯re looking at the biggest floating island on the southern hemisphere,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s about the size of Gauteng, and the seven islands orbiting us are each about as big as Swaziland.¡± She pointed at the enormous cityscape sprawling out beneath them. ¡°And this? This is Galamad.¡± Aster¡¯s eyes darted to the seven towering spires piercing the sky, each one massive enough to dwarf anything he¡¯d ever seen. ¡°The towers,¡± Lena continued, following his gaze. ¡°Each one¡¯s named after the elemental islands that orbit the school. They¡¯re more than just landmarks¡ªthey channel the gateways so people can teleport here from all over South Africa. You can also use them to orient yourself if you ever get lost, which¡ª¡± she gave him a knowing look, ¡°¡ªyou will.¡± Aster barely heard her, still trying to process the sheer scale of everything. His eyes drifted downward, toward the deep crater-like dip at the school¡¯s center. Lena grinned. ¡°Ah, you noticed the Fight Grounds. That¡¯s where the tournaments and battels take place. It¡¯s reinforced with layered barriers, so we don¡¯t accidentally level the city. Not that people haven¡¯t tried.¡± Aster¡¯s stomach twisted at the thought. He hadn¡¯t even set foot in the school yet, and already he felt out of his depth. Lena, oblivious to his internal panic, kept pointing things out. ¡°That district closest to the towers? That¡¯s the Scholars¡¯ Quarter. Libraries, archives, research halls¡ªif you need knowledge, that¡¯s where you¡¯ll find it. Some of the books in there are so old they predate the first of the Forgotten, but those are locked behind spells not even the Celestials would manage.¡± Her finger shifted to another part of the city, where he could see massive, open-air workshops teeming with activity. ¡°That¡¯s the Artificers¡¯ District. If something needs enchanting, forging, or breaking apart to see how it ticks, that¡¯s where it happens. They build everything from weapons to spell-infused constructs.¡± She nudged him. ¡°You¡¯ll have to make yourself familiar with its outlay if you want to master your Spirit Typing.¡± He studied it carefully to make sure he understood it¡¯s outlay. Lena motioned toward the liveliest part of the city¡ªa district overflowing with floating stalls, moving platforms, and winding streets packed with people. ¡°The Market Ward. You can buy just about anything there¡ªspells, artifacts, even bottled storms.¡± She laughed. ¡°Or, if you¡¯re really desperate, you can sell a lock of your hair to the fae vendors. They pay well, but don¡¯t come crying to me if you wake up speaking in riddles.¡± Aster shuddered. ¡°And over there,¡± she continued, motioning toward the lower levels, ¡°are the Residential Districts. While you¡¯re an Initiate, you¡¯ll travel to and from your material form, but after the severing you¡¯ll live in those dorms, but others have entire estates if they come from powerful families. And see those floating properties?¡± She points at a collection of small homes surrounded by a high wall and gate, drifting in clusters by themselves around the towers, ¡°Those are pocket dimensions and their size is very misleading, not taking up more size than a small duplex, behind those walls entire estates can be found, stretching for hundreds of acres.¡± Aster¡¯s head spun as he took in the sheer life of it all. This wasn¡¯t just a school¡ªit was a world in itself. Only then did Aster truly take in the landscape beyond the school. Encircling the main island, like celestial bodies in orbit, were the seven floating landmasses, just barely visible on the horizon, each an entire biome unto itself. They hung suspended in the sky, tethered by invisible forces, their terrain a testament to the elemental forces they embodied. To the north, a mountain island crowned with a molten peak smoldered, lava flows carving fiery veins through its surface. Opposite it, to the south, a land of ice and jagged crystalline spires gleamed in the sunlight, an eternal winter locked in time. To the west, an island of endless forests stretched out, ancient trees rising like pillars, their canopies thick enough to obscure the ground below. In contrast, the eastern island shimmered with interconnected lakes and waterfalls, a world shaped by water, its rivers snaking like veins through the terrain. Further still, islands dedicated to wind, lightning, and earth completed the formation, each one distinct, each one a world of its own. ¡°The islands drift, but they never stray too far from the school,¡± Lena said. ¡°They represent the elemental affinities, each one aligned to a particular typing. Students train there, study there. Some even live there.¡± Aster exhaled slowly. The sheer scale of it all was humbling. Two weeks ago, he had been nothing. A street rat. A nobody. Now, he stood at the highest point of a floating city, staring down at a world built for legends. And somehow, impossibly, he was meant to be part of it. Lena nudged him. ¡°Don¡¯t pass out.¡± He let out a breathless laugh. ¡°No promises.¡± Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Aster and Lena stepped into a vast greenhouse-like structure, its size rivalling that of a small palace. Towering cliffs framed cascading waterfalls that poured into crystal-clear pools below, their mist shimmering in the ambient glow of the enchanted lights scattered throughout the space. Lush forests filled most of the open areas, while isolated tables occupied the remaining spaces, each one hosting clusters of students engaged in lively discussions. The air was thick with the scent of blooming astral flora, mingling with the soft hum of conversation. As Aster and Lena entered, a petite Indian girl spotted them and waved them over enthusiastically. ¡°Aster, this is Yani,¡± Lena introduced them, gesturing for him to step forward. ¡°Hi, Yani, it¡¯s very nice to meet you,¡± Aster said, extending his hand. Yani grasped it with a firm shake, her expression smug as Lena added, ¡°She¡¯ll be helping you with your Artificing classes. She¡¯s one of the best Spirit-Type Artificers I know.¡± Yani¡¯s eyes gleamed with pride. ¡°Spirit Typing isn¡¯t always suited for combat like the other Typings,¡± she admitted, ¡°but what makes up for that is the sheer variety of Artefacts we can craft. We also have the unique ability to blend different Typings into our creations.¡± Aster¡¯s interest piqued. He had understood that Artificing involved crafting, but the idea of Artefacts being so integral to cultivation intrigued him. ¡°What exactly is an Artefact?¡± he asked. Lena and Yani exchanged a knowing glance, a silent joke passing between them before Yani answered. ¡°An Artefact is essentially a medium that allows cultivators to access abilities and powers without having to generate them themselves. They¡¯re typically made from advanced Astral Materials, harvested from high-tier creatures or painstakingly refined from various components tailored to a cultivator¡¯s needs.¡± Seeing Aster¡¯s thoughtful expression, Yani elaborated, ¡°Let¡¯s say you hunted an E-tier mantis with a Water Typing and Mist hue. If you harvested its core and took its materials to an Artificer, they could craft an Artefact that allows the wielder to unleash the mantis¡¯s abilities by channelling a small amount of energy through it. Of course, the user would need to be Water-Typed or a Spirit-Typer, but with the core and engravings infused into the material, they could unleash an E minus rank ability instantly, bypassing the complexities of casting a spell from scratch.¡± Aster was impressed. ¡°So, depending on the Artefact, you could wield abilities at a much higher level than what your cultivation alone would allow?¡± ¡°Precisely!¡± Yani grinned. ¡°Of course, higher-level Artefacts require certain prerequisites, and mastering their use through cultivation can further enhance their power and efficiency. But having the right Artefact can be the difference between life and death in battle.¡± Aster took a moment to process everything before voicing a thought that had been nagging at him. ¡°It seems like everything about cultivation¡ªevery class, function, and purpose¡ªis centred around gaining power. Given history, it¡¯s not surprising, but why is an entire society structured around the pursuit of strength?¡± Lena and Yani exchanged startled looks, as if he had asked why a businessman in the Material Plane would seek wealth. Lena spoke first. ¡°The pursuit of power grants individuals agency and control over their environment. When the first people discovered the Astral Plane, they quickly realized how inhospitable and dangerous it was. A single C rank monster could decimate a thousand E rank cultivators. The only thing that could stop it was another C rank cultivator of equal strength. Without power, we¡¯d have to resign ourselves to be nothing more than prey.¡± Yani nodded, adding, ¡°The only reason we were able to establish the Archipelago¡ªto build our homes, cities, and schools¡ªwas because we eradicated all C rank and higher creatures from this Plane. The few remaining B rank creatures are constantly hunted in the Astral Caverns, and A rank and above are kept in check by our Celestials, who ensure they don¡¯t descend upon the lower levels.¡± ¡°There is another reason though¡± Yani chips in ¡°The Astral Vessel seemed to be designed in order to grow and become more powerful. Even those of the unaware are subconsciously steered into different paths in order to slowly strengthen their Vessels over time, the fact that the Spirit retains its power through each reincarnation, suggests an inherent need to evolve. The most widely accepted theory is that this growth is meant to help us escape the cycle of reincarnation and ascend to an even higher plane¡± Yani casually mentions causing Aster to suddenly choke on his drink. He looks at Lena and is unsure how-to fraise the question without seeming Racist or ignorant ¡°Is this the general theory in the Astral Plane or is this something that Yani¡¯s ¡®people¡¯ believed in?¡± he asked, blushing at the thought of sounding ignorant. Lena and Yani looks at each other before suddenly bursting into laughter causing Aster to redden even further. After they had enough time to get their breath back, Lena is finally able to explain. ¡°There is no such thing as religion within the Society of the Aware. This is less to do with us being more enlightened or anything like that and more to do with us being aware of the God Constructs that are used by the different Religions to generate the Potent Faith needed to run our Society. We also have a lot more knowledge about what happens to you when you die alongside actual proof and use of the Spirit when it comes to the Astral Vessel, meaning we don¡¯t have the same uncertainties used by the religions to help farm the Faith from their followers. Would you worship a machine that is essentially nothing more than a giant printing press churning out currency; while knowing it has no agency outside what its leaders want?¡± Aster couldn¡¯t help but see her point, he still didn¡¯t completely understand Faith and how it worked as a form of currency that was somehow able to be exchanged for real world currency and value, but he could understand that what he considered gods in his world were essentially machines used to extract value out of its unaware flock in the eyes of people from this one. Most church leaders in the real world were themselves unbelievers after realizing how their words were able to shape their followers¡¯ opinions, in their mind there was no god except that what they wanted to portray and if there was, their views were either inspirate form the view of the church, or it held no real power and was unconcerned with the need to stop them from exploiting and conning their so-called true believers from these fakes. If these gods were for real machines in the Astral Plane, he could understand why believing they were something more would have caused some laughter from the majority of people His thoughts shifted as he glanced at the menu. Instead of prices in traditional currency, there were Faith amounts listed. Curious, he turned to Lena. ¡°Could you explain how Faith works?¡± Lena flicked her finger, summoning a light-blue interface in front of her. ¡°Faith is as complex as FIAT currency, but its practical use is straightforward.¡± She showed Aster how to access his own interface, and he quickly navigated it, noting his name, Typing, Rank, and three different numerical values, each in a different color: blue, yellow, and red. ¡°The blue value represents your instantly liquid assets¡ªstocks, for example. The Cosmic Scale converts these into Faith with minimal fluctuation. The yellow represents fixed assets, like homes, cars, or businesses. Converting these is trickier; the Scale may balance the transaction by causing accidents or financial losses in the Material Plane. The red is your Karmic value¡ªyour potential for good luck or misfortune. Using it is risky, as the Scale may balance it through unforeseen disasters, like illnesses or deaths in the family. It¡¯s best to only spend blue, access yellow in emergencies, and avoid red unless absolutely necessary.¡± Aster frowned, trying to make sense of it all. ¡°I had about R150,000 in stocks from Matter before I left. My blue amount says 750 Faith. Is that the exchange rate?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± Lena and Yani said in unison. Aster glanced back at the menu, eyeing a sandwich which caused his stomach to growl loudly. It cost 10 Faith¡ªaround R2,000. His excitement dimmed as he realized how quickly the money Matter left him could disappear if he wasn¡¯t careful. If he wanted to thrive here, he needed to figure out how to earn Faith. ¡°You just place your thumb at the bottom of the menu, and the transaction will process when you receive your food,¡± Lena explained. ¡°The Cosmic Scale will balance the exchange by the time you wake up in the Material Plane.¡± With a nod, Aster pressed his thumb to the menu, watching his blue total drop by 10. As the food arrived, he settled in, getting to know Yani and Lena over the course of their meal, eager to learn more about this strange, intricate world. _________________________________________________________________________________ Lena guides Aster to the Weapon Depository, her eyes flicking over to the gate where Musa stood waiting by the entrance, his silhouette stark against the dimly lit stone walls of the compound. "I¡¯ll see you at the Market District after you finish here," Lena said, her voice steady. "This shouldn¡¯t take more than two hours, so let¡¯s say I¡¯ll meet you around 4 a.m.?" Aster blinked, surprised. He hadn¡¯t realized how much time had passed. It was already 2 a.m. He and Matter had started their ritual early yesterday, around 5 a.m., meaning his Material Vessel had been asleep for over 24 hours now. He turned to Lena, brow furrowing. ¡°Wait, how long has it been? Do I have time to¡ª?¡± Lena smiled, giving him a reassuring glance. "Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll need to be back by 8 a.m. at the latest. All is well." Aster nodded in thanks and turned to make his way over to Musa, who was making light conversation with a guard stationed by the entrance. ¡°Enjoy the lunch?¡± Musa asked, his voice teasing. Aster wrinkled his nose at the memory. ¡°Right... It wasn¡¯t even a good sandwich, just a half-baked excuse for a meal¡ªpolony of all things! Why even have polony on the Astral Plane?¡± Musa laughed, slapping his thigh. "Polony? They¡¯ve really started scrapping the barrel! Polony is just another low point, in the latest of a long line of low points sold under the guise of convenience. Astral-born food companies are masters at turning ¡®essence¡¯ into something edible. What they served you wasn¡¯t even food¡ªit was just a distilled memory of a sandwich harvested by brave souls who ventured into the Astral Cradle to extract it from its physical counterpart on the Material Plane. The company contracts all over, just stealing the essence from material school lunches and selling it to us as fine cuisine." Aster¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯re kidding... So you can just harvest the essence of anything then... why not just harvest our own food spirit then?¡± With a gleam of mischief, Musa produced a King Steer burger from seemingly nowhere, taking a bite with a smug grin as he waved the guard to open the gate. The guard hesitated, then went through a series of hand signals, and the massive iron gates began to creak open, revealing the Weapon Depository¡¯s sprawling interior. Aster¡¯s jaw dropped. Towering shelves filled with ancient weapons, scrolls, and tomes stretched beyond the horizon of the building. Racks of spears and swords gleamed under dim lantern light, while haphazard piles of dusty manuscripts threatened to topple over. The air smelled of aged parchment, oiled steel, and something faintly electric¡ªlike the lingering presence of old battles sealed within these tomes. The sheer scope of the place made him wonder how he was supposed to sift through all of it in just two hours. The weight of history pressed against him from all sides. As if reading his thoughts, Musa spoke without missing a beat. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Aster. I¡¯ve already got some options lined up for you. My family¡¯s been Scripture-focused for generations. We have the largest variety of weapon-type users of any legacy family in South Africa.¡± Aster took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but he still had to ask, ¡°What exactly is ¡®Scripture,¡¯ though? It¡¯s not, like, religious stuff, right?¡± Musa chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°No, not at all. ¡®Scripture¡¯ is a collection of techniques that form a specific fighting style. Every weapon has its own body of scriptures, each developed by countless masters over the centuries. Some are good, some are... well, let¡¯s just say people like to dress their techniques up in flowery language to make them sound profound.¡± His smirk was knowing. ¡°Fortunately, you¡¯ve got me to cut through the nonsense.¡± Aster nodded, reassured, though a new question pressed on his mind. Musa, noticing the flicker of thought in his expression, continued. ¡°I heard from Lena that you have a Spirit Typing?¡± Musa¡¯s tone turned more businesslike, his eyes holding a hint of curiosity. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, the right weapon and scripture are even more crucial for you. There are even some scriptures that could help you cultivate the path of a weapon user, if that¡¯s what you decide.¡± He paused, narrowing his eyes. ¡°But no need to rush. First, we¡¯ll pick a weapon, then we¡¯ll go through the scriptures I¡¯ve selected for you.¡± Musa gestured for Aster to follow, weaving through the towering shelves with the ease of someone who had spent years navigating this labyrinth. The further they went, the quieter the atmosphere became. The air grew still, heavy with the weight of preserved knowledge. Flickering lanterns cast elongated shadows across the wooden floor, and in the distance, a faint hum resonated¡ªa sound Aster couldn¡¯t place. Maybe it was just the way energy clung to this place, the echoes of past wielders lingering in the steel and ink. Eventually, they emerged into a small clearing between the shelves. Here, beneath the watchful presence of ancient tomes, a large wooden table stood, illuminated by a single hanging lantern. On its surface lay four distinct weapons, each set carefully apart. Stacks of scrolls and tomes flanked them, their spines bearing faded, intricate calligraphy. Aster hesitated, his gaze sweeping across the table. The contrast between the vast chaos of the vault and the precise arrangement here made this space feel almost sacred. He finally stepped forward, anticipation and trepidation warring within him. Musa pointed to each weapon as he spoke. The first weapon was a halberd. Its shaft was weathered, worn from years of use, but strong and solid. The gleaming axe blade caught the dim light, and the sharp spearpoint glinted menacingly. "The halberd is versatile. It combines the reach of a spear with the power of an axe. You can use it to disarm or hook opponents, but it¡¯s not ideal for tight spaces, and it tires the user if they¡¯re not accustomed to its weight." Next was a greatsword. Massive and imposing, the blade shimmered faintly with an aura of raw power. Its broad edge looked capable of cutting through almost anything, and the hilt was worn smooth from countless battles. "The greatsword is about overwhelming power. It can cleave through armour and send enemies flying. But it¡¯s slow and requires immense strength and precision. If you miss, you leave yourself open." A staff lay next. It was long, crafted from dark wood, the wood patterning seeming to shift when Aster looked at them too long, as if alive in some way. "The staff is deceptive. It¡¯s lightweight and can be used for both offense and defence. It¡¯s agile and fast, but it lacks raw power. If your opponent closes the gap, you might struggle to land a decisive blow." The last weapon on the table was a chain. The links were thick and coiled loosely, but Aster could feel the potential energy in its weight, ready to be unleashed at a moment¡¯s notice. "The chain is all about versatility. You can swing, whip, or throw it. It allows you to bind, disarm, or disorient your opponent. But it requires a high level of skill to wield. If you¡¯re not precise, it can backfire and become a hindrance." Aster¡¯s gaze flicked over each weapon, but something in him gravitated toward the chain and the staff. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he considered each option. Aster wasn¡¯t sure how to choose, he hadn¡¯t used any of them before, or had he? His mind raced back to a moment from his past. He was fourteen, desperate, scared, and cornered in an alley behind the orphanage after running away. Four older boys surrounded him, each of them bigger and stronger. They demanded the small stash of food and money he¡¯d hidden away from his petty thefts. The fight started with him wielding crude stick he had found on the ground. It started off well enough when they went after him one by one, but when they all decided to rush him at once, he barely held his own, using the stick to fend off one or two of them while the others kicked and shoved him. His heart had pounded in his chest, and he had felt completely helpless. That is, until he spotted a rusted chain, half-hidden in the tall grass. In a flash, he had grabbed it, his fingers wrapping around the cold, coarse links. The chain had felt alive in his hands. As he swung it in a wide arc, as it clashed with the attackers, knocking one to the ground, while the other three hesitated for a moment, giving Aster just enough time to strike again, breaking their morale as they ran bloodied and bruised from the younger and weaker Aster. At that moment he had felt a surge of adrenaline and power, the staff allowing him to rush into them, chain scattering them and allowing him to deal with them in groups, the force of them both having given him the newfound strength he needed at that point. Aster¡¯s gaze lingered on the staff and the chain, his fingers twitching at his sides. He could still feel the weight of that stick¡ªhow it had given him reach, control, a way to parry and strike with precision. But he also remembered the old, rusted chain in his grip, the way it had coiled and lashed out like a living thing, everywhere at once, not giving his opponents an opening. Together, they had been his salvation. Aster hesitated before he asks "So... what do you use?" Musa smiled, his pride evident. He reached into thin air and pulled out an oval shield, thinly wrapped in monster hide. Embedded within the shield were two weapons¡ªone a short spear, the other a wooden club of the same length. "I¡¯m reviving my tribe''s ancient combat style," Musa said, his voice steady with conviction. "The shield, called an isihlangu acts as both a defense and a battering ram, while the club, or iwisa is used for close-combat, for delivering powerful blows and the spear, or asigai is for ranged work and more piercing damage. The variety makes me unpredictable and versatile in almost any battle." ¡°So I can choose two then¡± Aster finally ventures thinking of how Musa wielded three weapons together. Musa studied him in silence before speaking. "You¡¯re torn between two?" Aster exhaled sharply. "When I was younger, I fought with two of them together. The staff kept them at bay, the chain turned the tide. I don¡¯t know if I can just... choose one or the other, but I¡¯m also not sure if they can be used together¡­." Musa¡¯s lips curled into a knowing smile. "That¡¯s because you¡¯re thinking about this like an ordinary fighter. The way people fight on the material plane is limited by the body, by physics, by what hands can hold and muscles can bear. That¡¯s not the case for cultivators." He stepped closer, resting a hand on the table beside the weapons. "Most people begin with one path because mastery demands focus. A single weapon, a single scripture¡ªit¡¯s a foundation. But as you grow, as your spirit strengthens, you won¡¯t be bound by the same limitations. The great warriors of history, the ones who left their mark, all fused weapons and techniques together in ways no ordinary fighter ever could. Not just through skill, but through the nature of scripture itself." This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Aster¡¯s leaned closer holding onto the edge of the table. "So you¡¯re saying I could chose both?" "You can but using them both won''t be immediate." Musa said. "You¡¯ll first have to lay the groundwork with one, I¡¯d suggest the staff, which will refine your precision and movement. When the time is right, when your cultivation allows it, you¡¯ll be able to start incorporating the chain¡ªmerging what you¡¯ve learned into something far greater than just a staff or a chain by themselves. " Aster picked up the staff, feeling its smooth, strong wood in his hands. He swung it experimentally, getting a feel for its balance. Then putting down the staff, he moved to the chain, wrapping his fingers around the thick links. He swung it slowly at first, feeling its weight shift with each motion. Gradually, he picked up speed, the chain hissing through the air before snapping with a sharp clang against the ground. Musa¡¯s smile widened. ¡°You¡¯ve got the instincts. Now, let¡¯s get you started on your scriptures. Choosing the right foundation¡ªsomething that can fuse the two styles later¡ªwill make the transition smoother when the time comes.¡± He flipped through a stack of tomes, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he scanned their covers. After sorting through nearly two dozen, his hand stopped on two specific scrolls. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to Aster. ¡°I¡¯ve narrowed it down to two. These scriptures complement your chosen weapons and overlap enough to support future fusion.¡± He placed the first tome on the table. ¡°Point Burst Staff.¡± Then, he placed the second scroll beside it. ¡°And this¡ªInfinite Chain Link Squall.¡± He turned the first tome around, its cover slightly frayed. "Point Burst Staff," he said, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning. "This scripture was created by a genius named Herphon, who ranked first in his year close to forty years ago, a master of the staff. He developed the technique from scratch during his time in the Astral Archipelago, where he made quite a name for himself. There, he refined his skill with the staff, forging the technique from the challenges he overcame and the experiences he received eventually ranking first in that year¡¯s Finals Tournament, this scripture key to that success¡± "Before he left for the Astra Caverns, he imprinted the scripture as it stands now¡ªan incomplete but powerful technique originating from the experiences of his journey. He never returned from the caverns, and with his disappearance, the final pieces of his Scripture was never completed.¡± Musa paused, letting the weight of the story sink in. "What we have left is a rare and mysterious scripture, missing crucial elements in its later levels, but its potential in the Staff¡¯s foundation is immense." He let the words hang in the air as Aster¡¯s curiosity deepened. "This scripture¡¯s all about speed and precision. With the staff, you don¡¯t swing to hit¡ª it¡¯s about targeted, devastating bursts of force. Every strike is meant to disorient, to control space, to dictate movement. The Point Burst Staff will train you to use the staff¡¯s length and agility to manipulate openings, setting up your strikes as your opponent tries to figure out where you¡¯re attacking from. Musa paused to look at Aster. "The staff¡¯s attacks are direct and precise, designed to destabilize your opponent, which works really well with¡­.¡± He points at the second tome. Infinite Chain Link Squall, "This one¡¯s all about precision, control, and flow. The chain requires constant movement¡ªnothing too heavy, nothing too stiff. It¡¯s designed for agility, for unpredictable, sweeping strikes that keep the opponent off-balance or fast piercing strikes towards a single point. The key is flexibility. This scripture uses the chain¡¯s length and unpredictability to disable, ensnare, and disarm opponents from a distance." Musa paused, tapping the first book again. "The Point Burst Staff gives you control, but it also demands your full focus. The staff¡¯s precision and striking power will allow you to dictate the pace of battle, creating openings through targeted bursts of force. When you fuse this with the Infinite Chain Link Squall, you¡¯ll need to find a way to maintain that precision while keeping the chain¡¯s fluid motion intact¡ªbalancing offense and defence without losing momentum. Think of it as the opposite of the chain¡ªwhere the chain thrives on unpredictability and sweeping movements, the staff anchors you with control and focused strikes." Aster let the idea sink in. "So... the chain¡¯s unpredictable. It¡¯s wild¡ªhow can I use that with the staff¡¯s precision and more predictable fighting style?" he asked, eyeing the books before him, unsure. Musa smiled knowingly, nodding in approval of Aster¡¯s analytical mind. "That¡¯s where the challenge lies. These two weapons aren¡¯t naturally compatible. The chain¡¯s unpredictability and the staff¡¯s precise bursts require a new way of thinking. But that¡¯s the point of this process. Once you master both weapons and their individual scriptures, you¡¯ll be able to fuse them, overcoming their differences and creating an entire new paradigm between the two." Aster¡¯s brow furrowed slightly. "So what do you mean by fusing them?" Musa leaned forward, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Each of these weapons, on their own, represent a specific style of fighting. But if you master them, you¡¯ll unlock a brand-new path¡ªa hybrid style. A style that¡¯s uniquely yours, but it doesn¡¯t just stop there. The real power comes when you completely fuse the two, creating something far greater than either on its own, not just the scriptures, but the weapons themselves." Aster seemed surprised at that ¡®Fusing the weapons themselves?¡¯ Musa continued, ¡°Fusion isn¡¯t just about combining techniques from both scriptures¡ªit¡¯s about mastering the essence of each weapon so that you can forge something entirely new through Artefact crafting. The staff and chain each have their own strengths and weaknesses. The chain¡¯s fluidity and unpredictability can overwhelm an opponent, keeping them off-balance, while the staff¡¯s precision and striking power allow you to exploit the openings the chain creates. On the Material Plane, these two styles might seem too different to reconcile, but on the Astral Plane, through Artificing, you can craft a weapon that embodies both. By mastering each weapon separately, you lay the groundwork to merge them¡ªnot just in technique, but in form¡ªcreating a scripture and an Artefact that are entirely your own, something greater than the sum of its parts.¡± He picked up both books, placing them side by side on the table. "Here¡¯s the deal¡ªright now, Point Burst Staff will be your foundation. It¡¯ll teach you the precision and timing to master the staff as your primary weapon. The way you strike with the staff will be direct and overwhelming¡ªraw power that forces your opponent to react. Each strike will break their stance, disrupt their rhythm, and set them up for the chain. Once you¡¯ve mastered the staff, you¡¯ll train in the Infinite Chain Link Squall, using the chain¡¯s unpredictability to manipulate your opponent¡¯s movements, keep them off-balance, and create even more openings for devastating follow-ups with the staff. From there you¡¯ll learn how to shift from one weapon to the other more fluidly, using one to empower the other in a Hybrid-Style, using both practically simultaneously, where the chain creates openings, and the staff fills those openings with precision and power. The fusion process will take time from there, but with both weapons and both scriptures under your belt, you¡¯ll eventually be able to craft something entirely new¡ªyour own scripture and artefact that blends both the best parts of these styles." Aster felt the weight of the task, but also a growing sense of excitement. The prospect of creating his own hybrid fighting style, of blending techniques and weapons that had never been fused before, was an intoxicating idea. Aster nodded, his hands already itching to take hold of the chain and the staff, to feel their weight and movements. The first step was in front of him, and he was ready to take it. Aster picked up both the staff and chain, feeling their weight in his hands. He awkwardly tried to balance them on his shoulder, shifting his stance as the chain dangled loosely while the staff pressed against his neck. It wasn¡¯t a graceful sight. Musa shot him an amused glance. "No one tell you about your Dantains yet?" Aster looked up, confused. "Dantains?" Musa gave him a casual shrug. "It¡¯s nothing you need to worry about right now. You¡¯ll learn more as you go. But, since you don¡¯t understand how to store your items yet, let me give you the basics." Aster nodded, still uncertain, as Musa continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "You have three Dantains¡ªthree spaces we refer to as Palaces. These palaces are located within your body and play a key role in storing and controlling your energy. The first is your Stomach Palace. It''s essentially an internal storage space. You can use it to store things like weapons, tomes, or any objects you¡¯ll need on your journey. The staff and chain, for instance. You don¡¯t need to carry them. You can store them in your Stomach Palace, and they¡¯ll be accessible whenever you need them." Aster blinked, eyes widening slightly. "Wait... so I can just... store them?" "Yes," Musa said with a smile. "The Stomach Palace is designed to hold items without any issue. It¡¯s like an empty pocket within your body¡ªdon¡¯t overthink it. The Chest Palace, on the other hand, is where your Elemental Aether is stored. It¡¯s the space that powers your techniques and spells. The third one, the Mind Palace, is a bit more abstract. It¡¯s where you store and craft your spells. But that¡¯s all for later." Aster took in the explanation, the weight of it sinking in. "So... I just store them and they¡¯ll be there when I need them?" Musa nods. "You¡¯ll learn how to access them at will, the speed of which, being crucial to your blending of the two fighting styles, into the Hybrid-Style. For now, just focus on storing them properly. You¡¯ll find it easier to summon them after a couple of attempts. You¡¯ll get into the other Dantains later, when you¡¯re ready to understand the deeper parts of cultivation." ¡°Ok so how do I start?¡± Aster asks excitedly, standing with the staff and chain in hand, still trying to make sense of the strange idea of storing them in his body. "Alright," Musa said, "let¡¯s take it step by step. First, you need to feel the Stomach Palace. It¡¯s an internal space, but it¡¯s not something you can see¡ªit''s something you need to sense with your Will." Aster looked down at the staff and chain in his hands. "Feel it? How?" Musa smiled slightly, as if expecting this question. "Close your eyes for a moment, clear your thoughts, and focus inward towards your stomach. Sense for an empty space within you. It¡¯s like a hollow cavity, not part of your physical body, but a vast open space that exists within your energy matrix." Aster nodded, following his instructions. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind. After a few moments of stillness, he began to focus his Will over his stomach, sensing what Musa had described. It didn¡¯t feel like anything, other than a vague border leading to an open area inside of him. "Now," Musa continued, his voice calm and steady, "take the staff in one hand and the chain in the other. Focus your Will on them and drag them. Your Will is the key¡ªthink of it as reaching out, grasping the items, and pulling them into that internal cavity. As you do so, the items will turn into a form of energy that will be allowed to cross over and be stored without having to worry about its weight, size or shape into what¡¯s called the ¡®energy state¡¯ " Aster furrowed his brow, trying to understand. The staff and chain were solid, tangible objects, he just couldn¡¯t understand how to make them cross over and be stored into this so called ¡®energy state¡¯. But he tried anyway, allowing his Will to feel the weight of them, but instead of just holding them like he did the crystal during Will practice, he also focused on pulling them inward. He concentrated, feeling the subtle tug of his own Will, as if trying to guide them into the space inside his stomach. At first, nothing happened. Aster gritted his teeth, frustrated. "It¡¯s not working." Musa chuckled softly. "It will take some time to get used to. You¡¯re not just physically placing the items inside. You¡¯re using your Will to guide them over the threshold into the Palace. Try again, but this time, try pulling from the Stomach Palace with your Will, you are using it from your Mind Place to try and shove it into the Stomach Palace, that¡¯s not how that works, the Will can be originated from any of the three Dantians. Start from the Stomach Palace and pull the weapons toward you. You¡¯re not pushing them in¡ªyou¡¯re drawing them in with focus. It¡¯s not about strength, it¡¯s about the path." Aster closed his eyes again, trying to feel the space inside him. This time, instead of trying to force the items in, he relaxed and focused all his attention on reaching from his stomach palace this time. Slowly, he starts sensing a pathway connecting his two hands to the border of his stomach palace. Reaching with his Will from within his Stomach Palace this time, he starts dragging the weapons from his hands, feeling them cross the border of his palms, suddenly transforming into something less solid, as they are practically drained and sucked through his arms and into his Stomach Palace. His hands were now holding nothing but air, but he felt an odd sense of emptiness where the weapons had been. The space inside his stomach had accepted them and he could feel their weight comfortably drift in the space, weightless but still undeniably present. Aster¡¯s eyes snapped open, his heart racing. "I¡ªdid it. I can feel their presence inside my stomach, as if I can call them back with a thought." Musa nodded, looking pleased. "Exactly. The Stomach Palace doesn¡¯t take up space in the way your physical body does. It holds the items in a way that you can still access them, but without their weight or presence. Now, when you need them, all you have to do is call them." Aster grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. "This is incredible. So I just¡­ reach for them again?" "Yes," Musa said, his smile widening slightly. "Focus on the Stomach Palace, and let the items return to your hands. It may feel odd at first, but with practice, it will become second nature.¡± Aster focused on the empty space in his stomach once more, reaching for the staff and chain with his mind. After a moment, he felt them return to his hands, solid and real once more. "This is amazing," Aster whispered, looking at the weapons with new appreciation. "Thank you, Musa." Musa¡¯s tone was warm. "You¡¯re welcome. Ok, no that you have your weapons and scriptures we can head to the Market, we want to give you enough time to explore it before we need to meet up with Lena.¡± _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster¡¯s eyes widened as they exited the mirror and stepped into the heart of the market, his breath catching in his throat. The scale of the place was beyond anything he could have imagined. The market stretched in every direction like a sprawling labyrinth, so vast that it seemed to stretch out infinitely under the thick canopy of magical light that hung overhead. The sound of thousands of voices echoed through the air, mixing with the clatter of metal, the hum of enchantments, and the occasional roar or hiss of some strange beast or contraption. Musa pointed ahead. ¡°Alloy Alley is just up ahead. But you might want to take a moment to look around. There¡¯s nothing quite like your first time at the market.¡± Aster could hardly hear him over the buzzing excitement of the place, his senses overwhelmed. There were stalls everywhere, each brimming with an unimaginable array of goods. Monster parts in various stages of preservation hung from hooks or were carefully displayed on wooden tables: massive claws, fangs longer than Aster¡¯s forearm, and shimmering scales that seemed to pulse with life. He noticed a collection of skeletal wings, delicate but foreboding, their ghostly aura flickering as they swayed in the breeze. The scent of herbs, incense, and something sharp, like metal burning, filled his nostrils. A table stacked high with glowing crystals caught his eye. They were arranged in a careful gradient of color, from deep violet to brilliant white, their surfaces reflecting flashes of arcane light. Aster reached out involuntarily, feeling an unseen pull. He saw the vendor, a wizened old woman whose milky eyes twinkled, giving him a knowing smile. ¡°You have a good eye,¡± she said, her voice raspy but kind. ¡°These are Dreaming Crystals¡ªimbued with condensed Spirit Essence. For a Spirit Typing like yours, they can be very useful in refining your cultivation.¡± ¡°How much?¡± Aster ventured. The old woman seemed to struggle with some internal battle before she seems to make up her mind ¡°Normally the dreaming crystal would go for 7 500 Faith but because you have such a keen eye I wish to help you along your journey and hopefully earn some good Karma, for you I¡¯ll let it go for 5 000 Faith. Aster quickly withdrew his hand as if it was about to poison him. ¡¯5 000 Faith! His entire worth was barely 23 000 Faith, was the woman trying to bankrupt him this early out of the gate?¡¯ Aster¡¯s eyes suddenly go cold as he could only see this woman as some kind of financial assassin sent on his path by fate to ruin his life. The woman sensing the cold malice radiating form him backs off carefully looking for a guard. ¡°Not the time for distractions, Aster,¡± Musa suddenly steps in and drags Aster away from the poor saleswoman who was just trying to make a living. ¡°Don¡¯t buy anything yet before you understand your cultivation style, those pills would instantly move you from Initiate to Acolyte but would hamper your growth further down the line. Let¡¯s meet up with Lena first before making any rash purchases. Aster nodded, though his gaze lingered for a moment longer on the glowing stones before he tore himself away. As they made their way deeper into the market, the sights continued to astound him. Plant cuttings from rare, mythical plants were displayed alongside vials filled with pulsating, golden liquid. The air was thick with the scent of potent elixirs, and the hum of spiritual energy seemed to buzz at the very core of the market. Every corner seemed to reveal something new: weapons forged from materials Aster couldn¡¯t even name, armour that shimmered with protective runes, and strange artifacts whose purpose was unclear but unmistakably magical. It was as though the market itself existed at the intersection of every world¡ªcultivation, mysticism, alchemy, and the arcane. ¡°This place¡­¡± Aster muttered under his breath. ¡°It¡¯s like a treasure trove of the entire world.¡± Musa chuckled, leading him forward with confidence. ¡°This place is nothing compared to other Markets found on the Archipelago, this market wasn¡¯t even much compared to the other markets for Initiates, but yeah it blew my jaw to the floor the same as you when I first saw it. Aster''s heart skipped a beat as a faint growl echoed from a nearby stall, where a hulking beast was chained to the ground, its amber eyes glowing like two suns. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°A Lesser Hoglite,¡± Musa explained. ¡°A hybrid between a Shameblazer and a Greedhog. They¡¯re dangerous, but some cultivators train them to serve as companions or guardians. Rare, but not unheard of.¡± Aster couldn¡¯t help but feel a mixture of awe and caution as the creature bared its teeth, its large frame rippling with latent power. How could such a thing exist so casually in a market? A place like this, where everything was a transaction, was a strange and potent reflection of the cultivation world itself¡ªfull of danger, wonder, and opportunities for both greatness and peril. They continued walking, the noise of the market swallowing them whole, until they finally reached the end of the alley. At the farthest corner, Aster saw Lena waiting for them, sitting cross legged on the sidewalk, deep into a book. She notices them over the pages and gets up to greet them. ¡°I was beginning to think you two were lost,¡± Lena called out, waving. Aster grinned back, but he couldn¡¯t stop his gaze from drifting across the vibrant chaos of the market one last time. There was something magnetic about this place. The power, the wealth of knowledge and goods¡ªit all called to him. ¡°Just getting a feel for the place,¡± Aster said, his voice full of wonder. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡± Musa chuckled at that, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°And you¡¯ll see a lot more. This is just the beginning.¡± _________________________________________________________________________________ With Lena accompanying them, the market proven far more tranquil than Aster had anticipated, where he had been harassed and insulted while moving through the market with Musa, those same people turned into playful kittens with Lena in their party. The entire venture¡ªprocurement of the rare materials he¡¯d needed for his cultivation¡ªwent off without a single hitch. Each vendor had simply accepted their requests with a smile, never asking more than Lena was willing to pay, and each transaction executed with a surprising efficiency. For a place that teemed with so much energy and unpredictability, the whole process was boiled down to shockingly uneventful. As Lena casually wove through the crowded lanes, she flipped through the list Aster had provided, mentally ticking off each item as it as she handed it to Aster as he drew it into his Stomach Palace. Aster couldn¡¯t help but feel he was showing an effortless display of skill¡ªno gestures, no incantations, just a momentary gleam in his eyes as the items folded into nothingness, bound for the hidden space in his stomach. Musa and Lena exchanged amused glances, stifling their laughter as Aster¡¯s chest puffed out just a little more with each successful attempt. They decided to let him revel in his small victory¡ªafter all, it was his first spell, even if it was something most initiates could do in their sleep. "There you go, everything you asked for," Lena said with a wink. "All nice and neat." "Thanks, Lena," Aster said, unable to keep the awe from his voice. "I thought getting all this together would take days?" Lena flashed him a grin. ¡°The stall vendors all know of my Family¡¯s businesses, I had asked a family advisor to find the items for us and secure the prices beforehand¡± "Nepotism for the win¡± Aster jokes ¡°but thank you for all the help, Lena! I wouldn¡¯t be able to have made it through today without you!¡± "I needed just as much help when I first got here, I had my family to help, you don¡¯t so I just figured I had to be that family for you " Lena replied, before releasing what she said and turning bright red, turning around and heading toward the path that would take them back to the academy. "We need to head on back, it¡¯s almost time to return to our Material Selves" With the errands behind them, the three begin making their way out of the market. The streets were beginning to clear as the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a golden hue over the towering stalls and stands. The air felt cooler now, the early morning mist lingering in the shadows, and Aster could feel the weight of exhaustion settling in. They walked in companionable silence for a while, weaving through the shifting crowds, their footsteps echoing against the cobbled streets. As they passed the familiar sights of the market, Aster couldn¡¯t help but reflect on everything that had happened. From the moment he had stepped foot in Galamad, the School¡¯s sprawling depths had felt like a different world altogether, a world full of unknowns and dangers he could barely grasp. But now, after an entire day spent navigating its layouts, registering for the next day¡¯s classes and gathering what he needed, the ritual surgery ¡ªthe sealing away of the void wyrm and the death of Matter¡ªfelt as distant and foreign as a dream, like it was a lifetime ago. The bustling activity around him seemed to fade as his mind wandered back to that first moment. Being attacked by those creatures in the convenient store and Matter stepping in just in time to save him. It had been the beginning of everything¡ªhis journey into cultivation, his pursuit of power, his meeting with Lena, and his eventual entry into the academy. The whole ordeal now seemed so surreal, like a piece of his past that was slowly drifting further out of reach. Lena nudged him out of his thoughts. " You still look a little lost." Aster blinked, shaking off the haze that had clouded his mind. "You¡¯re right," Aster said with a sigh, glancing at Lena. "After everything today, it feels like I¡¯ve been gone for weeks already." Lena laughed softly. "Time moves funny when you¡¯re chasing after things. But don¡¯t worry. Once you start your classes, you¡¯ll find your normal." Aster nodded, though he couldn¡¯t shake the sense that "normal" was a concept that had become increasingly hard to grasp. As they approached the academy¡¯s gates, the sense of familiarity settled over him. The towering walls of the school, its grand entrances guarded by stone statues, greeted them like old friends. He could feel the weight of his materials as they drifted weightlessly in his Stomach palace¡ªreturning to him in the form of his responsibilities. Despite the overwhelming events of the past few days, there was something strangely comforting about returning to a routine. But this world, the academy, and everything they had encountered today in the market, had only amplified the daunting task of what lay ahead. As they entered the school grounds, the sounds of the bustling city behind them slowly faded. Aster¡¯s steps slowed as they neared the mirror Lena had told him would transport him back to his house where he would re-enter his Material Vessel, the weight of the journey on his mind settling into a quiet, introspective calm. Whatever would come next in his path was no longer just a story he¡¯d heard of¡ªit was his story now. And for all the ease with which the market¡¯s treasures had been procured, Aster couldn¡¯t help but feel that the real challenge was only just beginning. Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Aster opened his eyes, his senses slowly adjusting as he found himself back in his material form on the Material Plane. The real world felt muted in comparison to the vivid intensity of the Astral Plane, its colors duller, its energy subdued. A wave of sadness settled over him as he exhaled, his thoughts drifting back to Matter¡¯s death, the weight of that loss pressing against his chest. Shaking off the lingering melancholy, he shifted his stiff limbs, grimacing at the strain of sitting in the same position for over twenty-four hours. As he rose to his feet, a few deep stretches loosened his joints enough to move freely again. He climbed down through the trapdoor into the hallway, deciding that breakfast would be the first order of business. In the kitchen, he pulled out eggs, cheese, tomatoes, and onions, setting to work on an omelet while the coffee machine slowly warmed up, preparing his usual cappuccino. Despite the sheer whirlwind of activity he had experienced in the Astral Plane, his body felt rested¡ªrejuvenated, even. He had expected exhaustion to hit him like a crashing wave, but instead, it felt as if he had simply been asleep for the entire twenty-four hours, rather than living through a series of intense, otherworldly events. With his omelet plated and coffee in hand, Aster returned to the rooftop, settling into his usual spot as he gazed out over the city. He ate slowly, his mind idly comparing the Material Plane¡¯s skyline to its Astral counterpart. The differences were striking¡ªhere, the city was rigid, defined by physical laws, while in the Astral Plane, it had been something more fluid, ever-shifting, infused with an energy that was absent from this world. As he finished his meal, he glanced at his watch. 10 AM. He had the entire day ahead of him before he needed to return to Galamad that evening for class at 6:30 PM. Aster leaned back, staring up at the sky, debating how to spend the hours until then. Staying home didn¡¯t feel like an option¡ªthe house was suffocating, every corner filled with reminders of Matter. He barely knew the man, yet his sacrifice weighed heavily on him. Matter had died keeping a promise to Aster¡¯s parents, a promise that had cost him everything. Gratitude and guilt warred within him, threatening to drag him into a spiral of despair if he lingered too long on the thought. No. He wouldn¡¯t spend the day trapped in his own mind. With his decision made, Aster stood, brushing off his hands. He would walk through the city, let its movement and noise drown out the thoughts clawing at him. There was too much ahead¡ªtoo much to prepare for¡ªto let grief consume him now. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster walks through the bustling streets of Johannesburg, it took him a good 20min to walk from the house to the city district, casting a strong contrast between the quite suburbs and the rhythmic hum of the city currently swirling around him. The air was thick with the scent of street food¡ªfried samosas and roasted maize mingling with the exhaust of passing cars. Laughter, snippets of conversation, and the constant beeping of taxis filled the space. Even though Aster had decided to leave the house in the hopes of escaping his thought, the past few days played on a loop in the back of his mind, the memories colliding within him, shifting like the traffic rushing past. He had been so close to death, curled up in an alley, fighting the cold, unable to see any way out. Then, the sudden warmth that pulled him away from the brink. The Astral Plane. It seemed too surreal, too beautiful to be real, especially after everything he¡¯d been through. He could still remember how it had felt to cross into that realm¡ªthe overwhelming colors, the swirling, impossible landscapes. It felt like a dream. He paused to let a bus pass, the roar of its engine fading into the background as his thoughts drifted. Was he sure it was real? Or had he imagined it all in the fevered haze of near-death? The creatures he''d met there¡ªwhimsical, strange¡ªhad seemed too vivid, too solid to be anything but truth. He knew now it was real. That was the relief that had settled deep within him. But that relief was now tainted with a gnawing ache. Matter. He was gone. Aster hadn''t even had time to process it fully before the weight of it hit him like a blow to the chest. The mentor, the friend, the strange protector¡ªgone before he could ask all the questions that had been left hanging in the air. With Matter¡¯s death, a flood of memories had resurfaced¡ªthe laughter of his parents, their warm embrace, the sense of safety that had evaporated when they were taken from him. Aster had never been able to ask the questions that mattered, never been able to trace the strange shadows in their past. But with Matter, there had been a glimmer of understanding¡ªa chance to unravel the tangled mess of his lineage. Now, it was all gone. And what remained was the dark, unanswered mystery of his parents¡¯ death, the void that had become his life. Aster stepped into a busy intersection, the press of people brushing past him, their voices a blur. The crowd moved with purpose, while he walked in a haze, his mind occupied by thoughts of what lay ahead. Galamad, the next stop on this impossible journey. A place where answers might be found, where he could begin to learn how to wield the strange power that now lived inside him. But even as the prospect of knowledge and power beckoned, there was a gnawing doubt. Could he ever control the Void Wyrm that threatened to tear him apart? Would he ever stop being a victim of the force that had tainted his entire life up until this point? Aster¡¯s hairs suddenly stood up on the back of his neck. A presence, subtle but unmistakable. He quickened his pace, trying to shake off the feeling. The street felt the same¡ªno one seemed out of place¡ªbut the unease grew stronger. Someone was watching him. His eyes darted between the passing crowds, scanning the faces, but no one met his gaze. The sensation only intensified, like an invisible weight pressing down on him. He glanced down a narrow alley as he passed, his pulse unexpectedly spiking in response to the sudden, inexplicable sense of danger. Before he could react, a rush of motion¡ªtoo fast, too sudden. A sharp force clamped over his head, and everything went black. Aster froze for a heartbeat, the world plunging into suffocating darkness. The sounds of the city vanished in an instant, replaced by an eerie silence. His heart thudded in his chest as panic surged, but the tightness around his head and the jarring motion that followed left him disoriented. He barely had time to register the shift before he was tossed into the confined space, his body hitting the cold, unyielding surface of what felt like a trunk. And in that instant, all the questions, all the fears, all the uncertainties¡ªeverything¡ªwere drowned out by the rush of adrenaline. _________________________________________________________________________________ The sudden rush of light as the bag was yanked from Aster¡¯s head made his eyes sting. He blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting just in time to meet the gleefully unhinged gaze of Sergeant Frikkie. A headache threatened to bloom at his temples. Of all the people he had to deal with today. Sergeant Frikkie¡ªthe ex-cop, the loan shark, the man who had thrived in the chaos of the old government. He had slipped effortlessly into the new order, his corruption spreading like a virus as he embedded himself in organized crime. Once exposed for his role in the murder of a whistleblower, he had been unceremoniously suspended, leaving him free to fully embrace his life of crime. Sergeant Frikkie grinned as he saw the fear in Aster¡¯s eyes. It was the kind of grin that never reached his eyes¡ªgleaming with amusement but dark with something else, something hungry. Aster¡¯s pulse spiked as he took in the ex-cop¡¯s thick, calloused hands resting on his knees, his posture one of relaxed dominance. The dimly lit room, the peeling walls, the faint stench of sweat and cheap cologne¡ªall of it slammed Aster back into a state he had tried to outgrow: prey. Frikkie leaned forward, clasping his hands together. ¡°Aster, Aster, Aster¡­¡± He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. ¡°What are we going to do with you?¡± Aster swallowed, his throat dry. ¡°You owed me R15K a week ago,¡± Frikkie continued, voice light, conversational¡ªlike they were discussing an overdue book rental. ¡°And here I was, worried you¡¯d run.¡± His grin stretched wider. ¡°Glad to see you didn¡¯t.¡± Panic clawed at the edges of his mind. His body remembered exactly what Frikkie was capable of. That wasn¡¯t something you forgot¡ªnot when you grew up in his shadow, watching him drag screaming men into the back of warehouses, only for them to come out broken, bloody, and barely breathing. Years of fear and survival instincts didn¡¯t just vanish, not when confronted by the bane of your existence¡ªespecially after being bagged and dragged into a room like a captured animal. But as the initial flood of adrenaline faded, clarity returned. How much did he owe? R1.2 million. I have that and more in cash. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Aster took a slow breath, forcing his thoughts into order. He could pay. He had the money. That alone should keep him safe. Frikkie watched him like a cat watching a wounded bird. His silence was worse than his words. It meant he was thinking. Deciding how much he wanted to enjoy this before the transaction was over. Before Aster could speak, a sharp knock at the door cut through the tension. Frikkie¡¯s jaw twitched. Annoyed. ¡°Enter.¡± The door creaked open, and a heavyset man stepped inside, dragging a small girl by the nape of her neck. Aster¡¯s blood ran cold. She was crying¡ªquiet, desperate sobs that barely made a sound. She couldn¡¯t have been older than ten. Her small frame trembled, her hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into her skin. ¡°The new merchandise has arrived,¡± the man announced flatly. Frikkie barely spared her a glance. His interest lay elsewhere. But Aster¡­ The moment she stepped into the room, a sickness spread through his chest. A familiar, cloying pressure, like invisible tendrils clinging to her spirit. He had felt this before. Aster¡¯s breath caught. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to see¡ªnot with his physical senses, but with his Astral Sight. And there it was, writhing inside her like a living parasite. A Void Wyrm. For a second, his heart stopped. Rage and horror collided in his chest. The pieces snapped together in an instant¡ªthe Wyrm had twisted her fate, manipulating the threads of her existence until she had ended up here. It had poisoned her path, warping the world around her so that she was meant to be trafficked. Meant to suffer. Unless someone stopped it. Aster¡¯s hands clenched into fists. His mind reeled back to the moment he had been infected. To the suffering. The hopelessness. The knowledge that he had been nothing more than a piece of meat, doomed to be used until there was nothing left of him. That could have been me. If not for Matter, if not for his intervention, Aster would have been standing exactly where this girl was¡ªanother lost soul, broken beyond repair, waiting to be swallowed whole. The rage inside him crystallized into something sharp. I won¡¯t let that happen. It wasn¡¯t just about her. It was about him. About trying to make sense of Matter¡¯s sacrifice. About making sure that his death meant something. His voice came out steady. Cold. ¡°I can pay you in full.¡± The room shifted. Frikkie¡¯s head tilted, his predatory eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He studied Aster, searching for the catch. Then, slowly, his grin returned. ¡°R1.8 million,¡± he said. Aster¡¯s heart stuttered. I only owed R1.2 million. Of course. Frikkie wasn¡¯t stupid. He smelled money. The moment a debtor suddenly had funds, the game changed. The numbers shifted. The goal was no longer collecting¡ªit was bleeding. Aster wanted to argue. Wanted to call him out. But his survival instincts flared¡ªthere was no winning against a man like this with words. He forced himself to think. R1.8 million in cash. His car¡ªworth about R600K. His house¡ªR3.6 million. He could pay Frikkie off. But he had to take out a loan against his assets to do so. Placing himself back under the debtors blade to save this girl. His jaw tightened. ¡°I have R1.8 million on me,¡± he said evenly. ¡°I can transfer it now. But I need a week to get the rest.¡± Frikkie¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°The rest?¡± Aster turned his gaze to the girl. ¡°I want to buy her,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll offer R600K.¡± The room went still. The girl had stopped crying. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, disbelieving. Frikkie, however, was amused. His lips curled, his expression twisting with delight. ¡°Now that¡¯s interesting,¡± he murmured, tapping his fingers against the desk. He turned to Anathi, finally giving her a real look. ¡°Ah, but this one¡­¡± He sighed, shaking his head in mock regret as he chuckled. ¡°Young Anathi won¡¯t be that cheap, I¡¯m afraid.¡± He turned his gaze to the girl, feigning a look of sadness. ¡°Her parents were important people¡ªupstanding citizens, real moral types. They made enemies. Lots of enemies.¡± His voice dropped, the mock sympathy vanishing. ¡°The asking price is closer to R1 million.¡± ¡°After all, once her parents¡¯ old rivals get a hold of her¡­¡± He smirked. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say after the first three times, the returns will start diminishing. But don¡¯t worry¡ªthere won¡¯t be a lack of clients. I¡¯ll be sure to milk her for everything she¡¯s worth.¡± Aster¡¯s nails dug into his palms. He had expected this. He knew Frikkie would push the price. And yet, hearing it¡ªseeing the way he spoke about her like she was cattle¡ªmade him want to drive a knife straight through the bastard¡¯s throat. But now wasn¡¯t the time. He had already calculated how far he could push. The money was there. The deal could be made. So he didn¡¯t hesitate. Didn¡¯t argue. He met Frikkie¡¯s eyes and said, ¡°Deal.¡± _________________________________________________________________________________ The drive home was thick with tension. The air inside the car felt stale, suffocating, as Aster sat in the passenger seat, eyes fixed ahead, his body still coiled from the encounter. Frikkie¡¯s heavy hands drummed against the steering wheel as he drove, a smirk tugging at his lips. He didn¡¯t need to speak¡ªhis presence alone was a reminder that this wasn¡¯t over. Anathi sat in the back, her small frame pressed against the door, as far from Aster and Frikkie as she could get. She didn¡¯t cry, didn¡¯t whimper, but her fingers twitched in her lap, betraying the terror she was trying so hard to suppress. Aster wasn¡¯t worried about Frikkie knowing his address. In the grand scheme of things, the loan shark was just another predator in a sea of sharks. Compared to what Aster had seen¡ªwhat he had fought¡ªFrikkie was barely a footnote in his story. A nuisance. The kind of monster he could handle in his sleep. Still, the fact remained: Frikkie wasn¡¯t done with him. Not yet. When the car rolled to a stop in front of No. 7, Heart Ln, Frikkie took his time before unlocking the doors. He turned in his seat, eyes flicking between Aster and Anathi with a look of amused curiosity, as if trying to figure out what kind of game Aster thought he was playing. Then, with a shake of his head, he clicked the locks open. Aster turned to Anathi, who remained frozen, her hands clenched in her lap. He nudged her gently. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said softly, tilting his head towards the house. ¡°You¡¯re safe. I¡¯m not here to hurt you.¡± She looked up at him then, eyes searching his face for deceit. But whatever she found in his expression seemed to be enough. Hesitant but determined, she pushed open the door and climbed out. Aster followed, ignoring Frikkie as he stepped onto the pavement. But Frikkie wasn¡¯t done. He leaned over, one arm draped casually over the wheel, his grin never quite reaching his eyes. ¡°R2.8 million by the end of the week,¡± he reminded Aster, his voice carrying a quiet menace. ¡°Or I¡¯ll be back. And if you try to screw me over, you can bet your ass she¡¯ll be earning her keep. You both will.¡± With that, he slammed the door shut and drove off, the engine roaring into the distance. Aster watched the taillights vanish into the evening haze, hoping¡ªpraying¡ªit would be the last time he ever had to deal with Frikkie. He turned, making sure Anathi hadn¡¯t bolted. She was standing in front of the house, shifting anxiously on her feet, glancing between the front door and him. Aster sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He had no idea what he was doing. He just promised Frikkie nearly three million rand¡ªmoney he didn¡¯t have. The bank wouldn¡¯t give him a loan, not with his credit score in the gutter. He¡¯d need collateral. His house? Maybe. But without a proof of income, the bank would shove him out before he could even finish his sentence. And then there was Anathi. The Void Wyrm inside her had been feeding on every bit of fortune she ever had, warping her fate. If Aster hadn¡¯t interfered, she would have ended up exactly where the Wyrm wanted her¡ªenslaved, used, discarded. That thought twisted his gut. Maybe Lena would know something. She had a friend who died from the same affliction. She might understand the symptoms, the timeline, the cure. And hell, maybe she could even co-sign a loan. But that was a problem for later. Right now, Anathi needed something much simpler: a place to breathe. Aster walked up to her, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. She flinched when he neared but held her ground. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, making a conscious effort not to seem threatening. As the door creaked open, a flood of light from the street lamps spilled inside, illuminating the space within. Aster hesitated for a brief second, a sudden wave of memory washing over him. He remembered his first time standing in this doorway¡ªscared, uncertain, alone. Anathi must be feeling the same. Maybe even worse. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until Aster¡¯s stomach growled, loud and obnoxious. The tension cracked just a little. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m going to make us some dinner,¡± he said, stepping inside and flipping on the lights. ¡°I know you¡¯re scared. And confused. But please, bear with me. I wasn¡¯t expecting any of this when I left the house this morning.¡± He glanced at her. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come sit with me in the kitchen? I¡¯ll make you some rooibos.¡± For a moment, she didn¡¯t move. Then, cautiously, she stepped inside, her thin frame barely making a sound as she padded across the floor. Aster walked to the kitchen, filling the kettle and pulling out the ingredients for an alfredo pasta. He could feel Anathi lingering in the hallway, uncertain, but after a minute, she crept closer, finally settling onto one of the counter chairs when he placed a warm cup of tea in front of her. She wrapped her hands around the mug, staring into the amber liquid before finally speaking. ¡°Why did you buy me?¡± Her voice was small, hesitant. ¡°What do you want from me?¡± She glanced at him then, her fingers tightening around the ceramic. ¡°I can¡¯t make you a million rand back.¡± Her breath hitched as panic started creeping in, the reality of being sold clawing at her composure. Was he her master now? Was she expected to repay him? Would he force himself on her? Aster saw it in her eyes, the spiraling fear, and his gut twisted. He wanted to reach out, to reassure her, but he knew better. Instead, he met her gaze and spoke evenly. ¡°I didn¡¯t buy you to own you. I bought you to save you.¡± She stilled, searching his face for deception. Finding none, she hesitated, then slowly nodded, as if accepting that, for now, she would believe him. ¡°You and I share something in common,¡± Aster continued. ¡°Something I can¡¯t explain right now. But for now, just know this: Your ¡®luck¡¯¡ªor your ¡®curse,¡¯ as I used to call it¡ªis not your fault.¡± Anathi didn¡¯t respond. But she didn¡¯t argue either. She just sipped her tea, her posture a little less rigid than before. It wasn¡¯t trust. Not yet. But it was a start. Aster finished cooking and set a plate of pasta in front of her. ¡°Eat. Then you can pick any room in the house. Watch TV, use the internet¡ªwhatever makes you comfortable.¡± He grabbed his own plate and turned toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be in the attic until the morning, please don¡¯t disturb me, I¡¯ll find someone to help talk to you by tomorrow, otherwise please think of this as your home now¡± Anathi looked up, a question in her eyes, but she didn¡¯t ask it. Not yet. Instead, she just nodded, turning her attention back to her food. Aster exhaled, stepping up the stairs and into the attic where the brass circle waited for his next crossover into Galamad. He had six days to find R2.8 million. And who knows how long he had time to figure out how to save her from the Void Wyrm. No pressure. Chapter 9 Chapter 9 Aster checked himself over one last time, he felt out of place in his White and Silver School uniform, but it felt good on him, like a version of himself he¡¯ll learn to grow into. Still uncertain over his image in the mirror, he finally sighs, pushing it away, fishing a note from his pocket, he pressed his fingers against the mirror¡¯s cool surface, scrawling the glyphs from the note. As the last symbol completed, the glass shimmered, rippling like a disturbed pond Not wasting anymore time, he stepped forward and was instantly transported back into the grand, bustling hallway of Galamad, this time in the Sylvi wing. The magnificence of the space struck him anew. Deep ocean-blue marble stretched across the floor, polished to a gleam that reflected the golden light of overhead chandeliers. White tiles, pillars, and wall trimmings provided contrast, their pristine surfaces adorned with delicate gold filigree. The walls themselves were a living museum, lined with ancient weapons, relics, and paintings of figures whose eyes seemed to follow passersby. The air thrummed with energy, both from the countless students bustling through the corridor and from the residual aether that clung to every artifact and stone. Aster took a breath, steadying himself. He had missed a few Cultivation classes, but Lena had assured him that they hadn¡¯t yet covered anything crucial. Anything important, she had promised to catch him up on. He turned into the classroom, expecting to slip in unnoticed¡ªbut the moment he crossed the threshold, the entire room fell silent. Conversations halted, laughter died mid-breath, and every head snapped toward him with eerie synchronization. Aster hesitated, his body tensing under the weight of their collective stares. His instincts screamed at him to check behind him¡ªmaybe there was someone else they were looking at? He glanced over his shoulder. No one. Shit. Before he could process the sudden shift in atmosphere, Lena was at his side, gripping his wrist with surprising urgency. Without a word, she yanked him from the room, her grip firm and unyielding. Aster barely had time to register the murmurs that erupted behind him before the door shut, leaving the whispering students on the other side. In the quiet hallway, she thrust a newspaper article into his hands. The headline made his stomach lurch: Survivor of Void Wyrm Saved by Impossible Means ¨C Cure Still Not Found Aster¡¯s grip tightened on the paper. Didn¡¯t Aerothena say she¡¯d control the narrative, keep things ambiguous? This was anything but. His mind raced with the implications. How would this shape his reputation in the Astral Plane? More importantly, how would this affect how others saw him? ¡°I get why you didn¡¯t tell me everything,¡± Lena admitted, her voice softer now. ¡°But you should know¡ªit¡¯s made you unpopular.¡± He met her gaze. ¡°Unpopular?¡± She exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. ¡°I¡¯ve overheard the students. They basically feel you didn¡¯t deserve it. They think if there was only one cure, it should¡¯ve gone to someone else. Someone they knew. Someone more ¡®deserving.¡¯¡± Aster clenched his jaw. He knew grief made people irrational, but hearing it still stung. Lena touched his shoulder, her expression earnest. ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. Yani and Musa don¡¯t either. We don¡¯t care how you survived¡ªwe¡¯re just glad you did.¡± Relief flickered in his chest. At least he hadn¡¯t lost the few friends he¡¯d managed to make. ¡°Come on,¡± she said, nudging him. ¡°Let¡¯s get back inside.¡± The classroom was silent when they re-entered, but this time, Aster forced himself to ignore the stares. ¡°Seats, everyone!¡± Aster turned just in time to see the instructor enter, and for a moment, his brain completely short-circuited. She was breathtaking. A tall, striking African woman draped in a loose-fitting sundress that hugged her curves with effortless grace. Her dark skin glowed under the classroom¡¯s candlelight, her movements exuding an air of controlled power. Every student sat up a little straighter as she entered, though Aster remained frozen in place, still standing while the rest of the class had taken their seats. The instructor¡¯s full lips curled into a knowing smile. ¡°Mr. Elchen, I presume? The Void Cursed who survived.¡± Aster¡¯s breath caught in his throat as every eye in the room turned on him once more. He wasn¡¯t used to attention. Living on the streets meant staying on the periphery, being unseen, unheard. This? This was suffocating. ¡°You can take your seat, Mr. Elchen,¡± she said lightly. ¡°We¡¯re covering Aether Refinement today. I¡¯ve already spoken with Mrs. Brambel about your situation. She¡¯ll help you catch up, but don¡¯t hesitate to ask me any questions.¡± He nodded mutely and sank into his chair. The instructor¡ªMrs. Lerato, as he quickly learned¡ªmoved gracefully to the front of the room. With a flick of her wrist, two glowing glyphs materialized on the surface of her desk, hovering just above the polished wood. ¡°Aether refinement and absorption,¡± she began, her voice commanding yet melodic, ¡°is the cornerstone of Cultivation. Unlike the creatures of the Astral Plane, who passively absorb Aether through consumption, we must refine and process it before absorption.¡± She placed her hands on the glowing glyphs, and they pulsed in response. ¡°For this we use a process known as Veneration.¡± From beneath the desk, she lifted a large chunk of what appeared to be deep blue meat. ¡°This is Aquaguana flesh¡ªrich in Mist Aether.¡± She pressed the glyphs to either side of the meat, and they curved inward, forming a shimmering golden sphere around it. ¡°When the material is placed in the crucible,¡± she continued, ¡°we channel our Faith into the glyph through our Veneration spell, breaking the substance down to its raw Aether.¡± The glyphs flared, and the chunk of meat began dissolving, releasing tendrils of glowing blue smoke. The students watched in fascinated silence as the Aether condensed above the sphere before slowly drifting toward her. When it reached a point just below her chest, it was drawn inward, disappearing into an unseen space within her. ¡°This is how we absorb Aether,¡± she explained. ¡°Each gate in our Astral Vessel corresponds to an Aether type. In this case, Mist Aether feeds into the Mist Hue gate of my Vessel, found around the Diaphragm.¡± She dissolved the sphere with a gesture, leaving behind nothing but ash. ¡°Refinement is an essential skill. You can expect to extract, at best, about 20% of a material¡¯s weight as usable Aether. High-grade materials have better efficiency, but they are rare and expensive.¡± She gave the class a pointed look. ¡°I trust you all selected your materials wisely.¡± With that, she clapped her hands. ¡°Your assignments are at the front. Collect your materials and scripts. Your goal today is to familiarize yourself with the Veneration spell and begin refining Aether.¡± The class stirred to life, students moving forward to gather their supplies. Aster turned to Lena, exhaling sharply. ¡°I understood none of that.¡± She smirked. ¡°I figured.¡± Lena started to explain, her tone shifting into something more measured, like a teacher explaining a difficult concept. ¡°You¡¯ve probably heard of the idea of a spirit, right? Most religions have some version of it¡ªa soul, essence, whatever they call it. What we call the Astral Vessel is basically what they mean when they talk about a spirit.¡± Aster frowned, his mind racing to piece it all together. ¡°So, wait¡ªyou¡¯re saying the Astral Vessel is basically what we call the soul?¡± Lena pauses before answering ¡°We actually don¡¯t like to refer to it as a soul, there¡¯s evidence to suggest that the real soul¡ªif it exists¡ªmight be on an even higher dimension if you believe the scryers who worked out the incantations that allowed them to discover that. She continued, "For all intents and purposes, your Astral Vessel is a metaphysical reflection of who you are on the Material Plane. It carries your experiences, your growth, and your power. The Soul, however, could be seen as something beyond even that¡ªa force influencing the vessel, steering it into experiences that allow it to accumulate growth through cultivation or reincarnation." Aster let out a slow breath, his head already starting to ache. "Okay¡­ and what does that have to do with cultivation?" Lena¡¯s eyes brightened, happy to continue. "Your Astral Vessel isn¡¯t just a passive entity¡ªit¡¯s meant to evolve. That¡¯s the essence of cultivation. Most people¡ªwhat we call the ¡®unaware¡¯¡ªgo through life completely oblivious to this, but even they are unknowingly cultivating, just at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every experience, every challenge overcome, releases tiny amounts of Psychic Aether, slowly strengthening their Astral Vessels. This process takes lifetimes¡ªnearly ten, in fact¡ªto naturally elevate someone from Initiate to Acolyte and even longer from there." This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Aster¡¯s expression twisted in disbelief. "So you¡¯re saying an ordinary person, just by living their life over and over again, is somehow cultivating¡­ without even knowing it?" Lena nodded. "Yes, but it¡¯s slow, inefficient, and most never reach higher levels due to wasted energy or stagnation. But those of us aware of the Astral Plane can take control of the process. We¡¯ve developed techniques to refine Aether directly, allowing us to compress what would take ten lifetimes into just a few months." Seeing Aster still wasn¡¯t getting it she leaned forward slightly. "Let¡¯s try a different angle, do you know the basics of how computers work?¡± Aster nodded. ¡°Perfect¡± Lena exclaims. ¡°Let¡¯s then, think of Your Material Vessel¡ªyour physical body¡ªas like the hardware of a computer. It interacts with the real world but is limited by physical constraints. The Astral Vessel then, would be like an operating system¡ªa structured interface allowing the body to function but also governing how you process Aether, Growth and its interaction with the Astral Plane. Ordinarily, you don¡¯t see the underlying code¡ªjust the limited interface to do with your Material Form. But when you remove the Veil¡ªyour Biofield¡ªyou gain access to the hidden framework, becoming the code behind the machine and allowing more direct modification." Aster took a moment to process her words before asking, "If the Astral Vessel is my spirit and my Material Vessel is my body, then what exactly makes up me¡ªmy consciousness? And how is that different from the Soul?" Lena explained. "The Soul could be considered the true ¡®user¡¯ in this analogy¡ªthe entity sitting beyond the system, issuing commands from outside. The Consciousness, however, could be seen as more like an AI embedded within the OS¡ªa self-learning intelligence formed inside the Astral Vessel, growing and adapting based on the Soul¡¯s inputs. The AI wouldn¡¯t be fully aware of itself or that its decisions are influenced by something greater. It also explains what we call ¡®intuition¡¯ or ¡®gut feelings¡¯ being just the Soul¡¯s guidance that our Consciousness perceives but doesn¡¯t fully understand." "So you¡¯re saying that the Soul¡¯s input, while limited, helps steer our Material Vessel in moments of growth, and that our Consciousness is essentially just a program helping to facilitate that interface?" He paused, then asked, "If moving from the Material Plane to the Astral Plane allows us to access the code directly, are we still interpreting the Soul¡¯s input? Or have we... essentially hijacked the system?" Lena gave Aster an apologetic look, shrugging slightly. "That, I can¡¯t answer," she admitted. "I can explain the framework, how the system operates, and what we can do within it. But I can¡¯t tell you why it exists or who¡ªif anyone¡ªdesigned it. That crosses into philosophy, and I can only go so far before speculation takes over. There are countless theories, some of which you can explore in the library, but beyond that?" She shook her head. "That¡¯s up to you to figure out." ¡°So, to summarise the Aether being absorbed through the gate is essentially just us streamlining a process that would naturally have taken place, all cultivation is just these processes, discovered, refined and recorded for thousands of years being applied to help grow our Astral Vessels¡± Lena finishes. Aster leaned back slightly, absorbing the weight of her words. ¡°So that¡¯s what cultivation really is¡­¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Lena confirmed. ¡°And it doesn¡¯t just stop at Acolyte either. There are six more levels after that, with the final stage being Godhood.¡± Aster blinked. ¡°Godhood? As in¡­ an actual god?¡± She smirked. ¡°Well, not in the way most people imagine. But in terms of power? Pretty damn close.¡± Aster exhaled sharply, trying to keep himself from spiraling. ¡®Yesterday, I get told that the gods people have worshipped for centuries are basically corporate figureheads in a glorified pyramid scheme, and today, I¡¯m learning that reincarnation is real, spirits exist, and people can scientifically cultivate their way to divinity. Am I supposed to just take this all in stride? People have waged wars over these exact questions, and here I am, in a classroom, being handed the answers like it¡¯s just another Tuesday.¡¯ His mind screams ¡°Do I have you so far?¡± Lena asked, tilting her head. Aster forced himself to push down his spiralling thoughts. ¡°Yeah¡­ I think I¡¯m getting the gist of it.¡± Lena chuckled. ¡°Good enough for now. Let¡¯s move on to the practical part. So, as I said, the Astral Vessel grows by accumulating Aether, and that Aether comes in different forms. The most common type for the unaware is Psychic Aether¡ªit¡¯s formed through experiences, but it¡¯s full of impurities. We, on the other hand, have access to something much more efficient: Elemental Aether. It¡¯s pure, potent, and found throughout the Astral Plane, starting from the Archipelago and increasing in quality the higher you go¡± Aster narrowed his eyes. ¡°And that¡¯s what we¡¯re refining in class, right? That blue smoke from earlier?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Lena said. ¡°Every Astral Vessel has seven gates, each one corresponding to a different type of Elemental Aether. They run along the spine, with the final one¡ªthe Elemental Spirit¡ªlocated in the crown. When you refine and absorb Aether, it gets stored in the corresponding gate. For example, the Mist Aether Mrs. Lerato used was absorbed into her Diaphragm gate, which corresponds to her Water element typing¡¯s Mist Hue.¡± Aster let out a low whistle. ¡°So just by refining that chunk of meat, she basically got years¡¯ worth of experience in a few minutes?¡± Lena grinned. ¡°Yup. Efficient, huh?¡± Aster was starting to see the bigger picture. But one thing still didn¡¯t add up. ¡°How much Faith did she use to do that?¡± Lena casually shrugged. ¡°About 200 Faith.¡± Aster nearly fell out of his chair. ¡°Two hundred?! And how many of these do we have to absorb before we can open a gate?¡± Lena hesitated. Aster narrowed his eyes. ¡°Lena¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°Look, it¡¯s different for you because you¡¯re a Spirit cultivator. Normal materials have about a fifth of Spirit Aether compared to Elemental Aether.¡± Aster¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°How much Aether would I have gotten from that same chunk of meat compared to an elemental cultivator?¡± Lena winced. ¡°...400 grams.¡± Aster¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°And how much do I need to open a gate?¡± Lena looked like she was bracing for an explosion. ¡°...About 50kg per gate.¡± Aster stared at her, completely horrified. Then, suddenly, he shot to his feet. ¡°Fifty kg?! How the hell am I supposed to afford that?!¡± A few students turned to glare at him for the outburst, but Aster barely noticed. He was too busy clutching his head, frantically doing the math in his head. Lena sighed, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. ¡°Breathe, Aster. We¡¯ll figure something out.¡± But Aster could only groan. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a miracle.¡± Shaking her head, Lena indicated that she wished to continue with the lesson. ¡°Are you ready to give it a try?¡± she asked. ¡°Sure. Do I just place my hands on top of it, or what?¡± he asked, carelessly placing his hands on top of the Sigils. Instantly, the Sigils attached themselves to his hands. Amazed, he watched as they hovered there, sensing the pulse and spin of the sigils on his palms, alive with energy. ¡°Yes, you just place your hands on top,¡± Lena replied sarcastically ¡°Now, take a moment to reach inside yourself. Close your eyes and focus. The key is to locate the Veneration spell within you, it¡¯s already inside you, tied to the same system that allows you to spend faith, it should feel like a thread or a current running through your being, connected to the outside. It¡¯s there, just waiting for you to find it.¡± Aster closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as Lena instructed. He felt his mind begin to drift inward, his awareness shifting away from the outside world. The sensation was like sinking deeper into his own body, moving through a space that was both familiar and unknown. ¡°Focus on your body,¡± Lena¡¯s voice guided him. ¡°You¡¯re looking for sensations, things that don¡¯t quite belong, but are always there. You¡¯ll feel them, maybe faint at first. Start with the emptiness, then feel for the things that stand out within it. Aster feels multiple sensations taking place in his body, the first and most apparent is the casuals ache of the void wyrms presence, ¡®not messing with that anytime soon¡¯ he tell himself as he quickly searches for the other presences. As he rules out one after the other. As he moved deeper into his own awareness, he suddenly feels an unnameable pull, a gentle tug inside him, like an invisible string drawing from outside of him to a point that felt like the sensation Lena had mentioned. ¡°There,¡± Lena said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. ¡°That¡¯s it¡ªthe Faith spell. You¡¯ll feel it humming softly, like a low buzz in your chest. It¡¯s not loud, not demanding, but it¡¯s steady. Focus on that hum, let it fill you.¡± Aster¡¯s attention shifted toward the sensation. With a gentle push of his Will, he began to draw the current of the Faith spell, guiding it to the Sigils in his hands. ¡°Good,¡± Lena murmured. ¡°Be careful as you draw the Faith spell toward the Sigils. Let it form a connection. You¡¯re trying to create a circuit between them.¡± Aster obeyed, slowly drawing the spell forward. He felt it shift, like a flow moving from his hands to the Sigils. The Sigils pulsed in response, as if they recognized the Faith spell and welcomed it. The connection formed, and the spell sparked to life. ¡°Got it,¡± Aster said proudly, opening his eyes. Lena, seemingly surprised, muttered to herself, ¡°It¡¯s his high-level will. There¡¯s no way he could¡¯ve handled the Reverence spell so quickly without it.¡± ¡°Okay, now,¡± she said, pulling out a bone the color of the deep oceon. ¡°Place the Sigils on both sides of the material, forming the ¡®crucible¡¯. Allow the Faith to flow freely into the Sigils from the Reverence spell.¡± Aster placed the Sigils on either side of the peculiar bone. As the dome formed, he felt the pull of the Sigils on his Reverence spell. With a thought, he opened the barrier holding his Faith at bay. The energy surged, and the Faith began to pour into the Sigils, causing a bright glow to emerge. The bone started smoking within the crucible, and it slowly dissolved, its deep blue smoke roiling darkly at the top of the dome. Aster was deep in concentration, unaware that the bright light had drawn the attention of the rest of the class. He was succeeding at performing the Veneration spell on his first try, even Miss Lerato was watching him over her magazine. ¡°Now, take your will and grab onto the Aether,¡± Lena instructed. Aster shifted his focus to the Aether, feeling the smoke buzz like electricity through his Will. He sensed a pull over his groin, as if the Aether was drawn toward it. ¡®I hope this isn¡¯t some weird dysfunction that will make everyone call me Groin Boy for the rest of the term¡¯, he thought. Trying to ignore his rising social anxiety, he manages to direct the smoke toward the area, where it latched onto something that seemed to draw it in without further guidance. It felt like warm water seeping into a porous stone. As he absorbed the Aether, it felt like it was removing blockages in the stones, creating channels. When he finally opened his eyes, he couldn''t help but smile at Lena''s surprised expression. Noticing the other students staring at him, he whispered, ¡°Was that good, or did I just metaphorically piss myself in front of a crowd?¡± Lena looked at him, confused. When she saw his expression and followed his gaze to his crotch, she suddenly burst out laughing, causing the students still watching to turn away in irritation. ¡°Yes,¡± she said between laughs, ¡°you did better than good. You did better than amazing! You succeeded at every step on your first try. It took me at least a week to get the hang of it, and my family is known for our incredible ability to absorb Aether.¡± Looking at the time on her watch, she added, ¡°We have about half an hour left in class. Why don¡¯t you absorb as much as you can before your next class?¡± Seeing his hesitation, she quickly added, ¡°I¡¯ll help you with a personal loan for now until you can sort out your financial issues. When she saw the look of distrust on his face, she rubbed her eyes. ¡°With no interest rate¡­¡± Aster immediately took out more material and began the next Veneration process. Chapter 10 Chapter 10 Aster made his way to the classroom located in the Hurcowake section of the school. The deep mustard color of the area seemed to absorb the sunlight, casting a warm but oppressive atmosphere. His classroom was located in one of the massive open courtyards that dotted Galamad, each one the size of four rugby fields. The sheer scale of the place was awe-inspiring. As he neared the courtyard, he spotted a small group of people gathered a short distance away. The students were loosely clustered around a gruff-looking Sergeant, who had a presence that commanded attention. As he approached, he saw Musa standing among them and made his way toward him. ¡°Aster, good to see you,¡± Musa greeted with a warm smile. ¡°Ready for some Scripturet training?¡± ¡°I guess,¡± Aster replied, uncertainty lacing his voice. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure what he was walking into. ¡°Mr. Elchen, I presume?¡± The Sergeant called out as he noticed Aster talking to Musa. ¡°Ah, a man who¡¯s seen the streets and knows real hardship. It¡¯s good to have someone with grit around here, away from these entitled beige trust-fund princesses. Let¡¯s see if you can surprise me!¡± He turned to the group. ¡°Pair off in groups of two and start sparring. If you want to learn something, you can spar against me.¡± Lighting a cigarette, the Sergeant stepped back, observing the students as they formed pairs and began to move into the sparring areas. There was a crackle of energy in the air as the sound of bodies moving and the occasional thud of punches filled the courtyard. ¡°So, did you manage to engage with your scripture yet?¡± Musa asked, his voice casual but with an underlying sense of curiosity. ¡°Not yet,¡± Aster admitted, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. ¡°I¡¯ve been a little distracted after coming back from¡­ well, a world-changing event.¡± Musa nodded knowingly, as if he¡¯d anticipated the response. ¡°Will you take it out now?¡± Aster pulled out the wrapped rectangle, and Musa¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°You didn¡¯t even unwrap it?¡± Aster gave a sheepish shrug and quickly unwrapped the rectangle. Inside, a crystal-clear tablet lay before him, covered in intricate engravings that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. I really hope I¡¯m not supposed to read this right now, Aster thought to himself, eyeing the script warily. ¡°Musa told me you have an E+ Will level,¡± Musa said, looking Aster over. ¡°Try entering the tablet with your will and absorb the North Star Sigil into yourself. See what happens.¡± Aster didn¡¯t ask questions; instead, he focused on the task at hand, assuming it would come as naturally to him as the cultivation had. As he focused, he felt the familiar presence of the tablet in his mind¡ªits cold, smooth surface almost tangible as his will brushed against it. An electric charge vibrated through the tablet¡¯s surface, and as he continued to probe, he noticed a certain area that seemed to have more give. Applying more of his focus, he pressed into that area, and that¡¯s when his mind connected with something¡ªno, someone. A sigil that seemed to reach out to him, as if calling him. He instinctively reached back, and the connection was made. A surge of information flooded his senses. He felt an overwhelming rush of knowledge, experiences, and skills all pouring into him at once. His body trembled as if it were about to break apart under the weight of it. Aster almost broke the connection out of sheer shock, but remembering his instructions, he held on tight as more and more flowed through him, his body absorbing the sigil like a sponge. After about five minutes, Aster finally opened his eyes, but when he looked at his body, he felt no immediate difference. Confused, he turned inward, using his will to search for any changes. That¡¯s when he found it¡ªan intricate web of golden threads, like a delicate tapestry, woven throughout his Astral form. The threads glowed faintly, humming with energy. Studying the strange script, he sees the same connection point as the Veneration spell. Without thinking, he drags the Faith spell and latches it onto the web, feeling the thrum of energy as he opened the valve. The moment he did, an explosion of pain erupted in his legs. It felt like every bone was shattered, every muscle torn, and his tendons snapped like the strings of a broken guitar. Before he could react, he was hurled headfirst into a wall twenty meters away, his body slamming into it with brutal force. He felt his bones break with sickening cracks. Am I dead? In the next instant, Aster was back where he had been standing, facing Musa. He would have thought it was just his mind playing tricks if it weren¡¯t for the unmistakable imprint of his body on the wall in front of him and the entire class rolling on the grass, laughing. What the fuck? The Sergeant suddenly slapped him on the back, the force so strong it felt like he had hit a wall again¡ªor more accurately, like a wall had struck him. ¡°Living on the edge, huh? A man after my own heart¡ªno fear, just a hunger to push your limits.¡± The Sergeant¡¯s grin was wide, showing sharp teeth, making him look more like a wild animal than a teacher. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Aster exploded, his voice tinged with frustration as he turned to Musa, who was still chuckling from the spectacle. Musa rubbed tears from his eyes, grinning like a maniac. ¡°No one told you to connect your Faith Spell to the newly imprinted Scripture.¡± He burst into laughter again, clearly remembering how Aster had gone from absorbing the scripture to rocketing himself into a wall in an instant. ¡°That explains that, but how am I not dead? I just splattered against a wall!¡± Musa, finally composing himself, still had a grin that wouldn¡¯t leave his face. ¡°That was the Sergeant. He¡¯s a Hierophant-level cultivator who has access to the Law of Time. He rewound you to just before you connected your Faith to the Point Burst scripture.¡± He can control time?? Aster screamed in his mind. ¡°But don¡¯t worry about Laws right now,¡± Musa said, his tone suddenly serious. ¡°Unless you get your hands on some super-rare artifacts, you won¡¯t be dealing with Laws for a while. Do you know why you ended up flying into a wall when you connected your Faith with your Scripture?¡± Aster shook his head, eager to understand. ¡°When you absorbed the scripture, you didn¡¯t just take in the knowledge of the Point Burst Staff¡ªyou had its experiences and skills imprinted on your very body. It¡¯s like muscle memory¡ªevery technique, every movement is now stored in you. It¡¯s as if a master had written down the attack, and your body now knows it instinctively. Usually, you train your body during the Initiate phase, allowing it to adapt to the techniques and building the strength to handle the energy injection the scripture requires. Once you hit the Acolyte phase, you tap into your own self-made energy to fuel the scripture. What you did was replace that energy with Faith, which is incredibly potent. It¡¯s used for moments of explosive power, but without preparing your body first, it can tear you apart.¡± Aster shuddered, remembering the intense pain in his legs. ¡°So how do I begin?¡± ¡°Well, it helps to understand your technique first. The Point Burst Staff Scripture relies heavily on footwork and explosive energy in a straight line. At level one, it lets you launch yourself toward one of four points in an area, attacking each one in quick succession. At level two, you can target eight points, at level three, sixteen, and so on. The scripture is driven by your will¡ªit expands over an area, and within that space, you can sense anyone who enters it. The moment they do, they become your target, and your will launches you toward them.¡± Musa paused to let the information sink in. ¡°Your first task is to master the basic movements. The knowledge is already in you, but you¡¯ll soon find that even something as simple as a jump will feel difficult, like you¡¯re fighting against your own body¡¯s instincts.¡± Aster looked sceptical. He already felt like he knew everything there was to know about the technique, but Musa pointed at a straw dummy nearby. ¡°Launch yourself at that dummy and attack it with your staff.¡± Aster scoffed. His mind was brimming with the technique¡¯s experience. He focused his will behind the dummy, using it as an anchor to pull himself forward. The moment he did, three things happened: First, his body felt like it was tearing apart again¡ªnot as violently as with Faith, but still unbearably painful. Second, his staff and arms¡ªwhich should have been adding thrust¡ªdragged behind him like they were made of lead. The wind resistance was so strong it felt like he might pass out. Third, when he finally collided with the dummy, he struck it with all the force of a wet towel, his chest slamming into it, only to feel his bones crack again. In an instant, he was back where he started. The Sergeant was watching him, his grin wide and proud, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up. ¡°Believe me now?¡± Musa asked, barely able to contain his laughter. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster¡¯s staff spun in his hands as he went through the fluid motions of the Burst Point Scripture, trying his best to replicate the master¡¯s movements etched into his mind. Each motion was a delicate dance, his body attempting to match the precise angles and postures dictated by the scripture¡¯s ancient blueprints. His concentration was absolute, but the sounds of the duels around him kept drawing his attention. Despite his best efforts, the cacophony of power clashing in the distance tugged at his focus, making it hard to keep his body in sync with the overwhelming knowledge embedded in his mind. A few meters away, a young cultivator wielding a sword coated in flames charged at his opponent, sending brilliant blades of fire slashing through the air. His adversary¡ªa cultivator of wind¡ªtwisted and danced through the strikes, his movements sharp and quick, each gust of air deflecting the flames with an effortless grace. Aster''s eyes widened at the fluidity of their exchange, the raw intensity of their elemental battle on full display. It was a perfect manifestation of their scriptures, a harmony of will and element. The way they moved¡ªso precise, so intuitive¡ªleft Aster breathless. Nearby, a duel between an earth cultivator wielding a massive hammer and a water cultivator with a spear was unfolding. The earth cultivator swung his hammer with brutal force, sending boulders tumbling toward his opponent, but the water cultivator raised his spear, commanding a stream of water that swirled and twisted into sharp blades. The water sliced through the rocks as if they were nothing, and in a flash, a surge of water erupted from his spear, sending the earth cultivator stumbling back. The control both of them exhibited over their elements was stunning¡ªeach strike, each counter, was a work of art, each movement a testament to years of perfecting their respective scriptures. Aster felt the sting of frustration as he continued to swing his staff. His own movements felt stiff, awkward in comparison. His body was trying to adjust, to catch up with the knowledge implanted by the Burst Point Scripture, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as graceful or powerful as the duels around him. It was as if his body was at odds with the power he now carried. Each strike was a struggle, and the more he watched his classmates demonstrate their abilities, the more he realized how far behind he was. The raw mastery of elemental combat¡ªfire, wind, water, earth, wood and lightning¡ªwas something he could forget of ever reaching. His Will was his strength, but it felt so weak, so fragile compared to their sheer elemental force. His movements faltered, the staff slowing in his hands. His spirit typing, the one thing that was supposed to set him apart, suddenly felt like an anchor, dragging him down. He had no fire to whip through the air, no water to flow with grace, no wind to carry him. Just his will. And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a poor substitute. He couldn¡¯t help but feel inadequate¡ªhe was struggling just to master a single scripture, while others effortlessly commanded entire elements. The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and Aster sighed deeply. Two hours had passed, and while he had made some progress, it felt minimal. The imprints of the master who created the Burst Point Scripture were clear in his mind, but his body had yet to catch up. It was like being an Olympic gold medalist trying to learn how to walk again¡ªevery step felt like it needed to be relearned. Yet, despite his frustrations, there were subtle changes he could sense. His wrist, his ankle, the tiniest shifts in his posture¡ªthose small adjustments were starting to align with the movements of the master. But even that couldn¡¯t shake the nagging feeling in his chest. The gap between his classmates and himself felt insurmountable. He couldn¡¯t help but feel that he had drawn the short straw¡ªhe was miles behind, and there was no clear path to catching up. He passed through the third mirror just in time for his next class in the Marlisuee area. The green marble of the walls and the copper trimmings with intricate engravings of bamboo forests greeted him as he stepped into the new space. The classroom wasn¡¯t far from the mirror exit, and outside, he spotted Lena and some other students chatting. As he walked closer, Lena noticed him and waved him over. ¡°Aster, how was combat class?¡± she asked, her voice light with curiosity. Aster couldn¡¯t hide his disappointment as his shoulders slumped. ¡°Not great,¡± he mumbled, the frustration clear in his tone. ¡°That bad?¡± she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, when we did our first class, the teacher had us watch a duel between two second-year Initiates. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever be able to match what they were capable of. After two weeks, though, I could already see myself reaching that level. The scriptures are a powerful tool for growth. It won¡¯t be like trying to pick up a skill in the material plane.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Aster¡¯s spirits lifted slightly. He could see how quickly he could improve with the right focus, but his unease still lingered. The doubt gnawed at him, the fear that his spirit typing would always hold him back. Lena must have noticed his lingering doubt, because she raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why are you still upset?¡± she asked, concern flashing in her eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize how powerful the other typings are,¡± Aster admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. ¡°I saw them using their elements, and my spirit typing just feels so... weak compared to it.¡± Lena blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter. Aster¡¯s face reddened, feeling his pride take a hit. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not laughing at you!¡± Lena managed between giggles. ¡°I¡¯m laughing at how wrong you are! Yani has the spirit typing in our combat class, and she¡¯s one of the strongest fighters.¡± Aster looked unconvinced. Lena¡¯s expression softened as she realized his concern wasn¡¯t quite assuaged. ¡°Seriously. She¡¯s incredible. You¡¯ll see for yourself.¡± Lena¡¯s voice was earnest. ¡°Spirit typing can be really powerful, and Yani¡¯s proof of that.¡± Aster didn¡¯t quite believe it, but before he could voice his doubts, Lena¡¯s eyes flickered to the clock. ¡°What period is it?¡± ¡°Third,¡± Aster replied, confused. ¡°Great, I can help you with some history after class,¡± Lena said, a knowing grin spreading across her face. ¡°Yani has combat class now. Let¡¯s go ask her for a demonstration. Skip the history for today?¡± Aster perked up at the suggestion. He had been wanting to talk to Lena about Anathi, and this could be the perfect opportunity. ¡°Sure, let¡¯s do it.¡± They made their way through the three mirrors back to the combat grounds, where the class was already in full swing. The Sergeant was addressing the students when Lena let out a relieved sigh. ¡°They haven¡¯t picked partners yet,¡± she sighed in relief. ¡°Let me go talk to Yani.¡± Lena walked over to Yani, and Aster watched as the two of them exchanged words. Aster was still unsure what was going on, but when Lena gestured at him, Yani turned, and both women burst out laughing. Aster flushed with embarrassment, wondering what had caused the sudden reaction. Yani, however, gave him an eager smile and nodded in agreement before heading to the duelling area. As Lena returned to Aster¡¯s side, they moved to the spectator seating by a large duelling space where Yani had promised to show off her skills. The Sgt finishes his conversation with the Initiates, and the group begins to pair off. Everything seems like it¡¯s going according to plan, until Yani walks across the field toward Larson¡ªa tall guy with pitch-black hair, the confidence in his stride unmistakable. As soon as the students notice, the chatter in the air dies down, and a ripple of excitement passes through the crowd. Aster watches, curious, turning to Lena to ask, "What¡¯s going on?" Lena¡¯s eyes sparkle with knowledge. "Yani is considered one of the strongest fighters of our year, and Larson¡¯s right up there with her. The top twenty don¡¯t usually face off during regular practice, they save their real showdowns for the end-of-year tournament. This is a rare sneak peek at who¡¯s in the running for the top spot this year." Aster watches as the rest of the Initiates abandon their practice, flocking toward the seating area where Lena and Aster have already taken their seats. Even the Sgt moves to the sidelines, standing with the intent of ensuring the duel stays under control. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation. Yani and Larson move toward the center of the field, exchanging a handshake, Yani¡¯s expression warm but relaxed, while Larson''s gaze is sharp and focused, his every movement deliberate. They take their positions at opposite ends of the field. Suddenly, the air around Larson shifts with electric tension. From his hands, two gleaming hand axes materialize, crackling with sparks of lightning. The axes hum with energy, the metallic scent of ozone filling the air. The sheer weight of their presence presses down on the crowd, their eyes widening at the display of power. "E- Grade Lightning-Type artefacts," Lena notes, her voice barely audible over the murmurs from the students. "Larson¡¯s been holding back in his previous duels." Yani, unfazed, eyes the axes with a cool appraisal. Instead of summoning a weapon, Yani¡¯s entire body seems to shimmer and morph. A massive suit of jagged rock forms around her, towering four times her size. The design is curiously angular, resembling the rough edges of a boulder, standing on all fours like a gorilla, but with an odd sort of grace, like something that could move faster than you¡¯d expect. The rock armor gleams with a spectrum of colors¡ªreds, blues, oranges, yellows¡ªpulsing with energy across the surface in intricate patterns. The moment the suit materializes, a heavy, oppressive pressure washes over the crowd. "The Nareesh family Artefact, Walking Fortress. D- Grade," Lena whispers, her voice filled with awe. "It incorporates multiple elements¡ªRock, Fire, Water, Wind, and Lightning. One of the many strengths of spirit typing. Unlike other typings, spirit typing can blend multiple elements into one cohesive force." Yani and Larson brace themselves, both focused, their stances radiating readiness. The Sgt drops the flag, and as it hits the ground, the two erupt into action. A burst of lightning roars from both of them, crashing toward each other with a deafening boom. The air shudders as the two opposing spears of power collide, their raw energies swirling, battling for dominance. Larson¡¯s bolt forces Yani¡¯s back, inching her defensive stance toward the edge of the arena, but she holds firm, limiting her loss of ground. Yani¡¯s strikes are slower, more controlled, but Larson¡¯s assault becomes relentless. His lightning is fierce, faster than hers, and he was able to launch more of it as it crashed into the ground around Yani with thunderous booms that made the entire arena shake. Aster feels the impact in his bones as each strike lands, rattling the very air they breathe. Yet, despite the onslaught, Yani remains seemingly unscathed, the rock armor around her glowing with blue patches that pulsed with energy, seemingly directing the lightning away from her body and into the ground. "With her ability to integrate multiple elements," Lena explains, her voice full of reverence, "Yani¡¯s armour is designed to counteract various typings. The lightning she redirects using the lightning-imbued sections of the armour, conducting the strikes safely into the ground. She¡¯s also has mechanisms to deal with fire, water, wind, and even wood." Yani seems to grow tired of playing defense. With a sudden shift in her stance, she stops retreating and begins charging toward Larson. Her massive armored form lumbers forward, each step creating a shockwave as the earth trembles beneath her. Then, in an instant, she drops low, her body curling inwards as she starts rolling, forming the shape of a boulder, scraping across the ground as she launches herself at Larson. Larson¡¯s eyes widen in realization, a moment of panic flashing across his face. He leaps to the side, narrowly avoiding the massive boulder that nearly flattens him in its path. The force of the charge sends dust and debris flying, leaving a deep scar in the earth where she¡¯d struck. A game of cat and mouse ensues as Yani becomes the aggressor, charging again and again, forcing Larson to dodge and weave between her powerful strikes. The ground splinters beneath her, boulders shattering into pieces, walls crumbling as she barrels through them. Larson¡¯s once-confident stance begins to falter. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his breath comes quicker as Aster realizes the constant onslaught must be taking its toll. ¡°The spirit typing might not have the raw power of the other typings," Lena comments, her eyes narrowing as she watches the battle unfold. "But where it lacks in sheer force, it excels in versatility¡ªfusion of elements gives spirit typers an incredible range of tactics.¡± Larson stumbles, his foot catching a piece of rubble as Yani charges again. His eyes flicker with fear, and in a moment of desperation, he stops trying to dodge. Instead, he raises his axes high, deploying an electric shield around himself, hoping it¡¯ll be enough to withstand her next strike. But Yani isn¡¯t finished yet. With a guttural roar, the very air seems to warp around her. Massive heat and crackling lightning surge from the boulder-like form as she barrels toward Larson, surrounding her body with an explosive aura of flame and arcs of electricity. The collision of forces as she slams into Larson¡¯s shield is like an eruption, sending shockwaves through the field. Aster watches, stunned, as a massive explosion engulfs the arena, lighting up the air with hellish fire and raw energy. The explosion that rockets the field, like an American hellfire missile detonating in a middle eastern wedding party, threatens to overwhelm the entire courtyard, but is stopped at the borders of the Arena by a the sudden formation of an ice wall. When the smoke clears, Larson is lying next to the Sgt, perfectly fine as he had been revived through a time jump after being obliterated by Yani¡¯s attack, but looking shellshocked and dazed. Aster sits frozen, mouth agape, unable to comprehend what he¡¯s just witnessed. The power, the precision, the fury of Yani¡¯s attack¡ªit¡¯s unlike anything he¡¯s seen before. Lena turns to him, her expression one of knowing triumph. "Still think the spirit typing is weaker than the rest?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "With enough foresight and strategy, any typing can be devastating. Spirit typing makes up over three of the Celestials on the council. Never underestimate it." _________________________________________________________________________________ After congratulating Yani on her victory, Aster and Lena left her to continue her training and made their way toward the lunch hall. They were early, which meant they¡¯d have some quiet before the midday rush¡ªa perfect chance for Aster to talk about Anathi and his financial troubles. After grabbing their meals¡ªLena¡¯s treat¡ªthey settled at an open table near the cascading sound of the indoor waterfall. Lena leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. ¡°You said you needed to talk about some things. I¡¯m all ears.¡± Aster hesitated, unsure where to begin. Then, with a deep breath, he started from the beginning. He spoke about the Void Wyrm that had haunted his life, how everything he attempted seemed doomed to fail no matter how much planning or good intent he put into it. He told her about the crushing weight of poverty, how he had eventually ended up on the streets, and the night he met Matter¡ªthe night he was first introduced to the Astral Plane. Then, he told her about Anathi. About how she, too, had been ensnared by debt to a loan shark. How he had discovered that she was trapped in the same vicious cycle he had barely escaped. His voice wavered as he admitted, ¡°I can¡¯t help but agree with what people say¡ªit¡¯s unfair that I get to survive while others don¡¯t.¡± He exhaled sharply, his fists clenching. ¡°I feel like I have a responsibility to those still suffering from this disease, and I want to use the Void Wyrm sealed inside me to cure them. Starting with Anathi.¡± He then explained his plan: how he needed to buy Anathi¡¯s freedom, how he was willing to put his house up as leverage to get the money. But because of his credit rating¡ªwrecked by the Void Wyrm¡ªhe would need someone like Lena to sign as assurance. Lena listened intently, her expression softening as he spoke. At times, her eyes welled with unshed tears, the weight of his hardships sinking in. But more than anything, she was moved by his resolve. The moment he finished, she didn¡¯t even hesitate. ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll help,¡± she said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll sign as your assurance.¡± Aster exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. It was exactly what he¡¯d hoped for, and hearing her say it so easily filled him with gratitude. ¡°But,¡± Lena continued, ¡°you haven¡¯t told Anathi any of this yet. She still doesn¡¯t understand what¡¯s happening to her, or even what the Astral Plane is. I want to be the one there to explain it. She¡¯s going to need support, and it¡¯ll be easier to process if she hears it from someone outside yourself, to make sure she doesn¡¯t think your trying to manipulate her or something.¡± Aster nodded. That had been his thought as well, and he was relieved that Lena had brought it up first. ¡°Now,¡± Lena said, shifting gears, ¡°your first priority should be getting a steady income to handle this debt you¡¯re about to take on. Luckily, the Astral Plane is an excellent place to generate wealth if you know what you¡¯re doing.¡± She ticked off options on her fingers. ¡°Hunting lodges, crafting guilds, mercenary work¡ªthey can all bring in money quickly. Hunting and mercenary work are out for now, though. You don¡¯t have the skill or experience to survive that yet. But because of your strong Will ability, alchemy and artificing are both perfect for you.¡± Aster leaned in, intrigued. ¡°Your Willpower will give you an edge over other Initiates,¡± she explained. ¡°Plus, working on alchemy or artificing will train your Will even further. That means you¡¯ll get stronger while making money, which will help you with your Burst Point Staff Scripture. And once your Willpower improves enough, you¡¯ll be able to take on hunting and mercenary work down the line.¡± Aster felt something shift inside him¡ªa flicker of hope igniting into something real. He had worked dozens of jobs in his life, grinding away for survival. Hard work was second nature to him. But now, for the first time, it felt like there was a path forward. A way to achieve all his goals while getting stronger in the process. He still didn¡¯t know how to handle the Void Wyrm inside Anathi, but with Lena¡¯s help, he was sure they¡¯d find a way. They spent the rest of lunch working through the details of his plan, figuring out the best steps to take next. But before they could finalize everything, the bell rang, signaling the start of fourth period. Spellcraft. At least they had that class together. As they stood and made their way toward the classroom, they continued refining their plans, knowing that this was only the beginning. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster and Lena arrived early to class, the lunch hall being close to the Synphri wing of the school. As they stepped inside, Aster¡¯s eyes were immediately drawn to the glowing glyphs covering the walls¡ªthirty-six posters, each displaying intricate rune formulas. ¡°The fundamental rune structures that define the different elemental types,¡± he read, scanning them with fascination. Lena nudged him forward. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s introduce you to the teacher and find a good spot. Spellcraft is incredibly complex¡ªand incredibly important, no matter which path you take.¡± They made their way to the front of the classroom, where a strikingly beautiful Middle Eastern girl was speaking with an Indian woman in her mid-thirties. The teacher wore overalls, her large glasses perched on her nose as she engaged in conversation. Aster barely paid them any attention¡ªuntil he heard the teacher refer to the girl as ¡°Mrs. Mesha.¡± His blood ran cold. Mesha? As in the family responsible for implanting the Void Wyrm inside him as a baby? The ones who had wiped out his parents'' bloodline? Lena, unaware of the turmoil building inside him, continued forward, but Aster cut straight into the conversation. ¡°Are you part of the Mesha family?¡± he demanded. Both the teacher and the girl turned to him in surprise. For the first time, Aster took in the girl¡¯s face¡ªfull lips, almond-shaped amber eyes that burned with intensity, and a flawless olive complexion. There was a fire in her gaze that, for a brief second, made him reconsider his outburst. But then he remembered Anathi. Remembered the suffering. Was it not bad enough that people were cursed by chance? But to have people like the Mashes deliberately infect others on top of that? His fists clenched. ¡°Answer me! Are you part of the Mashe family?!¡± he shouted. Lena stiffened, now fully aware that something was wrong. She grabbed Aster¡¯s arm, trying to pull him back. ¡°Aster, stop,¡± she hissed. She knew exactly who he had just picked a fight with¡ªZiya Mashe. The Ziya Mashe. The number one ranked fighter in their entire year. Ziya, unfazed, simply tilted her head and regarded him coolly. ¡°What if I am?¡± she said. ¡°What does my family have to do with you?¡± Rage erupted through Aster. Without thinking, he brought forth his staff. The scripture of the Burst Point Staff hummed through his body, raw power crackling beneath his skin. He could barely control the technique¡ªbut at that moment, he didn¡¯t care. The anger bent his body around the scripture, forcing it into form, ready to be unleashed. Ziya¡¯s lips curled in amusement. He had drawn a training staff¡ªsomething meant for practice, not even an F-grade artifact. She couldn¡¯t even sense his Gates opening. Was this supposed to be a threat? ¡°Your family infected me with a Void Wyrm!¡± Aster roared. A ripple of shock spread through the classroom. Even Ziya¡¯s expression faltered for a split second. But then, she laughed. ¡°The Void-Cursed who survived,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°I knew I¡¯d run into you eventually.¡± Her voice took on a mocking edge. ¡°My father told me all about you. The boy who spins tall tales, blaming my family for his failures. The weak always point fingers at the strong.¡± Aster¡¯s grip on his staff tightened as she continued. ¡°Your family was simply too weak to make the hard decisions,¡± she said, voice dripping with contempt. ¡°My family has had to make those choices three times in my lifetime alone. Maybe instead of blaming us, you should blame your own parents for not being strong enough.¡± Something inside Aster snapped. His mind blanked, his Willpower surged, and before he could stop himself, his scripture activated. His staff pulsed with power as he pulled it back to strike¡ª But Ziya vanished. Before he could even blink, pain exploded at his neck. The world twisted. His vision tumbled, his body falling¡ªexcept it wasn¡¯t his body. He saw the ground rising up to meet him, but something was wrong. His perspective was lower than it should have been. A terrible realization dawned in his mind as he saw his own decapitated body crumple to the ground. For several long, stunned seconds, his severed head blinked lazily before his vision faded to black. Chapter 11 Chapter 11 After lots of frantic running and some complicated magic, Aster¡¯s head was preserved and then reattached by the school nurse. Without Sgt¡¯s time magic, they had to rely on healing instead of a time rewind. The Spellcraft teacher, being a Fire type, had healing magic but only for themselves, not for others. Dying three times in one day. Was the Void Wyrm really inactive? Or was he just incredibly stupid? Who could say? Lena helped him sit up from the bed after the nurse applied an astral green salve to his neck. The salve spread over his wound, causing it to close at a visible speed. The sensation was strange¡ªa mix of cool numbness and sharp tingles. ¡°So the Mashe family was the one who infected you?¡± Lena asked gently, careful not to set him off again. ¡°That¡¯s what Matter said,¡± Aster muttered, rolling his shoulders to test his newly reattached head. ¡°I saw another member when the Celestials talked to me. Are they strong?¡± Lena hesitated, choosing her words carefully. ¡°She¡¯s the No.1 contender for the strength ranking in our year. Her great-grandfather is on the Celestial Council, and her family¡¯s influence stretches all over the Archipelago, the Caverns, and the Wilds. They are not to be trifled with.¡± Aster took a moment to process that. He was weak¡ªfar too weak. If he had no chance of taking on Ziya right now, he certainly had no hope against the Mashe family itself. He clenched his fists. He needed to become strong. Strong enough to save Anathi. Strong enough to avenge his parents. Ziya would be his first goal. If she was expected to be No.1 in the Initiate Tournament, then he would be the one to push her down to No.2. He would take her spot. And he would show the Mesha family that he meant business. Seeing Aster grip his blankets, his expression shifting from defeat to determination, Lena knew he had made a decision. The road ahead would be long and treacherous, but she sensed a power in him that gave her hope. He just needed the right guidance. ¡°Since we¡¯re stuck here waiting for you to fully heal, why don¡¯t we go through the basics of Spellcraft?¡± she suggested. Aster perked up at that. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do it.¡± He nodded enthusiastically¡ªand his head nearly wobbled off again. The nurse shot him a sharp look and applied another layer of the salve before sighing in exasperation. Once he was stabilized, Lena took out a large leather-bound tome, flipping to the first page with a large diagram, consisting of seven overlapping circles filling the page. One circle rests in the center, with six surrounding it. ¡°The entire Astral Plane,¡± Lena begins, her voice calm and measured, ¡°is composed of Elemental Aether¡ªseven primary typings, each with seven subtypings. By absorbing this Aether, we can reconstruct it, allowing us to mimic the natural forces that shape our world. "As you saw in Cultivation class, the Aether you absorbed was inert¡ªraw potential adrift like cosmic clouds, filled with possibility but lacking the structure needed to manifest that potential. That structure comes from runes. They are the language of existence, the force that shapes the raw chaos of Aether into the countless forms of life and matter that make up the Astral Plane. "You can think of Runes as the fundamental instructions of reality, the built-in code that dictates the laws of the universe. They are the DNA of all existence. Every object, every energy, every living being¡ªeverything you see, hear, or touch¡ªis formed and governed by this language.¡± Aster furrows his brow, trying to wrap his head around it. ¡°Wait, so you¡¯re saying the universe has a written set of rules?¡± Lena nods. ¡°Exactly. Aether¡ªthe energy that permeates everything¡ªfollows instructions, a set of rules embedded in the very fabric of existence. These instructions are encoded through runes, a universal language that dictates how matter behaves, how energy flows, how things grow, change, and interact. By practicing spellcraft, we¡¯re simply learning to speak it¡ªto shape it.¡± Aster exhales, the gears in his mind turning. ¡°So, if we think of the world like a giant program, then the runes are the code that makes everything function?¡± Lena¡¯s lips curl into a slight smile. ¡°That¡¯s exactly it. Think of the Astral Plane as a vast, living system, and runes as the code that dictates how everything within it behaves. They govern everything from the smallest atom to the largest celestial body. They tell energy how to behave, how to form into matter, how to interact with the forces of nature.¡± Aster leans in. ¡°And we can access that language?¡± ¡°That¡¯s where the Spirit typing comes in,¡± Lena explains. ¡°Each elemental typing has a Spirit subtyping, right? That¡¯s because Spirit Aether isn¡¯t just another form of energy¡ªit¡¯s the very substance from which the universal language of runes is made. When we manipulate the Spirit energy of our typing into the right forms, we¡¯re essentially writing those runes into existence.¡± Aster¡¯s eyes widen as the concept clicks. ¡°So, Spirit Aether is the raw material that makes up runes, and by shaping it into the right characters, we¡¯re recreating the same language that governs the Astral Plane?¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Lena affirms. ¡°When you open your gates and draw in the subtypes of your element, you¡¯re pulling in the raw materials that make up the world. The Spirit subtyping acts as the medium through which you tell that raw material what form to take and how to behave.¡± Aster¡¯s expression is one of awe. ¡°And how do we learn this language? How do we know what runes to use, how to write them?¡± ¡°That¡¯s where it gets interesting,¡± Lena continues, her eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡°We don¡¯t have to start from scratch every time. Since the runes are universal, they already exist everywhere¡ªin nature, in living beings, even in the environment itself. And because this language is woven into reality, we can copy it. There¡¯s a spell that allows us to harvest runes directly from the world around us.¡± Aster frowns. ¡°Harvest? How does that work?¡± Lena smirks knowingly. ¡°We can extract the runes that are embedded in nature. For example, if a creature uses a fire-based attack, we can cast a spell to harvest the specific runes used in shaping that energy. We essentially ¡®copy¡¯ the runes that define how that energy behaves, then store them in our Mindpalace for later use.¡± Aster¡¯s jaw drops. ¡°So¡­ we can steal spells from creatures?¡± ¡°Not just from creatures,¡± Lena corrects. ¡°We can harvest runes from anything¡ªplants, the earth, even nature itself. Anything that follows the universal language of runes. It¡¯s like collecting pre-written code that we can then use to write our own spells.¡± Aster shakes his head, still in disbelief. ¡°That sounds powerful...¡± ¡°It is,¡± Lena agrees. ¡°But can also be quite dangerous, but it isn¡¯t taking in the runes that¡¯s dangerous¡ªit¡¯s in understanding them. Just because you can steal the ¡®code¡¯ doesn¡¯t mean you know how to use it. If you don¡¯t understand how the runes interact, or if you channel the wrong energy into them, they can spiral out of control quickly. So Spellcraft isn¡¯t just about having access to the language¡ªit¡¯s about mastering it. Only once you fully understand the runes of your element will you be able to create your own spells. For now, Initiates like us focus on mimicking what already exists.¡± She raises a hand, and from her palm, a small flower begins to bloom, its petals unfolding as if following an invisible command. ¡°Take this flower. I used my Wood Spirit Aether to create the necessary runes. Then, I arranged those runes and applied them to the Aether from the Growth, Transmutation, and Regeneration subtypings to replicate nature¡¯s processes. The flower is just a manifestation of those runes working together. The more we understand the language, the more precise we can be in our creations.¡± She flips through the tome and stops at a page filled with intricate runes, not one alike. ¡°Each element¡ªeach typing¡ªhas its own set of runes. These are the runes for Conflagration, a subtype of Wood. Every subtype has its own alphabet of roughly 150 characters.¡± Aster does the math in his head. ¡®Thirty-six subtypes, each with 150 runes¡ªthat¡¯s an alphabet of roughly fifty-four thousand characters.¡¯ He whistles. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a lot,¡± Lena admits, ¡°but at our level we luckily don¡¯t have to craft spells from scratch. Instead, we rely on Glyphs¡ªpredefined sequences of energy commands bundled under a single action.¡± ¡°Like an app,¡± Aster says, catching on. ¡°Exactly,¡± Lena confirms. ¡°Just like an app executes a series of pre-coded functions with a single tap, a Glyph is a stabilized formula¡ªa sequence of commands that arranges energy in a specific way to produce a desired effect. The challenge for Initiates like us isn¡¯t in designing new spells, but in learning to replicate and use existing ones correctly. Mastering Glyphs means knowing how to call upon them efficiently, channel the right amount of power into them, and modifying them within safe limits when necessary.¡± Aster takes a deep breath, absorbing everything she¡¯s said. Finally, he looks up, determination in his eyes. ¡°Alright¡­ so where do we start?¡± ¡°First, we need to access your Mind Palace,¡± Lena said. ¡°Where the spells are crafted and stored. It¡¯s similar to entering your Dantian, but It¡¯s located in your head, near your third eye. Focus your Will and try to find the entrance.¡± Aster closed his eyes, feeling his consciousness drift. He traced along his Astral Vessel, past his Dantian at his stomach, beyond the Void Wyrm¡¯s domain in his chest, and up towards his head. There, he found a distinct space¡ªsimilar to his Core, yet different. He pushed at the entrance¡­ and suddenly, he was inside a vast, empty void stretching into eternity. Lena appeared beside him, making him jump. ¡°Good, you¡¯re in,¡± she said. ¡°Now, let¡¯s craft a spell. You absorbed the Fluid Aether in Cultivation class, right?¡± Aster nodded. ¡°I want you to locate the gate where it entered. This gate now that it has been activated, is able to absorb it¡¯s Aether typing from the surrounding space allowing you to pull it into yourself and storing it into your Mind Palace, the more it opens, the more you can draw from it. Feel the gate, draw from it, the gate will do the rest¡± Lena instructs. Aster nods, as he starts to focus, finding the small gate in his groin where he had absorbed the Fluid Aether. He connects his will to it and feels the energy it contains, grabbing onto the essence flowing from it and pulls it into his Mind Palace, where the Aether forms as a blue mist as it slowly starts to trickle into the connection he formed, lazily drifting around them in the Mindpalace. ¡°This Aether will now be stored in your Mindpalace where it will be forming the building blocks for the spellscript to take shape from, now let¡¯s get you a spell,¡± Lena says as she starts to flip through the heavy tome, her fingers gliding over the worn pages as she searches for a suitable Fluid spell. After a moment, she finds one and turns the book toward Aster. "Alright, this is the next step," she explained. "In front of you is a basic Fluid spell. It allows for the fundamental properties of water manipulation¡ªforming a water whip you can use to strike or defend. Now, use your will and try to sense the Glyph imbedded in the page." Aster focuses, channelling his will toward the parchment. At first, nothing seemed to jump out at him, but as he sharpened his awareness, he senses a subtle shift occurring at the centre of the page. He probes deeper, his perception homing in on a small spherical shape embedded at the core of the text. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind and finds it¡ªa Glyph suspended in the centre of the page surrounded by a strange, energy-like membrane. A sense of reverence mixed with curiosity swelled in his chest as he guesses the next step and wraps his Will around the sphere. Tentatively, he tugged at the Glyph, testing its boundaries. To his surprise, the sphere responds, shifting ever so slightly under his control. Encouraged, he applies more pressure, drawing the Glyph toward him. The gelatinous aura surrounding it stretched and elongated into a luminous tether that still anchored it to the page¡¯s centre. With careful precision, Aster continued pulling, guiding the sphere across the invisible threshold into his Mind Palace. The instant the essence fully crosses over, his consciousness is again wrenched into the void once more. Lena is standing beside him as she watches with approval. In front of them, the small glyph hovered, still attached to the book by a nearly invisible strand reaching out into the distance. Aster took a cautious step closer, captivated as the sphere¡¯s rune began to swirl, a miniature whirlpool forming at its centre. Slowly, with the grace of the universe breathing life into existence, the sphere elongates, stretching itself into an oblong shape. The centre pinches inward, much like the delicate waist of an hourglass, as the Rune and jelly like essence begins to cleave itself in two. Aster gasps as he recognizes the mesmerizing process of mitosis, as each deliberate movement seemingly copies the exact process of division where single cell organisms split from one into two. Gradually, two distinct spheres emerge, each a mirror image of the other, pulsating with the shared knowledge and wisdom of the original. As the division completes, a burst of ethereal light marks the birth of the new sphere. The original sphere¡¯s energy, now much diminished but still glowing, is dragged back out of the borderless expanse by the tether still connecting it, leaving only the copy behind. Curious, Aster¡¯s consciousness reaches out to the Glyph, as this newly formed sphere, now separate but identical, opens to him with the completed spell prominently projecting from it in a radiant display, an exact copy of the spell that was displayed on the page. Lena beamed. "That was flawless!" she praised. "You¡¯ve successfully stored the Glyph. Now, it''s time to cast it!" Aster exits his Mindpalace as he returns to his body so he can continue with the next step. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Since you can¡¯t naturally access the energy of this spells typing, you¡¯ll need a core to power the Glyph,¡± Lena explains, producing a small, round pearl that shimmered with the same deep hue as the Aether Aster had stored in his Mindpalace, ¡°an F minus grade Fluid-Mouse Core, because of your Spirit typing you¡¯ll be able to craft the spell, but without the Actual Fluid Aether you wouldn¡¯t be able to power it, this is where this core comes in, being of the typing you need to power the spell, it will form a gate which you can channel faith into, creating the needed energy for the spell in the process¡± ¡°Wow, who would have thought I would need to spend money to cast spells while other just naturally are able to¡± Aster mumbles sarcastically but attempts what she asks. Locating the Faith spell easily enough again, he connects it to the pearl and feels the familiar pull of his Faith surging into the pearl as it began to glow and hum with energy. ¡°Good, now channel that energy into your Glyph.¡± Aster does what she says as he drags the converted faith¡¯s path to his Mindpalace and connects it to the newly formed Spell. The moment the energy connects, the Rune starts to hum as it suddenly draws in all the Fluid Aether Aster had been able to store at that point. The Rune begins to darken and shine as a pressure suddenly radiated out from it, suffocating Aster and causing him to feel like it was going to explode in his head. He barely held it together, gripping the Glyph with only his sheer Will. ¡°Move the spell out of your Mind Palace and into your palm. Then, let go while aiming it at that wall.¡± She points at the wall across from them. Aster complied. As he draws the Glyph¡¯s explosive power towards his palm, creating an opening and allowing the power that was threatening to overwhelm him to be released. The instant he releases it; a deafening roar fills the room. A torrent of water erupted from his palm, slamming into the far wall. The force so overwhelming, that Aster lets out a yelp as the pressure knocked him off his feet, sending him skidding backward towards the back wall. Panicked, he extended his other palm, creating a second outlet for the Glyph and unleashing a second stream. For thirty seconds, he was pinned between his own power and the wall before the spell finally ran dry. Lena rushed over. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that to be that strong!¡± she exclaimed. Aster just lay there, breathless, a manic grin spreading across his face. ¡°That¡­ was insane,¡± he whispered. ¡°I just cast my first spell!¡± And then he promptly passed out, forcing the nurse to rush over once again. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster finished the rest of his lesson under the watchful gaze of the nurse. Not that it mattered much¡ªhis gate had already absorbed all the Aether it could, and he needed time to build up enough again before casting another spell. Still, the knowledge that the glyph was now stored in his Mindpalace made him feel like he had taken another step forward. He had already decided¡ªhe would decipher the Runic Alphabet as quickly as possible. The thought of understanding the very foundation of the Astral Plane was too tempting to pass up. With the basics covered, Lena left Aster to rest, waiting for the bell to ring and signal his next class¡ªArtificing. For the first time since Matter¡¯s death, he found himself with a moment of quiet. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ring and the letter he had been given. The letter was written on ordinary paper, free of any magical presence. As he unfolded it, his eyes traced the handwriting¡ªthe same as the note he had found weeks ago. His heart clenched. Swallowing hard, he began to read. Dear Aster, If you¡¯re reading this, then I have unfortunately passed on. For you, our time together may feel brief and unfamiliar, but for me¡ªwho has watched over you from the shadows since you were a baby¡ªevery moment spent with you was a gift I never thought I would have. You have your father¡¯s strength and your mother¡¯s determination, and I see them both alive within you. So strongly, in fact, that being around you felt like standing beside them once more. They would be endlessly proud¡ªnot just of what you have endured, but of how you have risen despite it. A long journey lies ahead of you. The suffering you¡¯ve faced has tempered you for what¡¯s to come, and the burden you now carry is like no other. But you do not bear it alone. Though your family lost everything on the Material Plane, they were able to seal away your inheritance within the Astral Plane¡ªa dimensional rift housing your father¡¯s family treasures, the foundation from which you may rebuild what was lost. Yet, it will not be handed to you freely. Each level of your inheritance is locked behind trials meant to shape you, to forge you like steel through fire, force, and extremes. Only by overcoming them will you truly be worthy of what lies within. To start your first trial, you must learn to see what you¡¯ve lost. Only by looking to the past will you be able to grasp the future. If you wish to reclaim what was taken, you must start where all things began. Some doors can only be opened by the hands that once belonged there. With much love, Matter By the time he reached the end, Aster was crying freely. He had never truly had people who cared for him before now¡ªnot like this. The love and warmth in Matter¡¯s words made his heart ache in a way he wasn¡¯t used to, like an old wound reopening under a gentler touch. Sniffing, he wiped his tears and took out the ring, pressing his will into it. Nothing. No pulse, no energy, no threshold. It was just¡­ a ring. Frowning, he read the last paragraph again. Something about it felt intentional, like Matter was trying to tell him something¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t quite grasp it yet. One thing was certain, though. He had to find his family¡¯s inheritance. He would orient himself to this new world, and then, as soon as he was able, he would begin his search. _________________________________________________________________________________ Aster rushed through the last mirror, weaving through the corridors in a desperate attempt to make it to class on time. The Nurse had initially refused to let him leave, arguing that the spell hadn¡¯t finished its healing process yet. But after some persistent arguing on Aster¡¯s part, she had finally relented, applying another layer of healing salve before sending him off. Just as the second bell rang, he slipped through the door, breathless but victorious. His eyes swept the room and quickly landed on Yani, who waved him over to a table at the back. It was cluttered with bubbling glass tubes and an assortment of equipment he had never seen before. As he approached, he was once again struck by just how short she actually was¡ªmore than a head shorter than him, petite and unassuming. It was still difficult to reconcile this small, friendly girl with the same person who had crushed Larson beneath layers of stone armor. "Congrats on the victory against Larson. That fight was something else," he ventured nervously. Yani¡¯s face immediately lit up at the praise. "That was nothing! I was holding back by quite a bit. No point in stacking the odds too much in your favor¡ªit makes the winnings I get from betting on myself that much larger!" she admitted proudly. ¡°Are you staring to believe the Spirit typing wasn¡¯t as weak as you first thought?¡± He couldn¡¯t help but nod vigorously. Yani laughed. "Most of the strength I get from Spirit Typing comes from the artifacts I use. It¡¯s not the only way to gain power, but it¡¯s certainly an effective one. You did the basics of spellcraft with Lena, right? I¡¯m assuming you used a core to perform the spells?" Aster confirmed with another nod. ¡°Good, so you should understand some of the foundation we¡¯ll be working with, let¡¯s begin.¡± She turns to the worktable they were sharing filled with a collection of different equipment and materials laid out over it ¡°An artifact is more than just a weapon¡ªit¡¯s an entity, something between the physical and the metaphysical fused into a piece of equipment that can be wielded through your combat scripture. Short-term, it''s one of the most effective ways to gain power. The downside is that unless you have a self-cultivating artifact¡ªwhich is rarer than chicken teeth¡ªyou¡¯ll need to constantly upgrade and refine new equipment.¡± "Now, an artifact consists of four main components: the spirit, the material, the script, and the core." She pointed to various items on the table¡ª an ethereal dagger shimmering like mist, a claw made from magma, a runic diagram on a parchment, and a small burnt-orange core. "Each part has a thousand different preparation methods, and each method affects the artifact¡¯s strength and quality. Today, I¡¯ll show you how to prepare the material, inscribe the spirit, and connect everything through the core. That should give you a foundation to study the rest on your own." ¡°Now let¡¯s start with the most important aspect of an artefact, it¡¯s spirit. Most people gloss over the spirit in favour for the material, you can just purchase spirits while materials are much more expensive and difficult to come by, but without a deeper understanding of spirit, you¡¯ll never be able to progress Artificing to Artefact crafting past the B grade¡± she pauses to make sure she has his attention. "Have you ever heard of the term coined by Plato called the ''Realm of Forms?''" she asked. Aster tilted his head. "The idea that everything we see is just a shadow of something more perfect? Some idealized version of itself?" ¡°Yes that¡¯s correct, but it¡¯s also more than that." Yani¡¯s voice took on a reverence as she continued. "The Realm of Forms isn¡¯t just an abstract idea¡ªit¡¯s a type of Node, like a vast conceptual archive existing in the Noospheric Tether, a kind of internet of human consciousness that overlays both the Astral and Material planes. Every object, every concept, is linked to this node. Every time we create something, we create a tether connecting that item to its ideal form¡ªthat tether compels the object to strive toward its ideal state, but never quite reaching it. This struggle, this process of trying to bridge the gap between reality and the ideal, is the spark which creates an artefact spirit." Aster frowned in thought. "So... because we''re shaping a dagger, it naturally forms a connection to the ideal version of what a dagger should be, giving it a form of identity?" "Yes, but it doesn''t stop there," Yani said as she lifts the spirit dagger, holding it between her fingers. "the ideal Form isn¡¯t just a distant, unreachable perfection¡ªit¡¯s the blueprint, the very essence, like the DNA of what a thing is meant to be, this dagger isn¡¯t merely striving to become its perfect self¡ªit¡¯s also shaping its identity in its own way, growing, adapting, and forging its own path toward an ideal shaped not just by its nature, but by its material, its wielder, and the world around it. It isn¡¯t just chasing its predecessor, it has become its contender, the spirit seeking to surpass the very idea that birthed it. Over time, this creates something akin to a consciousness¡ªa persona. But that¡¯s not something you need to worry about now." Aster was silent for a moment. "So... crafting a dagger doesn¡¯t just mimic the ideal¡ªit connects to it. But instead of becoming only a copy, it grows into its own thing, shaped by how it¡¯s used, not just following a blueprint... but becoming something new?" ¡°Exactly, the materials used, it¡¯s wielders intentions alongside thousands of other factors help to shape an entirely unique identity when that initial spark is incorporated into the rest of the Artefact, this spark is referred to as the artifact spirit.¡± She moves to the next item, the Talon. The surface of the talon shimmered faintly under the workshop''s enchanted lights, shifting between molten red and obsidian black. It looked as though it had been frozen mid-swipe, still carrying the lethal intent of the monster it once belonged to. ¡°Now that we¡¯ve gone over the spirit, let¡¯s discus the body¡± she picked up the claw, turning it in her hands. "This came from an F-grade Magma Lizard. It had a powerful magma slash technique, which we¡¯ll imprint into the dagger using this parchment, alongside a Magma Core harvested from a Magma Toad. The toad had a larger energy reserve, which means, with the right preparation, we should be able to craft an E+ grade dagger. With your lack of experience, you¡¯d be lucky if you can get an F+ artifact." "Next is the script." Yani picked up the blank parchments. ¡°Are you aware of how runes and glyphs can be found all around us in nature and that we can see and copy them through the right spells?¡± Aster nods recalling Lena¡¯s explanation not an hour ago. "This is one of those spells, it allows us to harvest a Glyph imbedded into the Material we¡¯re working with. This will allow us to seal it onto this page and imprint it into the artefact spirit allowing it to unleash attacks by its user in an instant. It¡¯s called Runic Scribing, and it allows us to pull a spell directly from a monster¡¯s remains, translating it into something we can store, modify, and transfer. For lower grade artefacts a script only translates into an attack or two, but if you can learn how to write your own script, you can program incredibly complex functions inside an artefact, resulting on something more akin to my Rock Fortress artefact I use myself. Now for the last part, the very heart of the artifact, the fuel and power needed to drive it, the core." She picked up the burnt-orange orb, rolling it between her fingers. "A monster core is its heart¡ªits center of power, the source of its energy and will. It¡¯s the crystallization of everything that made the creature strong, condensed into pure Aether. When we fuse a core into an artifact, we¡¯re giving it a power source, something to draw from so it can activate its spell. The stronger the core, the stronger the artifact. But if the core and material aren¡¯t properly aligned, the artifact won¡¯t function efficiently, or worse, it¡¯ll collapse under its own instability." Aster studied the core carefully. "So, everything works together like a living system. The material is the body, the script is the function, the spirit is the soul, and the core is the heart." "Exactly," Yani said, satisfaction in her tone. "And how well these items are fused determines how powerful and stable the artifact becomes. Today, we¡¯re working with an F-grade Magma Lizard claw and an E-grade Magma Toad core. If we do everything right, we¡¯ll end up with a weapon stronger than the sum of its parts." Aster nodded, glancing at the components laid out before him. She led him over to a large spherical machine with glyphs etched into its sides. The device pulsed faintly, reacting to the presence of Aether. "The first step is material preparation. The claw is organic, meaning it will decay over time. To prevent that and to make it more conductive to energy input, we¡¯re going to anneal it in pure Magma Aether." Taking the claw, she placed it into a floating glass chamber at the center of the machine. It hovered in place, suspended by an unseen force. From her Dantian, she retrieved a bottle of condensed cloud made from burnt-orange Aether, placing it into a slot in the machine. With a twist of a valve, the Aether whooshed into the sphere, engulfing the claw in a thick, roiling mist. Aster watched, mesmerized, as Yani pressed her hands against the glyphs, activating her Veneration spell. Faith burned away, fueling the process, and the mist churned violently, arcs of energy sparking within. Aether wasn¡¯t just changing the claw¡ªit was rewriting its very nature. The thick mist thinned gradually, revealing the claw¡ªtransformed into a crystalline burnt-orange structure, its edges now glinting like volcanic glass. The air vibrated with residual energy as the last tendrils of mist were absorbed into the claw, leaving behind a perfectly structured energy conduit. "This is similar to carbonizing on the Material Plane¡ªwhere organic matter is heated without oxygen, leaving behind pure carbon. Here, Aether plays the role of the carbon, crystallizing and replacing the organic parts, leaving behind a spell-conductive lattice perfectly structured for energy absorption. An added benefit is that any typings other than the one used in the Aether remain intact, meaning the artifact retains structural strength while gaining conductive properties." She placed the claw onto a crystalline plate etched with sigils before moving to the blank parchment. "Now, for the second step¡ªinscription. We¡¯re going to extract the Magma Slash spellscript from the claw." Placing the parchment on another sigil-engraved plate connected by a thin copper strip, she pressed her hands onto the glyphs. The machine hummed to life as the claw floated into the air, glowing faintly. Aster watched in amazement as runes slowly began etching themselves onto the parchment, drawn by some unseen force. The symbols burned themselves into the page in deep crimson lines, pulsating like living embers, growing brighter and brighter till finally just as the last rune is copied, they all drag to a single point and is absorbed into a large angry orange glyph in the centre of the page. "This doesn¡¯t just allow you to transcribe the glyph onto a weapon, but you can also actually store this in your mind palace to cast yourself, this is called a spell-scroll. Unlike a spellbook, this spell can only be used once though¡ªunless inscribed onto a spirit, which is our next step." Turning her attention to the ethereal dagger, she placed it between the claw, the script, and the open slot for the core. Activating another glyph, a golden mist surrounded the dagger. As Faith poured into it, the spirit absorbed the energy, glowing brighter. The runes from the parchment lifted into the air, drifting toward the dagger until they wrapped around it, integrating seamlessly. The weapon trembled as if coming to life, its blade forming sharper edges while the mist-like aura surrounding it condensed into something more tangible. Yani, now visibly sweating, wiped her forehead. "The hard part is done. Now we just fuse the spirit with the claw and connect the core." Aster hesitated. "What about the hilt? Shaping it?" She smirked. "The Ideal form tethered to the artefact spirit will allow it to see itself as a dagger and take its proper form. We¡¯re giving it the building blocks¡ªit¡¯s assembling itself." Yani positioned the spirit, claw, and core on a tri-linked glyph. The final process began. The components melted, flowing into the center like molten ore drawn by an unseen forge. The air trembled slightly, the energy coalescing into a single point. The molten form pulsed, shifting as if responding to an unseen command. Then, after thirty minutes, the artifact materialized¡ªa sleek, 9-inch curved dagger. The blade was pristine white, razor-thin, and covered in runes, while the hilt was blackened with glowing orange cracks resembling magma. Yani held it up, inspecting it. "E- grade. Not bad, but the equipment here is clunky compared to my family''s workshop." She handed it to Aster, who grasped it carefully, feeling the power thrumming beneath its surface. He stared at the dagger, the weight of what he had just witnessed sinking in. Artifact crafting wasn¡¯t just a mechanical process¡ªit was an art, a science, and a form of magic all at once. She handed the dagger to Aster. "Here. That¡¯s about R100K worth of Faith and materials. Sale price? Around R350K." Aster¡¯s eyes widened. She smirked. "Don¡¯t get too excited. Your first twenty attempts will likely match the grade of your weakest material. You¡¯ll only make about R50K profit per piece." Aster forced a sigh, feigning dejection. "Damn." Inside, he was already plotting. Making R50K a day just to practice? And later, five times that? He could work with that.