[Here's Chapter 4 of the Architecture Series, written as a learning-focused, slice-of-life, and worldview-building chapter. It balances Oliver's growing understanding of Vita with moments of domestic life, casual culture exposure, and a hint at what's to come with Beastkin visitors.]
*P.S don't need to read this*
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Chapter 3: The Science of Water and the Chirping Dog
The laptop screen glowed in Oliver's small hands, casting soft blue light against his cheeks as he leaned over the desk. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Molecular bonds. The information was not hard—he remembered some of it from Earth—but it was strange seeing it taught here, as if it were the foundation of power itself.
A video spun a sleek 3D animation of H₂O formation, atoms aligning and merging into elegant curves, visualizing what textbooks on Earth could only describe. He listened intently:
> "To create fresh water using Vita, visualize the atomic structure, allow the blue metaphysical field to stabilize, and supply a modest charge of Green Vita to bind the particles."
Oliver looked down at his hands. They tingled slightly with energy—Blue Vita, like jelly in a lava lamp, spiraled faintly between his palms again.
He pictured the hydrogen nuclei: two.
Then one oxygen atom.
> Bind them together.
The blue sphere flickered. For a moment—a single drop of real water shimmered into existence inside the orb.
It trembled, grew heavy, and dripped softly onto the wooden floor.
Oliver's eyes widened. "I did it…"
But when he tried to form another, his arms drooped. His body suddenly felt like he'd done ten laps in a pool. Exhaustion prickled in his chest—not painful, but definitely not sustainable.
> Why can't I keep going?
He leaned back in the chair and did what any smart kid would do—he searched.
Typing into the WebNet browser, he looked up:
"Why can't I make more water with Vita?"
The answer came quickly, in a digital tutorial by a cheerful woman surrounded by floating aquariums.
> "Vita energy is split into types! Green Vita is your personal stamina—your lifeforce. If you burn it all, you'll be fine, but it might shorten your vitality over time. Think of it like spending years from your life in tiny coins."
> "Blue Vita is environmental—ambient energy from the world. You can absorb it, store it, and use it slowly over time."
> "Beginners? Use Blue. Sparingly mix Green only when needed."
Oliver frowned.
So, his drops of water came from a tiny pinch of Green Vita—his own energy—while the ambient blue field let it form.
He hadn't nearly enough training to pull in water from nothing the way those advanced videos did—gallons swirling like rivers in midair.
Still, one success was better than none.
And apparently, because he was an Outsider, the rules for him were a bit… bendier. He could naturally produce more as long as he patiently let the Blue field gather and form structure, like a growing embryo.
> "Alright," he whispered. "One drop at a time."
He didn't notice Lyra peeking into the doorway.
> "Suppertime!" she chirped.
Oliver blinked and followed her down the stairs.
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The kitchen was clean and lit by sunlight-tinted bulbs. Plants grew on the walls in smartly woven bio-pockets. The scent of herbs and something meaty hung in the air.
Martha stood at the counter, stirring a pot filled with bright green stems and soft yellow chunks. She moved with practiced grace, stirring, pouring, seasoning—her hands briefly glowing with golden Vita as she enhanced the aroma of the dish.
> "Dinner's almost ready!" she called without turning.
Oliver slid into a chair at the dining table. The walls were painted beige and soft coral, and windows opened into a clean, futuristic backyard.
There, in the fading twilight, a giant dog-like creature ran toward Liam—who threw a metal plate like a frisbee. The creature leapt and caught it with a loud chirping bark, tail wagging like a fan.
Oliver's jaw dropped. "What… is that?"
Lyra glanced at the window. "That's Rinko. Our dog."
"He chirps."
"Yeah. He doesn't really bark. More like a warble. Mama thinks it's better than a noisy bark."
Oliver watched Rinko tumble playfully, his fur rippling like short grass. Friendly eyes. A large, rounded body but surprisingly nimble for his size.
Liam soon came in, towel draped over his shoulder, shirt slightly soaked with sweat. He ruffled Oliver's hair, then disappeared into the bathroom to clean up.
Martha set down three plates of food. The yellow-green plant dish glowed faintly from residual Vita—soft, almost imperceptible.
Oliver stared at it.
> "It smells like… chicken?"
Lyra laughed. "It's called Vallis Root. Mama cooks it with pulsefruit and tree spores. It tastes like fried gold chicken."
Oliver took a bite.
He paused.
> Holy crap. It tastes exactly like good chicken.
Not synthetic. Not earthy. It had that crispy skin richness—but was entirely plant-based.
Liam returned freshly dressed and sat across the table, letting out a relaxed breath.
> "So. Tomorrow we'll be having guests," he said. "Vaeleth's coming by."
Lyra perked up. "Vaeleth and the twins?!"
Oliver tilted his head. "Who's Vaeleth?"
"A friend," Liam said simply. "An old traveling companion. One of the best with Vita I've ever met. She's a Beastkin, a wolf type."
Oliver blinked. "Beastkin…?"
Lyra nodded. "Half human, half animal. There are all kinds—foxes, wolves, birds, even deer. Vaeleth's a white-furred wolf woman. Super fast. She has twin daughters who are a lot."
"A lot?"
Lyra looked exhausted just saying it. "Tala and Shura. They're hyper. And wild. But fun, I guess."
Oliver's fork paused mid-air.
> Beastkin. Vita. Green and Blue energy. Outsider physiology. Families that cook plant-chicken and own chirping canines...
This world was not what he expected.
But maybe, just maybe, he didn't mind.
----------[Next page]
Certainly! Here's the continuation as Chapter 4: "Winds, Beasts, and a Rising Current", focused on realistic pacing, worldbuilding, character introductions, and Oliver's growing internal thoughts.
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Chapter 4: Winds, Beasts, and a Rising Current
Night cloaked the windows in a soft violet haze, the distant stars of Eloria scattered like powder across an indigo sky. In the quiet of his room, Oliver sat cross-legged on the bed, small hands typing methodically on the sleek keyboard of his laptop.
His tiny fingers fumbled now and then—the body of a six-year-old wasn't ideal for fast typing—but he was adjusting. Line by line, search by search, he explored the depth of this world's reality.
> "Advanced Vita Manipulation: Thermo Forms" "Green Vita and Blue Vita – What's Safe?" "Generating Wind Platforms – A Beginner's Guide" "Healing Basics: Glimmer Touch for Bruises & Fractures"
The screen reflected in his eyes as videos played.
He watched a tall woman split a boulder with concentrated heat formed from her palms. Another conjured liquid nitrogen, crystallizing flowers and freezing puddles. A healer formed yellow shimmering bands over an injured boy's arm until it mended within seconds.
And then—
> "Welcome back to Wind Max!" A man stood on a metal surfboard, balanced mid-air over a raging ocean. Wind coiled visibly around his legs like ribbons.
With a laugh and a pulse of Vita, he launched across the sky, surfboard twisting as he skimmed wind currents at breakneck speed. Comments flooded the screen:
> "That aerial twist tho 🔥🔥🔥"
"5 million subs let's GO MAX!!!"
"How did he not fall in **3:09**??"
"Hahahahhaha lol"
Oliver leaned back, eyebrows raised.
> "This… isn't just survival. It's performance. Art. A whole culture..."
He clicked to another tab, where a user broke down molecular control of water: starting with energy collection, shape visualization, then atomic intention.
> "Okay," Oliver whispered, cupping his hands.
Blue Vita sparkled faintly, swirling like a sleeping nebula. He pictured water molecules—not just as chemical bonds—but as dancing pairs, spinning like gravity-locked partners.
A single drop formed. Then two. Then a bead as wide as his thumbnail.
Progress.
He smiled.
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The next morning came with soft kitchen sounds and cartoons echoing from the living room. Oliver rubbed his eyes, descending the stairs just as Lyra switched on Pinwheel, her favorite mermaid show starting.
Seafoam-colored waves, glittering tridents, and high-pitched songs filled the room. Lyra bobbed her head along as she munched on some coral-colored cereal.
Oliver sat beside her, arms crossed.
> "Definitely too old for this."
He didn't complain aloud. He just zoned out, eyes drifting toward the ceiling—until a knock broke through the musical melody.
Martha came out of the laundry room, set down a woven basket of folded clothes, and opened the door with a warm smile.
Standing outside was someone Oliver could only describe as "mythical."
A tall young woman with long silver hair, sharp wolf-like ears twitching slightly, stood in a simple yet regal black robe. Her eyes—piercing gold—radiated focus, confidence, and experience. Behind her stood two smaller girls, one with a white-furred tail and the other cloaked in dark silvery-black fuzz.
The girls each clutched piles of coloring utensils, grinning with full cheeks and sharp teeth. Both their tails wagged lazily.
Oliver blinked.
He'd never seen a Beastkin before.
Vaeleth gave a small, respectful nod to Martha, then stepped inside gracefully.
Tala spotted Lyra and shrieked with delight.
> "Lyra!!"
Lyra waved back as if it were nothing.
The twins bounded in and plopped beside her, already pulling out coloring books, their tools spilling across the floor in a chaotic burst of pastels and gel pens.
Shura paused. Her amber eyes landed on Oliver.
> "Who's he?"
Lyra gestured lazily. "That's my little brother. Oliver."
> "Brother?" Shura blinked, then her ears perked. "You look weird. Want to draw?"
Oliver scratched the back of his brown hair, politely declining. "Uh… no thanks."
He wasn't sure how to talk to kids—even if he was technically one now.
Just then, Liam entered from the workshop, wiping metal grease off his hands with a cloth. His expression lit up upon seeing Vaeleth.
"Vaeleth," he said warmly.
"Liam." She offered her hand, firm grip. "Been too long."
Their old familiarity said everything: two travelers who had fought and survived side by side. Old comrades.
Then Vaeleth turned toward Oliver.
Her golden eyes studied him for a long moment, unreadable. Then she smiled and knelt before him.
"Hello, young one."
Oliver straightened, bowing his head slightly. "Hi, ma'am."
Liam stepped in with a proud chuckle. "That's Oliver. Our son. He's got some talent—takes after Martha, I think."
Vaeleth ruffled Oliver's hair softly and—without warning—lifted him up into the air.
"Small. But he's hiding something in there," she muttered, then gently lowered him back to the floor.
She turned to join Liam in conversation near the hallway, laughing lowly at some old joke.
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As the living room turned into a pastel coloring battlefield, Oliver excused himself and crept back to his room. He could hear faint giggles from outside as Lyra and the twins headed into the backyard garden. Rinko bark-chirped somewhere in the distance.
But Oliver had one thing on his mind.
Water.
He sat on the floor cross-legged, breathing slowly, hands open.
> "Let's try again."
This time, he gathered the blue metaphysical energy more patiently. He wasn't just grabbing it—he was inviting it, letting it curl and twist into a sphere that felt right.
He pictured H₂O.
Two Hydrogen. One Oxygen. Stable bonds. No heat.
Drop.
Then another.
Drip.
He tried forming a thread—a single strand of water. But it dispersed quickly. Not enough control yet.
Still, it was more than yesterday. His Vita felt more responsive. His thoughts sharper.
And somewhere, in the background of his mind, the memory of the Black Tortoise whispered:
> "You may not be from this world… but you are now a part of it."
Oliver exhaled.
> "Then I'll learn. No matter how long it takes."
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Next would be Chapter 6 we'll be diving down to character interactions and dynamics