The chamber was quiet now, the hum of the underground colony a distant murmur through the walls. Aethon stretched his newly grown wings experimentally, still amazed at their sheer delicacy and strength. Koopa stood nearby, his posture alert, as if expecting something dangerous to happen at any moment.
The elder cleared his throat. "Aethon, it is time for you to learn how to use your abilities," he said, voice steady. "I believe it is best to begin with the Dragonfly Codex."
Aethon tilted his head, curiosity overcoming his lingering shock. "Why not the Horned Beetle abilities? I… I thought they were my own tribe's power."
The elder shook his head. "Your tribe is unmatched in craftsmanship, forging, and technology. We can create weapons and devices of incredible power—even from weak materials—and they rival the quality of anything made from superior resources. We excel at making technology, traps, and machinery, we can construct tools.But these abilities… are not combat-oriented. They will serve you better later. Right now, you need powers that will help you survive, explore, and fight effectively. That is why we will begin with the Dragonfly Codex."
Aethon's mind raced as he glanced around the workshop-like chamber. The machinery, tools, and constructs scattered around were astonishing. "Even without electricity or AI Internet ect… they've made machines just as advanced as we have in my world," he thought. His eyes scanned gears, levers, and glowing mechanisms. "They… really know how to engineer things. It's impressive."
The elder observed him, noticing his awe. "Now, as for the Dragonfly abilities," he continued, "there are three primary powers: Flight, 360-degree vision, and Time Perception."
Aethon's eyebrows shot up. "Time… perception?"
"Yes," the elder said. "This is not mere foresight or intuition. You can see a short span into the future—approximately two seconds ahead. It is enough to anticipate attacks, avoid danger, and react faster than any ordinary being. Combined with your wings and vision, you will be near impossible to strike in combat."
The chamber was silent, save for the soft hum of the underground colony and the faint flutter of Aethon's wings. He crouched, flexing the membranes nervously, and leapt into the air. A single flap, nothing. Another flap—he barely lifted an inch.
"Why… why can't I just fly?" Aethon muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.
Koopa, standing nearby, tilted his head. "You've never had wings before, have you? Not in this world, not even in your past life. Even if you had wings in theory, you've never used insect wings. That's why you struggle."
Aethon exhaled sharply. "Yeah… I didn't… I didn't have wings before. None like these."
The elder watched silently, his eyes calm but expectant. "Then you must learn. Slowly, steadily, with patience. Flight is not instinct for you. It will take time."
And time it did.
Hours passed. Each flap of his wings lifted him barely an inch. He fell, stumbled, and nearly hit the ground countless times. Days blurred into weeks. Yet, he persisted, driven by the weight of expectation and the growing pulse of power in his veins. Each day, he lifted a little higher, hovered a little longer, and began to feel the rhythm of his wings.
Months passed. Three months in total. The underground tunnels, the forges, the chambers of the Horned Beetle Tribe—all became second nature. Every shadow, every glowing crystal, every sound was familiar. And finally, one day, Aethon rose, flapped his wings, and soared smoothly through the chamber. He twisted midair, dipped, glided, and turned, his flight fluid and natural.
The elder nodded, approvingly. "Good. You have learned to fly. Now… it is time to focus on your other two abilities: 360-degree vision and time perception. You should find these easier, if you had eyes in your past life, Aethon."
Aethon's wings quivered slightly as anticipation mixed with nervousness. "Easier… really?"
The elder gestured to a pile of stone spheres, about the size of a human fist. "We will begin with these. They will be thrown at you from multiple directions. Your task: break them. Each sphere represents a target, a threat, a point of awareness. You will practice seeing everything at once."
Aethon blinked. "What? Are… are you serious?"
Before he could react, the spheres flew at him from all directions. His instincts screamed, but his body moved. His first punch met a sphere—and shattered it with a force he had never known. Another sphere struck, and again, his fist crushed it effortlessly.
Aethon staggered back slightly, awe creeping in. "I… I'm… this strong?"
The elder's voice echoed, calm yet firm. "This is only the beginning. You are strength is only average, but mastery requires focus. Observe, predict, adapt. 360 vision first—concentrate on one target. Then expand. Time perception second—feel the moments ahead."
Aethon braced himself as spheres flew from all angles, dozens at once. At first, he could only focus on one, breaking a single sphere while others slipped past. He fell, caught, and retreated repeatedly. But slowly, with patience and repetition, he began to expand his awareness. Two spheres, then three, then five. His eyes tracked multiple paths, his reflexes responding faster than instinct alone.
And then, a breakthrough: he sensed the spheres' trajectory before they even left the elder's hands. He saw not only their paths but the tiny adjustments in the air around them. He shattered them all with precise, devastating strikes.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Aethon trained relentlessly, perfecting his 360 vision, his ability to track multiple targets at once, and his time perception. Soon, he could see one full second into the immediate future, enough to anticipate attacks, dodge, or strike before a threat arrived.
Finally, after months of discipline, sweat, and countless failures, Aethon hovered in the chamber, fists clenched, eyes scanning, mind sharp. The spheres flew at him again, faster, harder, from every angle. He moved like water, striking, dodging, reacting flawlessly. Each movement was instinctive, precise, almost effortless.
He exhaled slowly, feeling a new confidence surging through him. He could fly perfectly, see in every direction, and anticipate the immediate future.
"Come with me," the elder said.
Aethon followed, still adjusting to the weight of his wings and the sharp clarity of his new senses. They entered a wide, dim chamber, the walls lined with strange dispensers, each one angled and poised. Tiny slots glimmered as if ready to launch something at any moment.
"What… what is this?" Aethon asked, unease curling in his chest.
The elder gestured toward the devices. "Here, you will refine your abilities. Those dispensers will shoot arrows at you. Wooden arrows. You must dodge all of them. If even one strikes you, you will have to start again."
Aethon's eyes widened. "Dodge… all of them? Are you serious?"
The elder nodded. "Just trust me. Your powers are ready for this. Now begin."
Instantly, the dispensers fired. Arrows whistled through the air from every direction, dozens at once, moving far too fast for Aethon to process. His wings flapped furiously, but he could barely keep afloat. His vision darted to every corner, his reflexes straining, yet within seconds, he was struck repeatedly—wood scraping and bouncing harmlessly off his exoskeleton.
He landed hard, heart racing, chest heaving. "What… what?! All these months of training… all the sweat… and I can't even last a minute? Am I… really this weak?"
The elder's voice was calm, almost patient. "No. You are not weak, Aethon. Your strength is… standard. You have mastered control, precision, and awareness—but raw ability alone is not enough to dodge everything perfectly."
He reached into his robes and held out a small, glowing sphere. "Take this."
Aethon hesitated, recognizing it immediately. "A codex?"
The elder nodded. "Yes. This one belonged to our dead ancestors."
"Does it… give me a new power? A racial ability?" Aethon asked, curiosity overtaking frustration.
"No," the elder said. "Not directly. You see, most lifeforms—arthropods, monsters, dragons, humans—all have cores, mana storage systems. Their energy resides there. The more mana you have, the stronger you become: speed, durability, strength, all scale with your core."
Aethon's brow furrowed. "So… absorbing cores makes you stronger?"
"Yes. Most beings can absorb cores of other creatures. They gain the energy, the mana, but not the true racial power. That is the limit of ordinary life. They grow stronger, but only marginally, in comparison to their species' true potential."
The elder's eyes met his. "You… are different. You are the successor of our god. You can absorb the powers contained within the cores of other insects. Each species' codex contains not only mana but the genetic blueprint—the racial abilities unique to that species. When you absorb a codex, you gain its full power. That is how you acquired the Dragonfly Codex."
Aethon's mind reeled. "So… every insect, every arthropod I encounter… I could gain their abilities?"
"Yes," the elder said gravely. "But only because you are the successor. Others may attempt, but they will only gain energy, not true racial power. You… can grow far beyond anything in this world."
Aethon turned the codex in his hands, feeling the subtle pulse of energy. "I… I see. That's… incredible."