The sun was at its highest point when Kael finally managed to move the stone.
Five centimeters. That was it. Five miserable centimeters of a rock the size of his fist, after three hours of trying to displace it.
He collapsed backward onto the valley floor, gasping as if he had run a marathon. Sweat soaked his shirt despite the cold air. Every muscle in his body protested, even though he hadn't made any physical effort.
"Not enough," said Darling from his seat atop a rusted container. The cigarette between his lips released smoke in perfect spirals. "Three hours for five centimeters. At that rate, you'd need two weeks to move something the size of that beam you displaced during the Awakening."
Kael sat up, frustrated. "During the Awakening it was instinctive. Now that I'm trying consciously, it's like... the space resists."
"It doesn't resist." Darling jumped down from the container, landing without a sound. "You simply don't understand what you're asking for. During the Awakening, your mind reached a state of pure comprehension. You weren't thinking—you just knew. Now you're thinking too much."
He walked toward the stone Kael had moved and picked it up, examining it.
"Tell me, what exactly did you do to move it?"
Kael frowned, trying to recall. "I tried... to reduce the distance between the stone and the point where I wanted it to be. I visualized the space compressing."
"You visualized." Darling dropped the word like an insult. "That's your problem. The Spatial Field doesn't work with visualization. It works with comprehension."
He tossed the stone into the air. It didn't fall. It stayed floating half a meter above the ground.
Kael observed, activating his spatial perception. He could see what Darling was doing—there were no force fields or telekinesis. The space beneath the stone and the space above it had... swapped. Gravity still pulled downward, but "down" was now "up." The stone fell perpetually in a direction that kept it suspended.
"See the difference?" asked Darling. "I'm not imagining it floating. I'm understanding that directions are relative, and I'm reinterpreting which direction is which for this specific object."
With a casual gesture, the stone dropped normally.
"Your level is Minor Theorist. You grasp the fundamental principles. But you still think of 'here' and 'there' as absolute concepts. They aren't."
He crouched and drew two dots in the dirt with his finger.
"Point A. Point B. What separates them?"
"Distance," Kael replied automatically.
"Wrong." Darling drew a line between them. "They're separated by your interpretation of distance. For you, these points are thirty centimeters apart. For an ant, it's a journey of several minutes. For a photon, distance is irrelevant—it crosses it instantly."
He added a third point outside the line.
"And if you change your frame of reference..." He drew a new line. "Now point C is 'between' A and B, even though geometrically it's outside. Distance is contextual. Relative. Malleable."
He stood, looking directly at Kael.
"That's the first foundation of the Spatial Field: there are no absolute distances—only interpretable spatial relationships."
Kael processed the words slowly. His brain, trained in classical physics, resisted. But his new spatial perception knew Darling was right. He could feel how distances were flexible, dependent on the observer.
"Then... how do I move the stone correctly?"
"You don't move the stone." Darling lit another cigarette with a motion that made the flame appear from nowhere. "You reinterpret its spatial relationship with its surroundings. The stone has always been where you want it to be. It just didn't know it until you told it so."
That sounded like a Zen riddle. But Kael closed his eyes and tried again.
The stone. The ground. The relationship between them.
Not "here" and "there." Not visualizing force or motion.
Simply... what if the stone was already ten centimeters closer? What would that change in space?
Comprehension.
No pushing. No pulling. Just understanding that position is relative—and that he, as a conscious observer of space, could choose which relationship was "true."
He opened his eyes.
The stone was ten centimeters closer. He hadn't seen it move. It had simply stopped being there and started being here.
"Better," said Darling approvingly. "Much better. You took thirty seconds instead of three hours. That's exponential progress."
Kael felt a surge of euphoria—but also exhaustion. His mind throbbed as if he'd solved a hundred differential equations at once.
"Why do I feel so tired? I didn't make any physical effort."
"Because comprehension has a mental cost." Darling exhaled smoke. "Every time you reinterpret space, your brain must reconcile the contradiction between what should be and what is. At Level 8, that takes conscious effort. At Level 5, it's easier. At Level 1..."
He gestured casually, and the cargo container behind him simply moved fifty meters to the left. No sound. No transition. As if it had always been there.
"At Level 1, thought and action are the same. There's no effort because there's no separation between comprehension and execution."
Kael stared at the container—several tons of metal—moved with less effort than he had spent on a stone.
Abyss of comprehension, he thought. That's what separates Level 8 from Level 1.
"Rest for ten minutes," said Darling. "Then we'll start the second exercise."
The second exercise was worse.
Darling had placed five objects in a line: a nut, a screw, a shard of glass, a coin, and a small metal bar. All roughly the same size.
"Move them all simultaneously," he ordered. "Ten centimeters forward. At the same time."
Kael blinked. "I can barely move one consistently."
"That's why it's an exercise." Darling sat, watching him with that characteristic intensity. "The Spatial Field isn't about moving one object at a time. It's about comprehending entire regions of space—multiple relationships simultaneously."
"How am I supposed to—"
"Stop thinking about individual objects." The interruption was sharp. "They're not five things. They're five points in a shared geometry. Comprehend the entire geometry, and they'll all move together."
Kael focused. He tried to feel the five objects as one structure—a unified geometric pattern.
It didn't work. He managed to move the nut and the screw, but the other three stayed still. The mental strain left him with a throbbing headache.
"Again," said Darling.
He tried. Failed. This time he moved three, but in slightly different directions.
"Again."
An hour passed. Then two. The sun began to set, painting the valley in shades of orange and gray.
Kael was trembling from mental exhaustion. But on his last attempt, something clicked.
They weren't five objects. They were five nodes in a spatial network. And if he comprehended the entire network—understood how each node related to the others—
All five objects moved in unison. Exactly ten centimeters. Perfectly aligned.
He staggered, dizzy—but it had worked.
"Enough for today." Darling stood, showing the first sign of satisfaction. "You've progressed more in eight hours than most do in a week. We'll continue tomorrow."
Kael could barely stand. "Tomorrow? I need—"
"You need rest, food, and processing." Darling walked toward him. "Training in the Spatial Field isn't like other Fields. It's not about physical repetition. Each exercise reconfigures how your brain processes space. That requires integration time."
He placed a hand on Kael's shoulder. The touch felt strange, as if Darling were touching him from an impossible distance and from very close at the same time.
"You've done well. But this is only the beginning—the most basic foundations." His expression turned serious. "Tomorrow I'll teach you the second foundation: spatial folds. It's considerably more dangerous."
"Dangerous how?"
"A poorly executed fold can create a permanent spatial discontinuity—a hole in the fabric of space that won't close." Darling released his shoulder. "That's why only Level 7 or higher Spatial Resonants are legally allowed to attempt it. But you need to know the basics before you go to Nova Astra."
Kael nodded, too tired to feel proper fear.
"Go back to your hotel. Rest. Eat something." Darling turned away. "Tomorrow, same time. And bring something to write with. Spatial folds require mathematical comprehension—it'll be easier to visualize on paper."
"Wait." Kael stopped him. "Why are you doing this? Training me, I mean. You're Level 1—you could be doing anything. Why spend your time on a novice Level 8?"
Darling stood still for several seconds. Then looked over his shoulder.
"Because the Spatial Field is lonely." His voice was quieter now, almost melancholic. "Only 0.3% of Resonants belong to it. And of those, most never surpass Level 7. Those who reach higher... change. They drift away. They become like Void."
He took a drag from his cigarette.
"I trained another student ten years ago. Same talent as you. Same curiosity." A pause. "He reached Level 4—Major Scientist. And then one day, he just... left. Said he could no longer relate to beings who existed in only three spatial dimensions."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"I don't want that to happen to you." Darling resumed walking. "That's why I train you. Why I taught you to use the coin as an anchor. Why I insist you remember your humanity."
He stopped at the edge of the valley, his silhouette outlined against the orange sky. No shadow, as always.
"Because if you lose your humanity on the path to absolute comprehension—then what's the point of power?"
And with that, space shimmered—and Darling was gone.
Kael walked back to the hotel in the growing darkness. Every step was an effort. His mind felt like jelly, overloaded with new concepts—new ways of interpreting reality.
But Darling's words echoed louder than the fatigue.
If you lose your humanity, what's the point of power?
He took the coin from his pocket—the one Darling had given him as an anchor. It was heavy, real, tangible.
A reminder that he was Kael Thorne. Not just a set of spatial coordinates. Not just an abstract observer of the universe.
A person.
The hotel lights appeared in the distance. Old, worn, but familiar. Home.
Tomorrow he would return to the valley. He would learn about spatial folds. Continue his path toward comprehension.
But that night, as he walked toward the building he had known since childhood, Kael clung to the feeling of belonging somewhere.
Because Darling was right.
The Spatial Field was lonely.
And if he wasn't careful, eventually he would stop needing a place to belong.
He would stop needing to be someone.
That was what awaited him in the higher levels—the gradual dissolution of everything that made him human.
But not yet, he thought, closing his fist around the coin. Not yet. I'm still me.
He crossed the hotel threshold, and the familiar smell of dust and coffee greeted him like an embrace.
For now, that was enough.