Morning came without warmth.
A pale, colorless light filtered through the gaps in the cabin's wooden walls,
illuminating dust motes suspended in still air. Kaelen opened his eyes
slowly, allowing the body time to catch up to his awareness. The rhythmic
ache of muscles and bone greeted him—not pain enough to cripple, but
enough to remind him that this vessel was neither divine nor eternal.
It was alive.
And that alone made it fragile.
He rose from the bedding with care. The act of standing no longer sent
fractures racing across his skin, but the weight inside him still pressed
outward, testing the limits of flesh like water against a cracked dam.
The teacher was already awake.
He stood near the open doorway, fastening a weathered cloak around his
shoulders. His posture was straight, controlled. There was no wasted
movement, no idle breath. Even at rest, he felt contained—like a blade kept
deliberately sheathed.
"You're stable," the teacher said without turning. "Enough."
"Enough will do," Kaelen replied.
They stepped outside together.
The outskirts stretched endlessly before them—uneven land scarred by
neglect rather than war. Twisted trees clawed at the sky, their branches
bare and blackened, as if stripped by generations of desperation. Paths
wound through the terrain without purpose, made not by travelers, but by
survivors circling the same ground again and again.
"You intend to head east," the teacher said.
"Yes."
"The East Empire is close," the teacher continued. "Close by distance. Not
by mercy."
They walked in silence for a time before Kaelen spoke again.
"Can humans truly reach Rank Zero?"
"They can," the teacher replied. "Immortality follows. Power vast enough to
rival anything this realm recognizes as divine. They cease to age. They
cease to fear."
"But they do not escape the system."
"No," the teacher said flatly. "They rename themselves gods and build thrones out of fear."
Kaelen nodded. That aligned with what he had already sensed—power
without restraint always demanded worship.
"Why stop, then?" Kaelen asked. "Why remain standing at the edge?"
The teacher stopped walking.
"I crossed it once," he said. His voice did not waver. "Long enough to lose
myself."
Kaelen felt the air tighten.
"I will not waste the will that dragged me back," the teacher continued.
"Nor will I become something that no longer remembers why restraint
mattered."
They reached the forest's edge.
The teacher reached into his cloak and withdrew a bracelet of dark metal.
Its surface was etched with faint, shifting lines that resisted focus.
"A stabilizer," he said. "It regulates internal flow. Not amplification.
Control."
Kaelen accepted it. The moment it settled against his wrist, the pressure
within him redistributed—subtle, but unmistakable.
"This will not save you," the teacher added. "It will only remind your body
where its limits are."
"Then it's perfect," Kaelen replied.
The teacher pressed two fingers against Kaelen's chest. A brief, dull heat
flared beneath the skin, forming a cross-shaped mark that faded almost
instantly.
"A concealment ritual," he said. "Strong entities will overlook you unless
you provoke them. It is not absolute. Do not test it."
"I won't."
"The nearest city is Swizz," the teacher said. "Rest if you must. Observe
more than you speak. In the East, greed is common—but cruelty is
optional."
With that, he turned and walked away.
No farewell. No sentiment.
Kaelen entered the forest alone.
The canopy thickened overhead, swallowing the weak morning light. The
air grew heavy with decay. His senses stretched outward, testing distances,
measuring resistance, confirming stability.
Then he felt it.
A crude presence—dense, hungry.
A Rank Ten Kyz beast emerged from the undergrowth. Its body was
malformed, its eyes burning with instinct rather than intelligence. Its soul
radiated unchecked consumption.
Kaelen exhaled slowly.
"I can't afford excess."
For less than a microsecond, he loosened his restraint.
The pressure escaped.
The beast did not have time to react. Its body collapsed inward, shattered
by force that never fully manifested. Trees bowed. The earth folded inward
with a muted roar.
Kaelen staggered slightly, pain flashing through the vessel.
Then came the absorption.
Kyz poured into him—violent, untamed.
The Beast Will followed.
Hunger. Rage. Endless need.
"So this is it," Kaelen thought calmly. "The erosion of self."
The will clawed at his mind.
It failed.
He redirected the energy—not into the soul, but into the body. Muscle
fibers reinforced. Bone density shifted. The vessel adapted, imperfectly, but
successfully.
The boat held.
Then—
"Help! Someone—please!"
A voice echoed through the trees ahead.
Kaelen turned toward the sound, expression unreadable, and stepped forward.