Two weeks passed in a blur of relentless training. Astraeus's life settled into a brutal but effective routine: dawn sessions with Crane in the Master facilities, afternoons with Marcus practicing combat forms and essence flow, and evenings in the restricted library, absorbing as much knowledge as he could before collapsing into exhausted sleep.
He was growing stronger at an astonishing rate. The combination of Master-level instruction, unlimited resources, and his own innate talent was pushing his capabilities to new heights every day.
[LEVEL UP! LEVEL 7 → LEVEL 8][STATUS UPDATE:]
•Essence Pool: 95 → 110
•Basic Combat Techniques: 80/100 → 95/100
•Intermediate Ethereal Manipulation: 90/200 → 120/200
•Resonance Seal: 30/100 → 50/100
•New Skill Acquired: Elemental Harmony (1/100) - Allows for the blending of different elemental essences into stable, combined forms.
But the world outside his training bubble was not standing still. The dimensional crisis was escalating. Rift reports were now a daily occurrence, not a weekly one. Most were minor breaches that closed on their own, but stable rifts were appearing with alarming frequency, requiring immediate guild intervention. In the past two weeks, there had been two more Ethereal incursions in other cities, both requiring Master-level mages to handle.
The pattern was clear: the enemy was increasing the pressure, testing the world's defenses, preparing for something big.
On his first day off in two weeks, Astraeus didn't rest. He went to the guild infirmary to visit Thomas and Kira. He found them in a quiet, sunlit room, both awake and lucid, though still pale and thin.
"Astraeus," Thomas said, a genuine smile on his face. "Good to see you."
"You too. How are you feeling?"
"Better. The healers say the Ethereal essence is gone from my system. But…" He hesitated. "I still see it sometimes. When I close my eyes. That… transcendent state. It's like remembering a dream that was more real than reality."
A common side effect of Ethereal exposure, Kha'Zul noted. A longing to return to a state of being that the mortal mind was never meant to experience. It will fade with time, but never completely.
"The healers said that might happen," Astraeus said. "They said to focus on what's real. On what's here."
"They're right." Thomas looked at Astraeus, his expression serious. "Lyra told me. About Shadow. That he's a bound demon. And that Crane knows and has sanctioned it."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the full truth."
"Don't be. You saved our lives. That's all that matters." He leaned forward. "And honestly? After what I saw in that Ethereal's mind… a demon seems almost mundane. At least demons are comprehensible. They want power, they want destruction. They have goals. That thing… it was alien. Its motives were beyond understanding."
Kira, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "It wanted to… unmake things. Not destroy them. Just… return them to a state of pure potential. It saw existence as a flaw."
"She's been saying things like that since she woke up," Thomas said, his voice laced with concern.
"It's the Ethereal's perspective bleeding through," Helena Voss said, entering the room. She was one of the Master-level healers, and she'd taken a personal interest in Thomas and Kira's recovery. "Their minds were connected to a being of immense power. It will take time for them to fully separate their own thoughts from the echoes of its consciousness." She looked at Astraeus. "They'll both make a full recovery, thanks to you. You have a remarkable talent for healing, you know. That void corruption technique you developed… it's revolutionary."
"I had a good teacher," Astraeus said, glancing at his shadow.
Helena smiled knowingly. "Indeed. Well, I have some good news. Thomas and Kira are being transferred to the capital tomorrow. They'll receive specialized mind healing there, the best in the kingdom. They should be back on their feet in a few months."
"That's great news," Astraeus said, genuinely relieved.
He spent another hour with his friends, talking, laughing, catching them up on his training. It felt good to reconnect, to remember that he was still part of a team, even if his path had diverged from theirs.
As he was leaving the infirmary, Helena stopped him. "Astraeus, a word."
They walked to a quiet corner of the hallway. "I've been studying the reports from the other cities," she said, her voice low. "The Ethereal incursions are happening near sites of great historical or magical significance. Ancient battlefields, ruined temples, places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin."
"They're targeting weak points."
"Exactly. But there's more. The energy signatures are all slightly different. It's not one entity attacking us. It's multiple Ethereals, all working in concert. And their energy patterns, while unique, share a common underlying frequency. A… command signature."
"Someone is controlling them."
"Yes. And whoever it is, they're playing a very long game." She handed him a small, sealed scroll. "This arrived for you this morning. It was delivered by a courier who disappeared before anyone could question him. It's addressed to 'The Reality Anchor of Thornhaven.'"
Astraeus took the scroll. It was made of a strange, silvery paper that felt cool to the touch. The seal was a complex, interlocking pattern he didn't recognize.
"What is it?"
"I don't know. But I suspect it's from someone who knows what you are."
He returned to his room and broke the seal. The scroll contained a single line of text, written in a precise, elegant hand:
"You are not alone. Midnight, three days from now. The Old Stone Bridge. Come alone."
A trap? Kha'Zul wondered.
"Maybe. Or maybe…"
Another Reality Anchor? The demon's tone was intrigued. The system never said you were the only one. Just that you were the one chosen for this region.
[NEW QUEST: A MEETING OF ANCHORS]
[OBJECTIVE: MEET THE MYSTERIOUS CONTACT AT THE OLD STONE BRIDGE]
[WARNING: THE IDENTITY AND MOTIVES OF THIS CONTACT ARE UNKNOWN. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.]
Astraeus looked at the scroll, then out the window at the bustling city. He was part of a guild, part of a team, but his role as a Reality Anchor had always felt like a solitary burden. The thought that there might be others like him, fighting the same war, was a dizzying, hopeful prospect.
He had three days to prepare.
Three days to continue his training, to grow stronger, to be ready for whatever—or whoever—was waiting for him at the Old Stone Bridge.
He had a feeling his world was about to get a whole lot bigger.