The wind through the royal garden carried a whisper that wasn’t quite sound — more a vibration felt through the skin, like the memory of song left in the air after the last note had died. Raime stood at the garden’s edge, eyes half closed, feeling the faint ripple of life around him. Every creature, every shifting leaf, every small disturbance in the energy of the Rift brushed against his senses like soft pressure beneath the surface of thought.

  It had been a few days since he voiced his desire to create a noetic core to Neimar, days of meditation, of compressing and sensing the faint tides of his soul. Now, though, the stillness was too much. The silence that once felt like peace had started to feel like confinement. He needed movement.

  It’s strange, he thought, stepping past the first arch of vines. When I was dragged here the only thing I could do was survive — and now I’m hunting, training, preparing for something I never imagined could exist. It’s beautiful in a certain way.

  The air was thicker here, saturated with psionic residue that could be felt faintly when he listened to it. The plants were vast and alien — translucent leaves folded over roots that pulsed softly, breathing in rhythm with the land itself. This place, the Sovereign had told him, had once been a living sanctuary for Ithural’s nobility, a place where thought and matter intertwined in harmony, controlled. Now it was wild again, retaken by the beasts that had survived the fall.

  Raime’s steps made no sound as he moved. The energy in his body hummed with control; his aura folded close to his skin, perfectly contained. It had taken him no little amount of effort to master that simple act.

  He brushed a hand against a vine thicker than his arm, and it reacted — curling slightly, as if recognizing the presence of a sentient mind. He smiled faintly. The Rift was alive in ways that Earth could never be. Every motion, every breath here carried weight, as though the world itself was aware of its own ruin.

  He continued forward.

  The thought came unbidden — of home, of the blue sky above his apartment, the sound of distant traffic, the faint hum of neon lights. The life that once defined him felt impossibly far now, like a dream slipping from memory. If someone told me then that I’d be here now… He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. No. I wouldn’t have believed it.

  A flicker brushed against his perception — a presence darting through the tall fronds on his right. His awareness spread like a ripple, and the world slowed. The creature burst from the brush with a hiss — a six-legged predator, thin as a pole and armored in layered scales. Its claws gleamed of a bright green light as it lunged.

  Raime didn’t move until the last moment. Then his body tilted just enough. The beast sailed past him, slashing air. With a casual sweep of the hand, a blade of psionic force swept outward — invisible, thinner than a hair, precise. The creature hit the ground with a wet thud, a neat line bisecting its skull.

  He didn’t even glance back.

  That used to terrify me, he mused, walking on. Now I can sense it before he even sense me.

  He wasn’t being arrogant — not quite. It was more a recognition of difference. The Raime who entered the Rift had been fragile, lost, afraid of dying. The Raime of a couple of weeks ago was capable, but still not in control. The one walking now felt… more. Whole in a way he couldn’t describe.

  “I can feel it,” he murmured to himself.

  The change wasn’t just strength or speed. It was perception — the way his mind reached beyond sight and sound, how he could sense thoughts as pulses of intention before motion even began. The world no longer seemed random. Everything followed patterns he could feel beneath the surface, and those patterns responded to his will.

  It’s like in horror movies, it’s the thing you don’t know that frighten you. But as soon as you see the monster, and the way of beating it, what remain to fear?

  Another presence — this time from above.

  His gaze tilted upward. Through the canopy, something large was moving, completely silent— feathered wings of obsidian unfolding in slow arcs. The creature dove, its dive seemed to not displace air, no leaf moved at his passage.

  Raime’s thoughts brushed the air. Twist.

  The impact never came. The predator died mid-flight, head facing the opposite direction it should. Its wings folded, and the body fell in a heavy slump, breaking branches on its way down.

  He let out a breath, shaking his head. “Slow.”

  A whisper of amusement from memory — You sound like Neimar now, he thought.

  Still, a part of him relished it. The smooth control, the way power obeyed thought as naturally as flexing a muscle. The training had been hard, and he pushed even harder, but the results… they made him feel almost limitless.

  I am taking down Tier II like they are nothing, Would I have the same ease if I faced one of the centipedes again? They were massive, and heavily armoured, but I think I can face something like that with more ease than before. I can outmaneuver them with ease now, that’s for sure, and for dealing enough damage, well I can pass through the eyes, bypassing the plates. Yea, it should be doable, they still remain some of the strongest Tier II I faced until now.

  He slowed as the terrain changed. The air grew warmer, heavy with mist rising from pools of glowing water. Crystals bloomed from the soil like flowers, emitting a faint hum that resonated with his aura.

  He touched one with his fingers. The pulse within it mirrored his heartbeat.

  “This world…” he whispered. “Even in ruin, it’s beautiful.”

  There were moments now when the Rift felt less like a prison and more like an ancient teacher — cruel, unforgiving, but pure in purpose. Every hardship revealed something new. Every danger brought a lesson. It was so unlike Earth, where everything felt predictable. Here, everything was alive.

  He stepped around a crystalline arch and crouched beside a pool. The water reflected his face in distorted ripples. His eyes glowed faintly purple, the sign of psionic activity threading through his body. His reflection looked strange even to himself, While being the same person, his bearing changed so much he wondered if his family would recognize him anymore.

  It’s because I’m not the same, he thought. And maybe that’s fine.

  A rustle behind him — heavier this time. His perception stretched, mapping the space. Three presences this time, low to the ground, moving in coordination. Predators — he could feel the rhythm of their thoughts, the faint anticipation before they struck.

  He waited.

  The first leapt from the left, claws slashing. He sidestepped, catching its leg mid-motion and twisting. A snap — bone breaking cleanly. Before the second could reach him, he threw the crippled one into it, the impact crushing both against a tree trunk, a thin telekinetic spear piercing both through the chest. The third tried to flank him — a blur of teeth and chitin — but he was already turning, arm swinging. The open palm strike was direct, the vectors aligned to perfectly hit the head mid-leap, other than enhancing the strike internally, raime’s arm was coated in a thin film of energy, and his body anchored in space. All the energy was redirected back toward the beast, its head pulping against Raime’s hand. The various techniques were hard to perform simultaneously, but they were incredibly efficient, and good training against these foes.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The light of his aura dimmed as he released control. He rolled his shoulders, exhaling through his nose.

  I could have saved some energy by not enhancing the strike, it would have died anyway…the disparity between the same Tier is absurd, they are ambush predators, and pack creatures too, but compared to the centipedes, or the drokhar they are just fodder.

  He could feel it — the subtle high of combat, the focused clarity it brought. Meditation trained patience; battle trained will. Both were necessary, but one spoke to him more directly.

  He remembered what Neimar once told him: To wield the mind as a weapon, you must first learn to let it feel.

  That was what this was — feeling. Each movement was guided not by logic but instinct heightened through awareness.

  As he ventured deeper, the flora grew stranger. The trunks of trees pulsed faintly like veins, and the canopy light up with strands of psychic luminescence. The beasts here were quieter, more intelligent — he could sense their awareness pressing against his.

  A shadow detached itself from the roots ahead, unfolding into a quadruped with spines along its back. Its eyes burned white, unblinking. It crept forward, testing his resolve. He felt it trying to affect his mind with a crippling fear.

  Raime didn’t move. His mind expanded into the creature — he followed the flow of power and pressured back the beast until he took control of it. The creature froze, then a moment later he release it. Trembling, it backed away, head low.

  He watched it retreat and allowed himself a faint smile.

  Even the wild could recognize hierarchy.

  He was breathing more easily now, body and mind aligned in perfect rhythm. The training Neimar gave him wasn’t just power — it was refinement. While he gained many more Threads, now counting fifty-three in total, the real gain was in control and awareness.

  If I can learn to control my soul too… then everything else will fall into place.

  The thought carried a hint of arrogance, but also of truth. What he’d achieved already would be considered miraculous on any world. And yet it still wasn’t enough. The Sovereign’s trust, his teachings, the artifacts he’d been given, the resources that had been puored into him — all of it was a debt Raime intended to repay.

  “I know we have a deal,” he murmured aloud, stepping over the root of an ancient tree. “but I will prove to him, and to me, that I’m not just a product of my circumstances.”

  The words vanished into the mist.

  For all Neimar’s calm, Raime had felt the fatigue in the Sovereign’s aura. The faint flickers of instability when he extended his will across the Rift. Raime wasn’t blind — he knew his teacher was exerting himself for some reason, maybe the Eye was at fault.

  It doesn’t matter. If I can’t even handle this place, what right do I have to accept everything he’s giving me? I decided on a path that had such a high risk, and he didn’t even bat an eye, well, the eye…still he could have forced me in some way to choose a simpler core to build, if I die, or fail, I can’t help him save his people after all. Instead he took me under his wing, taught me, and supported me, made me his disciple…

  These thoughts were swimming in one of his minds as he moved deeper still, the other was busy scanning the surroundings. The energy here was different — dense, charged. The soft soil cracked with every step, exhaling faint wisps of blue light.

  He was close now.

  He could feel it — the steady presence of something vast ahead, like a slow heartbeat resonating through the earth. The creatures that had roamed the garden’s outskirts no longer appeared. Even their distant presences were gone. None dared to roam here.

  Raime crouched, hand brushing against the ground. He felt a faint tremor beneath his palm. It wasn’t the earth. A great beast was near.

  The harlven.

  He straightened slowly, eyes narrowing toward the mist-veiled depths ahead. He remembered what Neimar had said of it: a beast of ancient blood, bred for war, resilient and cunning. In the age of Ithural’s greatness, such creatures served as mounts for some of the most powerful knights. This one ancestors had survived the end — growing more feral.

  A thrill ran through him.

  This is it.

  The hunt wasn’t about food anymore. It was a test — no, not only a test.

  Maybe I just want to see how much more I can go forward. From the history lessons imparted from the thought-knots he came to know that only a few of the most outstanding warriors and psions ever managed to defeat a Tier III being at Tier I, he asked Neimar and he couldn’t recall anyone even attempting to face a similar foe at Tier 0. It simply wasn’t done even before creating a core. And nobody will face a tier IV, there was a qualitative jump in power after crossing that threshold that made it impossible for someone of a lower tier to even think of defeating a Tier IV.

  What kind of abilities does a being like that possess? I still have to see a fraction of what Neimar is capable of, but still a being a tier lower sholdn’t be a slouch either. Especially if trained in the same way. But a Tier III, while being incredibly strong, I think I can take it down. I know the anatomy, I know the its abilities, everything about it had being documented in the thought-knots, it’s a good match up for me. I can do it.

  A thrill of excitement run down his spine, after fighting against the Sovereign in many spars, the frustration of never being able to hit or even slightly inconvenience his master was getting to him. He knew he had no chance since the beginning, but that didn’t make thousands of lost bouts any more easy to swallow.

  I want a fight, a fight I can use to push myself to higher heights, I’ll be a Tier I soon, I won’t be able to surpass three Tier of difference then, and if the System has good rewards for such a feat, it’s better I claim them now no?

  Raime was pretty sure of his capabilities, but will not risk death just for a chance at a reward, he knew that Neimar was always watching, it was his safety net in the garden, it happened already that he was overwhelmed by the beasts and the Sovereign had to intervene, the first time it happened was quite the scare.

  “Since when did I become an adrenaline junkie?” Raime said while laughing to himself.

  This place is getting to me. Maybe it’s the lack of anything resembling normal life—no music, no screens, no books—but somehow, fighting has become my form of entertainment. And the worst part? I like it. No, I fucking love it. There’s nothing that compares to the rush of testing your mettle against another creature and winning. That primal surge of survival, the raw certainty that you earned another breath… it’s intoxicating. Better than sex, maybe. Well—depends on the company.

  For a moment his thoughts drifted back to Alice, his girlfriend was somewhere back on Earth, probably with her family. Would they be able to meet again with the System in the way? Did he even want it? Not the time. He cleared his head from distracting thoughts and moved forward silently, each step measured. His mind expanded outward, tracing the contours of the landscape — fallen pillars overgrown with luminous moss, shattered statues, crystal ponds reflecting the sky.

  Then, faintly, a presence stirred.

  It felt vast — like a mountain breathing. The pressure that washed over him wasn’t malicious, but great, ancient. The beast’s mind brushed his, a slow, curious pulse of awareness. It wasn’t used to prey getting close by their own volition.

  Raime exhaled, centering himself. His aura folded tight, a blade of will.

  From the shadows ahead, the foliage parted — and something enormous shifted within. The beast was at least three and a half to four meters tall, four legs like pillars connected to a comparatively short torso, it looked symmetrical on each side, no head was present anywhere, but a great mouth opened on its underside.

  What wasn’t understandable with just a cursory glance was its real abilities. From the information Raime had, he learned that the creatures were used as war mounts for many reasons: they were incredibly sturdy, their hip and knee joints were enarthrosis, meaning, they were capable of bending in any direction, their claws could pierce any surface and they moved at a ludicrous speed for their size. But the greatest of their qualities were the innate understanding they had of their knight and their surroundings. Despite not having eyes, the creature could perceive their surroundings perfectly, and the intention of the creature around them even better. In fact whoever bonded with these creatures didn’t need to command them ever, they instinctively moved in the desired direction, and even in the middle of the battlefield they will position themselves perfectly. Now, one of them was in front of Raime.

  The harlven moved toward him, the motion deliberate, predatory.

  Raime felt his heartbeat slow. Every instinct screamed, but his mind was calm.

  “This is what I wanted,” he whispered. “Now give me a challenge.”

  The beast lowered its stance, claws gouging stone.

  Raime’s thoughts flickered, and the two minds constantly running different operation merged again in one, there was no need to focus on his surroundings, all his attention was needed for the beast in front of him. Raime felt his surroundings move slower, the sounds were coming to him dilated, the rustle of the leaves strange in his ears.

  For a moment, neither moved.

  Then — a roar split the garden, shaking crystals mushrooms loose from the trees.

  Raime smiled, he took a stance and primed his body to respond at a moment notice.

  “Let’s see what you’re made of.”