Chapter 79

  The house greeted them with silence and the familiar creak of tired walls, despite being reinforced by stone from the outside, the internal environment suffered no changes. Backpacks were dropped near the entrance, weapons leaned carefully against the rack Alessandro had welded together days earlier, and for a few seconds no one spoke. The kind of quiet that followed exertion settled over them, heavy and earned.

  Laura was the first to break it, rubbing her neck as she stepped out of her boots. “I need a shower. A long one.”

  “You and me both,” Alessandro said, already rolling his shoulders as if trying to work the stiffness out of them. He glanced toward the back of the house. “I’ll start the generator.”

  The twins perked up instantly.

  “Dibs on second shower,” Albert said.

  “You said that last time,” Victor shot back. “And you stayed in there forever.”

  Alessandro pointed at them both without slowing his pace. “Quick showers. Both of you. We need to save resources when we can, remember?”

  “Yes, yes,” they chorused, already half-running down the hall.

  As the low hum of the generator began to thrum through the floorboards, the rest of them sank into chairs or leaned against the walls. Exhaustion clung to them, but underneath it was something brighter, restless.

  Laura exhaled slowly. “Five levels,” she said, shaking her head. “In a couple of fights.”

  “Seven for me,” Alice added, sitting heavily on the arm of the couch. She wiped her face with her sleeve, leaving a faint smear of dirt behind. “Those things were stronger than us. Way stronger.”

  “And yet,” Alessandro said from the doorway, returning now, “we’re still standing.”

  Alessandro lingered in the doorway of the living room, jacket half-unzipped, his posture carrying the particular heaviness of a man who had pushed past his comfort zone. The house hummed faintly as the generator stabilized, a low, reassuring thrum that contrasted sharply with the images still replaying behind his eyes—snapping maws, dirt torn apart by stone spikes, the way fear had crawled up his spine despite all his resolve.

  He looked at Raime, who stood near the window, relaxed, gaze distant in that way that still unsettled him sometimes.

  “Today was… productive,” Alessandro said at last. His voice was calm, measured, but there was no hiding the strain beneath it. “We learned a lot. About our skills. About ourselves.” He paused, then added more quietly, “But I don’t ever want to repeat that kind of experience Raime. Not like that.”

  Raime turned fully toward him. There was no defensiveness in his expression, no surprise either, as if he had been waiting for this exact admission.

  “It wouldn’t work next time anyway,” Raime replied evenly. “Not in the same way.”

  Alessandro frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Because now you expect it,” Raime said. “Fear only has teeth when it’s sudden, when you still think you’re safe by default. Today showed you the danger, and it showed you your weaknesses. You can’t fix what you don’t see.”

  He stepped closer, his tone firm but not harsh. “From tomorrow, there’ll be training. Real training. Control, positioning, stamina, coordination. Then we’ll go back to leveling. And you’ll feel the difference yourselves.”

  Laura, who had been leaning against the kitchen counter with a bottle of water, straightened at that. Her eyes narrowed—not in anger exactly, but in the way only a mother could manage when concern sharpened into something dangerous.

  “I understand putting us through that,” she said, gesturing vaguely between herself and Alessandro. “We’re adults. But did you really have to apply the same thing to your brothers?”

  Raime met her gaze without flinching.

  “I did it mainly for them,” he said.

  That earned him a sharp inhale from her, but he continued before she could interrupt.

  “They needed a wake-up call. All of you did, but especially them. They were starting to think this was a game, despite the previous days happenings. Levels, skills, cool abilities.” His voice lowered. “It isn’t. And it never will be.”

  Laura hesitated, her arms folding over her chest.

  “They won’t forget today,” Raime went on. “They might joke about it later—Albert already did, you know that—but you saw their faces while they were fighting. When the slygi rushed them. They were focused, scared yes, but they tried their best without a single joke. They reached an understanding of how things are right now, and they got it better than all of you how much you need power to live in this world now.”

  Silence stretched for a moment.

  Laura’s jaw tightened. She exhaled slowly, the fight bleeding out of her shoulders. “…I noticed,” she admitted, reluctantly. “I didn’t like it. But I noticed. Raime I don’t want my children to become warriors soldier in a world of monsters, it doesn’t matter if they themselves want it. They are so young… just a week ago I had trouble making them do their homework instead of playing all the time. And now? Haa… look…”

  She took a deep breath, then fixed him with a serious look. “If you plan to do something like this again, I want to be alerted beforehand. Am I clear?”

  Raime smiled—a small, almost boyish thing that softened his features. He straightened and gave her an exaggerated, mock salute.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Laura huffed despite herself, turning away, while Alessandro watched them with a mix of worry and reluctant trust, fully aware that whatever path they were on now, there was no going back.

  Raime then asked something that was on his mind after seeing their ability today. “How was it,” he asked, finally. “Getting a class.”

  They looked at one another, searching for words.

  “It’s… strange,” Laura said after a moment. “After the core and the channels formed, there was this pause. Like everything was waiting. Choosing the class felt like—” she hesitated, then grimaced. “Like someone reached inside and started rearranging things.”

  Alessandro nodded. “Muscles. Tendons. Not physically, but the sensation was there. Something shifted for sure.”

  “And now that we’re levelling,” Alice added, quieter, “it feels like it’s continuing. Like whatever started back then is being finished piece by piece.”

  “Mmm…” Raime gaze was thoughtful then his eyes sharpened. “Albert,” he said suddenly. “Come here.”

  Albert peeked from the hallway, Raime knew he was hiding with his brother just outside of the room, listening. “Uh—why?” He said while pretending to come in the room just now.

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  “Shared affinity,” Raime replied. “I want to check something.”

  Victor followed a second after, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Albert glanced around, a little self-conscious under everyone’s gaze, but eventually stepped closer.

  Raime extended his remaining hand. “Give me your arm. Don’t worry. I just want to take a look.”

  Albert swallowed, then nodded, offering his forearm. Raime’s grip was careful, almost gentle. He closed his eyes.

  Neimar could see inside Raime with perception alone, but he wasn’t there yet. Not by a long shot, he needed contact not physical, but between energies.

  He let the faintest mote of energy slip from himself, thin as a breath, barely more than a wisp. As soon as it touched Albert, it found pathways—open, welcoming passages in his astral body. Raime adjusted immediately, easing his presence so as not to disrupt the flow. Instead of forcing his way through, he followed.

  The probe was carried along Albert’s energy, drawn into the channels the System had carved. Raime’s awareness widened. He saw structure and purpose intertwined: channels spiralling toward the core, branching outward again, looping back on themselves in precise, almost elegant patterns. When the probe brushed against a skill, the flow changed, fractalizing, resonating in repeating geometries that folded into one another.

  Raime felt a flicker of awe.

  So that’s how it does it.

  The class influence was unmistakable. Certain sections of the channels were thicker, reinforced, shaped to favor specific flows. Others were… unfinished. Promises more than conclusions.

  Understanding bloomed, fast and sharp.

  A class wasn’t just a name or a magical thing. It was a restructuring of the meridians themselves. Skills weren’t coming from nothing; they were pre-existing spellforms, created into the astral body through the channels, ready to be fed energy and intent. The core anchored everything, and the modifications were meant to harmonize, to resonate together.

  But that harmony wasn’t complete yet.

  It would be.

  When the class finished forming.

  Raime withdrew the mote carefully, disentangling it from Albert’s flow before pulling his hand back. Albert blinked, flexing his fingers.

  “…That felt weird,” he said. “Not bad. Just—warm.”

  “Thanks, lil’ bro,” Raime said. “That was interesting.”

  They were all staring at him now.

  “Well?” Victor demanded. “You can’t just do that and not explain.”

  Raime exhaled and leaned back against the wall. “A class is a long-term restructuring, probably permanent if someone doesn’t manage to learn how to modify their own channels. The System lays the foundation when you choose it—positioning, reinforcements, predispositions. Levelling continues the work. When it’s complete, I think it unlocks something.”

  “Like what?” Alice asked.

  “A trait,” Raime said. “Or a composite skill. Something born from the resonance between the core, the channels, and every other skill you’ve gained.”

  Laura frowned. “And before that?”

  “Before that, you just have skills,” Raime said simply. “Powerful ones. But not fully unified.”

  Silence followed, broken only by the distant sound of running water as the twins argued over who had really claimed the shower first.

  Alessandro rubbed his chin. “And you saw all this… by touching him.”

  “Not really, I sent a probe in his astral body and followed his pathways.”

  Alice’s gaze lingered on Raime, unsettled. “That’s not normal, is it.”

  “No,” Raime agreed. “But it’s useful to know.”

  “And what does it mean for us?” Laura asked.

  “It means,” Raime said slowly, “that your growth isn’t random. The System is guiding it toward a specific shape. Understanding that shape lets you work with it instead of against it.”

  “And for you?” Alessandro asked.

  Raime’s mouth twitched. “For me, it means creating my own channels is going to be complicated.”

  Victor snorted. “That’s your takeaway?”

  Raime allowed himself a faint smile. “It also means I know it’s possible.”

  Laura studied him, the weight of unasked questions pressing behind her eyes. How did my son become like this? The thought surfaced again, unwelcome and persistent.

  Raime straightened. “Honestly, I’m hoping the System handles my class,” he admitted. “Because even managing to create the channels alone is a tall order. But… I can do it. I just need time.”

  There was a brief silence after that, then Albert leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright in that way that meant trouble.

  “So,” he said, drawing the word out, “when are you going to teach us how to do the things you do?”

  Victor nodded immediately, a beat too fast. “Yeah. The floating. The… mind stuff. And to fight like that!”

  Alice crossed her arms, still upset about the day, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t say anything either, which somehow made her attention sharper.

  Raime had expected it, in truth he was having trouble not to read into anyone mind since he came back to Earth, his wanton use of his mind powers in Ithural made him too much intrusive by default, he had to actively avoid looking in his family head or risking reading their surface thoughts, and that was something he really didn’t want to start doing, there was something sacred in being able to have your thoughts stay your own, he experienced what it felt to be exposed to others, he won’t subject his family to the same treatment.

  He glanced at them, one by one, then looked past them for a moment, inward rather than outward. His thoughts folded in on themselves, threads brushing against one another as he considered it.

  Teaching them psionics, he thought. Not just techniques. Foundations.

  What he’d learned in the Rift hadn’t been gentle. It hadn’t been clean. It had been carved into him through isolation, danger, and necessity. And yet… the System had already pushed them onto a path of structured growth. Cores. Channels. Classes. Skills. A framework meant to carry them forward whether they understood it or not.

  This would be something else.

  Raime exhaled slowly.

  “I wasn’t planning to,” he said at last.

  The twins’ faces fell in perfect unison.

  “But,” he continued, lifting a finger, “that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

  They perked right back up.

  Laura frowned. “Raime—”

  “Not like you think,” he said calmly, turning toward her. “I’m not talking about throwing them into the deep end. And I’m not replacing the System. This would run alongside it.”

  He paused, feeling the familiar presence within him. The Psionic Thread the System had given him lay coiled and quiet, a single filament of potential. He’d worked it, stretched it, learned how it responded to intent. Learned its limits. He had managed to keep that first, pure Thread still untouched, unformed. It was by design, he could create more by himself, but not this pure without a template. That’s why he didn’t use it for his core formation.

  I was going to do this anyway, he realized. Sooner rather than later.

  Raime closed his eyes.

  To the others, it looked like he was simply concentrating. To him, it felt like reaching into a familiar space and pulling it apart with infinite care. The existing Thread responded to his will, vibrating softly as he anchored it, stabilizing it, using it as a template.

  Then he began to pull on the mental energy he possessed in spades now, and divide it.

  One filament became two, then three, then more, each one thinner than the last, spun from the same core intent but tuned slightly differently, shaped with purpose. He worked slowly, methodically. Each new Thread had to be viable on its own.

  When he opened his eyes again, his expression was calm, but there was a faint tension in his shoulders.

  “I can’t teach you everything I can do,” he said. “Not yet. And maybe not ever. Some of it is… personal. Built around how my mind works.”

  Albert grimaced. “Figures.”

  “But,” Raime continued, lifting his hand, “I can give you a starting point.”

  Something shimmered faintly around his palm. Not light, not quite energy either—more like a suggestion of structure, barely visible unless you were looking for it. One by one, thin motes separated from the space around him, five in total, each pulsing with a subdued rhythm.

  Alice’s breath caught. Alessandro straightened.

  “These are Psionic Threads,” Raime said. “Artificial, in a sense. Born to the one the System gave me. Stable enough to exist on their own, but flexible.”

  He extended his hand toward Laura first. “One each. If you want it.”

  Laura hesitated, then reached out. The moment the Thread touched her, it sank into her with a soft, almost inaudible resonance. She stiffened, eyes widening slightly.

  “It feels… strange,” she murmured.

  Raime nodded and moved on. Alessandro accepted his without comment, jaw tight, already focusing inward. The twins barely waited their turn, Victor grinning like he’d just been handed a live grenade, Albert trying—and failing—to look serious.

  Alice was last.

  She looked at the Thread for a long moment before taking it. When she did, her fingers curled reflexively, as if afraid it might slip away.

  “This doesn’t replace your core or channels,” Raime said, once all were distributed. “It won’t give you skills. It won’t level on its own. Think of it as… another way to interact with what you already have.”

  “It’s like cultivation,” Victor said slowly.

  Raime glanced at him, surprised, then nodded. “Something like that. Less rigid. More dependent on awareness and intent. If you have talent for it—and not everyone will—you’ll be able to do some of the things I do. Sense better. Speak telepathically. Maybe, eventually, maybe you’ll be able to do some things I cannot.”

  “And if we don’t?” Victor asked.

  “Then nothing happens,” Raime replied evenly. “It’ll just sit there. Dormant. No harm done.”

  Albert rubbed his hands together. “And you’ll teach us?”

  “Yes,” Raime said. “I’ll guide you. But I won’t force it. This path only works if you choose to walk it.”

  The room was quiet again, but this time the silence buzzed with possibility.

  Raime straightened, the moment passing. “As for practical training—tomorrow, after lunch. Prepare yourselves. We’ll go over the basics. Stance. Awareness. Predicting attacks...”

  Victor groaned theatrically. “You’re going to make it hard, aren’t you?”

  Raime smiled, just a little. “You’ll see.”

  That, somehow, made all of them grimace.