The farewell was silent. Alexia headed north, her steps light, almost skipping, as if she had just left a theater stage. Ye Chen inclined his head in a respectful gesture before taking the opposite direction, his upright figure vanishing among the trees of the Intermediate Layer.
Indra remained still for a few moments, watching them fade into the distance, until he felt Aurora's golden eyes fixed on him.
"Ready?" she asked, her voice calm, almost melodic.
Indra swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."
Aurora did not seem in any hurry. Her steps were light, elegant, as if the very ground yielded beneath her feet. Indra followed close behind, alert to his surroundings. The silence of the forest was nearly oppressive; after the chaos of the last few hours, the sudden normalcy felt strange, even unsettling.
For a time, neither spoke. Only the distant rustle of leaves broke the stillness. Indra kept his eyes forward, though his mind was in turmoil.
Ye Chen was far too cordial. Aurora, far too enigmatic. Neither of them fits what I expected from the heirs…
Aurora interrupted his thoughts. "You seem uneasy."
Indra blinked, surprised.
"What?"
She glanced sideways at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's written all over your face. You're thinking I'm hiding something, aren't you?"
Indra averted his gaze. "No… it's just that…" he hesitated. "You're not what I imagined."
Aurora arched a silver eyebrow. "And how did you imagine me?"
Indra took a long moment before answering. "Arrogant. Proud. Like Alexia. Or cold and rigid, like Ye Chen. But you…" He paused, searching for the words. "You're different."
Aurora let out a soft laugh, light, without mockery.
"Different is a pretty word. Most prefer to say… dangerous."
A chill ran down Indra's spine. "Dangerous?"
"Yes." Her reply was tranquil, unshaken. "But don't worry, Indra. I have no reason to be your enemy. On the contrary…" She tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I want to see how far you can go."
Indra's stomach tightened. There was no explicit threat, no hostility. But something in the way she looked at him—like one examines a rare jewel—left him deeply unsettled.
They continued in silence a while longer. The path led them to a natural bridge of thick roots spanning a deep abyss. A cold wind blew, carrying the faint echo of rushing water.
Aurora stopped in the middle of the bridge and turned to him. "Indra."
"Hm."
"Have you noticed?" She raised a finger, pointing at his chest. "The forest responds to you. Not to me, not to Alexia, not to Ye Chen. Only you."
Indra shuddered. "I… I don't know why."
Aurora smiled again, but this time there was something enigmatic in her expression, almost reverent. "That is exactly why I want to accompany you."
She resumed her pace, and Indra followed, his heart racing.
Aurora… what do you really want from me?
And deep down, an uncomfortable certainty grew: that in the silence of this forest, the true danger walked right beside him.
---
The way back felt almost too calm, as if the forest had fallen asleep after the chaos of the previous hours. The wind drifted through the high canopies, carrying a freshness that felt almost serene. To Indra, it was a relief.
Aurora walked ahead, light as ever, her silver hair reflecting the flashes of moonlight filtering between the trees. From time to time, she struck up small conversations.
"So, Indra… have you always been this quiet?" she asked, casting him a curious glance.
Indra shrugged. "Depends on the situation." His tone wasn't harsh, but it gave little away.
Aurora smiled, satisfied with his brief answer, as though she were studying his every reaction.
When they came across a Dormant Beast—a creature with stone-like horns and dark hide—Aurora did not hesitate. A swift motion, a blade summoned from her dimensional ring, and the monster was dead before it even realized it had been hunted.
Indra watched in silence. There was no strain in her movements, only absolute precision. She moves as if even the Other Side itself could offer no resistance to her… he thought, intrigued.
Aurora calmly wiped the blade, returned it to her ring, and turned to him with that same soft smile that seemed to hide more than it revealed. "See? The path doesn't always have to be difficult."
Indra only nodded, maintaining his neutral expression.
---
Night had already deepened when they finally crossed the barrier into the Outer Layer. The air felt lighter, less dense, almost welcoming. Indra recognized the sensation at once: it was like returning to a space that, though wild, no longer crushed him.
They stopped in a small clearing. Aurora looked around, as if assessing the territory, then fixed her golden eyes on him.
"So? Where's your shelter?"
Indra hesitated. He did not want to show her the cave, nor reveal the strange inscription glowing on its walls. He took a slow breath before replying: "Here's fine. I can go on alone from here."
Aurora studied him in silence for a moment. The smile she gave was gentle, yet held something enigmatic, as if she understood perfectly what he wished to hide. "I see." Her voice was soft. "Then, until we meet again, Indra."
Without pressing further, she turned and vanished into the forest, the silvery shimmer of her hair swallowed by the night.
---
Indra exhaled slowly, relieved, and returned to the waterfall. The sound of rushing water guided him back to the cave's entrance.
Inside, the inscriptions on the walls still glowed silver, reflecting the bluish light of the moon filtering through the cascade. He frowned. If the moon is blue, why do the glyphs shine in silver?
It made no sense—but it wasn't the first strangeness he had witnessed here. And he was far too exhausted to dwell on it.
His eyes drifted to the boulder blocking the subterranean passage. Unlike last time, it was quiet—no whispers, no latent presence. Just stone, unmoving and cold. The only sound was the waterfall's monotonous veil.
Indra slumped against the wall, drained. His body felt heavy, his mind caught between relief and unease. At least… there's no bear this time… he thought, closing his eyes.
Sleep claimed him before he realized. The night passed in silence, and when he awoke, daylight already pierced through the waterfall. The third day had begun. There was little time left until the end of the Practical Lesson: noon of the following day.
Stretching, he drew a deep breath, trying to gather strength. One more day… I just need to endure one more day.
---
Less than thirty hours—that was all the time he had until the Practical Lesson ended. He harbored no illusions of reaching the top ranks, not when monsters like Ye Chen, Aurora Bianchi, and Alexia Valois gathered points as effortlessly as picking ripe fruit. But one modest, crucial goal burned in his chest: to reach at least one hundred points.
It would not be glorious, but it would spare him utter humiliation. It would keep others from looking at him as a complete failure—a human from the Mortal Plane who should never have crossed the Veil.
His mind raced with calculations. The Outer Layer teemed with Lesser Creatures and Imps. And if fortune favored him, he might stumble upon a few more Dormant Atrocities, maybe even a Shade. Hunting relentlessly, focusing only on survival and accumulation, the goal was within reach.
The true danger—the shadow that froze his blood—was the chance of encountering something worse. That colossal bear from the first night, the one that fled from the abyssal presence sealed within the cave… it was undoubtedly a Dormant Terror. Six cores of pure devastation. And it roamed freely in the Outer Layer. Indra's only prayer was that their paths never crossed again.
The decision was made: he would dedicate himself to the hunt. But first, he needed to be whole.
He sat on the rough ground, assuming a meditation posture. Drawing in the damp, cold air, he began circulating his Qi. Instinctively, he called upon the Harmonious Spiritual Flow, the technique Sophie had recommended. The energy moved, yes, following its established channels—but it was like water sliding over smooth stone: efficient, yet lifeless. Something was missing. Connection. The spark that could turn motion into true power.
Frustrated but unsurprised, he dared once more. He summoned the other four basic techniques, forcing them to work alongside the Harmonious Flow: the Inner Essence Pulse to drive, the Calm Core Rhythm to stabilize, the Latent Soul Breath to flow, and the Serpentine Current of the Core to guide.
The result was an inner maelstrom. His Qi surged into a chaotic torrent, potent but ungoverned, like a river bursting its banks. Different frequencies collided and canceled, creating painful knots along his Magic Veins. His breathing turned ragged, a thin stream of blood trickling from his nose. He was executing them—but not uniting them. Each technique pulled in its own direction, like wild horses tied to the same cart, ready to tear it apart.
Panting, he broke off, pressing his head against the cold stone behind him. The bitterness of frustration coated his tongue. He could feel the missing piece—simple, fundamental—yet it stubbornly eluded him.
And then, the loose threads began to weave together in his mind.
The Sword Dance. Movements that were more than strikes, a body-language of power, a geometry of energy he had barely begun to decipher. Each stance, each transition, was refinement in motion.
And the breathing. Not the common kind, but the rhythm Alexia—mocking as ever—had forced him to learn. That harmony with the environment, that command over his vital flow, making even the forest pollen sway at his tempo. It was the key, the anchor against chaos.
His eyes opened, fixed on the opposite wall without really seeing the stone. And what if…?
The idea did not come as a thunderclap, but as a daring whisper from the depths of his soul.
What if he fused them all?
Not merely the five basic techniques fighting for space, but the Sword Dance as the crucible—the vessel to contain and harmonize them. Using the right breathing, the one that imposed order upon chaos, as the fire to smelt them into a single, indestructible alloy.
Unite the raw knowledge of the Esoteric Society with the ancestral wisdom carved on these walls, and the instincts honed by sheer survival.
The cave seemed to fall silent, the waterfall's roar dwindling to a faint murmur. His heart pounded in his chest—not from fear or exhaustion, but from anticipation.
The air around him stilled, waiting. The phosphorescent pollen that drifted into the cave froze midair, as though holding its breath.
Indra closed his eyes again—not to meditate, but to focus. To envision the impossible fusion. The risk was monumental. Failure could mean anything from exhaustion to the collapse of his Magic Veins, an irreparable spiritual wound.
But the reward… the reward might be the key not only to survival, but to no longer being the weakest link.
He drew a deep breath, and the pollen swirled around him, resonating with the revolution blooming within.
What would happen if he fused the Five Basic Techniques, the concentration of the Sword Dance, and the right breathing?
The answer hung in the air, a dangerous, brilliant potential—ready to be tested in the crucible of his very soul.