The wind howled past Ashborn's ears as he leapt from the decaying platform, the skyline of Axis-E110 shrinking behind him like a neon-drenched memory. From this altitude, any normal being would've panicked, limbs flailing, adrenaline spiking but Ashborn remained perfectly composed. No tension in his brow. No fear in his chest.
Only precision.
[Genesis Fragment - Fully Synced]
Rank: ★★★★★ (Mythic Legendary)
Core Stability: Absolute
Within the depths of his soul, the Fragment pulsed alive, aware, and fundamentally cosmic. It shimmered into existence behind his back, spinning slowly like a miniature, multi-faceted sun forged from concepts older than light itself. Fractal runes spiraled around it, humming in a language the stars had forgotten. The air itself distorted from its gravity as if the laws of creation bent respectfully around it.
Ashborn reached back mid-fall one hand forming a precise gesture with two fingers extended, a command formed not just through motion but intent.
"Proto-Matter Bloom."
His voice cut through the wind like a blade through silence.
Instantly, the Genesis Fragment bloomed.
Like a black lotus opening in reverse time, its layers unfurled into raw, shimmering Proto-Matter glittering with prismatic hues that looked like stardust crystallized mid-thought. The cosmic matter twisted, warped, and obeyed. In a single burst of radiant light, it transformed, solidifying into the form Ashborn imagined with needle-point mental clarity.
[Stellar Skyrider]
The board snapped into existence just below his boots, catching him gracefully a few meters from the ground. Its body was a sleek, obsidian-glass platform, about two meters long, tapering into a pointed tail. Across its surface were flowing cosmic fractal veins, glowing like constellations in motion. The edges shimmered with faint purple-pink hues, pulsing with rhythm matching the beat of Ashborn's Genesis Thread.
Underneath, four starsteel wheels folded inward, shifting into zero-gravity hover mode. The entire board levitated in place, releasing a short, circular vent burst of stardust propulsion, keeping him weightless and perfectly centered.
The propulsion aligned with him like a second heartbeat.
Ashborn gently bent his knees, adjusting his posture. The board responded not to motion but to will. One thought 'Go' and it hummed, lifting him skyward, slicing the air in a seamless ascent.
[Key features in motion]
• Anti-Gravity Matrix: Activated at once, allowing him to glide fluidly as if skating across a celestial ocean. The board obeyed subtle tilts of his foot and micro-thoughts, not crude mechanics.
• Phase-Warp Trails: As he passed near a rising ledge, he casually leaned into it. The board shimmered, phasing through the edge in a silent burst, like mist through a blade. Every 10 seconds, it could slip through reality briefly, perfect for stealth or narrow escapes.
• Genesis Thread Sync: Ashborn didn't need to speak, move, or even think consciously. The board was woven into his will. A flicker of aggression? The board flared, preparing for combat. A glint of curiosity? It angled toward points of interest.
• Void-Brake Pads: As he approached a towering canyon wall, he suddenly halted mid-air without inertia. The Void-Brakes caught him, anchoring against nothingness itself, and he hovered like a hawk scoping a kill.
• Threadforge Rail Mode: He activated this with a sharp blink. From the rear of the board, a glowing trail of Genesis Thread extended behind him like a monorail of light, stitching through the air and across terrain. This created a fast movement
Path or stylized exit route if things went wrong. It shimmered, fading in segments, leaving behind drifting stardust.
Ashborn let out a quiet, satisfied breath as the wind pushed through his coat, now fluttering behind him like a flag of war.
Far below, the metallic urban wilds faded into the curvature of the land. What had been spires and hover-lanes became crumbled ruins, rusted satellite dishes, and overgrown vine-cities. As the board curved left through a narrow mountain passage, the first signs of a genuine forest came into view, a dark sacred sea of ancient trees untouched by technology.
The air changed. No longer humming with neon static but alive with stillness.
Mist rose from tree roots as tall as small buildings. Bioluminescent petals glowed from unseen flora. Unnamed birds of crystalline feathers chirped low melodic notes as if guarding something old. Spirit energy, faint and ethereal, could be felt in the deeper pockets of the woods, a vibration in the base of his spine.
Ashborn narrowed his eyes as he lowered the board gradually through a break in the trees. A clear path presented itself, a clearing surrounded by twisted willows and floating moss-rafts that levitated naturally a few feet above the ground.
"This place..." he whispered, crouching beside an oddly shaped rock formation that had glowing rune-like carvings.
"Yeah. It's still breathing. There are spirits here. I can feel them."
Ashborn hovered in place, boots firmly planted on the Stellar Skyrider, which pulsed faintly beneath him in quiet anticipation. The fractal veins along its body shifted colors, reacting to the unseen energies coiling through the clearing. Before him stood the oddly shaped rock formation, its asymmetrical geometry whispering of something not built, but grown, carved slowly by time, shaped by belief, and etched with glowing runes that shimmered like soft candlelight in a temple long forgotten by civilization.
The runes weren't arranged in neat lines or symmetrical patterns. They spiraled inward, curling like ancient vines of glyph-script, each one subtly shifting between forms that only made sense for a second before collapsing into something new. Each symbol seemed to tug at different instincts: memory, awe, warning, and welcome.
Ashborn narrowed his eyes.
"Runes... maybe a portal to the spirit realm?"
His voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet the clearing somehow listened. The moment he spoke, the carvings flickered, one glyph pulsing a deep cyan before dimming again like a blinking eye.
He didn't move forward.
Instead, he remained aboard the Skyrider, floating silently a few inches above the moss-covered soil. His gaze swept the surroundings. Every tree was twisted in reverent posture toward the monument like spirit-breath drawn into a sleeping god's lungs.
"Mmhmm.."
Ashborn scratched the back of his head, fingers brushing through strands of silvery-black hair as he murmured to himself.
"I am a Cosmic Spirit... (Mythforged Variant - Dream-Surged Hybrid). That makes me part of the spirits' lineage, right?"
"Ugh... I hope they're not hostile..."
He wasn't nervous, per se, he'd faced horrors far worse than death. But the unknown always had a way of curling under the skin of even the most seasoned wanderers. His existence as a cosmic spirit gave him a metaphysical edge, sure. But lineage didn't always mean welcome, especially not in a place this ancient.
He shifted slightly, letting the Skyrider drift sideways for a better view of the formation. As it did, the runes flickered again, this time more deliberately.
Three glyphs on the lower edge rearranged themselves into a trinary spiral, one blue, one violet, and one ember-gold. As the spiral completed its slow rotation, a resonant tone vibrated through the ground, low and steady, like a voice humming beneath the forest floor.
Ashborn felt it before he understood it.
Recognition.
Not verbal. Not written Spiritually.
The formation had noticed him.
It didn't attack. It didn't invite him either.
But it acknowledged him. That alone was rare.
Behind him, wind pushed softly through the leaves. A fox-like silhouette made of semi-translucent petals drifted through the trees, watching him with five glowing eyes before fading into its mist. Spirit fauna. They were watching.
He raised a hand toward the rune formation, not quite touching, letting his Genesis Thread pulse faintly from his palm. Golden threads fluttered through the air like strands of astral silk.
"Let's see if we can talk without killing each other..."
His tone was dry, cautious yet tinged with a wry smirk.
"That'd be a nice change."
As the threads approached the rune-spiral, a ripple spread across the rock's formation. Like moonlight on water.
And the world answered...
---
The ripple across the rune-stone deepened into a pulse, one heartbeat, then two, each resonating with a hum that bypassed Ashborn's ears and struck directly at his Cosmic Core. His Genesis Thread reacted instantly, flaring out his palm like the opening bloom of a golden lotus. Thin threads of light, each one shimmering with miniature galaxies, reached toward the runes, seeking communion, not dominance.
The moment the treads touched the spiraling glyphs, a surge of memory flooded Ashborn's senses not his own but the memory of the land itself.
[Astral Echo Detected]
Initiating: Spirit-World Handshake Protocol.
The message unfurled across his mind like a system notification wrapped in an incantation. The threads of Genesis pulsed once, then retracted slightly just enough to allow a dance of energies to spiral from the runes into the air.
The air split like silk being unwoven, and a tear-shaped breach formed in the space between Ashborn and the rock formation.
It wasn't a portal in the traditional sense. There was no door, no gate. Instead, space thinned, the boundaries between realms bending like heat on a desert road. Within the shimmering distortion, he could see shifting terrains: A forest with crystal-trees glowing with internal biolight, a sky made of turning parchment etched with calligraphy instead of stars, and distant figures, humanoid yet weightless, drifting like echoes of themselves.
Ashborn narrowed his eyes, whispering under his breath:
"A spirit realm overlay. Not a full transition... a veil breach."
It wasn't dragging him in. But it was testing his resonance. The spirits weren't hostile not yet... but they were cautious, and their realm had rules older than empires.
Ashborn floated down from the Stellar Skyrider, letting his boots lightly touch the moss-covered ground. His senses heightened. The soft soil felt alive, threads of spirit energy wove through it like fungal roots of emotion. He exhaled slowly and stepped forward, closer to the breach.
The moment he passed the edge of the rune formation's radius, he felt it:
Pressure.
It wasn't gravity. It wasn't forced. It was history. The weight of stories untold and lives unlived pressed gently but firmly on his soul.
Then they appeared.
Not with a grand entrance, not with a roar of trumpets or celestial flare. They simply... were.
Three figures emerged from the breach, hovering slightly above the ground.
• The first was cloaked in liquid bark, with antlers shaped like interlocked crescent moons. Its face was featureless save for a single eye in the chest, a vertical slit of shifting nebulae.
• The second was wrapped in twilight mist, her form constantly shifting between a laughing child and a wrinkled elder. Around her neck hung a chain of woven shadows.
• The third wore ornate spirit armor, jagged yet refined, composed of obsidian feathers and bone-gold plate. His presence was warlike, but not hostile. A sentinel.
Ashborn stood tall, unfazed, though he could feel the pulsing hum with his bones, the very world watching him through these emissaries.
The first spoke not in words, but in overlapping impressions. Emotion made language. Meaning made music.
[You are not of this world. You are forged, not born. Yet... you carry the scent of the Primordial Loom. You thread the Thread-Path. Why?]
Ashborn tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as his Genesis Thread lightly coiled around his arms like living runes.
"Because I was thrown into this world by forces that don't even bother to explain their rules. So, I make my path. I walk because if I stop, the stars might just fall apart."
The second spirit tilted her head, a smile flickering through time:
[Cosmic Spirit... Mythforged... a Dream-Surged Hybrid... Your kind should not exist, yet you do. Will you unravel this world or weave it anew?]
Ashborn exhaled, golden sparks leaking from his fingertips.
"Depends. Are the threads rotten? Or do they still have songs worth listening to?"
The third spirit, silent until now, stepped forward, his armor humming.
[You carry Genesis. A fragment seeded in paradox. Such power can anchor or annihilate.]
Then, for the first time, actual words were spoken. Real sound. A tone that split the stillness.
"Do you seek the Rite of Recognition?"
Ashborn blinked once. Then a slow grin curled across his face.
"If that gets me through the veil and keeps you all from stabbing me, yeah. Let's go with that."
The spirits nodded in unison.
Suddenly, the rune formation behind him flared bright white. Vines of energy burst upward like flame, encircling Ashborn and lifting him a few feet off the ground. His Genesis Threads responded automatically, binding with the energy, syncing not resisting.
A spiral of story energy and spiritual frequency began to etch itself around his form. Each symbol branded onto the air was a question:
• Will you respect the old ways?
• Will you create, not just destroy?
• Will you walk the world as one of us, or above us?
Ashborn, floating within the ring of light, closed his eyes. His mind reached inward, to the Genesis Fragment, to the [Null-Crown Lens Interface, to the Mythoscape Flux, to the truth of who and what he was becoming.
Then he spoke, not to the spirits, but to the very Thread-Laws watching from behind the veil.
"I don't need to be one of you."
"I already am."
The forest exploded with silent light.
A new glyph branded itself on Ashborn's chest not burning, not carved but woven into his spirit.
[Spirit Acknowledgement Complete.]
Threadline Recognition: Granted. You may walk through the Veil.
The spirits vanished, as if they'd only ever been made of fog.
And the veil? It peeled open like a curtain of breath and memory.
Ashborn stepped forward, boots brushing the moss once more.
His grin faded into a solemn calm.
"Let's see what your spirit realm has to offer..."
And then, he walked through the veil, into the unknown.
---
---
---
Ashborn's boots sank ever so slightly into the dreamlike soil as he passed through the veil. The sensation was surreal, like stepping into warm fog made of memory and myth. Yet his senses stayed sharp. Behind him, the tear in reality stitched itself closed with a faint chime, leaving only the ambient shimmer of spirit energy clinging to the air like dust motes caught in starlight.
His brow furrowed slightly.
"Those three didn't look like cute spirits at all. The hell kind of forest summons nightmares NPCs to give out rites?"
Ashborn muttered dryly, shaking his head with a raised eyebrow as he trudged forward.
"They looked cursed. Straight out of a cosmic horror folklore manual. One blinked sideways. SIDEWAYS."
He weaved his hand dismissively in the air, as though trying to brush off the weird residual vibes still crawling on his skin. His Genesis Threads reacted to his shield ring around him, not for defense but emotional insulation. Even his system chimed in quietly
[Mental Distortion Threshold: Stable]
[Anomalous Aura Recognition: Passive Dampening Engaged]
[Spirit Realm Realm type: Layered Fluxfield - Unstable Spiritual Ecology Detected]
"Great. So I'm not just in the spirit realm, I'm in the weird basement level of it."
He sighed again, more amused than annoyed now, and kept walking.
----
The scenery was unnaturally gorgeous. The trees here weren't just tall, they were Monolithic, humming bark that shimmered with script. Their leaves were like glass feathers, constantly falling in slow motion only to rise again, reversing gravity on a whim.
Color had no allegiance to reality here, the sky shifted hues with Ashborn's heartbeat, and clouds formed symbols he swore he almost understood. A soft wind carried laughter and sorrow in equal measure, and sometimes, from the corner of his eye, he'd catch a glimpse of small shadowy figures watching him from behind glowing mushrooms the size of a cottage.
He finally paused near a floating lake- yes, floating and suspended in air like a bubble, reflecting everything around it upside-down. The reflection showed him... but distorted.
In the mirror-water, Ashborn looked older, with long spirit-threaded hair and a crown of threadlight. His Wraith MK1 outfit shimmered with divine fractals, and his shadow behind him? It moved with a will of its own.
He blinked. The image didn't change.
"Oh, come on now," he murmured. "This realm has a higher weirdness ratio than the horror dungeon I woke up in. Where the hell are the actual spirits? I thought this place would be full of fluffy wisps, chirpy soul foxes, and floating tea houses. Instead, I get soul-mirror jump scares and cursed eye-beasts in fancy armor."
He crouched near the hovering lake and dipped his hand inside.
The water didn't feel like water, it felt like warm silk and soft voices. A thousand languages whispered at once, not threatening, but curious.
His Genesis Thread reacted instantly.
[Thread-Recognition Anchor Point Found.]
[Would you like to establish a Spirit Domain anchor?]
[Y/N]
Ashborn tilted his head.
"A domain anchor? Here? I mean... It's creepy, but it's got character."
He smirked.
"Yeah. Let's make this weird-ass place mine."
He confirmed it with thought alone.
The air shimmered around him as his Genesis Thread erupted outward like a burst of starlight webbing. Threads snapped through trees, wove across the bubble lake, and sank into the soil. The entire area trembled as his presence was claimed.
[Spirit Domain Anchor Established - Territory: Veiled Glade of Woven Echoes]
[Status: Semi-Stable | Sub-Realm Bonded]
[Spirit Attraction Probability: Increased by 440%]
[Warning: Not all spirits attracted will be friendly.]
Ashborn slowly stood back up.
"Yeah. No shit."
He looked around one more time. The trees whispered in deeper tones now. Shadows seemed to shift in anticipation. Somewhere in the sky, a giant winged shape circled.
Ashborn dusted his coat, cracked his neck, and sighed.
"Alright. Bring on the not-so-cute spirits. Let's see what this cursed fairy tale has to offer."
----
Ashborn settled onto a moss-covered stone at the edge of the floating lake, the rippling surface reflecting his Wraith MK1 silhouette and the kaleidoscopic Spirit Realm Beyond. He closed his eyes, centering his breathing, and let his mind drift into the loom of his powers, one by one, he would call them forth, experiment, and refine.
---
---
---
• [Echo-Loom Spiral Test]
He flexed his cosmic core's [Null-Crown Lens Interface] feeling the dream-logic pulse in his veins. With a thought, he wove a single thread of Echo-Loom Spiral from his right palm. The golden Filament shimmered in the air, inscribing the word "Hope" in living light. Instantly that thread solidified into a tiny beating heart of energy, warm and buoyant.
Ashborn fed it a whisper of courage: the heart exploded, bursting into a spray of small threads that coalesced into a hovering, translucent shield before him. He slapped it with the edge of his fist, no crack, no shatter. Instead the heart split, spawning three smaller protective motes that darted to flank him.
"Not bad," he murmured, letting the motes swirl, then dissipate into stardust.
"Hope's a good thing."
---
[Rage Thread Drill]
He shifted emotion, calling on the Rage Thread by recalling the sting of the Null-Crown's first strike. Golden-red strands sparked around his fists, each thread humming with pent-up fury. He punched the air; each strike sent shockwaves through the clearing, cracking phantom echoes in the spirit-tree bark behind him.
Then he tightened and focused: the threads braided into gauntlets of pure energy around his wrists. A single punch into the floating lake sent ripples cascading in concentric circles, glowing orange as they raced outward.
"Okay. Strength works."
He coaxed them to retract, the gauntlets melting into motes.
---
[Resolve Thread Meditation]
Switching gears, Ashborn exhaled deeply and summoned Resolve Thread, soft blue-white filaments wove through his chest, infusing him with calm. He closed his eyes, letting the threads pulse in time with his heartbeat. A small readout flickered in his System HUD:
• MP Regen Rate: +37%
• Passive Shield: Active
He tested it by draining a chunk of mana and then watched as it refilled twice as fast.
"Nice," he whispered. "Stabilizing in hostile realms."
---
[Void Thread Evasion Drill]
He tapped the void-imbued corner of his mind, invoking Void Thread, Suddenly his shadow flickered: for a split-second, two Ashborn stood side-by-side. A spirit-wisp drifted between them and he lunged, only to find the wisp gone, reappearing behind him.
The Void Thread had given him a 22% auto-evasion chance. He grinned, darting forward and back in stutter-steps, phasing through tree roots, leaving afterimages that cracked with static.
"Time-lag dodge, check."
---
[Divine Thread Imprint]
A distant spirit-owl screeched; Ashborn's intellect kicked in. He focused on the sound's resonance, imprinting it into his Divine Thread. Golden threads looped through his ears, capturing the owl's spectral frequency. He then wove them into a strand, flicking it outward. The strand coalesced into a miniature echo-owl, wings beating in translucent loops, cooing softly before dissolving.
"I can record and replay divine patterns... cool."
---
[Reality-Weaving Tweak]
Finally, he tested Reality-Weaving in micro. He raised a hand and willed gravity to double within a one-meter radius around his left foot. The floating lake's surface beneath him dipped sharply, as if drawn downward by an invisible force. Then he reversed it, and water jetted upward in a silent plume, before settling back to calm.
"Localized physics, done."
----
----
----
He opened his eyes, the three spirit-sentinels silently observing from beyond the breach. Ashborn smiled wryly. As he settled deeper onto the mossy bank, the Spirit Domain Anchor [Veiled Glade of Woven Echoes] hummed softly beneath him. All around the forest breathed: glass-feathered leaves fluttered in zero wind, and phosphorescent fungi pulsed with ancient memory. The three spirit-sentinels hovered at the edges of his vision, silent but attentive.
He exhaled, letting the Genesis Thread pulse in his veins. Then, without looking up, he spoke calmly:
"Well? Do you have something to say? Because if you don't I'm going to keep training."
The forest held its breath. Then a single figure emerged from the mist, a tall spirit wreathed in vine-lights, eyes like liquid dusk. It bowed once, as if acknowledging his challenge.
Spirit of the Glade's voice echoes softly
"Mortal of the Seventh Thread... we are your witnesses. Show us your mastery."
Ashborn nodded and rose to his feet. He drew a slow circle in the air with one hand, and a ripple in space opened at his fingertip:
---
[Warping Space]
Ashborn twisted his palm inward, and the air before him folded into a dome of undulating field. He stepped inside, and the space contracted. Rocks at the dome's edge snapped forward, colliding into each other in slow motion, an earthquake under his command. With a flick, he reversed the dome, sending the stones sailing backward along curved trajectories before the field dissipated, scattering pebbles like shooting stars.
"Gravity on cue, check"
---
[Shaping Light]
He swirled his fingers in fine arcs. Beams of pure white light crystallized into solid blades, six short swords hovering in a perfect circle around him, glowing softly. He plucked one and slashed through the stump of a tree; the blade cut through wood as if it were mist, sprouting blossoms of radiant pollen that drifted into the canopy.
"Light can be a shield or a blade."
---
[Dream-Wrought Flame (Bloodline: Stage II]]
Ashborn recalled his mother's lesson, focusing the Genesis Flame through his draconic core. A spiraling blue-white fire erupted from his throat, burning a sigil into the air: a drake's wing unfurled in flame. He traced the wing downward, and a wave of dream-flame washed over a patch of grass, turning it into crystalline ash that glowed with residual sleep-echoes. As the ash faded, the grass regrew instantly, proof of the flame's paradoxical gift and curse.
"Dream-fire both ends death and grants rebirth."
----
[Entropy Surge]
Ashborn planted both palms on a moss-covered boulder. Black runes flickered into view on its surface. He channeled entropy through his core: the boulder's edges crumbled, falling into a fine gray dust that drifted away. He let the dust hang, and he wove a restored thread, pulling two pebbles from the dust and reassembling them into a perfect sphere that hovered at eye level.
"Decay and Creation, the two halves of the same coin"
---
[Cosmic Energy Manipulation]
He raised his arms and called upon raw cosmic energy, drawing faint starlight from the glade's aura. His muscles brimmed with ghostly power, strength, and speed flowing through his veins. With a roar, he punched the air: a shockwave of azure energy burst outward, bending tree trunks in a wide arc, then withdrew as though the forest respected his restraint.
"Harness the stars. Don't let them harness you."
----
[Absorb Cosmic Radiation]
Ashborn closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The silvery mist around him shimmered as ambient cosmic radiation from distant nebula remnants trapped in this spirit realm flowed into his open palms. He visualized it as liquid starlight, then condensed it into two glowing spheres he held in each hand. The spheres dissipated into his MP reserves, leaving his hands warm with renewed vitality.
"Fuel taken, not stolen."
----
[Shape & Create Matter]
He knelt and sculpted a spiral rune in the soil with his fingertips. As the rune glowed, he channeled his core's matter-creation power. From the rune rose a small crystalline platform, floating at waist height. He held up a fist, and the platform expanded into a perfect circle of stardust-infused obsidian, his training pad, summoned from nothing.
"Genesis method: Gather, Shape, Energize, and Imbue."
----
[Threadforge Constructs]
Ashborn sat on the platform and extended his Genesis Thread into the air. Three constructs spun into being:
• A training dummy shaped like a shifting smoke-wraith.
• A reflective orb capturing his every strike.
• A shield drone that orbited him, scanning for threats.
They hovered, awaiting orders.
"Constructs link: Three active. Perfect."
----
[Cosmic Core Overdrive]
He flexed, heart pounding. The Cosmic Core in his chest glowed white-silver. He activated Overdrive Mode, and the world around him dimmed as energy concentrated. His stats surged:
• Strength: 650
• Speed: 630
• Durability: 600
He delivered a single Overdrive Punch into the dummy. The force demolished it, scattering ethereal fragments. The shield drone collapsed under the feedback. The orb fractured in a blossom of reality-threads.
"All-stats boost, feels like godhood, but... fine control next."
He deactivated Overdrive, and his core hummed as it cooled.
-----
[Mythoscape Flux - Storyweaver Field]
Finally, Ashborn knelt in the center of the platform, his head lowered. He invoked Mythoscape Convergence: Void Harmonics, then watched as the air around him rippled in Storyweaver Field, colors undulating between ruinous black and radiant white, representing the conflict of creation and destruction. He took a deep breath and focused on a memory of joy, his siblings laughing beneath the Eclipseroot Tree.
The field shifted to Radiantforce Harmony, and a halo of pure light formed around him. Then he focused on betrayal, his battle with Null-Crown. The field flickered to Ruinforce Bias, darkening around him.
Ashborn opened his eyes, the haloes coexisting, prismatic and void blending into a dual-aura that crackled with raw narrative power.
"Mythoscape balanced. Nothing short of perfect chaos."
He stood, brushing dust from his coat. The spirit-sentinels, newly drawn by his display, drifted closer and curious, respectful, and unmoving.
Ashborn gave a small nod.
---
---
---
Ashborn settled back onto the obsidian platform, freshly summoned by his Genesis Threads, its surface humming faintly under his boots. Around him, the floating lake's mirrored water rippled in concentric circles as if drawn to his presence. The three spirit-sentinels hovered silently at the edge of the clearing, their forms shifting like living smoke.
He took a deep breath, letting the pulse of the realm settle in his chest, then stood.
"Alright, let's run it back. This time... every detail."
[Warping Space]
Ashborn extended both hands to the void before him. He closed his eyes, listening to the silent hum of existence. Fingers played, he willed a narrow ribbon of space to stretch and curl.
• Fissure Formation: A silver tear opened mid-air, slender as a blade.
• Pocket Creation: He guided the tear into forming a small pocket dimension, an inverted sphere of darkness edged with starlight.
• Reinjection: With a thought, he collapsed the pocket, roaring as the reflected shockwave slashed through phantom vines behind him. The vines bent backward in a perfect arc, then snapped back once the field dissipated.
Every shift left a ringing echo in his ears. He grinned.
"Pocket warp precise and reversible."
----
[Shaping light]
Next, Ashborn called on pure luminosity. Raising one palm overhead, he summoned ambient photons from the twilight sky.
• Photon Weave: Threads of pure light braided between his fingers.
• Blade Sculpt: He flicked his wrist, six radiant daggers materialized, each three feet long, blades translucent and humming soft soprano tones.
• Projected Strike: He threw one into the stump of a broken tree; it phased through wood as if the tree were liquid, leaving behind a growth of luminous spores that drifted upward.
• Retrieval: He willed the dagger back; it dissolved into pure light, rejoining his inner reserves.
He let the remaining five revolve around him like a rotating siege engine.
"Light is both weapon and art."
---
Dream-Wrought Flame]
Ashborn's core flared as he tapped the Bloodline Flame. He inhaled deeply, feeling the draconic spark awaken in his throat.
• Incantationless Breath: No words just will.
• Spiral Flame Eruption: A coiling ribbon of blue-white fire shot forth, carving a cosmic glyph into the air: a drake's wing traced in flame.
• Ash & Renewal: He directed the flame onto the moss; it incinerated the patch to crystalline ash. Then with a secondary thread, he wove the ashes back into living green moss, now threaded with starlight.
The spirit-dust hung in the air for a heartbeat before drifting into the canopy.
"Dream-fire: Rewrite reality, then unwrite my own mistakes."
---
[Entropy Surge]
He crouched to the ground and placed both hands on a mossy boulder:
• Entropy Glyph: Black runes flared at his fingertips, cascading across the stone's surface.
• Decay Push: He drove those runes inward, sections of the rock crumbled into fine gray dust, swirling upward.
• Selective Reconstruction: Ashborn pulled a slender thread of creation from the ambient mote-field, weaving two pebbles back into a perfect sphere.
He tossed the sphere into the lake where it floated, spinning like a tiny moon.
"Entropy and genesis, two sides of my core."
---
[Cosmic Energy Manipulation]
Ashborn straightened and drew in a deep lungful of the glade's dream-ether. His veins glowed with starlight.
• Energy Conduit: He flexed, drawing strands of cosmic energy through his limbs.
• Shockwave Coil: In a single motion he thrust his elbow forward, an azure shockwave ripped through the air, flattening spectral ferns beyond the lake's edge.
• Energy Lensing: He cupped his hands, condensing stray cosmic pulses into a floating orb of violet light that hovered before him.
He kicked off a stone and vaulted over the orb; it followed his trajectory, trailing an ethereal tail.
"Harness the cosmos... then dance with it."
---
[Absorbing Cosmic Radiation]
Standing on the platform Ashborn opened his palms skyward:
• Radiation Draw: He inhaled the faint starlight drifting in the glade. Shimmering motes condensed into a silver mist above his hands.
• Aura Infusion: He let the mist flow into his core; his skin glowed white for an instant.
• Reserve Charge: A readout flickered in his mind: MP +12%, SP +8%.
He flexed his fingers, dispersing lingering motes like static.
"Fuel for the ride."
---
[Shape & Create Matter]
Ashborn knelt atop the crystalline pad and traced the familiar Gather > Shape > Energize > Imbue sequence:
• Gather: He summoned elemental starlight tiny motes of Proto-Matter into his palm.
• Shape: With a sculptor's grace, he formed a humming sphere the size of a fist.
• Energize: He channeled a surge of Genesis Thread into the sphere; its surface crackled with living runes.
• Imbue: He tucked the sphere into his Cosmic Core inventory for later retrieval.
Then, with a soft laugh, he pulled it out again and tossed it high, the sphere burst into dozens of glowing star-butterflies before fading.
"Matter at my fingertips."
---
[Threadforge Constructs]
He sat cross-legged and wove his Genesis Threads outward"
• Dummy Weave: A ghostly training dummy coalesced, four-armed and shifting like quicksilver.
• Orb of Reflection: Next a crystallized orb hovered, reflecting each movement with nanosecond precision.
• Shield Drone: Finally a pulsing mote of light took orbit ready to intercept any attack.
They hovered, awaiting his command.
"Constructs check."
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[Cosmic Core Overdrive]
Ashborn's Cosmic Core glowed fiercely. He tapped his solar plexus and engaged Overdrive:
• Strength soared to 650
• Speed to 630
• Durability to 600
His heartbeat thundered. He pushed off the platform and in mid-air, unleashed an Overdrive Strike at the dummy:
• Shock Impact: His fist detonated on spectral flesh, sending splinters of ether in all directions.
• Aftershock: The shockwave collapsed the orb and drum-beat drone in one pulse.
• Cooling Feedback: His core trembled as it released the Overdrive state, bathing him in soft white light.
"Peak performance controlled."
---
[Mythoscape Flux - Storyweaver Field]
For the grand finale, Ashborn planted both feet on the pad and lifted his gaze to the shivering sky. He invoked Mythoscape Convergence:
• Void Harmonics: The air shimmered black around his boots.
• Radiant Harmony: White arcs of light danced at his shoulders.
• Emotional Sync: He pictured his sister's laughter, threads pulsed gold.
• Betrayal Echo: He summoned the sting of Null-Crown's blow, and threads flickered crimson.
His aura became a prismatic storm balanced between creation and ruin. The dummy and constructs rematerialized briefly then bowed in unison before him.
"Storyweaver woven."
---
Ashborn exhaled, the energy swirling down into gentle motes that drifted into the spirit-woods. The three sentinels bowed in recognition. He stepped off the pad, the platform dissolving behind him.
He brushed off his coat and pocketed a final thread fragment as a memento.
"Thanks for watching," he said to the silent watchers. "But I think it's time for me to go."
With a casual flick of his wrist, he summoned the Stellar Skyrider underfoot and launched into the glade's sky, weaving between translucent trees, every power now honed, every thread at the ready for whatever challenge awaited.
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To be continued....