Kaelen regained consciousness to a sensation he had forgotten: Silence.
It was not the hollow peace of the void, but a silence born of absolute
control. It was the kind of quiet shaped by iron discipline rather than the
mere absence of sound.
He opened his eyes.
The dim light of a wooden cabin filtered through the dust. Opposite him sat
a man, his back pressed against the rough-hewn wall. His posture was a
perfect vertical line; his breathing was so slow it was nearly imperceptible.
No aura leaked from him, no power wasted itself on the air, yet the space
felt compressed—as if something vast had been folded inward a thousand
times and sealed behind a human ribcage.
A blade la
y within the man's reach, its steel reflecting nothing.
Kaelen did not move. He measured the air, testing the stability of his own
lungs.
"Y
ou're awake," the man said. His voice was a flat, unemotional resonance
that didn't stir the shadows. "Good."
Kaelen pushed himself upright. Pain rippled through the borrowed vessel
—a reminder of the Rank 10 frailty—but the body endured. The golden
fractures that had threatened to tear his skin apart during the release of his
weight had dulled into faint, silvery scars.
"You are not the original soul," the man continued, his gaze unblinking.
"And yet, you are not unstable."
Kaelen met his stare with eyes that had watched the birth of stars.
"Correct," Kaelen replied, his voice raspy but firm. "And you are not a
common survivor of the outskirts."
"I was his teacher," the man said. "This body belonged to my student."
There was no accusation in the words, only a heavy
, factual grief. Kaelen
felt it then—the faint, lingering presence buried deep within the marrow of
the flesh. It was not a ghost of resistance or a tremor of fear. It was
something far rarer in the cosmos.
Consent.
"So you noticed," Kaelen said softly.
"I noticed when your soul didn't instantly turn him to ash," the teacher
replied. "A Rank Ten vessel cannot endure that kind of density without a
reason. He is holding the door open for you."
A dense silence settled between them, thick as the fog of the lowlands.
"State your nature," the teacher commanded."
"A soul too heavy to exist freely," Kaelen answered, the truth echoing with
the weight of a thousand years. "Rejected by The Empyrean Heights.
Exhaled by reality itself."
The man's eyes narrowed, a flash of recognition flickering within them.
"Then you understand the necessity of restraint."
He stood, his movements
fluid and predatory, and walked toward a metal
plate etched with glowing lines and ancient symbols.
"This is the Evil Realm," he said, gesturing to the map. "Divided into the
Four Cardinal Regions: East, West, North, and South. We stand now on the
jagged outskirts of the East Region."
Kaelen studied the la
yout. He saw the artificial divisions, the controlled
flow of energy. "A containment design," Kaelen murmured. "A cage
disguised as a world."
The teacher neither agreed nor denied. "In this realm, power is called K
yz.
It is the currency of the spirit, residing in the souls of humans and beasts
alike. Awakening allows you to touch it. Absorption allows you to grow."
"
And the cost?" Kaelen asked, sensing the trap.
"The soul expands," the teacher said. "The Kyz increases, but the identity
thins. One becomes a vessel for power until there is no 'self' left to hold the
cup."
He explained the hierarchy without ceremony: Rank Ten to Rank Zero. The
lower the number, the closer one stood to the precipice.
"Rank Zero masters become the gods of the Evil Realm," he said, his voice
dropping an octave. "But they lose what remains of their humanity. They
become monuments of power, static and cold."
"
And beasts?"
"Eternal. They do not seek identity; they only seek to consume."
Kaelen looked at his own scarred hands. "So everyone strengthens the soul
until the soul overwhelms the man."
"Yes."
"
And you?" Kaelen asked, his gaze piercing the teacher's composure. "You
stand at the very edge of the abyss, yet you remain human. Why?"
The temper
ature in the cabin seemed to drop.
"I crossed the line once," the teacher said, his voice tightening. "I lost
control. I became the monster the Kyz demanded I be."
Kaelen waited, sensing the ghost of a tragedy.
"My student intervened," the man continued. "In my madness, I killed him"
The words were stripped of all ornament, raw and bleeding.
"At the moment of his death," the teacher said, "he chose to fuse his Kyz
with mine. He didn't fight me. He embraced me."
Kaelen'
s gaze sharpened. "An intentional sacrifice."
"
A final act of will," the teacher said. "He anchored me. He tethered my soul
to his own dying wish, and in doing so, he sealed my growth forever. I
cannot become a god, but I can remain a man."
The teacher looked at Kaelen directly, a silent understanding passing
between the ancient soul and the broken master.
"Y
ou are different," the teacher observed. "Others use Kyz to expand the
soul, to grow larger than the world. You do the opposite."
"I do," Kaelen replied.
"Y
ou strip the Kyz away," the teacher said. "You use it to reinforce the
vessel instead. You aren't trying to grow; you are trying to build a cage
strong enough to hold what you already are."
"A prison," the teacher mused.
"A necessary one," Kaelen answered. "For if the cage breaks, the world
breaks with it."
Outside, the East Region stretched toward a dark horizon—a landscape of four paths and a thousand ways to die.
Kaelen closed his eyes. The soul within him was a vast, silent ocean. The body was a leaking boat.
For now, the balance held.