A little boy, not older than twelve, stood naked on cracked, barren earth under a strange, bruised sky. The child wasn't on an ocean like the one he would come to know. Instead, a desert stretched out, dotted with countless isolated puddles of that same black water. Small and utterly alone.
Then a voice ripped through the space. It wasn't inside his head, it was outside, muffled and real.
"So, how many soul cores can you see up there?"
The little boy looked up. Three dim lights hung in the fake black sky: one like a fading ember, one a trapped flash of lightning, and one a hole of perfect darkness that seemed to eat the space around it.
"I see three," he said, his own voice sounding too loud.
The man outside spoke.
"Alright, three. That's good, you—"
A gasp.
"Wait. Did you just say three? Like, three soul cores?"
The little boy nodded at nothing.
"Yes. And they look really cool."
The man was silent for a beat too long.
"Okay, Ashley. Are you really sure it's three you saw? Maybe your eyes are playing tricks."
Ashley tilted his head, considering.
"Hmm. I think you're right, Mr. Examiner."
The man's sigh of relief was audible.
"Ah, you almost got me there. If you had three, that would be news for the whole of Varagos. No one's ever reported three before. So tell me, what do you actually see?"
Ashley pointed.
"I see a fire star in the sky."
"Alright. You're part of the Burns family, after all."
"The second one is lightning. Like lightning in a bottle."
The examiner laughed.
"Ah! That explains the black hair. Not just your father's soul type, but your mother's too. She'll be thrilled. Now, you should—"
But the boy wasn't done.
"Mister Examiner? I see something else. But I don't know if it counts."
The man's voice tightened.
"Oh? What did you see?"
"It's... dark. So dark it almost blends with the rest of the dark. But it's there. I can see it moving."
Outside, the silence was thick and heavy.
"Mister Examiner?"
The man coughed.
"Ahem. Alright, Ashley. I think you should come back now."
The little boy looked down at a puddle. His own reflection smiled back at him. He gave a little wave. The reflection surprisingly waved back. The little boy smiled, closed his eyes, and left the soul space.
And then everything shifted.
***
When he opened his eyes, Ashley was in a bright, white, sterile room. Training equipment lined the walls. In front of him stood a tall man in a lab coat, brown hair messy, glasses slightly crooked. The examiner held a tablet like it was a life raft. His face was pale.
"So," the examiner said, his voice shaky, "three soul cores, huh?"
The boy nodded.
The examiner's eyes widened behind his lenses. He started typing frantically.
"This is new. This is a never-before-seen phenomenon. Do you have any idea what you are?"
The boy narrowed his eyes, thinking.
"I have both my parents' soul types?"
The examiner looked at him, then frowned.
"Yes, but... don't you see it?"
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Of course. I forgot you're just a child."
He paused, searching for words.
"You're a smart kid. All you Burns kids are. Let me explain. Have you ever heard of anyone having three soul cores?"
The boy lifted his head to think. The examiner didn't let him reply.
"Think about it. You have your father's fire. You have your mother's lightning. And you have her darkness. Ashley, you are the first hybrid soul-core user in recorded history to have three. The world... the world is going to lose its mind."
Ashley's face lit up.
"So I'll be as popular as Dad?"
The examiner let out a weak laugh.
"What are you talking about? You're already popular! You're a Burns! Your father is one of the strongest Ascended alive. Your mother is the world's last dark-soul core wielder and a powerful sword saint. Your brother Max is a scientific prodigy they write papers about, and Tyrin is... well, Tyrin is a force of nature. And now you. Three soul cores."
He shook his head in disbelief.
"What lottery did your parents win?"
Despite the praise, the little boy smiled, then grew serious.
"Okay. Now where do I go to check my vessel tier? Mom said it's very important."
The examiner nodded, clicking back into professional mode.
"Ah, yes. The Vessel Tier. It's the number that tells you how strong your body's container is: your natural strength, speed, how fast you heal. Everyone is born with one, and it never changes. It sets the ceiling for how high your soul can climb."
The boy's eyes widened.
"So... my body puts a limit on my soul?"
"Exactly! Like the old saying: 'The soul may soar, but the vessel decides the ceiling.' Your body is the bottle. Your soul is the storm inside. A bigger, stronger bottle can hold a bigger storm. You can train and grow, but you'll always need a vessel strong enough to hold the power safely."
Ashley frowned.
"So even if I work super hard, I can't be stronger than my body allows?"
The examiner shook his head gently.
"You can reach incredible heights! But yes, the frame is set. Treat it well, train smart, and you'll go farther than most dream of."
He smirked.
"Of course, being a Burns, you'll probably win the genetic lottery there too. It's terribly unfair to everyone else."
A cold little stone of anxiety settled in Ashley's stomach.
"What if I get a weak vessel? Wouldn't that make my three cores... useless?"
The man smiled reassuringly.
"Well, that's only if you were born a Tier 0. And let me tell you, no one who can enter their soul space is Tier 0. You're at least a Tier 1. Your brother Max is a Tier 2, and look at the mind he has!"
Ashley's face fell.
"I don't want to be weak like Max. He's okay with it because he's smart. But I'm not... If I get a low tier, Mom and Dad might not like me anymore."
The examiner laughed, then stopped when he saw the boy was dead serious. He cleared his throat.
"I truly don't think that's possible. But if you're worried, let's just find out. That's why you're here."
The examiner led Ashley to another chamber. Inside stood a series of transparent, green-hued walls. The first one, just a few feet away, had two stark letters etched on its surface: T0.
Ashley's eyes went wide with horror.
"Mister Examiner... why does it say Tier 0? Does that mean I'm a zero? Please, take me to another room! The next one will be higher, I'm sure of it!"
The examiner's laughter echoed.
"This never gets old! You kids always panic at the progression wall."
The man saw Ashley's confused, fearful look.
"No, you are not a Tier 0. Probably. We don't know yet. That's why we test the soul first. Only Tiers 1 and up can even access their soul space. Tier 0s are just... regular people. You, my boy, are already more."
The examiner walked to a drawer, pulled out a single, heavy-looking gauntlet, and handed it to Ashley.
"To find your real tier, you punch through each wall. This dampens the feedback. You'll still feel it, but it won't shatter every bone in your arm. Probably."
He paused as he tapped something on his tablet.
"But I recommend you use everything you have. I'd hate to file a bad report for a Burns."
Encouraged by this, Ashley nodded solemnly. The boy slipped his small hand into the large glove, which hummed and adjusted to fit him snugly. He faced the first wall. The T0 glared back. He frowned, wound his arm back, and punched.
The wall shattered like sugar glass. Pop!
Easy.
Ashley beamed.
The examiner smiled and took a note on his tablet.
"Alright. Now smash the next one."
The next wall slid forward. This one was labeled T1. Ashley didn't hesitate. He ran forward and punched. Crack! It dissolved just as easily as the last one. His smile widened. With this, he could consider himself an Ascended.
"Good. The next one is where it gets real," the examiner said, his tone shifting.
"A lot of people stop here. Some break their hands. I should tell you to be careful, but... just go ahead."
The T2 wall loomed. Ashley didn't waste time. He charged forward. His fist connected with a heavier THUD, but the wall still spider-webbed and fell apart. Done. Past where most stopped.
Now the T3 wall stood before him. This was the one. The wall his brother Max couldn't pass. The anxiety returned, a flutter in his chest.
The examiner saw his hesitation.
"Yeah, I get that look a lot. This is the rare air. I heard your brother couldn't break this one, right?"
Ashley nodded.
"Yeah. But I will surpass him. If I don't, Tyrin will laugh at me forever."
The examiner chuckled.
"Then by all means. Make him proud."
Ashley exhaled, coiled his whole body, and threw a punch that came from his toes.
CRUNCH.
The T3 wall didn't just break; it exploded into shimmering dust. Ashley stared at his glowing glove. He'd done it. He wasn't just Tier 2. He was... special.
He didn't wait. He dashed at the T4 wall and punched. BOOM. Gone.
The examiner's eyes bulged.
"Are all you Burns kids just... monsters?"
His momentum building, Ashley was already moving, a blur of childish determination. The T5 wall. He hit it. A deep, resonant GONG shook the room. For a second, nothing. Then a single crack appeared, zigzagging from top to bottom before the entire wall collapsed.
Tier 5. That was his mother's tier.
But that wasn't enough. Ashley turned, breathless, to the next wall. T6. That was his father's tier. And also Tyrin's tier.
A loud clatter echoed—not from any walls. The examiner had dropped his tablet.
"Unbelievable," he whispered.
"Extremely... un-be-liev-able."
To Ashley, however, the words were music. Ashley was special. Rare. Three souls, which was unbelievable, like the examiner had just said. So what if... What if Tier 7 also? Or even... Tier 8? The strongest in the world. Stronger than Dad.
The possibility intoxicated him. A wild, giddy smile spread across his face.
He took off running toward the T6 wall.
The examiner, snapping out of his stupor, saw the boy move. Saw the determined, joyous run. Saw the Tier 6 wall, a barrier meant for legends and monsters, and from what he'd seen from Ashley on the Tier 5 wall, he knew that was the boy's limit. A raw, professional terror seized him.
"NO, WAIT! ASHLEY! STOP!"
Too late.
Ashley threw the punch of his life: a perfect, hopeful, devastatingly stupid punch aimed at a future he could already taste.
The sound wasn't the wall breaking.
It was the wet, sickening SNAP of bone in his own arm.