Night had settled over Crescent City, casting long shadows through the cracked windows of the orphanage. The city's glow flickered in the distance—part electric, part magical. Neon lights danced with elemental billboards, one flashing a dramatic image of a blazing-haired girl splitting a building in half with a single gesture. Another showed a team of awakened defenders flying over a ruined district.
But Alex wasn't looking at the skyline.
He was seated cross-legged on the floor of his room, eyes closed, hands resting on his knees, breath steady.
Inside, he was somewhere else entirely.
A place where no one could follow.
The World Within
He stood in the center of a boundless void, but now it was no longer empty.
Before him stretched a landscape in slow, pulsing motion. Floating islands hovered above oceans of swirling liquid light. A sky of stars—not real stars, but fractal points of energy—twinkled overhead. Lightning storms crackled along jagged mountain peaks. Rivers flowed with silvery plasma, not water.
And in the heart of it all, hovering just above the central landmass, was the star.
Not the pendant. Not anymore.
This was the true form of the artifact—the Origin Star, its points glowing brighter than ever, humming with power.
Alex could feel its pulse, synchronized with his own heartbeat.
He stepped forward.
"Is it time?" he asked aloud.
In response, the star shuddered once. Then—
BOOM.
A silent detonation of light burst outward from it, washing over the internal world. The void deepened. The light bent. Space folded.
And with it, his mind expanded.
It wasn't just an elemental awakening. This was transcendental. A tether to something vast and ancient, buried in his blood and sparked by the vampire's bite. A power long dormant—celestial, though the world would only see it as space.
Information downloaded into his mind in streams.
Spatial compression.
Folded teleportation.
Dimensional anchoring.
Stasis fields.
Pocket world manifestation.
He clutched his head as it all flowed into him. Not painfully—but intensely. As if his thoughts were being stretched.
When it finally stopped, he opened his eyes back in the real world—and exhaled slowly.
"It's here."
His second element.
Space.
He stood and extended a hand experimentally. The air shimmered. A pulse of force warped the wall across from him. Not damage, but displacement. The surface blurred, folded slightly, then snapped back.
He grinned.
Then staggered.
He was drained. Even more than before.
Every time he tapped into the forming world, every use of power... it took something from him. The Origin Star required energy. His own life-force, his stamina, maybe more.
"I'll need help," he murmured. "Resources."
RSA support could only take him so far. To grow fast enough to keep control—to stop himself from becoming a monster or worse—he'd need access to power sources beyond government rationing.
He needed legacy knowledge.
He needed a clan.
Observation
Far above the city, atop a communication tower cloaked in a perception field, a pair of eyes observed the orphanage window from afar.
The woman leaned into her scope, the wind brushing her raven-black hair behind her long coat. Her eyes were crimson, her skin pale and smooth like polished obsidian.
The same vampire who had bitten him.
She hadn't approached him again since that night. Not directly. She wanted to see what the boy would become.
"Interesting," she whispered, watching a flicker of space energy warp around his window.
Behind her, another figure spoke—a man, his voice rough, clipped. "He's awakened his second element. Spatial signature confirmed."
"I can feel it," she said. "But it's... incomplete."
"You should've drained him fully. What's the point in sparing him?"
She smirked. "He reminded me of someone. And now look—something old is stirring in him. The council will want to know."
The man hesitated. "You'll claim him?"
Her red eyes narrowed. "No. Not yet. But I'll make sure no one else does."
The Choice
The next day, Alex was back in the RSA compound, standing before a floating console in a dimmed evaluation chamber.
His bracelet glowed purple as it scanned his biofield.
Power Signature Updated
Primary Element: Lightning
Secondary Element: Space
Classification Upgrade Pending
Rarity Marker: Dual Element – Rare
Flagged for: Private Recruitment Requests
Kael was there, arms crossed.
"Well damn, rookie. You've barely started and you're already pulling private clan interest."
Alex raised a brow. "What kind of interest?"
Kael tapped the air console and showed a floating icon—a silver spiral enclosed in dark stars.
"Sael'Var Family – Spatial Bloodline"
Status: Observer Rank Invite
Offer: Resources, dimensional training access, clan armory privileges
Requirement: Proof of space-element mastery and formal pledge
"You're being watched," Kael said. "And not just by them. You lit up half the scrying network when that spatial pulse went out."
Alex said nothing. He stared at the spiral for a long time.
He'd seen it. In his dream. In the star.
"Not yet," he said.
Kael nodded. "Smart. Learn their rules before playing their game."
Promotion and Test
With his space element stabilized and recognized, Alex's RSA rank was upgraded:
New Rank: D-4 Specialist (Dual Element Initiate)
Benefits:
Enhanced stipend (700 credits/month)
Custom training regime access
Spatial module access (Tier 1)
Intermediate missions unlocked
Tactical mobility token granted
Recruitment eligibility to partner guilds
His training also intensified. The RSA assigned him a mentor named Dr. Vex—an eccentric spatial engineer who looked like a walking storm cloud of gray robes and wires.
"You're a natural," Vex told him during their first session. "But space is not just movement. It's perception. Compression. Manipulation of what is."
Together, they practiced spatial tethering—allowing Alex to mark a location and snap back to it with thought. He learned how to store small objects in subspace—first pebbles, then entire weapons. It was draining, but exhilarating.
One day, he would be able to bend whole sections of space. But not yet.
Still, he was ahead of most at his stage.
The Orphanage's Worry
Despite the chaos of his days, he returned to the orphanage every night.
The Keeper—an aging woman named Miss Luma—watched him with growing concern.
"You're not the same boy, Alex," she said one night while serving him a bowl of steaming rice and vegetables.
He looked up. "People change."
"Maybe," she said. "But your eyes are... too still now. Like the quiet before a storm."
He didn't respond. He was too tired. His internal world needed energy. His body ached from stretching itself between realities.
Still, he ate everything. Drank three glasses of water. Then collapsed into bed.
The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the faint shimmer of the star in his mind, still turning, still growing.
He was running out of time.