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The dense, emerald canopy of the ancient jungle seemed to lean in, as if the trees themselves were eavesdropping on the conversation between the man and the celestial bird.
Dreleon walked in a daze, the weight of the Sky Snare Crane's words settling into his bones like lead.
"Then how is my power a waste?" Dreleon finally asked, his voice cutting through the humid air.
He wasn't just asking out of curiosity; he was defending his very existence. "If I reach this Origin Comprehension Realm, can I not simply learn those other space powers then?"
The Crane slowed its pace, its divine green radiance flickering like a candle in a draft.
It turned its elegant head, looking at Dreleon with a gaze that felt millions of years old.
"That is the tragedy of your kind," the Crane sighed, its voice a melodic chime of pity.
"You view power as a fruit to be plucked, but in the higher realms, power is a language that must be written.
To learn the various branches of space—to master travel, compression, and erasure—requires research.
It requires centuries of silent meditation and the trial-and-error of a soul that does not fear the passage of time."
The bird stopped, its white halo illuminating a clearing of twisted roots. "A human, even one as gifted as you, is a candle burning in a hurricane.
Your natural lifespan is a mere two hundred years. Even if you break through to the Origin Comprehension Realm, the supreme one will only grant you another two centuries. To you, four hundred years sounds like an eternity. But to the cosmos? It is a bucket of water poured into a desert."
The Crane's eyes drifted toward the horizon. "To truly overcome the Origin—to move beyond the limitations of your birth—you need the lifespan of a vast pond.
You would also need a thousand years of solitude.
But look at you, Dreleon.
You are a servant.
You spend your days guarding a Princess, fighting the wars of a Lion King, and navigating the politics of tribes. You have no time for the research required to turn your 'Space Telekinesis' into a god-like Origin. How can a man who has no time... ever hope to conquer space itself?"
The silence that followed was heavier than the jungle's heat.
Dreleon didn't argue.
In his mind, he saw the bucket of water. He saw the sun of his responsibilities evaporating it, drop by drop, until only the salt of his failures remained.
…
[THE COMPETITION GROUNDS]
They walked for hours in that heavy silence until the suffocating green of the jungle began to thin.
Suddenly, the world opened up.
Against the bruised purple of the evening sky.
As they emerged from the emerald shadows of the ancient trees, a grand spectacle of the jungle's power emerged against the twilight.
High above, the banners of a hundred different beast-tribes snapped in the wind, suspended by spatial ripples that hummed with ancient energy.
The sigils of the Sky Tiger, the Iron Bear, and the Jungle Lion fluttered like the wings of war-birds. Below, the earth was a sea of raw, predatory motion.
Massive spirit-beasts, their hides reinforced by generations of evolution, pulled the armored war-wagons of the High-Grade clans.
Warriors whose auras rippled like desert heat moved through the throng, their killing intent thick enough to sense from a mile away.
This was the staging ground for the Bug River Hunt—the blood-soaked arena where the balance of power between the kingdoms would be tested.
Dreleon moved through the bustle like a ghost.
He reached the royal carriage of the Jungle Lion tribe, his movements mechanical and perfect despite the storm in his mind.
He reached out and pulled the heavy wooden gate toward himself, bowing low.
"Your Highness,"
he spoke, his hand over his heart, his head at the customary forty-five-degree angle.
"We have reached the destination."
There was no witty remark.
No sharp command.
Vanessa stepped out of the carriage.
She didn't look at the grand flags.
She didn't look at the thousands of gathered warriors.
Most importantly, she didn't look at Dreleon.
She walked past him, her Cerulean robe brushing against his armor, her aura cold and distant as the void between stars.
Dreleon remained in his bow, standing as still as a stone statue.
Ordinarily, the Princess's abnormal behavior would have worried him, but his mind was occupied by a much larger puzzle.
'If the Sky Snare Crane knows of the lifespan limit, then the Snake Pillar must know it a thousand times over, Dreleon thought, his brain racking itself for the missing piece of the logic. The Great Snake is devious, but she is not wasteful. She would not invest her 'Intent' and her 'Token' into a human who is destined to dry up like a bucket of water in four hundred years.'
He looked up at the flags snapping in the wind, his golden eyes glowing with a renewed, dangerous light. There is something else. A way to elevate a mortal's clock. And the answer must be hidden in the teaching of pillars.
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