The plop onto the bed echoed in the small room, the cot creaking under my weight. Exhaustion pulled at my eyelids, but my mind was too wired to sleep. The skill manual [The Rift's Gaze] sat heavy in my storage ring, its presence almost as constant as Nyx's soft pulses. The egg's crying was faint, like a lullaby in the back of my mind, content but persistent. The rift was growing. But so was I.
I pulled the manual free. The slim black booklet appeared in my hand, silver script shimmering on the cover. It felt cold—colder than the book. Like it was waiting for me to open it.
I flipped to the first page.
The instructions were simple—but precise. Eye contact required. Intent focused. Channel the fracture. Make the target feel the tear.
No mass effect. No arena-wide chill. Just one opponent. One moment.
I sat up, breathing steady. Closed my eyes. Let my mana flow—cold, sluggish, but there.
I focused.
The skill activated — dormant form.
My eyes snapped open — icy-violet, like light seen through frozen glass. The reflection in the cracked mirror stared back—not me. Something else. Something that shouldn't exist. The image lagged slightly, as if reality was a half-second behind, the delay making my own face feel foreign, disconnected.
The effect hit me—brief, but unsettling. A fleeting sense of insignificance, like I was a glitch in the world. Disconnection from the room around me, as if the walls weren't quite real. Doubt about my own body—a momentary shiver that made my skin feel wrong, like it didn't belong.
Mana flow faltered slightly—a cold hitch in my core, unstable for a heartbeat.
Then it ended—3 seconds, maybe 4. The icy-violet faded from my eyes. The lag vanished.
A splitting headache bloomed behind my temples—sharp, sudden, like a needle in the brain. My vision dulled for a moment, colors leaching out to gray before snapping back.
I exhaled shakily, hand pressed to my forehead. "That's… the dormant form. Limited. But powerful."
The manual dissolved in my hand—absorbed, learned.
I lay back. Resting for a few more minutes, the headache fading to a dull throb.
Morning came with the dawn bell.
I opened my eyes, head clear, arms aching less. Nyx's pulse was there—soft, warm. The crying faint, like a distant song.
I dressed. Headed out.
The training hall was waiting.
Elara and Lyra were there—Elara pacing, Lyra stretching.
"You're on time," Elara said.
Lyra grinned, her gaze sweeping over me "You look… rested. Thats good."
I nodded. "Yeah—Slept okay."
We started—mana circulation, reflex drills, sparring. Two hours. Progress.
At the end, I confessed. "I sneaked out last night. Couldn't sleep. Went to Lunareth."
Elara froze. "You what? Alone?"
Lyra's eyes widened. "Night markets? What'd you get?"
I shrugged. "Skill manual. [The Rift's Gaze]. But… I'll show you the effects later. After i figure out some more details of what it actually does to me."
Elara's gaze hardened. "Don't do that again. We're in this together."
Lyra: "Yeah, next time take us. Sounds fun."
I smiled. "Deal."
They left for classes. I headed to Mana Theory.
Professor Thorne's Mana Theory was in the same room as always — small, sparse, scarred desks, chalkboard etched with faint runes. F-Class students trickled in — commoners like me, a mix of whispers and glances.
I took my seat in the back.
A few F-Class kids nearby nodded — quiet support. One, a lanky boy named Riven, leaned over. "Heard you fought watchers a while ago. Thats true?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. Barely."
Riven whistled low. "Respect. Most of us would've died."
Another girl, Lena, whispered from the next desk. "You're not invisible anymore, Vale. Everyone knows your name now."
I gave a small smile. "Not sure if that's good or bad."
Lena: "Good. Means you're not alone."
I'm indeed not—i have a family now.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips
Professor Thorne's class was packed—F-Class, but with guests again. Celine, Raiden, Kael, Silas, Mira, Elira, Taren.
Interactions were brief—Celine's kind smile, Raiden's nod, Kael's stare, Silas' greeting, Mira's wave, Elira's watch, Taren's sneer.
The class ended with Thorne's announcement hanging in the air like a storm cloud. "Starting tomorrow—new sparring class. First-years fight one after another on the training grounds. Second and third-years will watch—some eventually participate. Prepare yourselves."
The room buzzed with whispers as students filed out. I packed my things slowly, the manual for [The Rift's Gaze] heavy in my ring. The gazes from the main cast lingered—Celine's kind, Raiden's curious, Kael's unreadable, Silas' supportive, Mira's smiling, Elira's watchful,
Taren's gaze—half sneer, half smirk.
Tomorrow would be a spectacle. And I was in the center.
Outside, Elara was waiting—arms crossed, silver hair catching the light.
"Ready for rune class?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
Lyra appeared from the side, jogging up with her usual grin. "Wait for me! You two aren't going without me. We're a trio, remember? Can't have you two having fun without me."
Elara rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "You weren't even in rune class."
Lyra shrugged. "I am now. Besides, someone has to make sure Eryndor doesn't faint from all the layering."
I laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
As we walked toward the rune lecture hall, I spoke up. "Prof. Thorne announced something today. New sparring class starting tomorrow. First-years fight one after another on the training grounds. Second and third-years watch. Some might even participate."
Lyra's eyes lit up. "Oh? That's perfect. We can watch you crush it."
Elara glanced at me. "My brother always liked dramatic announcements. First-years one after another means it's going to be brutal. No holding back."
I nodded. "Yeah. I think Taren might be last. He was smirking at me the whole class."
Lyra grinned wickedly. "Then we definitely have to be there. I want front-row seats when you wipe that smirk off his face."
Elara's voice was calm but firm. "We'll be watching. And if it gets out of hand… we'll step in."
I hesitated, glancing between them. "You don't have to. It's F-Class stuff. You have your own classes."
Elara stepped closer, her voice low but firm. "We don't have to. But we want to. You're not facing that alone."
Lyra bumped my shoulder. "What she said. Besides, who else is going to cheer when you trip over your own feet?"
I laughed—tired, but genuine. "Thanks. Really. After everything… the book, the egg, the rifts… I don't know what I'd do without you two."
Lyra's grin softened. "Get sappy on us now? Save it for when we win you a crown or something."
Elara's hand rested lightly on my arm — warm, reassuring. "We're in this. All the way. Family, remember?"
I nodded, throat tight. "Family." I smiled. "Thanks. Really."
We reached the rune hall. Professor Elowyn looked up as we entered.
"Vale. Thorne. And… Solstice?" she said, eyebrow raised. "I wasn't aware this was a group lesson."
Lyra grinned. "Just observing, Professor. Moral support."
Elowyn sighed but didn't argue. "Sit. Focus."
We took our seats in the back—Elara beside me, Lyra on the other side.
The lesson began.
Elowyn spoke of intent amplification and layered rune structures—how to strengthen a single rune by layering intent, how multiple layers create stability but risk collapse if the core can't handle the load.
She demonstrated—a basic shield rune, then layered it twice. The barrier shimmered stronger, more solid.
I stepped into the circle when called.
Last Saturday, my layering had barely held for five seconds—shaky, weak.
Today was different.
I drew the rune—intent focused, mana flowing cold but steady. I layered—once, twice, three times.
The shield flickered into existence—faint blue-white at first, then thickening, stabilizing. It held. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.
The room was silent.
Elowyn watched, no expression. Then she spoke. "Better. Much better. Your mana is still cold. Unstable. But the layers held. That is…unexpected."
I exhaled. "Thank you."
Lyra whispered behind me. "Told you. You're getting scary."
Elara's hand brushed my arm—subtle, proud. "Progress."
Class dismissed.
We walked out together—the three of us—the weight of the day settling into something lighter.
They walked me to the basement stairs, lingering a moment longer than usual. Elara's gaze was steady. "Sleep. We'll see you in the morning."
Lyra ruffled my hair—her favorite move.
"Yeah, yeah. Now go rest. Tomorrow's sparring—don't embarrass us, glitch."
Her tone softened, but her eyes didn't. "Bright and early. Don't be late, or I'll drag you out myself."
I swallowed, trying to look brave. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Lyra looked at me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Good. You know what happens if you're not on time—I'll drag you out by the scruff like a cat. Consider it a family privilege."
Elara tugged Lyra back by the collar.
"Easy. He's not one of your sparring dummies."
Her eyes met mine, softer now. "Rest. And be on time."
They left—footsteps fading up the stairs.
I headed down alone.
The basement corridor was cold, damp. I reached my room—Room 47—the door creaking open.
I Sat on the bed.
The egg's pulse was there—constant, warm.
I pulled it free. Held it.
The crying was softer now. Almost a song.
I lay back. Starring at the cracked ceiling.
Sparring—huh?
This will be interesting tomorrow, should i use "The Rift's Gaze" for real—or keep it as a test?
I sigh heavily and shake my head
Lets think about this tomorrow—
But one thing is clear i need to win, i can't disappoint Elara and Lyra.
As i closed my eyes, i slowly dozed off, with Nyx soft pulse in my arms.