The space around them twisted.
It did not tear, nor did it collapse. Instead, reality itself seemed to recoil, spiraling inward like a slow, deliberate vortex. The air grew heavy, pressing down on flesh and bone as though the world had suddenly remembered its own weight. Light bent unnaturally, stretching into curved strands that refused to settle.
Sound lost its edge, dulling into something distant and warped, as if the concept of vibration itself had been offended.
The sensation demanded attention.
It was not pain—not exactly—but a pressure so absolute it left no room for thought. The world felt frozen and violent at once, caught in the moment just before something fundamental broke.
All fifteen trainees felt it.
Their bodies rebelled as their internal balance faltered. Breath hitched. Muscles locked. Some felt their hearts stutter, others their minds blur, as if their very sense of self was being forcefully recalibrated. The laws that governed ordinary existence were shifting, and they were not built to accommodate the change.
One by one, knees buckled.
Bodies collapsed to the unseen ground as the restoring force of reality surged back into place, correcting the disturbance like an immune response. Gasps filled the void—raw, desperate sounds as those who had fallen struggled to reclaim control over their bodies.
When the pressure finally eased, only five figures remained standing.
Itekan Lie.
Itoyea Pilton.
Kutote Tuo.
Korimer Ransthrol.
And Nuelle Ness.
Itekan felt the lingering hum beneath his skin, a familiar tension he had learned to endure. The three months of relentless training under Headmaster Kime had not been kind, but they had been effective. His body had adapted—slightly—to the sensation of reality being forced into new configurations.
Itoyea stood rigid beside him, jaw clenched, eyes sharp. Kutote exhaled slowly, grounding himself with disciplined control. They had all felt this before. Not like this—but close enough.
Nuelle Ness appeared almost unaffected. Her technique, refined and peculiar, allowed her to compress and expand even natural forces such as gravity. To her, the distortion had been less an attack and more an unfamiliar fluctuation.
Korimer, on the other hand, simply refused to fall.
There was no finesse to it. No adaptation or technique. He had met the crushing force head-on and endured it through sheer physical defiance, muscles locked and will unyielding.
Kime allowed them a moment.
The world settled.
And when it did, the trainees realized they were no longer where they had been.
There was no ground beneath their feet—yet they stood. No sky above them—yet there was space. The expanse around them was utterly blank, devoid of reference or depth. No light source existed, yet everything was visible. No shadows formed, no wind stirred, no sound echoed.
There were no existential cues.
It simply was.
A place without direction, without boundary, without context.
Kime stood before them, hands loosely clasped behind his back, his expression calm—almost indifferent—as though nothing remarkable had occurred.
"I am impressed," he said at last.
His voice carried effortlessly, unchallenged by distance or obstruction.
"Some of you remained standing. That is not a matter of strength alone." His gaze swept across the group, briefly acknowledging the fallen trainees before returning to the five who had endured. "It takes more than raw power to withstand the creation of a dimension."
A pause.
"Even if it is a pocket one."
The words settled heavily.
A dimension.
The trainees exchanged uneasy glances. The implications alone were staggering. To be removed from their world—transported into an entirely separate plane of existence—and to have it done so casually…
That he had accomplished it without effort was what truly unsettled them.
Kime seemed satisfied. The effect had landed exactly as he intended.
"This," he continued, spreading one hand slightly, "is my domain of influence."
The space responded.
"Within this place, anything I will can be brought into existence."
He raised his hand fully.
"If I desire a forest—"
Reality shifted.
A deep, resonant rumble echoed as the void erupted into form. Soil surged upward, dark and rich. Trees burst forth in rapid succession, their trunks thickening as branches unfurled with impossible speed. Leaves bloomed in waves of green, sunlight spilling through a sky that had not existed a moment prior.
A mountain rose in the distance, its peak cutting through drifting clouds. Birds took flight, their cries sharp and alive. A sun ascended above the horizon, warm and radiant.
In the span of a second, a living world had been born.
Itekan's breath caught.
It was real.
The heat of the sun kissed his skin. The scent of grass and bark filled his lungs. He could feel the subtle resistance of the air, the faint pull of gravity anchoring him in place.
This was not illusion.
This was existence.
"And if I wish it void," Kime said calmly—
Everything vanished.
The forest collapsed into nothingness. The mountain dissolved. The sky folded inward and disappeared. Light ceased. Sound died.
The world returned to blank silence.
Gasps erupted around them. Awe and disbelief rippled through the trainees as they struggled to comprehend what they had witnessed: the birth and death of a world, enacted as casually as a gesture.
"What I am about to teach you," Kime said, "stems from this principle."
He turned, facing them fully now.
"You must first understand that the world is composed of Laws."
He let the word settle.
"Each Law governs a fundamental aspect of existence—creation, sustenance, interaction. They define what must be."
He gestured lightly.
"Time. Space. Reality. Cause and Effect—these govern structure."
A second gesture.
"Power. Soul. Inertia. Motion. Gravity—these govern interaction."
His gaze sharpened.
"What you witnessed was not creation through strength. It was manipulation through authority. A reinterpretation of the Laws that bind the world."
The trainees listened in rapt attention.
This was not merely about mastering power.
This was about standing before the Laws themselves and refusing to be crushed by them.
"And how does one do this?" Kime asked.
"Through Runes."
The word sent a ripple through the group.
Itekan, Itoyea, Kutote, and Korimer exchanged knowing glances. Memories surfaced unbidden—the ruins, the Archem Knights, the remnants of a civilization that had once stood defiant before gods.
Kime continued.
"Runes are interpretations of Law, not ownership of it. They do not overthrow the system."
He raised a finger.
"They borrow against it."
He paused deliberately.
"Runes are not Laws.
They are not blessings."
"They are will, combined with understanding, given form through inscription."
"Authority gained through Runes comes not from inheritance—but from comprehension."
The weight of that truth struck deep.
"What I will teach you," Kime said, "is not how to dominate Runes, but how to sense them. How to visualize them. How to acknowledge their presence."
"How you interpret them… is your responsibility."
He allowed a faint smile.
"There are levels to these interpretations. Access varies. Mastery deepens."
Then, dismissively:
"The rest you will discover yourselves. Authority gained without struggle collapses."
The tension in the air spiked.
"The Runes I will introduce today are fundamental: Power. Reality. Time. Space."
Excitement crackled through the trainees.
Kime stepped forward.
"Observe."
He moved his hands, slow and deliberate. The air responded, thin strands of ethereal energy gathering around his fingers. Lines formed, faint but precise, tracing invisible paths through space.
They spiraled.
Intersected.
A circle emerged—complex, layered, alive with intent.
Then the formation compressed.
The circle folded inward, collapsing into a single, glowing inscription.
A kanji.
力
Power.
The symbol hovered above Kime's head, radiating a subtle pressure that pressed against their senses.
Itekan felt it immediately.
Not force—but expectation.
As if the world itself was waiting to be told how much strength it was allowed to exert.
Kime repeated the motion, slower this time.
Again, the lines formed. Again, the structure condensed.
"This is the inscription," he said. "Memorize the pattern. Not the shape—the intent."
He turned to them.
"Now. Show me."
Awkward movements followed. Hands trembled as the trainees attempted to mimic the signs. Energy sputtered and dispersed. Some failed outright.
Korimer succeeded on his first attempt, brute-forcing the structure into place. Kutote followed closely, precise and controlled.
The others struggled.
But eventually—each of them formed it.
Kime nodded.
"You have three days to master this Rune," he said. "Observe how it affects you individually. Your interpretation will shape its expression."
With that, he raised his hand once more.
The world folded.
The pocket dimension unraveled, returning them to reality.
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Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)