The weeks after the E-rank dungeon passed quietly.
Too quietly, some might have thought.
Arav did not immediately return to dungeon clearing. His body demanded rest—not the kind solved by sleep alone, but the deeper kind that required stillness. Muscles healed faster than his aether channels, and the Aether Heart Rune pulsed irregularly whenever he tried to push himself beyond a careful threshold.
So he stopped pushing.
Instead, Arav learned to stand.
Each morning, before the sun fully rose over Ashvathar territory, he stood at the edge of the estate's outer training ground. No spear. No flame. No aether circulation beyond what was natural.
Just breathing.
In.
Out.
At first, nothing changed.
Then—subtly—the world began to feel different.
Not clearer.
Closer.
The wind brushing against his skin lingered longer than it should have. The heat of the morning sun did not strike all at once, but arrived in layers. Even the distant calls of birds seemed to stretch, their echoes arriving fractionally out of sync.
Arav frowned slightly.
This was not a sensation he recognized from fire or aether.
It was… spacing.
Between moments.
One afternoon, as he sat cross-legged on warm stone, the sensation intensified. His breathing slowed naturally, body settling into a rhythm that felt neither forced nor trained.
The sealed scripture within him stirred.
Not violently.
Not insistently.
A pressure formed behind his awareness—like hands guiding his attention rather than his power.
Arav did not resist.
He did not reach.
He simply let his perception widen.
The world thinned.
Not visually—but temporally.
He could feel the exact moment a leaf would detach from a branch before it happened. The precise instant heat would rise from sun-warmed stone. Even his own heartbeat seemed to echo just ahead of itself.
Arav's eyes opened slowly.
A flicker of movement to his left—too fast for normal reaction.
Arav turned his head before his body understood why.
A thrown pebble passed where his face had been a heartbeat earlier.
He blinked.
Someone behind him laughed softly.
"Interesting reflex," Meghala remarked, lowering her hand. "You didn't sense my aether."
Arav looked at the pebble on the ground.
"No," he said quietly. "I sensed the moment it mattered."
Meghala's smile faded—just a little.
That night, alone in his room, Arav sat on the floor and closed his eyes again.
This time, the sensation returned faster.
Clearer.
Within him, something shifted.
> [System Notification]
> Condition Met.
> Foundational Perception Pathway Recognized.
> ??? — Early Fragment Unlocked.
No name.
No explanation.
But Arav understood its effect the moment he stood.
The world no longer moved at a single pace.
There were layers now.
Intent before action.
Motion before impact.
Decision before consequence.
He tested it cautiously over the following days.
Not in combat.
In daily movement.
He avoided collisions without looking. Anticipated conversations before words were spoken. Stepped aside just before objects fell.
It was not foresight.
It was alignment.
A perception of when a moment truly began.
Vyomar noticed first.
The cub began moving in sync with Arav, reacting simultaneously rather than after. Their steps aligned without thought, as if both sensed the same invisible rhythm.
By the end of the month, Arav realized the truth.
This was not a technique meant to end fights.
It was a technique meant to prevent mistakes.
And somewhere deep within the sealed scripture, something acknowledged that he had finally learned how to see.
Not the world as it was—
But the world as it was about to become.