The metal pulsed silently.
To an untrained eye, there was nothing to notice, no glow, no sound, not even a clear movement. At most, it might have been dismissed as a trick of the light, a momentary distortion that vanished as soon as it was perceived.
But Axiros was far too experienced.
He caught the faint rhythm immediately, a near-imperceptible contraction and release hidden deep within the material.
It was not mechanical, nor purely energetic. It was deliberate. Controlled. Almost alive. The pulse followed a pattern, one that spoke of intent rather than function.
He caught onto it instantly. 'What the is it alive?' He was stunned.
He had seen similar phenomena before, though never quite like this. There was something different about it, subtle, yet unmistakable once noticed.
The metal carried an unfamiliar, strange aura that did not align cleanly with any system he recognized.
Yet beneath that strangeness, there was a familiar tone.
It resonated with something deep within him, brushing against memories and instincts that refused to surface fully.
The sensation lingered at the edge of understanding, close enough to feel, but just out of reach. No matter how closely Axiros focused, he could not quite grasp it.
It was as if the metal was speaking a language he almost remembered, but not well enough to understand.
'Oh well, I will find out later. It will require some digging into my memories though.' He sighed and closed his eyes in the crib.
Days passed as the mother and son settled into a peaceful routine.
Their days were calm and unhurried, filled with quiet moments and gentle familiarity. There was no urgency, no looming threat, only the steady rhythm of life unfolding naturally. For Axiros, the serenity was almost disarming.
It was a kind of peace he had not felt since the void.
Back then, it had been a different sort of serenity, cold, absolute, and empty. This was warmer, alive, shaped by presence rather than absence. Yet the contrast only made the feeling more profound. For the first time in countless existences, tranquility did not feel like a prelude to loss.
---
'Damn it… I need to grow up faster.'
The thought surfaced sharply, edged with frustration he could not fully express in this fragile body. 'Iwant to carry out my first plan since coming to this world.' Too much depended on time, on preparation, on reaching a state where his will could finally translate into action.
'Maybe this time', he continued silently, 'my fate won't be so doomed.'
The thought lingered longer than he expected. Not hopeful, not naive, just cautiously open to possibility. After everything he had endured, even the faintest chance of a different outcome was enough to keep him moving forward.
And this time, he intended to be ready.
Days passed by. His body grew stronger, but not enough to support speech or walking just yet.
A kind of energy was feeding his growth, quite intoxicating. Axiros had experienced it multiple times before. It wasn't much of a new deal.
'All I can do right now is eat, shit and sleep. Haahhh. I wish I started as an adult .' He pondered.
----
'I'll have to use the energy within my existence seed to break this world down to its very core, to find every bit of information.'
The thought was deliberate, carefully measured. Such an act was not something he could attempt now, not in this fragile state. The foundation had to be understood first, layer by layer, before it could ever be dismantled or rewritten.
'For that… I need to grow a bit more.'
Not just physically, but in authority, capacity, and presence. Time was once again a resource, one he intended to use properly this time.
---
Months passed as his body steadily matured. His muscles strengthened, coordination improved, and his vocal cords finally allowed for broken speech. At first, his words were uneven and short, limited more by his body than his mind.
Axiros had long since learned the language of this world. For someone who had lived countless years across innumerable lives, adapting to a new tongue was trivial.
He listened, analyzed, and understood far faster than his physical development suggested.
Before long, he began communicating with his mother.
At first, she dismissed it as coincidence, babies mimicked sounds all the time. But as his responses grew intentional, her amusement faded into confusion.
He answered questions correctly, reacted with understanding, and showed awareness far beyond what should have been possible.
It unsettled her.
She knew normal children did not develop like this. He wasn't even a year old yet, and already he comprehended far more than he should have.
Pride mingled with unease as she watched him closely, unable to fully explain what she was seeing.
Axiros was years ahead of others in development.
And even with restraint, it was becoming harder to hide.
'How? How did his body grow strong enough to hold simple speech in such a short span of time?' She was startled.
Although she lacked formal medical expertise, she knew this was not normal. The rate at which Axiros was growing, mentally, cognitively, far exceeded anything natural.
A mother's intuition told her something was different, and intuition alone was enough to warrant caution.
Quietly, without drawing attention, she released a single drop of energy from her pool of Noevar.
The energy was minute, almost negligible in quantity, yet its quality was undeniable. It carried immense power, dense and refined to an extreme degree.
To control such a small amount deliberately, without fluctuation or waste, required exceptional mastery. Few could manage it unconsciously. Fewer still could do so at will.
The energy brushed against Axiros gently, probing rather than invading, observing rather than judging.
This alone made one thing clear.
She was never ordinary to begin with.
Axiros on the other hand could sense something was up.
'Maybe, I can employ that technique. A bit risky, but I will be able to see what is going on.' He thought, pondering deeply as he dived into his archive of techniques.
He dived inward.
Not physically, but existentially, plunging past surface awareness and thought, descending straight into the depths of his own soul. It was a connection held by very few across all of reality.
Fewer still could access their soul with clarity. And there was not a single being who could do so with the speed, precision, and familiarity that Axiros possessed.
For him, it was instinct. Most never touched it. Some brushed against it by accident. Fewer still could enter it consciously. For Axiros, it was familiar, almost comforting. He had spent too much of eternity alone with himself for it to feel foreign.
He descended deeper, bypassing layers that would have halted or destroyed others, until he felt it, a strand of energy both foreign and intimately familiar.
An energy that had accumulated across countless lives, refined through suffering, struggle, and relentless persistence.
Existential energy.
Energy born from his Seed of Existence.
It was impossibly rare. So rare that the number of beings who even possessed such a seed could be counted on one hand across all known realities. And of those few, almost none could consciously interact with it, let alone wield it.
Yet Axiros possessed it in abundance.
It had no discernible end.
This energy was the fruit of his countless lives, a testament to every path he had walked, every power he had pursued, every existence he had endured where growth had been possible. It was not gifted. It was earned, over eternity.
It was unimaginably rare, but Axiros didn't think of it that way. To him, it was simply what remained after everything else had been stripped away time and time again. Every struggle, every hard-earned moment of growth, had left its mark here.
The Seed of Existence rested within his unawakened Sea of Consciousness, dormant yet complete. He had not awakened it yet, had not allowed it to bloom or reshape him. That time had not come.
For now, direct access through his consciousness was impossible.
Instead, he reached it from within itself.
His astral form manifested fully, floating within an endless horde of existential energy, so dense, so potent, that it threatened to run rampant at the slightest lapse. Any lesser will would have been erased instantly. But under Axiros's control, it remained perfectly still, obedient without resistance.
Slowly, deliberately, he extended his hand.
A single wisp of energy responded, peeling away from the vast sea and flowing toward him. It condensed naturally, coalescing into a small, contained sphere hovering above his palm. Even this infinitesimal portion carried terrifying density.
Carefully, he drew it back.
Retracing his path, Axiros guided the energy out of the depths and back toward the surface of his soul, precise, controlled, flawless.
Not a drop was wasted.
Not a ripple disturbed the rest.
This was only the beginning.
"Now is the time for the technique." He said.
He placed the ball of energy at the very center of his soul space, positioning it with careful precision. It hovered there, perfectly still, as if anchored by his will alone.
Using the remnants of the extracted energy, he began to draw runes around it. Each symbol formed slowly, traced by intent rather than motion, carving meaning directly into the fabric of his soul. The lines settled into place, orbiting the sphere in deliberate patterns.
The sight was ethereal.
As the final rune completed itself, they all ignited at once. Light flared sharply, the symbols burning with intensity, their glow a clear testament to the potency and purity of the energy they contained.
The runes held steady, brilliant and unwavering, enclosing the sphere in a silent, controlled brilliance.
"It's time." He said.
He waved his hand.
At once, the runes etched into the surrounding space responded. They flickered sharply, their once-stable forms trembling as if awakened from dormancy. Lines of meaning overlapped and shifted, glowing brighter with every passing moment.
The runes began to move.
At first, they rotated slowly around the ball of energy, tracing deliberate paths as though testing its boundaries. Then they accelerated. Their flickering intensified, light smearing into arcs as the symbols spun faster and faster, no longer bound to any fixed orientation.
The speed climbed beyond reason.
The runes whirled wildly, forming a violent halo around the condensed sphere of existential energy. The air, if it could be called that, seemed to distort under the strain. Pressure mounted, invisible yet suffocating, as the energy at the center began to react.
Cracks of light appeared.
The ball shuddered, its smooth surface unraveling as it was forced into motion. Slowly at first, then all at once, it began to break apart, dissolving into thin wisps of pale light that twisted and curled within the spinning array.
The runes did not slow.
Instead, they spun even faster, their glow intensifying, their rotation tightening. The force they exerted grew heavier, more relentless, grinding the remaining fragments of condensed energy down further.
"What is going on? They should have slowed down by now." He said, clearly sensing that something was wrong.
"Shit! Something or someone has messed me up. I need to stop it now." Axiros spoke, frustrated.
He waved his hand once more, trying to stop their rotation, but it was in vain.
"Fuck! I have to stop them manually." Axiros spoke.
-------
Author's note: Happy New Year guys!🎉🎉 Can't believe that 2025 is already done.