Lyn passed section after section when his eyes suddenly brightened.
"Mortal Fragments and Combat Theory?"
He paused.
Currently, he had no fighting techniques. No structured knowledge. Nothing reliable to fall back on. Without these, he would be useless to himself and others.
Ever since I lost my memory I couldn't get an oppertunity to research about this at all..now I finally have an oppertunity
It had been about three months since the incident. A collapsing ore chunk struck his head. When he woke, everything from before was gone. Only instincts and fragments remained.
He opened the book and sat down on the floor, legs crossed, posture relaxed.
"Mortal Fragments are basic techniques built around fragments of law. Instead of using a single shard in a simple way, a Mortal Fragment is a structured pattern that combines Heavenly Shards, Truth Carvings, and the Vessel Sea into a repeatable method," he murmured while reading.
He scratched his head, eyes calm, thinking.
The book rested on his lap.
So… repetition in a strict order. Knowing how to use shards and when to use them.
He stopped and corrected himself mentally.
It is structure. Chains of actions perhaps. Steps between steps. If someone understands shards and law well enough, they can create their own fragment techniques.
He continued reading.
As expected… the more complex the fragment, the harder it is to execute. More steps, higher risk, but also greater strength. The same technique can behave differently in different hands. Truth Carvings matter. Mind matters.
His fingers tightened slightly on the page.
One needs to think fast to align each chain. That is why notion-type shards are valuable.
Just as he was about to read further, the words vanished.
Lyn frowned.
One hour already?
Knowledge was expensive and controlled. Knowing was already half a step towards the peak
He stood, dusted off his clothes, and made his way back toward the three doors. The formation released its grip on his vision as he exited.
He nodded politely to the disciple at the front desk and stepped outside.
The cold air felt clearer than when he entered, he then slowly made his way back to his house.
I have no tokens now. This is not good at all. And I cannot go to the mine because it is temporarily closed after what happened…
He frowned slightly, but his expression soon returned to calm.
He reached his house, opened the door, and closed it behind him.
I should organize my thoughts and think about what i should do now.
Men need goals. If one did not have a goal in life, a dream to achieve, he was the first one to die first. Such people were discarded and left to fight for someone else's dream. A free person could not be a person without a goal.
He walked to the sink and washed his face. Every house in the village had a simple formation built into it. By focusing on an intent such as water, the formation would draw and deliver it through linked space formations. Unused water was teleported away thus no drainage was needed.
The sink existed only because the formation restricted summoning to one fixed point inside the house. Toilets and other utilities followed the same principle.
Cold water slid down his face.
I need a new job.
He paused, then corrected himself.
No… if I want to climb in this world, I should probably be training instead of thinking about work. But then… what about income?
Mindless people only thought about food and drink. But how could one live in this world like that? It was near impossible. Danger lurked everywhere. Even your own eyes could turn against you. Dont forget, just a little ago the sky split and killed many, just like that. And people went on as if nothing had happend. This is called helplessness. Long ago people wanted to be heroes.. these days not so much.
Silence settled inside the small room.
He dried his face slowly.
He leaned against the wall for a moment and let the quiet settle.
He was not panicking, but the emptiness in his pockets, the sealed mine, the quiet uncertainty… they pressed faintly against his chest like a dull weight.
He exhaled and sat at the small table.
I need to move. Sitting here and waiting will only stack problems.
For a short moment he gazed inward, mentally entering his Vessel Realm.
The golden star hovered in the endless sky quietly in the distance. Silent. Watching. Offering nothing. Demanding nothing. It simply existed.
He rested his elbows on the table and tapped his fingers lightly.
Income… training… information… survival.
He lined the priorities in his mind like pieces on a board.
He had no job.
He could not go back to mining.
Contribution tokens were not infinite.
And now he knew more about Mortal Fragments. They required patience, shards, stability, and time.
He closed his eyes briefly.
I need something stable enough so I do not starve… and flexible enough so I can study, train, and observe this world.
His jaw tightened for a heartbeat, then loosened again.
He stood, dried his hands properly, and straightened his clothes.
There were options but none were comfortable
Then suddenly, a thought clicked.
What if I… resell information?
He sat down on his bed, fingers tapping lightly against his knee as his thoughts continued shaping themselves.
Yes… yes. Resell cheap information to clueless outer disciples and wandering Dao Chosen. This is perfect.
All he needed to do was buy low-tier information shards from the market. Cheap, common things anyone could access if they bothered to think. Then, change the presentation. Add weight. Add mystery. Dress simple knowledge in dangerous clothing and people would pay to feel like they were touching something forbidden.
He would only need a steady voice, a believable gaze, confident pauses, a hint of secrecy. For him, acting was not a problem, for he had extremly high cognitive empathy. Not many people have this gift, yet even those that have this gift, use it differently.
Half-truths wrapped in convincing lies. Harmless things spoken like secrets. Common sense sold like rare treasure.
Outer disciples feared ignorance more than death. It was no different than poor people believing they could become rich overnight or become powerful while doing nothing.
He could profit from that.
He had one information shard already. He could start. The hard part was finding people.
Or perhaps… not that hard.
He needed distance.
Hazelrun was too familiar. Too many people remembered his face. If attention ever started gathering around the ashrain event and the golden symbols disaster, staying here would be stupidity.
He rubbed his temples.
No job, no tokens, no stability
Hazelrun was too poor.
Blackburg was too structured.
Argindale had eyes.
Tortileburn was far.
Emberbar however…
A trade town near the border of territory. People passing through. Temporary workers. Fear of rifts. Loose coin. Weak oversight. Gullible people and more. Enough movement that if he caused trouble, he could disappear into another face the next day.
He splashed water on his face once more.
The cold helped.
His chest felt tight for just a moment, like something deep inside him had sighed.
Good enough
He packed light.
Bread. Dried strips of meat. A coarse cloak. A spare shirt. His notebook.
The shards floated quietly in his Vessel Realm when he checked them.
He paused at the doorway
Hazelrun was tolerable, quiet and predictable. A place where breathing did not feel like competing with someone else.
He closed the door.
Three hundred villagers[1] lived behind him.
They would not remember him for long either way.
He stood at the edge of Hazelrun's main path longer than he intended.
The road toward Emberbar was not some village stroll. With the mine closed and the sect tightening its grip, traveling alone would be stupid. Beasts were one thing, he could possibly outsmart them and hide or run away. People were however an entire different thing all together. Hungry people, Silent Hands, and bored Dao Chosen looking for excuses.
He clicked his tongue softly.
Walking alone would take nearly a month or more.
Emberbar was the closest town.
he most definitely did not feel like walking for a month or more, he needed a caravan.
He turned back toward the old rest square near the trade route. Even if Hazelrun was small, caravans still passed occasionally. Now that the mine was silent, they were fewer.
But not gone.
Lyn waited.
A group finally appeared near sunset.
Six wagons. Two ancient rank beasts pulling each. Massive, scaled creatures with dim red lines pulsing beneath their skin. Fire Beast lineage.
A small sect escort walked alongside. Light Path mostly, with a few Earth Path Dao Chosen to stabilize terrain when needed. Outer disciples, Rank Two and Rank Three at most.
Perfect.
He approached the caravan master, a thick-armed man with a shaved head and a face that trusted money more than kindness.
"I want to head to Emberbar," Lyn said calmly.
The man looked him over.
The youth seemed no older than nineteen, slim rather than broad, yet there was nothing fragile about him. Pale skin spoke of long roads beneath tired skies, and long dark hair framed a face that rarely offered warmth. Thick eyebrows gave his expression a constant gravity, as if his thoughts never rested.
Then the man reached his eyes and paused.
Dark ancient green. They carried patience that did not belong to someone his age, an old weight that steadied them in a way most grown men did not possess. For the briefest moment, something tightened in the caravan master's chest, as if the air itself had grown heavy.
He looked away first.
"Emberbar," he muttered. "Contribution?"
Lyn handed over what he could spare.
Not much.
The man frowned.
"That does not even pay for travel. You will be dead weight."
The tone was flat. But it was still a lie. The amount was just enough. He simply wanted to see how the boy reacted. People revealed themselves when pressed. Panic showed weakness. Anger showed pride. Begging showed fragility.
He watched.
No reaction.
Calm to the point of indifference, the unease returned, quieter this time, but sharper. Like standing near a drop and only then realizing there is no bottom.
"I can scout. Light Path."
He was useful and that's all that matters.
Light Path meant sight. Sight meant reduced risk. Reduced risk meant lives and coin saved. He weighed it, as he always did. Risk, cost, gain.
The caravan master studied him longer than he normally would. Lyn did not look away he did not plead.
Eventually, the man exhaled.
"Second wagon column. If something happens, you move when I say. No heroics."
Lyn nodded once.
"If something happens, I will not be foolish."
The caravan master held his gaze for another heartbeat.
Then he turned away.
"Report to the rear quartermaster. Get in line."
Such professionalism usually reassured him. This time, it merely kept the unease steady instead of letting it grow.
Lyn had seen that too.
**
They left Hazelrun that evening.
He didn't look back.
The first day was calm. The second too.
By the third, the road had already grown emptier perhaps too empty..
The world was too large.
Villages swallowed by horizon. Land stretching endlessly. Skies too wide. Forests too deep.
The caravan had its rhythm:
Walk. Stop. Check wheels. Feed beasts. Eat hard bread. Sleep with one eye open.
Lyn kept to himself.
He watched.
The more he watched, the more useful Emberbar seemed. Caravans talked. Caravans complained. Caravans carried rumors.
Which meant Emberbar received them.
Perfect.
A practice ground.
He proved useful. Light Cat Eyes extended his vision. He didn't flinch. Fear never leaked from him.
Twice along the way, ash winds brushed across plains and took some people down. Everyone flinched when it happend the second time.
Lyn didn't. Not the first time and not the second time.
Most had a way to defend themselves, Lyn did so using light deflect, the unfortunate died by the ash winds. Perhaps it was their fate do die by the winds of ash.
Each time, the caravan leader glanced at him a little differently.
By the tenth day, those around started noticing Lyn more and began asking questions:
How dangerous ashfall was. What it felt like. If rifts were real. If Heaven punished ambition.
Lyn answered calmly.
Half-truths only.
Already practicing.
Already sorting prey.
Most people were simple, most were afraid of being alone, so they chatted about anything just so quiet does not rest.
By the fourteenth day, people spoke of Emberbar.
"Busy recently."
"Too much movement."
"Tension in the air."
"People buying fake life-saving charms."
"Rumors everywhere."
Lyn listened.
Said nothing.
The fifteenth sunrise stretched across the sky.
A darker shape formed in the distance.
Emberbar.
He adjusted his cloak.
Money. Distance. Noise to disappear in.
Exactly what he needed.
The caravan slowed as Emberbar turned from a smear to reality.
Walls first.
High but not impressive, it was a mid sized trade town after all, layered reinforced stone and hardened stonelight-ore. Scarred. Patched. Ugly in places. Formations pulsed faintly through carved veins.
The smell followed.
Smoke, iron and sweat, too many voices.
Emberbar was loud, alive and careless.
Perfect.
The caravan rolled into the outer plaza where caravans were inspected, taxed, and tolerated. Merchants argued before stepping off wagons. Someone was already screaming about prices. A child nearly got run over and went his way as if nothing had happend.
Lyn stepped down quietly.
He didn't thank the caravan master. The caravan master didn't offer a farewell.
Just a small nod.
Respect between strangers who owed nothing to each other.
Lyn disappeared into the crowd.
Buildings stacked upward. Streets layered. Stalls everywhere. Noise feeding upon itself. Rival sect patrols glaring too long before moving on.
Information lived here.
So did trouble.
Lyn blended in easily. Clothes clean enough to not look pitiful. Plain enough to not invite greed.
He walked.
Map memory formed naturally:
Main roads. Residential areas. Cultivation markets. Taverns where tongues loosened. Alleys where deals breathed.
He stopped once near the entrance, at a message pillar hammered full of notices.
He scanned lazily.
Fire-path beast sightings. Missing people. Minor bounties. Sect announcements.
But one idea repeated again and again:
Rifts and sky anomalies.
Fear disguised as paperwork.
He filed it away.
Fear sold well.
He didn't walk toward an inn.
He checked his pouch.
Empty.
He sighed.
He immediately adjusted.
That night, he slept in the caravan rest yard, sitting beside crates like he still belonged. No one cared. Too many bodies passed through Emberbar daily for anyone to waste effort on one quiet presence.
Cold ground and stale air is still better than debt.
He slept lightly.
Woke early.
Blended into the morning crowd before responsibility found him.
By midday, he had mapped three districts, four taverns heavy with gossip, two alleys soaked in quiet business, and one plaza where desperate people naturally collected.
He stopped there.
Sat on the edge of a low stone structure
"What do I need first?" he murmured.
Income..
He needed people to look at him and think: "He knows something I don't."
He needed to become useful before he became fed.
His fingers tapped his leg thoughtfully.
Sect disciples with too much pride. Wanderers with no roots. Merchants terrified of disasters. Dao Chosen afraid of falling behind.
Plenty of prey.
A faint smile appeared.
Lyn sat in the plaza like another tired traveler, cloak wrapped loosely, posture relaxed but composed. He looked like someone who belonged here, but wasn't important enough to be remembered.
He placed a small scrap of cloth beside him, laid out like a beggar's mat.
He waited after all, patience was a resource too.
If a tiger is too impatient he might not catch any pray after all
Before long, a trio of 'sect' disciples passed by, laughing too loudly. Their robes carried sect crests, but cheap fabric betrayed their rank. Young. and with too much confidence. The type that always believed everyone else around them was stupid. They tried to pretend to be from the sect.[2]
Lyn didn't call out to them.
He just sighed soft, regretful, sad even
They walked five steps past him.
Then one of them slowed and turned around. Momments later the other 2 followed
One of them frowned. "Sir, what are you sighing about?"
Lyn lifted his gaze lazily.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
As if debating whether to bother. He was murmuring nonsense to himself quietly..
Already, they leaned closer as if wanting to grasp some of his murmuring.
"Nothing important," he said quietly. "Just thinking about whether I should bother warning strangers. If I speak and I'm wrong, I look like a fool. If I'm right… well…"
He halted and lifted his gaze to the sky, like a man who had lost his family and could do nothing but stare upward, heavy with grief and quiet despair.
Silence filled the space he left.
Humans hated unfinished sentences.
"What warning?" another disciple asked, slightly uneasy.
Lyn scratched the side of his face."You're heading toward the merchant quarter, right? You should avoid it for the next few days."
They exchanged glances.
"Why?"
Lyn's expression didn't change.
"Because Heaven doesn't open rifts randomly," he said softly.
"When ash patterns break twice in the same region, it can only mean that something is preparing to descend. Hazelrun and the ridge weren't accidental they were signals and were predetermined.."
Inwardly, Lyn laughed. He made all this up on the spot!
They stiffened. They remembered hearing someting about Hazelrun
He let them stew.
"I shouldn't say more," he added with mild annoyance. "Outer disciples can't outrun Heaven anyway. he scoffed before saying "Forget what I said and move on"
He leaned back, like the conversation bored him now.
They were completely hooked.
"Explain more to us! How was it predetermined?!"
"What are the signals!?"
"Ash patterns?!? it has a pattern??! Sir do you perhaps know how the weather phenomena start?? How do ashfall and ash winds form even??"
they were starting to be very worried and paranoid. Not many people understood weather.. It was too complex and too unknown, most people belived that heaven itself sent disasters in forms of weather Phenomena.
He exhaled like someone reluctantly dragged into trouble.
"There's a pattern," he said. "Even sect records avoid printing it publicly… because panic doesn't help anyone."
he sighed in worry
The Truth was, nothing was actually known about the rifts and very little was known about weather Phenomena. But people like them viewed libraries as too costly; the majority were like this. And usually basic knowledge was passed down by parents and so forth so no need to buy basic information shards and waste contribution points for nothing.
His eyes dimmed slightly.
"But when Heaven tries to create something and fails, it doesn't stop. It tries again. Somewhere nearby. Stronger each time."
He watched their throats tighten.
Perfect. In his mind he recalled a fragment of his memory something about heaven and disasters. So he used that which he had remembered about on the spot.
One swallowed. "So… Emberbar is next?"
"I didn't say that," Lyn replied casually. "But if I were you, I'd avoid large gatherings. Avoid metal structures. Avoid standing beneath layered formations."
He stopped again.
Their breathing grew heavier.
"Why?" another whispered.
He tilted his head, as if weighing whether this was worth the trouble.
"Now we're getting into things the sect calls 'restricted speculation.' "
His voice lowered.
"And speculation is never free."
They finally understood.
One grimaced. "How much?"
"No cost," Lyn said.
They blinked.
He let the confusion breathe.
"I don't sell lies. If you want nonsense, there are plenty of street fakes. Information is only valuable if it keeps someone alive. So—"
He pointed lazily toward the busy marketplace.
"Go enjoy your day. If a rift opens over Emberbar this week… pretend you never met me."
He stood.
Turned to leave.
Stopped.
Just for a second.
They panicked immediately.
"Wait!"
A hand grabbed his sleeve.
He had chosen correctly. This one was anxious. Too emotional. Easy prey.
"Look… we aren't rich, but we're not broke either," the disciple forced a laugh. "If something's going to kill people, we should at least know how to avoid being the unlucky ones, right?"
the others nervously nodded in fear agreeing with him
Lyn didn't turn right away rather he let them sweat for a few seconds.
Only then did he look back, eyes calm and tired.
Like a man doing them a favor.
He sighed.
"I don't give complete truth," he said slowly. "Only half-truth. If you accept that, we can talk."
They nodded too quickly.
Of course they would.
People trusted honesty more when it came with limits.
He sat back down.
They leaned close without being asked.
He lowered his voice.
"Signs a city is close to being chosen by heaven:
Red afterglow in normal sunlight.
Weird symbols appearing in reflections.
Animals avoiding the area.
Formations losing efficiency."
Once again he made all this up on the spot. Inwardly laughing.
They swallowed every word like medicine.
it seemed half true half wrong but they had no idea that it was all fake, all of it!
"And the reason it becomes dangerous," he continued calmly, "is because Heaven repeats failed creation using the same spatial anchors. Territory anchors. Route anchors. Caravan anchors. If a failed creation happenes near Hazelrun…"
He tapped his finger lightly on the stone floor.
"…its echo will repeat anywhere linked to that road."
What he just said was utter nonsense. However, have the confidence and people will believe you, especially poor people. When you lie, lie big.
One turned pale.
Another clenched his jaw.
The third swallowed hard.
Perfect.
He leaned back.
"Believe it or don't," he finished. "Heaven doesn't care what mortals like us think."
He stood for real this time.
This time, they didn't let him leave.
Money appeared.
Contribution tokens.
He accepted calmly.
Not greedy.
Not demanding.
That made it feel more real.
"Last advice," he added quietly. "If ash falls again… don't run indoors. People hide. People die. Go somewhere open, more air. Ash kills lungs, not roofs. Sealed off Buildings make it easier for your lungs to burn"
If they were to follow this advice they would quickly lose their lungs. In truth it was for the best to stay indoors, if one goes outside in the open- sure you get more air.. and with it ash.
He left without looking back. Rumors spreads faster than truth, this was true for every world.
He disappeared into Emberbar's streets, cloak melting into the crowd, pockets slightly heavier, steps steady.
His first lie worked.
The World was unpredictable
Which meant sooner or later…
Something would happen.
And when it did?
People would remember the quiet man who warned them first.
That was worth more than a handful of tokens.
It was the beginning of a business.
And possibly…
A problem.
[1] some died tho
[2] People were divided into outer sect, sect and inner sect.