Lyn woke to the sound of bells ringing in the distance.
Classes must be starting soon. Right—Lightflame.
He stood, changed into his uniform, and was about to wash his face when he felt a faint mental ping.
Hm. My storage shard's been updated.
He checked it. A new message, letter-like and clear, glowed in his mind.
Visit me later today.
—Defying Sun
Lyn sighed
Naturally. He hadn't forgotten.
He washed his face, straightened his uniform, and stepped out.
Outside, the sun shone brightly over the training grounds. Under normal circumstances, hail or frost would lash the mountainside, but the fortress's climate formations held the air at a mild, steady temperature. The scent of mountain flowers mixed with the distant tang of sweat and ozone.
This must be it.
He entered a large building made of something like bamboo, though darkened to a deep, polished brown. Inside, he turned a corner and nearly walked into an elder.
"My apologies."
The elder gave him a stern, fleeting look and continued down the corridor without a word.
Lyn found the door labeled Lightflame and stepped inside.
So the rooms here are also larger inside. Space formation. Practical.
The room was arranged like a small colosseum. Tiered seating overlooking a central instructor's platform. It smelled faintly of sandalwood incense. More than thirty students were already seated, their chatter filling the air. The chairs and desks were made of the same darkened bamboo, but the walls and ceiling were veined with exposed formations, glowing lines of silver and pale blue that ran through the structure like luminous veins. Surprisingly, it fit the room's aesthetic.
Lyn didn't linger on the decor. A room was a room.
He took a seat in one of the front rows. Students around him talked in hushed, animated clusters. He stayed quiet, observing.
Most looked to be in their twenties, some perhaps early thirties. From the subtle Essence leaking from them, he sensed mostly Rank 3, a fair number of Rank 4, and even a few Rank 5.
Just how valuable is this class?
A conversation from the row in front of him drifted back.
Three young women speaking in low, frustrated tones.
"…failed again."
"How did you manage to fail? You're Rank 5!"
"I, uh… miscalculated the The formation formula.. it was wrong and it spiked, and I…"
There were many such exchanges happening around him. It seemed this class tested more than raw power. Failing was common, even for those several Ranks above him.
He leaned back, listening, waiting for the instructor to arrive.
few minutes passed by. Lyn stayed motionless like a tree.
few minutes passed like this.
One moment, air. The next, a woman filled the space on the platform. The transition bypassed sight. Her presence hit first, a physical wave that stole sound and breath.
All chatter died. Not from respect. From obliteration.
"Beyond Morning..." someone gasped, the name a prayer of terror.
The air turned to syrup, thick and hard to pull into the lungs. A deep, animal panic vibrated in every chest, the primal response to a predator whose power leaked from her like heat from a forge. She did not hide her rank. She wore it as a weapon, and its pressure flattened the room.
Every student sat pinned by her gravity.
She stood tall, built not for grace but for breaking. Muscle defined her frame beneath plain purple robes. A wild fall of white hair reached her waist. Her eyes were winter stone, pale and pitiless. Across her chest, glowing letters declared her title: The One Beyond the Morning.
Lyn watched, his face a mask of perfect calm.
So what? If a person could not even stand in the presence of someone stronger, how could they ever hope to become strong themselves? The weak feared the strong. That was the law of the world.
But not for Lyn.
It wasn't bravery. Bravery meant feeling the fear and pushing past it. Lyn simply felt… nothing. People with no clear purpose, no legacy to protect, no grand dream to lose, they carried a different kind of weightlessness. An emptiness that no outside pressure could crush. A dead person amongst the living!
She was Rank 8? There was a chasm between them wider than heaven, deeper than myth?
So what!
He remained unmoved.
He remembered Defying Sun in the tavern. The quiet, the absolute absence of pressure. A Heavenly Expression who felt like nothing at all. Compared to that, this was theater. A demonstration. A show of force for children who still thought power was something you flaunted.
It only reminded him of the errand ahead.
I still have to return that shard.
On the platform, Beyond Morning's gaze swept the room. When she spoke, her voice scraped like gravel.
"Your first lesson," she said in a cold expressionless voice. "Is learning how not to drown in the wake of those above you."
A cold smile touched nothing but her eyes.
"Most of you are already failing."
She clapped her hands.
A shockwave of wind tore through the room with enough force to snap heads back and slam unprepared students against their seats.
"I will be your teacher this semester. I don't think I need to introduce myself. But if, somehow, you do not know me…"
Her expression tightened with unmistakable disgust, though the reason was unclear.
"…let me inform you."
"I am The One Beyond Morning. I was one of the mortal generals who led our armies to war nine years ago against the now-conquered Blood Cult."
Ah, that's right.
Lyn's thoughts slotted the memory into place.
The Ashen Light Sect had fought a brutal war against the Cult of Blood. An alliance had formed, the cult was dealt with, but at heavy casualties
or so he remembered from the library.
"Some sects encourage purity in a single Path,"
she continued, her voice carving through the quiet.
"The signature path of the Ashen Light Sect is naturally Light, sometimes combined with Fire. But in practice, people cultivate all kinds of paths."
She let that hang. Paths themselves carried no official label, if someone today used Blood Path in Ashen Light territory, heads would turn, but ultimately, nothing would be said. Power, in the end, spoke louder than ideology.
"Back to the topic," she said, the disgust in her voice hardening into something colder. "Some of you are Rank 5 in this class, and yet you still have no way to control yourselves when faced with power greater than your own? This is downright embarrassing. If this is your limit, you will never be accepted into the army."
She let out a short, sharp sigh, the sound of a master looking at blunt tools.
I see, Lyn thought,
So this place isn't just a training ground. It's also a recruitment funnel for the army.
It made sense. Those who performed well here wouldn't just earn Merit Points, they'd also earn a ticket. Access to greater resources.
She was weeding out the ones who cracked under pressure. The army didn't need geniuses who froze when a general walked into the room. It needed soldiers who could hold formation even when heaven itself was pressing down.
"Your performance here,"
she continued, as if reading the turn of his thoughts,
"determines more than your grade. It determines what you're worth to the sect outside these walls. Remember that the next time you feel like trembling."
After a brief pause, her gaze cut across the room and settled on Lyn for a single, measuring second.
"Most of you are between Rank 3 and 5," she stated, her voice losing none of its edge. "Naturally, what we do next should not be unknown to you. The best way to cultivate is, naturally, to fight. Through conflict, you gain understanding. And through that understanding and your own effort you earn more Truth Carvings. And naturally, Merit Points, from which you can also buy resources to speed up your cultivation."
"Speed up my cultivation?" Lyn asked, his voice flat.
"Truth Carvings require understanding. You only advance after gathering enough to even activate a Heavenly Blockade. How do Merit Points speed that up?"
A ripple of silence followed. The question was so fundamental that to everyone else in the room, it was like asking how to breathe. No one spoke up; some even looked away, as if embarrassed on his behalf.
Beyond Morning looked at him, her winter-stone gaze holding for a brief moment. There was no judgment in it, only assessment.
"Naturally to buy beast materials aligned with your Path," she answered, each word clear and heavy. "Place them in your Vessel Sea. Use the depth of your Sea to crush them. Consume the truth they contain."
The explanation was blunt, absolute. It made immediate, brutal sense.
Yet Lyn's mind sharpened around a new question: If it's this straightforward, why wasn't it in the Light Information Shard? Why wasn't it in the library's basic sections?
"Naturally, there is a significant risk. This is why it is not for everyone. If you fail to fully crush and integrate the material, your Sea's purity will decay." She let out a short, sharp sigh.
"Naturally it means less overall power. A weak foundation may rise quickly, but it will shatter just as fast."
The constant "naturally" grated in his thoughts. Enough with the 'naturally.'
But the concept itself was intriguing to him.
I might be exempt from this risk. I have to test it.
His mind turned inward, to the silent, golden star hanging in his Vessel Sky. What are you, exactly?
his body had been unusual from the start. He could harvest any material without needing the corresponding Truth Carvings like those Rank 4 ashes back in the valley.
But if what Beyond Morning said was true… then the star might not just bypass costs. It might consume truths directly, cleanly, without decay. A perfect, silent refinery in the sky of his soul.
suddenly a student asked a question.
"I have a dumb question. I could not find any explanation regarding Heavenly Shards—what are they, actually? My parents and my teacher back in Argindale kept explaining an oversimplified version: 'Heavenly Shards are tools made out of understanding.' But how is that possible? I know they can form naturally and be made artificially…"
"Naturally," she replied
God..
"each year a student asks the same question. It's almost like a tradition. Sigh. What are Heavenly Shards? Simply put, they are newly grown pieces or extensions of Heaven. Naturally, they form into glass-like, crystallized objects, and their appearances vary."
she closed her eyes before continuing
"Often, natural ones look like shards of glass, while artificial ones can be molded into different forms, which makes them easier to identify. You'll have a workshop regarding the creation of Heavenly Shards, in any case. In short, they are extensions of Heaven. Every time you use a shard, you're using an extension of Heaven frozen in a crystal-like state. Artificial ones are man-made, and the effects of natural ones used to be hard to identify—until we created artificial ones, which helped us understand the natural ones' effects better"
"Naturally, Natural shards form based on Heaven experiencing itself. A natural shard might even form in beasts, but it can't be harvested, as they are fused together by mutation. They can also form through battles; there is an understanding in battle as well. It can't be predicted what kind of natural shard might form, or what rank it will be."
She opened her eyes, rubbing her temples before continuing.
"Newbies here must first refine a shard. While refining, you naturally have to sacrifice a few of your Truth Carvings. Basically, shards are made of Heaven plus Truth Carvings. However, natural ones contain something called Primordial Carvings, which exist when the shard is newly created. Once someone refines it by placing it in their Vessel Realm or directly injecting their essence while holding the shard, the Primordial Truth disappears—it can't be harvested. In theory, it is returned to Heaven."
Primordial truth carvings? could it be.. nevermind..
she then clapped her hands softly
"that was that with questions, we still need to train. everyone outside and then follow me."
people lined up in pairs some knew each other from last year some becouse they were from the same town
Lyn waited for a while he had hoped to be the last one in the line.
"hey you! wanna go together?"
Lyn turned. A student, maybe a year or two older, with short dark hair and blue eyes—somewhat plain looking. Rank 3, Third Stage.
A commoner?
He carried himself without the rigid pride of the noble-born.
"Name's Scar. Yours?" he said in a happy, relaxed tone, his body language loose, almost lazy.
"Ryn. Sure," Lyn replied plainly.
It wasn't bad to get some additional intel. Lyn preferred to eavesdrop, but a direct source had its uses.
Scar kept talking as they fell into step at the back of the line, chattering about the morning's events, the strange room, the terrifying instructor. It bored Lyn, but he mirrored the other boy's relaxed demeanor, offering nods and neutral hums at the right moments.
This guy sure is talkative, Lyn thought, the analysis cold and clear beneath his amiable mask. Great tool for a broadcast. Information flows outward. All I have to do is point him in the right direction.
Scar was a live conduit. A human shard for spreading whispers. And every word he said now was giving Lyn a map of his thoughts, his priorities, his fears. It was a trade: a bit of patience now, for a potential lever later.
He let Scar talk, his own eyes fixed ahead on the backs of the other students, already categorizing, assessing, while filing away every idle complaint and observation Scar offered. A chatterbox was only useless if you didn't know how to listen.
I now know much more than I did a few days ago.
The thought settled in his mind, heavy and sharp.
Heavenly Shards, Truth Carvings, Blockades, formations, natural versus artificial shards... Primordial Carvings?
That last one hooked in his thoughts, a barbed question.
If those are the raw truths of Heaven, lost when a shard is refined... could they be harnessed? Could my star...?
He let the thought fade, unfinished. Some mysteries were too dangerous to follow in the open. There was a time for everything
After a few minutes of walking, they reached a vast, open field carved into the mountainside. It was staggeringly large, a verdant plain that defied the icy peak looming above.
To think a snow mountain could be like this... all thanks to the formations of Morninglight.
The air here was thick with the rich scent of crushed grass and wild mountain flowers. Beside him, Scar finally fell silent, the palpable aura of their instructor smothering even his chatter.
Beyond Morning stood at the field's edge, a stark, purple-robed silhouette against the impossible green. The entire class gathered before her, the earlier nervous energy now compressed into a tense, waiting silence.
She surveyed them, her winter-stone eyes missing nothing.
"Your first practical,"
she announced, her voice carrying easily across the field.
"Naturally, Is simple. You will pair up. You will fight. You will naturally not kill. Crippling is... discouraged, but allowed. The last one standing in each pair earns five Merit Points. The loser earns nothing. Begin."
everyone moved in pairs creating space
against a rank 3 third stage? I dont even have an offensive shard.. seems this guy is probably the weakest from them making me the actual weakest..
infront of Lyn was scar they were about to begin fighting
Lyn inspected his shards and sighed, his only somewhat useful shard was light reflect and notion shard..
people looked over at them, in their minds the clear winner was Scar. difference between stage one and three was too much
others would give up.
But not Lyn.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
Scar's feet were sheathed in light for a brief moment, and he closed the distance fast. Lyn remained completely calm.
Poor control, Lyn observed.
Just as he thought it, Scar couldn't arrest his forward momentum, overcommitting to the charge. This made it effortless for Lyn to sidestep with a minimal shift of his weight.
Scar skidded to a halt, dumbfounded. Usually I catch people off-guard with my speed. This guy...
He turned and quickly opened his Shard Gate, swapping a shard. "Lightning Anchor!" A crackling, spear-like construct of solidified light appeared before him. He focused his intent and hurled it at Lyn at blinding speed.
This time he won't be able to avoid it! It's too fast, and its area is too wide to dodge in time!
Lyn sighed. Light Reflect.
As the crackling anchor was about to strike him, it warped, changing direction as if hitting a perfect, angled mirror. It shot back toward Scar at twice its original velocity.
Scar's pupils dilated. The speed was far too great for him to react. It struck him squarely in the stomach and ribs. The air left his lungs in a whoosh, and he coughed, a fine spray of blood misting the air.
This... this guy... how? I saw no shard!
Scar didn't wait. He wiped the blood from his mouth and activated another shard. He now held two shards, miniaturized to the size of millimeters, orbiting him like deadly satellites.
"Mortal Fragment: Heavy Light!"
Is it customary here to scream your attacks? Lyn mused. Sigh.
Three enormous anchors, each five times Lyn's size, materialized. They shot toward him at high speeds—one directly at his chest, the other two arcing to pincer him from the sides.
Indeed, I can't reflect this... A Mortal Fragment, huh?
Instead of trying to block or dodge the massive constructs, Lyn simply took two quick steps back, increasing the distance between himself and the central anchor by a precise, minimal amount.
The three gigantic anchors, programmed for a converging impact, collided with each other in the space he had just vacated. Light shattered with a deafening crunch of released energy, kicking up a plume of dirt and grass.
Lyn remained expressionless amidst the dissipating glow.
"WHAT?!" Scar screamed, his composure shattered. "How did you know its only weakness?!"
Really? Lyn thought,
A simpleton.
"I suppose... intuition," Lyn lied.
"Ha! Of course, of course that's it!" Scar barked a laugh that held more frustration than humor.
"Mortal Fragment: Falling Anchor!"
Oh boy. I wonder what it does.
An anchor of solid light materialized directly above Lyn, blotting out the sky for a heart-stopping instant, and plummeted toward him. Lyn didn't flinch. He simply took two swift steps back and rolled to the side. The massive construct hammered into the field where he'd stood with a ground-shaking THUD, kicking up a violent cloud of dirt and torn grass.
How much Essence could he possibly have left?
Lyn analyzed. Essence management was the bedrock of any real fight. Strength meant nothing if your Sea ran dry mid-strike. Only fools ignored the meter of their own soul.
"You... you dodged it again!" Scar was enraged, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
Laughable.
Yet Lyn couldn't deny the attacks were powerful. If he hadn't been perceptive, if his SS Purity didn't grant him such effortless, economical movement, he'd have been crushed instantly. As it stood, he could simply wait. Let the boy exhaust himself into a gasping heap, then walk over and claim victory. It would be a draw won by attrition.
Naturally, that would work, he thought, the instructor's affectation slipping into his own mind. Oh, gods. 'Naturally'? That damned instructor is contagious.
But a victory like that, a patient, boring, grinding victory,would draw the wrong kind of attention. It would mark him as cautious, tactical, and resilient. People would start to wonder. Better to be seen as lucky.
"Mortal Fragment: Heav— oh..."
Scar's incantation cut off. His face went slack with dawning horror. He stared at his own hands as if they'd betrayed him.
Just as I thought.
Scar had not paid attention to his Essence reservoir. And now, it was empty.
The light around his feet flickered and died. The miniature shards orbiting him wobbled and fell inert to the grass. He stood there, panting, utterly spent, a weapon with no powder left in the chamber.
Lyn didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He just stood, calm and unblemished, a few paces away on the torn-up field. The silence between them was louder than any shattered anchor.
Scar said nothing. Nor did Lyn.
A long, awkward silence stretched between them, filled only by Scar's ragged breathing and the distant sounds of other clashes from across the field.
Finally, Scar let out a defeated puff of air. "Draw?"
Lyn gave a single, slow nod. "Draw."
It was the optimal outcome. No clear victor meant no glaring spotlight. Lyn hadn't revealed anything beyond basic dodging and a single, plausible shard use. He remained an enigma—lucky, perhaps a bit observant, but not a threat. Scar saved face by not formally losing.
The instructor appeared beside them simply, from nothingness, her presence an abrupt void in the air.
"Naturally. To think this would be the first fight to end today. Ryn, right?"
This is bad. Damn it. The attention was the one thing he didn't want.
"Yes," Lyn replied, keeping his voice flat.
She squinted her pale, winter-stone eyes at Scar but said nothing. The look held a silent critique; it was clear she had expected Scar to win. She had, after all, noticed Lyn's unnatural calm even back in the lecture hall when she'd unleashed her full aura. That observation had now turned into a question.
"A draw," she stated, "means both of you get three merit points."
That means I now have 101 points, Lyn calculated instantly. I wonder how expensive the so-called shop is.
Both Lyn and Scar bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgment.
"For you two, class is dismissed," she said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. With that, she turned and was simply gone again, leaving them alone on the scarred patch of grass, the sounds of distant combat continuing as if they'd never been interrupted
Scar was not so chatty anymore he was solemn. He walked off in one direction, Lyn in another.
I now have 660 Truth Carvings. That's definitely not normal. The thought settled like a stone.
I had 640… now 660. That's twenty new Truth Carvings in what? A spar that lasted maybe twenty minutes?
He replayed the fight, the dodges, the reflection, the patient waiting.
Based on what I understood, common people might gain one to ten Truth Carvings from a battle, a true insight, or weeks of study… and I gained twenty.
Truth Carvings depended on the person themselves. Some could gain more, some less. Naturally, there was an average, and those beyond the average were the so-called talents. In a world this vast, talents were everywhere. But common folks... they were even more everywhere.
He mentally opened the map. On it was written MARKET.
I have no food. I haven't eaten since yesterday. And I still have to visit Defying Sun.
He walked for what seemed like twenty minutes. He was far from the main training yards now, having been assigned to a distant field for the test.
He saw the familiar dark-wood buildings of the residential quarters ahead. As he drew closer, the sound of chatter grew. He entered the main lane of the quarters, and the noise surrounded him. It was already mid-afternoon. He kept walking.
The market was ahead, nestled right among the living quarters.
The market was ahead, nestled right among the living quarters.
So loud.
He had not even entered the market area proper, but stood at its edge. A commotion boiled within the tight lanes, raised voices, the sound of chaos, a surge of bodies moving like a disturbed hive.
Hm? Seems something happened. Perhaps I can profit from this.. I need more intel on the situation.