“Alright. Doctor’s gone.” Morres spoke slowly, as though he was savoring each word. His tone was methodical, almost disinterested, but there was something underlying all of it—something deliberate. “First off, congratulations on forming your Truth at 1-1. That’s the best time to do it, but also the riskiest. That’s precisely why I was asked by Dominus Demeterra to rush over to you.” His voice took on a bit of a chuckle, but it was clear he wasn’t entirely amused by the situation. “Also, from now on, I’m not Morres. I’m Dominus Morres.”

  He let those words hang in the air, his gaze steady on me, waiting for an acknowledgment, something to show I understood the gravity of the situation.

  I blinked, still a little off-balance. “Yes, Dominus Morres?”

  He nodded, his golden eyes gleaming with approval, as though the formality was just another box to check before moving on. “Good. Welcome to the club. That ring you have on? It’s your Truth. It’s a representation of your mana types: Dimension, Crystal, Nature. Dimension—it's radiating vast space, nebulae of color swirling, light bending in its form. Crystal—the stars are made of metallic, superheated cores, all matter forged from the remnants of long-dead stars. Nature, though… That’s the embossing on your ring, the burnt wood pattern, the essence of life, growth, decay—life and death intertwined. You’re a Shaper and a Manifester, the combination of sophistecated creation and projection.” He paused, his hands subtly tracing the air as if illustrating the concepts before him. “Most are a Shaper/Creator, a Creator/Bioweaver, or a Bioweaver/Manifester, or even a Shaper/Manifester, but rarely it does deviate. The lines usually follow their adjacency.”

  “Adjacency?” I asked, the term unfamiliar but oddly intuitive in the way it was presented.

  Morres raised a brow, giving me a look that carried just a hint of amusement, but his voice was neutral. “Study it yourself. I’m not your tutor,” he said dismissively, clearly eager to move on from the basics.

  Morres settled into his chair with a heavy sigh, his opalescent skin catching the faint light of the room, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was savoring the act of speaking. His eyes, almost half-closed, seemed to drift somewhere far beyond the immediate moment, his voice taking on a relaxed, almost lethargic tone, as though every word was weighed with centuries of thought.

  “What I am here for,” he began, his voice soft and stretched, like the words were rolling off his tongue lazily, “is for you to realize... you’ve just tapped the first part of your Providence. The Truth, unsurprisingly, is the one that affects you the least.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, his eyes drifting closed as he took a deep, cathartic breath, as though the very act of speaking was a slow release of some built-up tension.

  He continued, and each word felt deliberate, as though he were carefully choosing them, savoring the thought of it all. “Once you form your Lie and Ideal, you’ll gain a mana aspect. But what the Truth does…” He dragged the sentence out, eyes flicking open just enough to meet mine, “is allow you to control your aura, your projection. It shapes your inner world... your image. It’s the framework for the rest of your being, really. You’ll be able to control your paper constructs with greater ease, enter books faster, and... have a more innate understanding of things. Though, that last one,” he chuckled lightly, “is difficult to read with your Arte itself. But that’s the closest I can offer you.”

  “Does it… do anything on its own?” I asked, my voice still tinged with confusion as I tried to wrap my head around what Morres was explaining.

  Morres’ head tilted slightly as he considered the question, his lips curling into a slow smile. He nodded with a languid grace, as though each movement took its time. “Yes,” he replied, his voice thick and drowsy, each syllable drawn out. “Unsure of its exact workings for you, of course, but yes—your Truth does influence things in its own way.” He seemed almost lost in thought for a moment, his gaze drifting far beyond the present, before he refocused on me.

  “My Truth,” he continued, his tone still slow, almost meditative, “was [Dreams are sacred.] An odd thing to hold sacred, isn’t it? But it was my reality. My Truth shaped itself into an image—a golden crown of cotton candy, floating above a bubble that contained all the hopes, desires, and dreams of those around me. It was absurdly sweet, and light, but it held such depth. The candy, the bubble—it represented everything that people wished for but couldn’t reach. I wanted to help those people—the ones who couldn’t live out their dreams. And so... it became sacred to me.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in, his eyes soft with a faraway look. “That crown... it lets me accumulate high mana based on those asleep in the vicinity, including myself, of course. Their dreams, their desires, all feeding into my mana. Their hope, their deepest wishes, flow into me while they sleep.” He stretched, his body languid, as though the very idea of the power was something that rested in him. “Though, I haven’t needed to sleep for millennia,” he added with a yawn, his voice still thick with exhaustion.

  “Then…wait if you haven’t needed to sleep for such a long time, then why are you always tired?! That was the seventh or so yawn you’ve done!”

  “Parts of your Providence change you. Your Lie. Your Ideal. They aren’t about who you are, but about who you wish to be, and what you’re willing to do to reach that. I can’t push you further along that path. You can’t form your Lie before completing your third shell of skillcubes…” He paused, and I noticed the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Speaking of which… Part of the reason Demeterra cashed in three of her favors to me was because of your companion. Fractal, her name is?”

  I froze. Panic gripped me. Fractal was still in school, still studying, unaware of everything that had happened to me. She hadn’t heard from me, nor I from her. She didn’t know about my injuries, about the risks I had been facing. The thought of her being left in the dark—alone, while I was here, like this—was unbearable.

  Morres, sensing my distress, held up his hand as though to calm me. “She’s a Dreamweaver. A rank two Spirit Beast. Her Arte, Bismuth Manipulation, isn’t common amongst her species, but her Dream mana is literally her definitive feature. Venom mana means she was born from a nightmare, and given her birthplace, I’d have to agree. You two share Crystal mana, correct?”

  I nodded, though I was still reeling. How did he know so much about us? More importantly, why was he telling me all of this now?

  Morres didn’t seem to wait for a reply. “That’s what I was told. Twilight, Steam, and Metal were my default aspects. My Lie granted me Dream. Then my Ideal gave me a mana aspect I can’t even speak of in this realm, as it doesn’t exist here. But needless to say, Metal is one of the mana types in a realm that is required for Crystal. You and Fractal… you’re tied together by your aspects. Have you been taught higher-tier aspects?”

  I blinked, realizing how little I truly knew. Higher-tier aspects? “No,” I said softly. “I haven’t.”

  He nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Good. At your stage, exposure to higher-tier aspects could taint your Lie. You need to focus on what’s directly in front of you now. What’s necessary for you to complete. Rush your skillcube acquisition. You’ve been tasked with a heavy responsibility, Alexander. Your Arte is powerful, but it’s also volatile. And once you’re aware of your Lie… well, things get complicated.”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  I clenched my jaw, the weight of his words sinking in. “But… what happens if I can’t complete it in time? If I can’t rush my skillcubes fast enough?”

  Morres met my gaze, his eyes unwavering. "You’ll get there. But you’ll need guidance. Trust the ones around you. Your companions. Especially Fractal." He paused, and I saw something flicker in his expression, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Cordelia, too. Has she told you that your thoughts are loud?"

  I stared at him, my irritation flaring. My eyes narrowed. "Yes. Many times."

  He chuckled softly, almost to himself. "Great. Work on it." He leaned back slightly, his movements languid. "You aren’t allowed to tell anyone else about your deadline. The only reason I’m allowing you to talk to Cordelia about it is because she can read your mind and knows about it already."

  I absorbed that, my mind racing. "So... you were alluding to why Dominus Demeterra cashed in those favors. Was Fractal one of your favors?"

  He shook his head slowly, as if considering how best to respond. "No. I can’t control the drop table in another Dominus’ realm, let alone one of the Dominus Monarch domains."

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he raised a hand, silencing me. "I cannot talk about the Monarchs until you are a Dominus yourself. In many ways, I am bound by more law than you are. No, the first favor was actually training your Dreamweaver in Dream mana skills and helping her form her Truth. I started with your Truth because you were simply too stubborn to realize it. You were a hair's breadth away from forming it yourself, even before you started the caravan."

  I blinked, trying to process everything. He knew. He’d seen it before I had.

  Morres sighed, pulling out a small piece of paper. With a flick of his wrist, a long thermos appeared, the lid popping off to reveal a warm, steaming liquid. He took a sip, clearly satisfied, before continuing.

  “Much better,” he said, with a contented hum. "Now, the second favor Demeterra cashed in was this: I’m to help you grow your personal library, so that you can get out of her realm faster without dying. She doesn’t want your soul—or your Arte—appearing in another. The third and final favor? Once you’re a Dominus, it's tradition for a newly established lord to find a faction. I can’t have you join Solomon’s Legion, which is what Danatallion is part of, and Demeterra wouldn’t have you. So I’m treating you like you’re already my faction’s protege."

  I leaned forward, more intrigued than ever. "And your faction is...?"

  Morres’ smile turned predatory, just a flicker of something dark and dangerous passing over his features. "Pandora’s Box. We are those who fought monsters, and became monsters ourselves. We are the ones who remind people that those who ignore the lessons of the past are doomed to repeat them. We are the ones who guard the relics lost to time, so they are never found. And when Pandora’s Box is opened? All monsters leave civilization in order to ravage it. All that remains? Hope."

  The weight of his words settled over me, pressing down like a heavy cloak. I could see the philosophy behind his words, the way he viewed the world—a world where the lessons of the past were guarded, and the monsters, those forgotten horrors, were kept at bay. But something in his voice, in the way he spoke of Pandora’s Box, sent a chill down my spine. What had he truly meant by "all that remains"? What kind of future was he shaping?

  I didn't have time to dwell on it, though. My mind was already spinning with the implications of his words. I was being treated as a protege in a faction that dealt with the darkest and most dangerous forces of the world. And now, it seemed, I was being pushed to face my own transformation into something... else. Something more than just a Walker. More than just Alexander.

  I glanced at Morres, who was already back to sipping his drink, seemingly unconcerned with the weight of the conversation we’d just had. I wanted to ask more questions, but for now, it felt like I was being swept along by a current far too strong to resist.

  The knock on the hospital door jolted me out of my thoughts, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet. I barely had time to process it before the door opened, revealing a woman who immediately commanded attention.

  Her skin was a deep tan, etched with intricate white tattoos that spread across her arms like a flock of birds taking flight into the sky. It was as though the birds themselves were soaring across her, each one a delicate stroke of artistry. Her hair wasn’t hair at all. Instead, it was a cascade of metallic feathers—yellows, blues, pinks, oranges—each feather shimmering like a living rainbow in the light. It was breathtaking, as if the very essence of color was woven into her being.

  Her clothing was minimal, certainly, but still retained an air of elegance. A part of me couldn't help but admire the way her attire revealed just enough to keep her allure mysterious. Yet what truly caught my attention was the robe she wore—an unmistakable garment that mirrored my own. It wasn’t quite the same, though. While mine was black and gold, hers was gold and black. The insignia on my robe was bronze and silver, while hers was silver and gold.

  I knew who she was before the bond in my mind confirmed it. It was Fractal. She had arrived.

  I smiled, and so did she. Her smile was radiant—almost otherworldly in its beauty. It was as though the very room around us had brightened. Her presence, both warm and ethereal, filled the space with a serene energy.

  At her waist hung a mask—familiar to me. It was made of shifting aetherial smoke, the same form Fractal used to wear as her hat. She now wore it with grace, an elegant piece draped at her side.

  "Dominus Morres. Alexander," she said, bowing to Morres first in respectful acknowledgement, then turning to me. A radiant smile graced her lips as she stepped forward, pulling me into a tight hug.

  The warmth of her embrace was unlike anything I had experienced. For a moment, the exhaustion, the pain, and the fear that had plagued me seemed to dissipate. It was as though everything was... right again. Her touch was familiar, comforting, and I realized how much I had missed her.

  “How... How long have I been out?” I managed, still caught in the haze of her presence.

  I pulled away slightly, checking my Gloss for an answer. The timeline clicked into place, and as I read the information, my eyes widened.

  I’m seventeen.

  The realization hit me hard. I’d been unconscious for not days, not weeks. I was unconscious for MONTHS. ELEVEN.

  Fractal rushed to me, her movement swift and sure. Without a word, she enveloped me in a tight embrace, her arms trembling slightly. I could feel the warmth and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, a reminder of how much she meant to me, how much we had been through together. As she held me, I felt something shift within her. Her body began to shrink and reshape, transforming before my eyes. In a matter of seconds, she was no longer the woman who had just greeted me but the small, delicate form of the weaverbird Spirit Beast I had come to cherish. She perched on my shoulder, nuzzling up to me, her feathers warm and soft against my skin.

  I couldn't help but smile, my hand gently stroking her shimmering plumage. "I didn't think you'd be so emotional, Fractal," I murmured.

  Her tiny form fluttered, and I could sense her deep affection for me, despite the usual reserve that came with her species. She chirped softly, nestling closer into the crook of my neck. There was a comfort in her presence that settled over me, a peace I hadn't realized I needed until now.

  From across the room, Dominus Morres's voice broke the silence, though it was far from harsh. His tone was measured, almost amused. “You have... some decisions ahead of you, Alexander. A lot of them.”

  I turned to face him, feeling the weight of his words. Morres was still as enigmatic as ever, though there was a softness to him now, something more human than I had sensed before.

  “You did save an entire Duchy from an Abbess with your team," he continued, leaning casually against the wall, his opalescent gaze fixed on me. "So, remember how I said you would rush through your first shell of skillcubes?"

  He smiled, though there was something calculating in his expression. "Well, we’re going to go over all the skillcubes you currently have, and the many options you now have from the Free Cities.”

  I raised an eyebrow, my mind already spinning. “How many options do I have?”

  Morres’s smile widened, and there was a gleam in his eye. “Three hundred sixty-four thousand nine hundred forty-six.”