Waking up felt like being hit. He wasn't in his castle room, or the strange glowing cave of the Black Market. He was back in the clean white pod, the familiar hum buzzing through him. Before Arthur could even think straight, pain grabbed him. A terrible cramp tore through his right leg, from his hip all the way down to his ankle. He gasped as the muscles locked up tight. After a week of lying perfectly still, they twisted hard inside the small space.

  With a soft hiss, the pod lid started to open. Bright lights overhead made him blink.

  "Mr. Steelhart! You're back!" Noah’s voice sounded excited and relieved, as always. His face appeared above the pod. "How are you feeling? Any complications during extraction?"

  "Leg," Arthur managed to say through gritted teeth. "Bad cramp. Feels like my muscles are ripping."

  Noah's concern quickly turned to scientific excitement. "Muscle atrophy," he nodded. "But good news! The Mark II pod upgrades are finished. Integrated neuromuscular stimulators will eliminate cramps and keep you toned. We'll calibrate it while you debrief with Mr. Albright," he explained, gesturing to technicians already prepping the system.

  As Noah talked, the worst of the cramp started to loosen its painful grip. Two assistants came forward, offering steady hands as Arthur carefully climbed out of the pod. They helped him put on a robe and led him down the short hallway to Victor Albright’s office.

  The door slid open quietly, showing the familiar, comfortable room. Victor sat behind his desk. He looked up with a warm, welcoming smile. "Arthur, welcome back. Come in, sit down. How was Atheria this time? Make any progress?"

  Arthur sank into the chair across from Victor. An assistant handed him a glass of water, and he took a long drink. Then he started his report, telling Victor briefly what happened over the last week in Atheria.

  He told him about going into the city with Isla, how she almost died, and how the special water fused with Ether saved her. He mentioned getting into debt with Lycas and his first time really using the Ether, carefully leaving out the necessity of negative emotion as the trigger. He also reported reaching Tier 1, the subtle but definite increase in his connection, and, finally, the astonishing discovery Jaxx'im had made. "The Ether… it's sentient, Victor. Or at least, parts of it seem to be. It responded to Jaxx'im's device, telling him to look away."

  Victor leaned forward, his eyes wide with surprise. "Sentient? Actual communication confirmed? Arthur, the implications are… staggering!"

  Arthur nodded. "Jaxx'im was pretty excited about it." He finished by telling Victor how he went to the Black Market to meet Lycas.

  Victor sat back, absorbing the stream of information, a thoughtful, calculating expression settling on his face. "Astonishing progress, Arthur. Truly astonishing. Tier 1 achieved, sentient Ether confirmation… and this entanglement with Lycas, while dangerous, places you perfectly within Atheria’s shadowy undercurrents. The potential knowledge to be gained, the influence you could cultivate… it’s invaluable." He steepled his fingers, his gaze turning serious, practical. "But these return jumps… the physical stress, the recovery lag, like that debilitating cramp you just experienced… it's inefficient. And frankly, retrieving your consciousness always carries inherent risks, however minuscule."

  He leaned forward again, his tone shifting, becoming persuasive. "With Noah’s team completing the Mark II upgrades – the integrated neuromuscular support technology – we have a new operational paradigm available. We can minimize the return cycle almost entirely, perhaps indefinitely. We propose you stay immersed. Remain as Aren. Continue gathering data, pursue critical leads like this Lycas mission, develop your Ether control without interruption." His eyes held Arthur’s. "We can monitor your vitals remotely, continuously. The capsule maintains your physical body in optimal condition right here. No more atrophy, no more painful re-entries, no more lost time reacclimating. We only extract you for detailed analytical reports when absolutely necessary, for critical new directives from our end, or in the event of unforeseen medical concerns here. It maximizes operational efficiency, minimizes physical risk to you, and allows you to fully integrate into Aren's existence without the constant jarring disconnect."

  Arthur thought about it. Not having to deal with the sudden switches and the awful cramps sounded really good. Atheria was exciting. It had challenges, purpose, the thrill of learning about the Ether, and now this risky mission from Lycas. Chronos gave him the tools, the support, and now a way to fix the physical problems. It made sense.

  "Sounds good, Victor," Arthur agreed. He felt sure about the decision. "Keep this body functional. I'll stay in Atheria."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  An hour later, after a quick medical check and some adjustments by Noah's team, Arthur was back in the pod. It felt a little different inside, maybe even comfortable. Noah gave him a thumbs-up as the lid closed. "Muscle stimulators are on and ready, Mr. Steelhart! Have a good trip!"

  The usual process started, but this time felt different. There was no jolt, no feeling like an electric shock. It was smoother, like slowly sinking into deep water instead of being thrown in. His mind simply… faded out of the white pod.

  Aren opened his eyes. He saw the familiar carved wood of his bed's canopy in Stormborn Castle. Morning sunlight made golden stripes on the stone floor. The change felt perfectly smooth, like he’d never left. That new tech works well, he thought briefly. The talk with Victor felt like a faraway dream.

  Today, he would learn to ride a horse.

  Morning training had focused on angles of attack and defense, crucial concepts for effective counterattacks and parries. Aren, drawing on decades of ingrained martial principles adapted to his new body, demonstrated the core ideas. Leo picked it up fast, eager as always. Isla struggled a bit but kept trying hard. They began practicing drills together under Valerian’s watchful eye, while Aren moved onto his own regimen – rigorous physical exercises focusing on strength and, crucially, cardio. The long walk back from the Black Market area had shown him how much he needed endurance in this world with no cars or trains.

  After the session, Valerian suggested Aren rest before the riding lesson. Restless, Aren returned to his room. He sat cross-legged on the floor, closing his eyes, turning his focus inward towards the faint, pulsing presence of the Ether within him.

  He recalled the surge of power fueled by raw, desperate anger during the fight with the thugs, the subsequent backlash, the throbbing ache in his bones. That way lies madness, he mused, or at least, rapid burnout. He pushed the memory aside, seeking instead a calm, neutral path to connection, consciously trying to direct the flow. But the Ether remained stubbornly placid, circulating slowly, naturally, like blood through veins, refusing his deliberate mental commands. Frustrating. But I can feel it more clearly now than before, he conceded. The connection is strengthening. Progress, just agonizingly slow progress.

  Later, he headed down to the castle stables. The air hung thick with the warm, earthy smell of horses and hay, punctuated by the occasional snort or stamp of a hoof. Valerian was already there, standing beside a handsome horse, gently patting its gleaming neck. The animal was a bright copper color, perhaps slightly smaller and bulkier than the thoroughbreds Aren remembered from Earth, but powerfully built. Its coat had an unusual texture, slightly curly, reminiscent of the American Bashkir Curly breed.

  "Aren," Valerian greeted him with a nod. "This is Moss. He is patient, well-tempered. Suitable for a novice."

  Valerian wasted no time, launching into basic instruction with his usual economy of words: how to approach the horse without startling it, how to correctly mount using the stirrup, the proper posture in the saddle – heels down, back straight, light but firm hands on the reins. He demonstrated how to signal the horse to walk using subtle pressure from the legs.

  Aren’s first attempt at mounting was clumsy. He misjudged the height and nearly threw himself over the other side, catching himself awkwardly on the saddle horn with a grunt. Finally settled atop the large animal, he felt strangely disconnected, perched high above the ground. The horse's bulk, its living warmth beneath him, was an acutely unfamiliar sensation. When he tried signaling Moss to walk as Valerian had shown, the horse merely flicked an ear, ignoring uncertain pressure from Aren's legs.

  "Feel the horse's rhythm, Aren," Valerian advised. "Do not fight its movement with tension. Balance comes from relaxation and engaging your core, much like your stance work in combat. Your legs guide; your seat follows the motion."

  Aren closed his eyes for a brief moment, tuning out the stable sounds, focusing inward. Center of gravity. Relaxation. Subtle shifts. He thought of the fluid movements required in martial arts, the principle of yielding and redirecting force rather than opposing it head-on. He consciously relaxed his shoulders, sank his weight slightly deeper into the saddle, feeling the leather creak beneath him, and applied pressure with his calves again. This time, it was a gentle but firm, confident squeeze, mimicking Valerian's instruction precisely.

  Moss took a deliberate step forward. Then another.

  A small thrill went through Aren. He focused intently on the horse's gait, the gentle side-to-side sway, consciously allowing his hips to move with the rhythm instead of resisting it. He made minute adjustments to his balance, keeping his core engaged but his limbs loose and responsive. Within minutes, he was guiding Moss around the enclosed paddock at a steady walk, feeling a new connection, a subtle understanding, forming between himself and the animal beneath him. It wasn't elegant, far from it, but it was controlled.

  Valerian watched from the center of the paddock, arms crossed, giving a single, almost imperceptible nod of approval. "You learn quickly."

  Aren continued circling, getting the feel of the horse, the responsiveness of the reins, the quiet language of pressure and balance. He felt definite, tangible progress, faster than he'd honestly expected, likely thanks to Valerian's concise pointers and his own ingrained understanding of body mechanics and balance. But he knew mastering a basic walk was leagues away from the endurance and skill needed for a multi-day journey across unfamiliar territory to Silon.

  Okay, this isn't impossible, he thought, reaching forward to pat Moss's sturdy neck, feeling the surprisingly soft fur beneath his palm. But I need more than just walking pace. He glanced towards the imposing grey walls of the castle. One more solid day of practice with Moss. Keep working on the Ether meditation. Then, tomorrow, it’s time to talk to Darius. Time to put that Ether academy story to use and head for the Golden Ursai. The mission clock was ticking.