Mistvale forest,
Outside Periun city,
Kettlia Region
Ashtarium Nation
North American continent
October 20th 2019
Dusk had barely surrendered to morning when Jack stepped out from the tree line. Mistvale Forest remained unchanged—its fog still wreathed the branches like the fading breath of some ancient dream—but he had changed.
His clothes were caked in soil and sweat, his knuckles raw and red, faint streaks of silver mana clinging to his fingers like molten thread before fading into the quiet air. He felt weightless. Not from exhaustion, but from release—like something deep inside him had finally clicked into place.
The scent of ash and dew met him like an old friend. The campfire had burned down to a cradle of glowing embers, casting faint halos of warmth. His friends were still asleep, nestled in their tents, wrapped in the innocent silence of those untouched by battle.
Carrie stirred gently in her sleep, curled on her side, her hand resting near her heart. Jack paused. Watched her breathe. A strange emotion welled up—not pride, not the euphoria of victory. Something gentler. A tether. A reason.
Quietly, he stepped past her, careful not to wake anyone, and made his way to the log near his tent. The air had cooled, but it was peaceful. He sat with a soft exhale, the fatigue settling into his bones at last. The mana stones in his pouch pulsed faintly—warm, alive, whispering with promise.
"Codex ready for assimilation." The voice rang in his mind, calm and reverent.
Jack pulled the stones free, arranging them with practiced ease. This wasn't just an upgrade—it was cultivation. He was about to fuel both the Codex and himself. By saturating his Soul Core with the energy of the stones, he could push his Mana Core closer to its next threshold, drawing nearer to the next realm of ascension.
"Begin synchronization?"
"Yeah," Jack whispered, settling into a cross-legged position beneath the tent's canopy. "Let's upgrade you."
He placed the stones in a loose circle around him. At his nod, the Codex awakened. A low hum resonated through the forest floor. The stones levitated, slow and steady, casting spiraling strands of pale-blue mana into the air. Threads of energy converged, drawn toward the Codex seal embedded deep within his soul. When they met, light surged. Jack's vision fractured—replaced by glyphs, spinning diagrams, arcane sigils interlacing in endless recursion. He no longer saw with his eyes. He saw with his soul.
"Assimilating Codex Evolution Tier One: Core Sync Upgrade..." The voice was deeper now, layered—like a choir of forgotten intellects speaking in unison.
"Upgrades Applied: Mana Thread Analysis — Passive detection and mapping of ambient mana threads. Zone Expansion Efficiency — 15% reduction in spatial zone deployment cost. Codex Archive — Access granted to Combat Records, Ability Factor Logs, and Spirit Resonance Charts. Interface Customization — Cognitive link calibration for user-specific control and feedback. Partial Mind-Link — Codex may now auto-react to environmental threats using predictive subroutines."
The mana threads dissipated one by one, sinking into Jack's skin, spiraling inward toward his Soul Core. His entire being vibrated with quiet intensity. Something ancient and synthetic had fused deeper into him—and it welcomed him, not as a user, but as an Ascendant.
Jack opened his eyes slowly. A new layer of clarity now colored the world. His Zone responded instantly, the spatial weave lighter, faster, smarter. He had crossed another threshold. And the journey had only just begun.
Jack remained seated, the forest around him still wrapped in early morning hush. The light of the mana stones had faded, but their energy remained imprinted in his being—woven into the very rhythm of his breath, his heartbeat, his soul.
"Codex," he murmured, his voice low. "Show me this Spirit Resonance Chart."
A soft chime echoed within his mind, followed by a smooth unraveling of sensation, like something intangible had unfurled. Then came the image. Not in his eyes, but in his consciousness: a translucent grid-like diagram suspended in blackness, glowing softly with colors that seemed to resonate more than shine.
At the center pulsed a radiant sphere—his Soul Core—anchored by silver lines to surrounding nodes. Each node shimmered with a different hue, vibrating faintly like harmonic tones waiting to be played.
"This chart maps the alignment and response of Ascendant Jack's Soul Core to external and internal stimuli," the Codex explained. "It is a diagnostic of spiritual congruence and energetic potential."
Jack narrowed his internal focus. One of the surrounding nodes flickered a deep blue—cool, quiet, steady.
"This node reflects affinity with the element of Space," the Codex continued. "Resonance: 63%. Alignment Stable. Potential Growth: High."
Another node pulsed crimson, fainter than the first, and less stable.
"Fire Mana Affinity. Resonance: 28%. Volatile. Alignment: Influx State. Source: Emotional stimuli—rage, protection instinct, passion. Containment recommended until foundational stability is achieved."
Jack studied the chart in silence. Some nodes were dim, dormant. Others glowed faintly—Gravity, Ether, even something he couldn't name, a golden spiral that spun without anchoring to anything.
"What's that?" Jack asked.
"Unclassified Affinity. The pattern resembles early-stage Star Mana formation, but Codex is unsure of its status. Currently inactive. Observation required."
That made Jack pause. Something the codex wasn't sure about when it came to his cultivation.
"So this chart… it tells me what kind of energy I resonate with?"
"Affirmative. The chart reveals which forms of Spirit essence your soul naturally harmonizes with. As resonance increases through cultivation, combat, or emotional spikes, those energies become tools for evolution. Techniques derived from your Ability Factor may begin to express aspects of these affinities."
"And if I push one too far?"
"Imbalance may occur—soul fatigue, energy rejection, cognitive instability. However, with Codex support, resonance monitoring and redistribution protocols are active."
Jack exhaled slowly. The Spirit Resonance Chart wasn't just a map—it was a mirror. A spiritual roadmap for growth, evolution, and danger. If he mastered it, he could cultivate smarter. Build techniques tuned to his nature. Shape his Zone Drive into something beyond instinct—into something that harmonized with his soul's deepest chords.
"Can I use this to plan my next breakthrough?" Jack asked.
"Affirmative. When all primary resonant nodes reach 70% and the Soul Core reaches optimal saturation, Realm Ascension will be possible. Spirit Resonance Chart also supports:— Skill Tracking, Emotional Feedback Integration, and Experimental Technique Simulation."
Jack leaned back slightly, eyes closed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. This… this was more than an upgrade. It was a symphony waiting to be composed. Every note of his soul, every flicker of mana, every fragment of self—measurable, malleable, his. Nico had warned him that Factorists like him had a hard time when it came to cultivating their ability due to how there was no handbook for it, like there was for Magic and Body cultivation, and yet, thanks to his codex, his path of cultivation seemed to come smoothly.
Jack was sure that if he were by himself, all those moves and techniques he had used would be impossible. There was no way he would have been able to come up with the calculations needed to execute those moves. And his zone Drive would be just about him jumping from one point to another. But thanks to the Codex, he could do more.
"Thanks, Codex." He whispered.
"Codex exists to guide the Ascendant toward perfection."
****
That night, sleep found Jack easily. The fatigue of battle, the hum of mana assimilation, the warmth of his friends nearby—it all blended into a comforting quiet. But just as his consciousness began to drift, a gentle pulse flickered through his mind, like a whisper on the edge of a dream.
"Codex Simulation Field active," the voice intoned softly. "Would Ascendant Jack like to initiate prototype modeling of a new vector-based technique?"
Even in sleep, Jack's answer echoed from the core of him.
"Yes."
And the world around him shifted.
He stood—not on earth, not in the woods—but in a vast, weightless expanse. The space was both infinite and enclosed, like the inside of a void-shaped pearl. Pale-blue threads of mana crisscrossed the ground beneath his feet, humming with latent energy. The Codex Interface hovered overhead in fractal rings, rotating slowly with glyphs that responded to his every breath.
Jack looked down at his hands. They shimmered faintly, more idea than flesh. His body here wasn't quite real, but it was his. A projection of self into a world of thought and potential.
"Define Prototype Designation."
"Mirage Step."
Glyphs flared. Threads unraveled beneath him. The ground formed a mirrored grid stretching in all directions.
"Parameters accepted. Objective: develop vector-based spatial flicker movement using compressed zone flow and anchor-point inversion."
Jack took his stance. This wasn't a simple dodge or teleportation trick. Mirage Step was about controlled illusion through motion, distorting his opponent's perception by skipping through anchored vectors inside his Zone. Unlike his basic zone jumps, which displaced him in clean lines, this required feints, phase-like blurs, and the ability to project presence in false spaces. This was an idea that had begun forming in his mind after he had observed the Aetherfang stalker's phasing ability.
First attempt.
He pushed forward. A burst of movement. His form blinked, flickered to the left—but a shadow of him remained behind for half a second too long. He failed.
"Result: Ghost Echo Delay. Anchor offset unstable. Reaction speed: suboptimal."
He tried again. This time, he inverted his spatial anchor, switching the real vector mid-flicker—left, then immediately forward, leaving a blur behind him for too long. Another failure.
The Codex's voice guided him, but softly, never intrusive. This was still his simulation. Every misstep gave feedback. Every flash of movement wrote itself into memory. His instincts sharpened. His zone pulsed with intent.
He began to see how it could work: create anchor points within the compressed zone shell—layer them like stepping stones—then bounce his image across those anchors with minor delays, creating Mirage Nodes that drew the enemy's eye away from his true location.
His true self could flow between those nodes like a river slipping through stones—always moving, never bound. But executing that vision was anything but simple. Jack was still adapting to the intricacies of anchor point manipulation—the delicate art of reinforcing his strikes through force amplification while stabilizing his frame to absorb recoil. It demanded precision, timing, and an instinctive awareness of spatial friction and directional momentum.
To now leave behind echoes of himself—mirage fragments tethered to those same anchor points—was a far greater challenge. It required not only movement but a projection of presence, a ghost-layer of intent detached from his actual position. Each failed attempt left his phantom image half-formed or lagging too far behind, disrupting the illusion entirely.
He gritted his teeth, trying again, cycling through the simulation with narrowed focus. The Codex provided feedback, recalibrated anchor alignment, and adjusted temporal delay—yet the mastery was his to earn. Still, he could feel it—just beneath the surface of his awareness.
A step. A blur. A pulse of misdirection. He wasn't there yet. He wasn't even that close yet, but he felt the possibility at the tip of his reach.
As Jack's consciousness slipped deeper into the dream-state, the Codex gradually reduced the intensity of the simulation. Neural stimuli softened, feedback sequences dimmed. His subconscious, overstimulated from hours of internal training, could no longer sustain the weight of calculation and began to surrender to true sleep.
That was when the dream came.
Fire bloomed across the skyline like a blooming flower of ruin. Buildings crumbled like paper, their bones groaning beneath invisible pressure. Screams pierced the thick, acrid air. Jack—only nine years old—was being pulled along by his mother's hand, her grip fierce with urgency. Around them, chaos reigned. People ran in all directions, some dragging loved ones, others too stunned to scream.
Above, the sky split with light. Streaks of energy flashed like divine wrath—radiant, foreign, alive. Explosions crackled through the air like thunder made of color. Shapes moved within the light—hovering figures, terrible and beautiful, inhuman in scale and presence. Ascendants locked in battle.
The boy clutched his mother's coat tighter, tears streaking down soot-smeared cheeks. His eyes were wide, reflecting the horror unfolding in the heavens.
"Mommy… look out," Jack whispered, his voice trembling.
A burst of radiant energy, spiraling like a comet, ricocheted through the sky—and then crashed into the street not far from them.
The explosion was instantaneous.
Heat. Light. Noise.
The world flipped.
The concussive wave tore through the crowd like a scream of the gods. Jack was ripped from his mother's arms, flung backward. Time slowed as he watched—watched people vanish into smoke, their bodies shredded by debris, limbs torn asunder, a mist of crimson painting the air like a grotesque watercolor.
He didn't understand what he was seeing. Only that it was wrong. So wrong. And somewhere in the middle of that nightmare, young Jack screamed. But no one could hear him.
"Jack! Jack!"
His eyes snapped open, the echo of a scream still caught in his throat. Gasping, drenched in sweat, Jack found himself staring into Carrie's face—her brow furrowed, her hands cupping his cheeks, her voice trembling with concern.
"Hey… it's okay. You're alright," she whispered, pulling him gently into her embrace.
Jack clung to her without thinking, his breath ragged and shallow, his heart thundering like it was trying to break free from his chest. Her warmth grounded him. Her scent—jasmine and campfire—wrapped around him like a blanket, slowly pushing back the terror that still clung to the edges of his mind.
"It's over," she said softly, stroking the back of his head. "Whatever it was… it's over."
He didn't answer right away. His fingers gripped the fabric of her hoodie as if afraid she might disappear too. After several deep breaths, the tremors in his hands eased, and the fragmented images began to dissolve into the shadows of memory.
Carrie pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. "Everything is alright. You're here with me. I'm with you."
Jack nodded faintly, remembering. The internal training… the Codex… the simulated battlefield. And then the dream had twisted—no, descended—into something else. Something real. Too real.
He didn't want to speak of it. Not yet.
"Is everyone awake?" he asked, trying to refocus.
Carrie hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I told them to go fetch water from the lake."
Understanding bloomed immediately. She'd given him space. A way to collect himself without a dozen worried eyes watching.
"You didn't have to…" Jack began, but Carrie shook her head gently.
"Yes, I did." Her voice was firm, but kind. "You needed it. Whatever that was… it shook you, Jack." He looked down, ashamed for a moment, but her hand found his again—warm, steady, grounding.
"You don't have to talk about it yet," she added. "Just... know you're not alone."
Jack nodded, the weight in his chest loosening just a little more. They remained there for a quiet moment—Carrie holding him, her embrace a shield against whatever shadows lingered in his mind. Eventually, the tightness in his breath faded, and a semblance of calm returned.
After a while, Jack stirred. "Let's go find the others," he said softly. "I could use the walk."
Carrie hesitated, searching his face. She still wasn't fully convinced he was okay, but at last she gave a small nod. "Alright. But we're taking it slow."
She laced her fingers through his, and together they stepped out from the fringes of the camp and into the hush of the forest. The trail to the lake wound between tall, moss-covered trees, shafts of morning light breaking through the canopy above. A faint breeze stirred the leaves, cool and fragrant with dew. The nightmare still lingered at the edges of Jack's mind, but with each step, it faded—replaced by the rhythm of their steps and the comforting warmth of Carrie's hand in his.
When they arrived at the lake, sunlight spilled across the crystalline surface like molten silver. Laughter rang through the air—clear and bright. The scene was a painting of peace.
Up by a cliff ledge overlooking the lake, Mark, Sarah, and Amber stood poised, getting ready to dive. Just as Jack and Carrie stepped onto the bank, Mark whooped and launched himself from the ledge, his arms spread wide before he crashed into the water with a clean splash.
Eli sat cross-legged near the shoreline, flicking pebbles across the surface. He glanced back and brightened when he saw them. "Jack, you're up!" he called out.
A few feet away, Layla and Zoe were in the water, laughing as they splashed one another. When they spotted Jack and Carrie, they waved enthusiastically.
Jack gave a small, genuine smile. "I see you're all having fun," he said, his voice lighter now.
"Come on in!" Layla shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. "The water's amazing!"
"Mark's trying to outdo Sarah in diving form," Eli added with a grin. "It's not going well."
Carrie chuckled beside him, nudging Jack playfully. "Think you're brave enough to join them?"
Jack looked out at the lake, the shimmering water reflecting the sky, and for the first time since waking up, he felt a genuine desire to step into that peace.
"Yeah," Jack said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I think I might."
He stepped forward, the sunlight warming his shoulders as he ascended the narrow trail leading up the rocky rise. The cliff's edge loomed ahead, where mist from the lake below caught the light like drifting glass. Amber had already leapt—her splash echoing moments ago—leaving only Sarah waiting at the ledge.
She turned when she heard Jack approach, her expression soft but edged with concern.
"Are you alright?" Sarah asked, her eyes scanning his face with the quiet intuition of a friend who noticed more than most.
Jack gave a small nod, his voice even. "I'm fine."
Her gaze lingered. "And the mission last night?"
He didn't flinch. Mark, Eli, and Sarah knew the truth—they'd helped cover for him, kept the others unaware. So there was no need to hide it.
"Successful," he said simply. "I got what I needed."
Before she could say more, Mark's voice called up from below, interrupting the moment. "Are you guys gonna jump, or what? We're not getting any younger down here!"
Sarah rolled her eyes, her concern melting into a grin. "I'm coming!" she called, then took a few steps back and threw herself off the cliff with a yell, her body slicing through the air before crashing into the lake.
Jack stepped forward, peering down. The water shimmered, catching the late morning light in rippling, hypnotic waves. It looked farther than it was—just enough to make his breath catch.
Then, a familiar voice slipped around him like sunlight on skin.
"Chickening out?" Carrie said softly behind him.
Her arms wrapped gently around his waist, and Jack could feel her heartbeat against his back, steady and warm. He glanced down at her hands, then turned, his gaze meeting hers.
"We can do it together," she whispered, smiling up at him, her eyes luminous with mischief and affection.
Jack chuckled, the tension in his chest vanishing as quickly as it had come. "I'd love nothing more than that," he said.
He wrapped his arms around her waist in turn, drawing her in, the two of them standing at the edge of the world together. For a moment, there was no forest, no Codex, no shadows from the past—only her. Only this.
Then they leapt.
The wind rushed past them in a blur, a burst of freedom and weightlessness. Carrie's laughter echoed beside him, golden and wild, just before they hit the water with a splash that stole the breath from his lungs.
Submerged beneath the lake, Jack opened his eyes to a world of light and movement, distorted and dreamlike. Carrie's hand was still in his. The cold surrounded them, but it wasn't unkind.
As they surfaced, laughter bubbling from both of them, Jack realized that—for the first time in a long time—he wasn't just surviving. He was living. And for this moment, at least, that was enough.