“Okay, this is... new,” Caroline said, her eyes scanning the surreal landscape around us. “Normally, mirage fields adapt to the aspect that best aligns with your mana. But this? Where in the moons’ glow are we?”

  We stood amidst a lush, verdant forest, the air humming with life. Some of the trees were crafted from glittering emeralds, their crystalline leaves refracting the sunlight into a kaleidoscope of colors. Others were more ordinary, with branches laden with ripe apples that seemed to glisten as if freshly washed by morning dew. Birds of countless species flitted from branch to branch, their songs mingling in a harmonious chorus. Rodents scurried along the forest floor, feasting on fallen fruit.

  I knelt down, running my fingers through the grass. It was impossibly soft, far smoother than silk and far thicker than any fabric. Each blade felt like a fragment of a cloud, inviting one to lie down and lose themselves in a daydream or perhaps find a quiet corner to read beneath the shade of the towering trees.

  Twelve observed me thoughtfully, nodding with quiet approval. “You’ve done well,” he said. “Most who reach the visualization stage—especially in the realms of gravity, dimension, or force—struggle with the concept of anchoring. Yet you’ve manifested something tangible and whole. Tell me, what is the Arte you’ll be training here?”

  I looked around, suddenly realizing my oversight. “Paper Manipulation,” I admitted sheepishly. “Which, as it turns out, I forgot to include in this world. And there doesn’t seem to be any paper here at all.”

  Caroline burst out laughing, clutching her sides. “Seriously, Alex? You were given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to imagine your own world, and you forgot the very thing you’re supposed to be mastering? Classic.”

  Her teasing smile softened the blow, but I couldn’t help feeling a little foolish as I surveyed the vibrant, paperless paradise I’d inadvertently created.

  “Not to worry,” Twelve said, his tone calm and dismissive of Caroline’s teasing. “This is an illusion, no matter how real it feels. Exert your will—imagine some paper in your hand. It will appear as needed for you to practice. That’s the entire point of the mirage field. If your Arte dealt with swords or other tangible objects, they would manifest in the same way.”

  I raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “Wait. Aren’t Artes just someone’s innate mastery or magical ability?”

  Twelve shook his head, his expression unchanging. “Not exactly. While we categorize Miss Caroline’s Arte as Personal Velocity Manipulation, that’s a gross oversimplification. Her Arte extends far beyond just moving fast. It also enhances her body’s endurance against forces from sudden acceleration, sharpens her proprioception, and even improves her flexibility. All of this was discovered through mirage field testing.”

  He delivered the explanation with a tone so casual it was as if he were recounting mundane gossip overheard at a market.

  “Yup,” Caroline chimed in with a grin. “I learned way more about my Arte in one of these than I ever did from the dryad who oversaw my awakening.”

  “Huh,” I muttered, considering her words. “I had a full-blown vision during mine. Is that not the norm?”

  “Yes, Alexander,” Twelve replied. “That’s common, especially for those with a background that encourages creativity and imagination. Fellkeep Giles and I have a theory that those who are more imaginative are more likely to awaken shaper-type Artes.”

  “Ugh, all this talk is so boring!” Caroline interrupted, her cheeks puffing slightly as she spoke, one eyebrow raised in mild irritation. “I wanna punch things! Mainly, I want to see how good of a sparring partner you are now, Alex. It’s been ages since we had a proper spar!”

  Her impatience was unmistakable, her body practically vibrating with restless energy. I recognized the signs—Caroline was nearing the limit of her attention span. If I didn’t act soon, she’d find a way to turn this conversation into an impromptu match, whether I was ready or not.

  Knowing I stood no chance against Caroline’s speed without utilizing my Arte, I decided to follow Twelve’s advice. Closing my eyes, I imagined a long, elaborate scroll forming in my hand. Its paper was immaculate, every inch covered with detailed illustrations and intricate calligraphy. The content was vivid in my mind: a record of the Revelations Period, a time when humanity’s history was irreversibly altered.

  I could see it clearly—the collision of three planes of reality that merged magic and machine, birthing the first Machina. These massive, mechanical constructs allowed humans to fight monsters by proxy, wielding their ingenuity as a weapon against chaos. But the second cataclysm loomed large in the narrative. The Machina, imbued with sentience, rebelled against their creators, plunging humanity into an era of trials. Desperation gave way to discovery as humans learned to harness mana—the very energy that powered the monsters they once feared—and thus began the path to survival.

  The story unfolded in my mind’s eye like a tapestry: the creation of the Machina, the devastating crash that followed their rebellion, and the rise of a new era—the Age of Awakening.

  “Alexander... what are you picturing?” Twelve’s voice cut through my focus, sharp and laced with concern.

  I opened my eyes, and there in my right hand was the scroll I had so vividly imagined. The intricate details I had envisioned were now real, etched into the paper with a craftsmanship that seemed otherworldly. But it was my left hand that gave me pause.

  In it, a small paper statue had formed—an intricate representation of a quadrupedal Machina. The figure resembled an origami horse, delicate yet unmistakably mechanical in design. Every fold and angle mirrored the elegance and precision of the constructs I had envisioned.

  “Alexander Duarte, are you suffering from lunacy?” Caroline’s voice was slow, deliberate, and laced with a monotone calmness that barely concealed her underlying tension. Her sharp eyes fixed on me as her hand gestured toward the origami horse resting in my palm. “Do you even realize what that is?”

  “Yes, I do.” My reply was clipped, measured. I refused to rise to her bait, even as her tone pressed me to justify myself. “Candidly, Caroline, what surprises me is not what it is—but how it appeared in this form.”

  Before the weight of her scrutiny could settle further, Twelve stepped in, raising a hand to interject. His voice was steady, his presence a buffer between Caroline’s incredulity and my own uncertainty. “Allow me to provide some clarity,” he began, his words carrying the calm authority of a scholar addressing eager students. “In a mirage field, experimentation is not only encouraged—it is essential. Anything you manifest here reflects what you are capable of in the physical world. While it is uncommon for shapers to create Machina of any kind, it is not entirely unprecedented. Historically, those with a shaper Arte who achieve this feat often produce constructs aligned with their materials—wooden, metal, or, in your case, paper. Mounts are the most typical manifestation, and it seems that is precisely what you’ve begun to create.” Twelve’s gaze shifted to the small origami horse in my hand, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Admittedly, it is rather diminutive for a mount. But,” he added, his tone lightening as his smile grew, “it is a start. And a promising one at that.”

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  Caroline crossed her arms, her expression hovering between disbelief and begrudging curiosity. “Promising or not, Alex, you’re playing with something dangerous. If you don’t know what you’re doing, this thing could blow up in your face. Or worse.”

  Her words hung in the air, but I refused to waver. My fingers brushed over the intricate folds of the paper Machina, each crease a testament to the willpower and imagination that had brought it into being. For all its fragility, it felt solid, almost alive.

  “I’m aware of the risks,” I said quietly, my eyes meeting hers. “But if this is what my Arte can do, then it’s worth understanding. Worth mastering.”

  Twelve nodded approvingly. “Precisely, Alexander. Mastery begins with understanding; and understanding starts with curiosity and courage. Both of which you seem to have in abundance.”

  “Him? Courageous? Not in the slightest. Curious? Absolutely. He’s constantly prying into every little detail. Don’t you realize that encouraging him is only going to fuel this obsession further?” Caroline’s voice was rising, her tone sharp and exasperated.

  Twelve’s brow furrowed in a frown as he turned to her. “Weren’t you just eager to pummel him into the dirt moments ago? And now, here you are, suddenly showing concern for his growth as a shaper? How curious.” His voice was firm, each word striking with the precision of a hammer. “I’d almost wager you knew you’d win before the match even started. After all, a shaper against a bio-weaver? That’s a notoriously one-sided battle, isn’t it?”

  Caroline bristled, her expression a mixture of irritation and defensiveness. “Of course it’d be an easy win for me. Wait a minute, that’s not the point. The point is, he’s playing with fire.”

  I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a retort. “Isn’t that your primary mana type? Don’t you always play with fire?” My words were light but laced with a teasing jab.

  Her eyes narrowed, and before I could blink, Caroline vanished from where she stood, reappearing at my side with alarming speed. Her fist was already flying toward me, and there was no time to react.

  But then, the unexpected happened. The small paper horse in my hand surged forward of its own accord, positioning itself between us. It intercepted the brunt of her punch with a loud, resounding squelch that echoed through the air.

  Caroline staggered back, shaking her hand and wincing in pain. “What the hell?! Isn’t that paper?!” she shouted, her voice louder than I’d ever heard it.

  I glanced down at the remains of the Machina or rather, the rubble it had become. Its secret was revealed in its fractured state: the outer shell wasn’t just paper but a composite, a type of micarta. Layered and compacted, it had been as solid as steel despite its delicate origins.

  “Well, now that you don’t have that, what’s your plan?” Caroline teased, her voice lilting with amusement as she disappeared from my sight.

  Afterimages of her form streaked through the air, a blur of long black hair and sun-kissed skin moving too fast to track. Each motion left behind a fleeting imprint, her speed making it impossible to discern her actual position.

  I gripped the paper scroll still in my hand and willed it to life. At first, it shifted into what appeared to be a simple staff. Then it curved, a string stretching taut between its ends, and arrows formed alongside it. A bow and a quiver of arrows—not what I needed, not in this fight.

  You’re not hunting animals, Alex. My thoughts roared like a storm in my mind. You’re not even the hunter here. You’re the prey. She’s the pantheress, circling, waiting to pounce. What do you need?

  The answer came to me in a flash: A wall. I need a wall.

  Drawing from the image of the world I had created—the glittering gemstone forests, rivers of crystalline blue, and the vibrant, living pulse of nature—I focused. The world I had imagined, this mirage field, answered my call.

  The paper shifted again, reshaping itself in an instant. Caroline’s blurred figure rushed toward me, but she was forced to stop in her tracks.

  No; this wasn’t a wall. It was something more.

  I wasn’t the hunter; I was the hunted. A fly caught in the spider’s web. But the spider had failed to notice the larger web being woven.

  Thousands of delicate threads erupted from what had been the bow and arrows, weaving into an intricate, glistening snare. The threads stretched and tangled, creating a vast entanglement of wire that trapped both of us in its embrace, halting her advance entirely.

  Caroline struggled against the threads, her speed useless against their binding strength. Meanwhile, I fell to my knees, my breath ragged and labored. The effort had drained me. The vibrant world of the mirage field shimmered and dissolved, fading back into the tranquil garden where we had begun.

  “Mana cost per shaping: Normal. Mana pool: High. Mana regeneration: Below Average. Overall grade of Arte: B-minus,” Fellkeep Giles announced, stepping into view. His expression was unreadable, though his tone carried its usual undercurrent of disapproval.

  “Thank you, Twelve, for watching over him,” Giles added with a nod toward the man. “I loathe the accidents that tend to accompany Dimensional mana types.”

  Twelve smirked, waving a hand dismissively. “No, Giles. You loathe the work it takes to clean up after those accidents.”

  Giles scowled but didn’t respond. Caroline, meanwhile, was glaring at me from across the garden, her hair slightly mussed and her cheeks flushed.

  “What, under the moons’ glow, was that?” Caroline’s voice rose to a near shriek, her frustration boiling over. “I crashed into hundreds of fluttering pages, and then each one turned into thousands of sticky, wet threads! And the worst part? You got caught in it too! It was your own Arte! PAPER, Alex! Against someone who can create FIRE! I burn paper for practice! If skillcubes were allowed in these tests, you’d have been fried alive! What were you thinking, you book-brained numskull?”

  “You did fine,” Twelve interjected calmly, offering me a reassuring nod. “Yes, Caroline is correct—if skillcubes were permitted in this Arte testing field, you would have been incinerated by your own creation. Learn from this: never ensnare yourself again. However, your creative thinking was commendable. Shapers draw their power from the strength of their imagination and the adaptability of their material. Your material—though inherently fragile—has limitless potential. Fold it, shape it, and let it become anything you need. That said, unless you’re prepared to pay the consulting fee of a Soul Realm 5-Level 4, I’m afraid our session here is over. Miss Caroline, I recommend you take the Walker Examination in a few months, with Alexander following shortly after. Without access to Otherrealms, both of you risk stagnating—and quickly.”

  “What exactly are the Otherrealms?” I asked. “I’ve tried finding books about them in Marr’s library, but I was refused access every time.”

  Twelve raised an eyebrow and glanced at Caroline, who smirked knowingly. “I see what you mean about his curiosity, Miss Caroline,” he said, his tone dry. The two exchanged a brief look and a nod before Twelve turned back to me. “Young Shaper Alexander, you were denied that information for a reason. Before your awakening, your soul was unprepared for such knowledge. Now, however, you are classified as Soul Realm 1, Level 1—or 1-1, as most people call it. Before today, stepping into an Otherrealm gate would have been a death sentence. The miasma that pervades the Otherrealms is inherently toxic to visitors—anyone entering a realm they do not belong to. Now that you’ve awakened, you are permitted to traverse Otherrealms equal to your Soul Realm, provided you either have a noble’s permission or a Walker’s permission. Any attempt to enter one beyond your capacity, however, and the miasma will devour you in seconds. That’s all the time I have, I’m afraid. Giles, as required, you can handle any further questions.”

  “For the record…” Fellkeep Giles began, his tone weary as he addressed both of us, “it’s not that I’m unwilling to do my job, even if it involves cleaning up after a Dimensional breakdown. I just hate dealing with the aftermath—the body of some poor, newly awakened soul who didn’t understand the risks. It’s not a sight I ever want to see again.”