Tyrius forgave Arlac almost immediately, and things returned to normal between the two of them. Arlac remained his aloof grouchy self, while Tyrius continued to test the man's patience.

  Though, he had noted that Arlac had been increasingly absent over the past week since they struck their deal. He frequently asked for assistance in doing different forms of his usual assigned training—including the meditation game where he first brushed against using a skill—but Arlac often replied that he didn’t have time. “I have my own matters to attend to,” the man would say, and it had become a frequent refrain.

  Still, Arlac always left him with Metz when he couldn’t make it, so he didn’t think too hard on the absences. If anything, it just made him realize how strange it was that Arlac had managed to dedicate so much time to him over the years.

  Arlac was undeniably powerful. Tyrius doubted he got that way just by floating around all day training a boy while reading a book. But, he never pried it wasn't his place to.

  That, and Tyrius was currently too preoccupied with trying to figure out his ability before the deadline. Because he really wanted to ask a question, one that Arlac had never answered no matter how many times he asked.

  As the week went on, he began to feel off. His stomach churned with an unease that reminded him of being seasick. He didn’t know what to make of the sensation—maybe it was nerves. The deadline for their deal was looming, and so was his Soul Well Ceremony.

  They had already agreed to hold the Soul Well Ceremony on the day Tyrius turned twelve—not wanting to waste any more time. And he could feel it too—something deep and blooming in his chest. Something ready to take in more.

  Drip.

  His eye twitched as a water drop from above struck his head.

  Normally, Tyrius would be hit with a mana orb for missing a drop—but no blow came. He had asked to do the meditation game without consequences, so he could focus more on his ability without getting smacked. Arlac called that idea stupid, saying pain was a good motivator. He could only shake his head at that—there was more to training than just pain avoidance.

  So here he was, back on his usual rock, playing the meditation game while Metz lazed off to the side, casually looping and arcing mana orbs around him.

  Tyrius wasn’t just sitting there. No, he was actively participating. Each passing orb was being scanned and popped with a swift poke to its weak point. All while trying to keep track of the occasional water drop from above.

  He had gotten good at this training but he still missed a lot—his perception didn’t form a full sphere around him so there was only so much he could sense at once. That’s why he was doing this again and again, now without the added fear of being smacked with a glob of mana.

  He eased into a familiar meditative state, his breathing steady as his body worked on autopilot. His mind, though, was busy—studying every detail of how his perception felt.

  Once he was comfortable, he tried pushing outward again, attempting to expand the area he could see. Unsurprisingly, it felt like trying to move a mountain. There was no give.

  This was why he’d been so frustrated these past few months. Nothing he tried seemed to help. It all felt futile. But something still felt off—like he was using it wrong. He knew there was more potential. He could feel it. It just wasn’t apparent what he was missing.

  He told Arlac as much, but his master would only say there was no guarantee it was achievable in the first place. The list of people with elite innate abilities was nearly nonexistent. Still, skills in this world were deeply personal, and rarely discussed—especially the rare or unique ones.

  So, ultimately Arlac had no real way of knowing if what they were trying to accomplish was even possible.

  Still, Arlac insisted that perception-based abilities were almost always meant to function in all directions—except for the few specialized ones that only enhanced direct eyesight.

  That information, coupled with Tyrius’ own feelings on the skill’s limits, made him believe there was more to uncover. And if he wanted to ask Arlac a question, he needed to figure it out today.

  Tyrius sank deeper into meditation, pushing against the mountain like he had so many times before. He tweaked how he pushed. Adjusted the mental image in his head. But nothing changed.

  Then, an idea struck.

  He thought back to what the veil of his perception had felt like in the beginning. That’s when he realized—his cone was literally a cone. A narrow slit, like a tiny hole he could move around his body and see through.

  Back when he first broke through the veil, he had only ever pushed forward in a small spot. And that effort led him to this narrow cone of awareness.

  So this time, Tyrius did the opposite. He pulled it back.

  It felt like tightening a blindfold. He could no longer sense his surroundings, even if before it was only in a small area around him. He made sure to get a feel for the edge of his perception.

  Then—he pushed.

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  Outward. In every direction.

  He felt immediate resistance from the skill. Pain flared in his head. But, as he shoved he felt it. The area had moved. Just slightly. That flicker of progress gave him purpose.

  Gritting his teeth, he took a sharp breath and shoved harder against the invisible pressure. He tried to envision himself empowering the skill. He even tried to will the mana-rich air around him to funnel into his body and toward the skill. His body was already absorbing it on its own, so there should be plenty.

  Arlac had told him how important mental imagery was when manipulating skills or abilities. His master had said that using your will and imagination were just as important for growth as physical training. Tyrius didn’t have any skills yet to properly test Arlac’s words, but he still often used visualization to bridge the gap between intent and execution. Tyrius knew it was a valuable skill in any world, after all.

  So now, he imagined it clearly: ambient mana, already flowing into his body, now flowing into the skill itself. Slowly, something seemed to respond as a tension in Tyrius’ head began to constrict. It was a sensation unlike anything Tyrius had ever felt in either life. Tyrius, to his credit, immediately associated the new feeling with something his master had explained to him.

  Using abilities, controlling resources like mana, or even just tracking the trajectory of a blade all required a portion of your mental processing power. Arlac had explained it as the brain’s capacity for functions, something that needed training like anything else. Tyrius hadn’t trained this before because, as Arlac had said, normal human functions usually didn’t strain it enough—whereas controlling mana and skills required its usage, something Tyrius could not yet do.

  Arlac had hoped Tyrius’ perception ability would let him train it to some degree before advancing to Tier 1, but because it was an inactive skill, it didn’t really work. Arlac also explained that Tier advancement improved the mind, sharpened it, and made it easier to manage multiple functions or complex skills at once.

  Not being Tier 1 yet meant that Tyrius didn’t have much mental processing capacity and it would easily be strained. But once he hit the first Tier, everything would improve drastically. So, the feeling in his head was uncomfortable, but proof that something was working.

  He continued to push against his perception ability with everything he had. The feeling soon turning to pain. Tyrius knew he had limits—and he felt like he was beginning to push them. However, he didn’t give in.

  He felt the pressure mounting in his skull, but he didn’t stop, he wasn't ready to. He kept pressing against the veil using every ounce of his being. Then something pulsed—deep in his soul.

  Just for a fraction of a second, something clicked.

  He tried to mimic the feeling and pushed again.

  The pain in his head spiked—white-hot—but he refused to stop. He bit his lip to stop himself from groaning and could only think about breaking through this invisible wall.

  And then... something finally gave.

  For a brief moment, something lit up inside him. The skill shifted, and the world around him opened up as if a blindfold had burned away in all directions—and he felt everything.

  Before Tyrius could even crack a smile of relief, the information from his skill overwhelmed his mind. It was like a sledge hammer driving railway nails into his skull.

  He lost focus. He tried to stop the skill but he wasn't fast enough.

  The pressure dialed up faster than he could comprehend.

  Then, something in his mind shattered.

  Tyrius’ eyes snapped open. Metz’s face hovered inches from his own, eyes pulsing with worry.

  Blood leaked from one nostril. Then the other. Then from his ears... and finally, his eyes.

  The slowly blackening world tilted sideways as Tyrius’ body flopped over with a wet thud.

  ARLAC! Metz’s voice thundered through his skull—desperate, already fading into the background.

  Tyrius could see nothing. But it felt like he was floating. Weightless. Suspended in some quiet, dark pool.

  Like one of those sensory deprivation pods he remembered from another life.

  And then... he saw them.

  -

  Congratulations!

  Skill [Spiritual Sensitivity (T0)] has met an evolutionary threshold.

  Threshold met: Lesser skill forcefully awakened by the infusion of ambient mana (1/1).

  Evolutions available: [Spiritual Awareness (T1)]

  Do you wish to evolve [Spiritual Sensitivity (T0)]? Y/N

  -

  Tyrius hadn’t expected to see the words again before his Soul Well Ceremony—but he welcomed any increase in strength before advancing to Tier 1.

  Without hesitation, he selected Yes.

  -

  Initiating skill evolution…

  Error! Soul tier requirement not fulfilled.

  Calculating…

  No suitable solution found. Initiating Rollba-

  Error! Interference detected.

  Recalculating…

  Suitable solution located.

  Body modification proposed.

  Proposed modification: [Spiritual Body (Tier 1)]

  Do you accept proposed solution? Y/N

  -

  Tyrius didn’t understand most of it—or what the interference meant. But he was being offered another Tier 1 body modification as a workaround, and that was enough. He took the offer without hesitation.

  -

  Body modification initiating…

  Soul infusion initiating…

  -

  He thought he’d felt pain before. But this was something that shouldn’t have been possible. He began to convulse, screaming violently into the void. It felt like lava was being injected into his veins while he was submerged in acid.

  Though he floated in darkness, his body still responded as if awake. He vomited from the searing agony. Blood streamed from his pores. Time seemed to slow as he drifted through the dark.

  To Tyrius, it felt like hours had passed. He had no real way of knowing how long he was subjected to the pain. The embrace of unconsciousness never found him. He was forced to endure every second of the change.

  It lasted long enough that Tyrius had long since stopped yelling into the void and drifted limply, a lifeless expression on his face. His only anchor to life the torment wracking his body.

  Much to his relief the searing agony ceased soon after and the words presented themself again.

  -

  Body modification successful.

  Soul infusion successful.

  Assessing… Soul tier requirement… Satisfied.

  Skill evolution process reinitiating…

  Skill [Spiritual Sensitivity (T0*)] -> Skill [Spiritual Awareness (T1)]

  -

  As the Ethereal Words finished he felt himself fading away into the void. Tyrius was too tired from what he just experienced to fight against it and let himself be swept into total darkness once more.