Hector gritted his teeth as the void continued to shake, churning up small waves that rocked him. What was going on? He glanced to the sky of his soulscape. Was the absorption phase even working?

  No chaotic mana motes could be seen, but that wasn’t unusual—with him not exactly being the most competent cultivator. It made sense. A loud crack came from the distance, and a sharp pain assaulted Hector’s mind. He grabbed his head, groaning in pain. What was going on?

  “System, why is my soulscape reacting like this?” He pleaded. It had found the restriction. Perhaps it could tell him what was going on.

  ————————————————

  ///: “Your mana channels are not equipped to handle an increase in mana and thus require adaptation. But it is not clear if they will be able to adapt in time, or whether your soul will collapse before then.”

  ————————————————

  By the great lake I’m going to die, aren’t I? My Talent will actually get me killed. What in the hell?

  Hector’s heart rattled in his chest like a caged animal as he fought back the growing pain in his head. It throbbed and throbbed, sending waves of pain flooding through his body. He curled into himself—not that it helped at all.

  When he had first started cultivating, it was pleasant and easy, but Kamble had always reminded him to stay calm. If a cultivator wasn’t calm, they would be forced from cultivation or cause damage to their soul—that usually meant death or, at the very least, severe injury.

  But it was impossible to always remain calm. With the average life of a slum dweller, if gangs weren’t trying to kill you, then hunger was. If someone didn’t want to steal from you, then the guards would probably come around and take something. To be in the slums was to invite some sort of problem. And problems led to stress and distraction.

  Kamble knew this, and so his cultivation method had a cycle of peace built into it. A method you could follow that would ensure that you could at least calm yourself before beginning cultivation—In his excitement, Hector had only done one step. The counting method.

  “What does the day bring?” He said, reciting the first line of the method. “Hope. What does the future see? The past.” He gritted his teeth as lightning cracked across the void. A deafening boom rocked the soulscape as a sharp pain shot through his chest. “Where do all paths lead? To Victory. And victory belongs to the excellent.”

  He pulled on the void even harder, screaming as he strained against its force. The soulscape’s shaking intensified. Water shook, the sky screamed, and the air quaked. The wind whipped all around.

  Why wasn’t it working? The method had never failed to calm him in the past—a few times he’d even got an extra mote out of that day’s cultivation. A wave crashed into his chest, rocking him. His hand shot out as he steadied himself. Okay, that hadn’t worked. What else could he do?

  Releasing it could be an option, but would its outcome be worse than just staying and fighting through? It wasn’t clear. He adjusted himself as waves continued to assault him. Hector wet his lips as he considered his options. A crack of thunder tore across the void, lighting his features.

  In life, the more you try to control something, the worse it could become. He’d learnt that the hard way. Hector let out a breath, pushing Kamble’s methods to the back of his mind. He’d have to believe in himself now.

  A sharp pain crackled across his chest as he slammed his hands into his soul’s waters. He needed to let go, and so he did. He gave into the force releasing the absorption method. The sky continued to shake. Thunder roared overhead, and the waves continued to tear into him. Nothing changed. The only difference was he was no longer in control.

  It’s going to be okay, Hector. You didn’t come all this way to simply die in cultivation. It’s going to be alright. Your family needs you and you are stronger than you think.

  The words did very little to calm his increasing heart rate—It was a wonder it hadn’t given out underneath all the strain. A deafening crack slammed across the void and pain erupted in his mind. He clawed at his skull, waves slapping into him as his vision blurred. Were these his last moments?

  As his mind fogged with thoughts of his family and friends, he caught onto something. It was dense and swarming overhead. He strained his neck, looking up into the void. There, mana motes whizzed across the sky in loose clusters of light. There were a lot of them, all moving so fast he couldn’t count.

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  He had to capture them. Something inside him screamed for him to do so.

  Fighting back the pain, Hector imagined a ring forming around himself. He imagined it circling, spinning. The ring would draw them all in. And so it did. Chaotic mana motes fell from the sky. They fell like comets, shooting down in a trail of blazing white.

  Hector pulled even harder.

  Even as water rocked him, Hector pushed through the pain and summoned the mana motes to him. The motes whizzed around. Some shot off into the distant void, while others bounced off each other, shooting back off into the void sky. But Hector never stopped rotating the circle.

  After a few agonizing moments, the orbit was ready. He had filled as much as he could and he needed to start the capture phase. It was time to tighten the circle. Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning arced across the sky. Hector gritted his teeth and pulled on the ring of motes that now orbited him, shrinking the circle.

  The system message popped up in front of him. Hector winced. Did it have to turn up now?

  ————————————————

  ///: “The Talent [Awakened Soul ] has been activated. The soulscape should stabilise shortly.”

  ————————————————

  At the system’s word, the void slowed. The waves weakened, and the lightning stopped. Hector hadn’t noticed before, but cracks of purple littered the void’s sky. But they were closing now. Slowly, but they were closing.

  The ring of mana motes continued to spin around him. They jostled in his orbit as the ring tightened—he’d need to keep increasing the pressure or risk them shooting off. But he let out a breath. The Talent had actually worked. He hadn’t had the chance to absorb anything yet—he’d have to deal with the ones he’d captured first. But the system’s word was as good as gold. It had worked.

  I guess I don’t need to worry about death or crippling. I should add my affinity to this and get them to the Lagrange point.

  The waters of his soul gradually lost their blue colour as the waves calmed. As Hector sat, the water lowered back down to his thigh, falling still. The soulscape was on the mend. Hector wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was real or imagined. But his soulscape was bigger somehow. The void still looked like the void. But it had grown. Was this the Talent?

  He continued orbiting the mana motes. Many of them, taking on the pale blue of his affinity, and becoming moon-based mana motes. Once he’d finished doing that to all of them, he could move on to the next step. But then suddenly, Mirae’s voice burst through the void.

  “Hector, it’s morning now. Time to…” Her voice stalled. She’d probably noticed him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been meditating all night. Hector. By the great lake.” She sighed. “I’ll tell Lincoln you are going to take a moment.”

  The door thudded closed as it sounded like Mirae had left the room. Hector frowned. It wasn’t a surprise that it was morning—losing track of time during cultivation was easy. But why was Lincoln here, and so early?

  He can’t be here to count the money. We agreed to do that later on today.

  ---

  Hector walked into the kitchen. The floorboards creaked as he moved, the wood seemingly more battered than he’d recalled. He hadn’t fully reached the second level of gravity forging, but the effects of his recent cultivation were apparent. The pain had been immense, but it was worth it—he’d never achieved so much growth in one session.

  The system had told him it was only because of his soul almost breaking. He would not get anywhere close to that many chaotic mana motes in a normal session. A smile cracked his lips. Would it be worth it to upgrade the Talent, or would that kill him? He shook his head, stopping by the kitchen door.

  Hector glanced behind him to Mirae. His sister stood next to the kitchen counter. In her hand was a mallet—one Hector had made himself. She used it to beat a lump of dough that she was working with. Grim grain was a tough nut. Hector smiled. “Is he outside?”

  She glanced at him, puffing a loose strand of white hair away from her eyes. Lowering her hand, she rested the mallet on the worn wooden tabletop. “Yeah, he’s standing by the gate. I asked if he wanted to come inside, but he said no. I think something might be wrong with him.”

  Hector frowned as he kissed his teeth. He wasn’t annoyed, per se, but Lincoln had been acting strange for the last few days. Today Hector intended to find out what was wrong. He reached for the door handle. “I’m going to see what’s up with him. Hopefully, it won’t take too long. Also, has Dad already left for work?”

  Mirae nodded. She reached for a heap of flour and dusted a little on the dough. Glancing back at him, she paused. “He left rather early today. I think he’s still upset about yesterday. And—I’m not sure—but he may be a little hurt about us whispering in your room.”

  “Oh, come on,” Hector said, “He’s not that sensitive. I’m sure it’s just a problem at work.”

  Mirae dropped a brow as if to ask if Hector was that na?ve. Hector waved her off and pulled the door open. He stepped out into the front garden; the sun shining down, warming his cheeks. It was a clear day today. Not a cloud in the sky. It was as if yesterday was nothing but a bad dream.

  Lincoln stood by the rickety old gate, which was still worse for wear from yesterday. He looked up as Hector glanced over and cracked a playful smile. “What are you doing up this early? Did your mom kick you out of the house or something?”

  “Yeah.” Lincoln chuckled. Pushing off the fence, he strode towards Hector. “Said I needed to stop wasting time and go find a wife,” Lincoln said, reaching out a hand.

  Hector grabbed it and gave it a firm shake. “She’s right. But I’m not too sure there is a woman alive that would want you,” Hector said with a snort.

  The two of them burst out laughing. Lincoln gave Hector a light jab in the arm and shook his head. “You’re one to talk. Isn’t every girl you interact with a friend?”

  “And that’s all I need. My young child, the path I walk is a lonely one.” Hector stroked his non-existent beard—growing one had been difficult in both lives. The two of them barked another laugh and gradually fell silent.

  Someone on the other side of the fence cursed. They grumbled about someone stealing money from them—a typical day in the slum.

  After an awkward few seconds of quiet, Lincoln spoke up. He focused on Hector’s eyes with a look Hector rarely saw. Determination. Lincoln wet his lips and wrung his hands. “Hector, I have to talk to you.”

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  Update:

  chapter 68, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's probably because it's a new experience, but you should all see it within a month, then you can tell me how it feels. But I will say, things progress noticably quicker, forcing me to be delibrate with what I mention in a scene, which is a fun challenge. I hope you like it, and see you Thursday.