The time Finn spent in the shelter was mostly split between recovery and working on his new project. The latter was much more complex, but the former was the more straining one on his body and power, even if both were equally necessary.

  He had to admit that his initial estimation of how difficult forming the “mental sentry” would be had been wildly inaccurate—and he’d assumed it would take most of their stay in this place. As it turned out, it would take more than that.

  Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. Early on, he had found that, while he was willing to provide the refugees with extra warmth, there was a more efficient way to keep everyone at comfortable temperature. To that end, he’d gone around to charge each heater with his power so there was no need to sit around him anymore.

  That bought him the personal space he needed to completely concentrate on his own tasks, primarily healing when his energy levels were at their highest, and working on his mental designs after he got done with another round of rejuvenation.

  However, that didn’t mean he was completely left alone. Paloma still saw fit to approach him every day, getting him to engage in all manner of conversation and games with her. It made him glad to see she kept herself in high spirits.

  Aside from just social interaction, there was an additional benefit to these moments. Namely the fact that they allowed him to test and refine his mental models for how his power interacted with his mind and logged memories. Using this method, he was able to sift through all the recorded words and sentences in his range, categorize and translate them, then apply them while speaking with the younger girl.

  Finn was distantly aware that some people would likely find him creepy or intimidating if they knew the extent of his awareness and how quickly that allowed him to learn skills. However, Paloma was evidently not one of them.

  Quite the opposite; once she realized that he had mastered her language, she was ecstatic to babble his head off about this and that and tell him stories of the life she had lived before her remaining family was executed on the grounds of being suspected traitors.

  He came to learn that she had lived under an oppressive regime her whole life, and that she had always longed for the freedom her grandmother spoke of. Seraphim’s army allowed none but the narrowest slivers of autonomy to the people, just enough to not have to commit too many resources to the mundane aspects of civilization, with vicious punishment waiting for anyone who stepped even a bit out of line. They were interested in curating the educational curriculum to suit their agenda, for the purpose of indoctrinating young minds that were soon snapped up and forced into the military. Hearing that only made Finn more relieved about his decision not to kill any of the soldiers he had faced.

  During one of their talks, while looking at the floor, Paloma confessed that now that she was so close to being free, she felt horrible for having to experience it without her parents. But also happy knowing they would have been proud to see her make it so far.

  She said it in such a mature way, he had to wonder what she would be like if she’d been allowed to grow up in peace. There were a couple of other orphans in their group, but they didn’t seem nearly as functional as her. Due to similar reasons, clearly, though Finn made note of how each had a different reaction to the circumstances.

  Beyond that, a lot of the time was spent waiting for the titanic-class primebeast to be defeated. With every passing day he got a step closer to real power, making sure neither his physical nor mental capabilities started lagging behind. The result was a carefully balanced training regimen that became part of his standard routine, until he found it as natural as breathing.

  His seventeenth birthday came and went, with no one the wiser. Honestly, he preferred it that way. No need for any pointless celebrations when there were more important things to do, like making sure they got out of here alive.

  Around the beginning of May, the tension in the shelter began to peak. No one knew exactly how long it would take for the battle above to end, but the uncertainty weighed on everyone. Supplies were running low, and though no one dared say it out loud, Finn could see the fear in their eyes. The unspoken worry that, at any moment, the ceiling could collapse or their safe haven could become a death trap.

  He didn’t have the luxury of fear. He had work to do.

  His progress on the mental sentry had been steady, but frustratingly slow. The complexity of what he was attempting was unlike anything he had tried before. It wasn’t just about reinforcing his thoughts—it was about creating a system that could recognize intrusions, categorize threats, and react instantly. A system that was aware it was a system unto itself. Really, he should have just called it out for what it was: he was trying to create a new mind from nothing. Sapience.

  At first, his approach had been too rigid. He’d designed strict parameters for what his thoughts should look like, but his mind wasn’t static, and his creation couldn't be born from such methods regardless of how much he subconsciously still wished to control every part of it. Thoughts ebbed and flowed, adapting to circumstances, emotions, and instincts. A set of predefined rules wouldn’t cut it.

  So, he pivoted.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Instead of trying to force structure onto his mind, he leaned into its natural patterns. He allowed the watcher to observe rather than dictate it, to learn from him the way he had learned from others. The process was delicate, requiring constant calibration. Too sensitive, and it would sound alarms over every stray thought. Too lenient, and it would fail to detect real threats.

  But that all required a baseline, a starting point upon which everything else could be built. And he wasn't quite satisfied with what he'd rigged up so far. Despite essentially possessing unlimited power within the confines of his own mind, he couldn't just build on shaky foundations before translating the concepts he was planning to incorporate in a way that would work with his power.

  To describe the process in a set of key points, he had started with his thoughts in their current, calm state. Fluctuating slowly. With his powers, he ascribed the corresponding emotional colors he would feel in other people’s aura to the mood he was feeling at the time. Then, he broadened his perspective, because thoughts alone weren’t enough. Thoughts were simply the result of stimuli being processed by an organic neural network, and would be influenced by any existing data on said network. This was an oversimplification, obviously, but he didn’t need to delve into the complexities of the brain itself for this part. He merely needed to recognize that his mind was there, and recognize its color going forward.

  He envisioned it as blank, like the empty canvas it would be. His actual thoughts didn’t stop, it was more like he was extending his mind and working on emptiness. This was going to be a base for another entity to emerge from, or at least that was his goal. At first, the blankness was unsettling. A mind that wasn’t thinking was an unnatural thing, even for him. Finn was used to activity, to motion—his thoughts, his instincts, his power, all working in tandem, always aware, always responding. But here, in this self-imposed void, there was nothing. No reactions. No stimuli. Just absence.

  That was what he needed. A true starting point.

  Illustrating the right type of design was more important than anything, but since he wasn’t working with physical nerves but rather concepts translated into color, he needed to work backwards, in a way. And he also couldn’t copy himself and be done with it because the end result actually needed to be different to be of any use. He needed to do the impossible, to create an outside perspective, inside.

  Just Tuesday, in other words.

  Currently, he controlled this mindspace as some omnipresent force capable of altering the very foundation of this mental plane. To have a better form of reference, he manifested an avatar of himself, a copy of his perfect memory of his body. Stretching out an imaginary hand, he generated a kaleidoscopic blob in front of him, formless and malleable.

  Following that up, he built the beginnings of a rudimentary directive at its core. To process information. Identify the meaning in raw data it saw, and distinguish between true and counterfeit. Safe and hostile. He needed a way for it to find that balance that only another individual could see. Not correcting native thoughts, not passing over foreign threats.

  Except, he reconsidered. Wasn’t it fine if it wasn’t perfect from the start? Humans didn’t instantly form at maturity. They were born as infants, then absorbed the world around them like little sponges. If he initiated a similar process here, that should be the best way to get results.

  So he had to make a baby.

  Hmm.

  Somehow, he felt like it was a good thing that Lyra didn’t hear him say that.

  Finn stepped back to observe the formless kaleidoscopic blob floating in front of him, its shape still shifting and blending in on itself, like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. It had taken weeks to get to the point where it was moving on its own, but he couldn’t really call it “moving.” What it was actually doing was reacting to the stimuli he was passively emitting from his avatar as a test, in predictable ways. Still, it was strange to look at.

  He had been working with his power for a long time now, but he was still struck by the weird nature of the process. His thoughts weren’t just ideas or memories anymore. Instead, they were becoming tangible, shaped by colors and energies. It felt almost like a half-finished sculpture, the raw clay still waiting to take form.

  It had to be an infant, after all. An entity that would learn, grow, and evolve. If he pushed too hard to force it into a predetermined mold, it wouldn’t work. Rather than him controlling every element, it had to have space to expand on its own, to make decisions without his direct interference.

  In order to help it along, he curated his data stream to be more intricate, weaving chromatic patterns within each other. He needed a way to feed it a proper foundation and make it form the ability to see and comprehend, without the imperfections of his own biological brain.

  He couldn’t afford to leave any gaps, though. The risk of creating a faulty mental structure that might make the artificial intelligence more prone to error, or worse, misinterpret his intentions, was too high. The last thing he wanted was for this nascent entity to malfunction at a crucial moment. The very idea made him uneasy. It had to be flawless, and that meant giving it the space to learn, but also ensuring that the foundation was solid enough to prevent catastrophic failure.

  Even though he was helped by his power, he didn’t want to make crucial mistakes in his awareness ever again. That time when he didn’t notice his mother during the Viperia fight while she was only a few blocks over and in perfect view of his passive senses? He didn’t want a repeat of that.

  Thus, the tiny waves of color found their way into the unknowing mind, over and over. He thought he saw progress, but when he actually tried to prod at its reasoning capabilities? Nothing.

  On the last day, he was mentally toiling away while sitting completely still in the outside world, not paying any attention unless someone entered his personal space or a major environmental shift happened.

  Both occurred at once.

  Aura faded from the air. None of it was human, but from the primebeast. Its supernatural grasp faded from their midst entirely, and he felt Ernesto placing a hand on his shoulder. Finn turned his head over his shoulder, locking eyes with the man. He saw a solemn expression there, one of forced humor combined with nervous anticipation. His powers told him it was genuine.

  “It’s time to go, Shade,” said the camp leader, giving a squeeze. “I hope you are ready. Because it looks like we are going to be taking the scenic route.”

  Patreon currently has 20 advance chapters. Click here if you want to read ahead.