The Convergence War. From what Cole knew, it had been a conflict between two opposing factions: one determined to revive the Primordial Power and the other sworn to prevent its return. The Primordial Power, once split apart, had diverged into the current pathways—Valour, Essentia, Bloodcraft, Voidcraft, Eidolon and Transference. This war was a clash over the future of those pathways and the potential return to something far older.

  Before the espionage, Cole planned to focus on advancing his mastery of Voidcraft. At his current level, all he could do was sense the connection to his personal pocket dimension—the access to a different plane—a step forward, but not particularly useful in the heat of combat. He needed more.

  “Stay within this perimeter,” Rhea instructed, her tone firm as she gestured to the area around them. Without waiting for a reply, she walked off, her attention shifting to the soldiers stationed at the quarters nearby. She acted like she had not tried to kill them earlier.

  Jake waited until she was out of earshot before letting out a long sigh, his body visibly relaxing. “Finally,” he muttered. “Good thing we made it out of that mess.”

  “Yeah,” Cole agreed. “But now we’ve been thrown into espionage.”

  Jake shrugged, leaning against a tree. “It’s not all bad, you know. This side is the one trying to revive the Primordial Power. If we play our cards right, we don’t even need to come back.”

  Cole, already lowering himself into a cross-legged position, didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, focusing inward.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Rhea’s watching,” Cole said without opening his eyes. “Might as well train while I wait.”

  Jake chuckled softly to himself. “Of course you would.” Then, after a moment he absent-mindedly looked towards the sky. “Guess I’ll do the same.

  ***

  A couple hours had now passed, night-time soon approaching.

  Cole closed his eyes, his breathing steadying as he tapped into his Solar Plexus node—a focal point of energy that thrummed deep within him. A faint, ethereal pulse resonated through his body, like a distant drumbeat growing louder with each passing second. The air around him seemed to shift, rippling faintly as if reality itself was bending in response to his intent.

  He felt the familiar tug of his personal pocket dimension—a subtle pull, like the threads of an unseen web connecting him to the space outside of reality that was his own creation. It wasn’t just a hollow space; it was an extension of his being, an embodiment of his will waiting to be explored.

  The void resisted his attempts, stubborn and unyielding, but Cole pressed on, sweat dripping from his brow. He visualized the emptiness, not as an absence but as a blank slate brimming with untapped potential. He stretched his consciousness toward it, feeling the strain as if he were reaching for something just out of grasp.

  Each practice session brought him closer to breaking through the first stage, to begin synchronizing. His progress was undeniable. He could now feel and barely envision the outlines of the pocket dimension’s boundaries, sense its depth, and even imagine its edges in fleeting moments. It was like standing at the edge of a vast ocean, the waves lapping at his feet while the deeper waters remained just beyond his reach.

  Cole opened his eyes, exhaling sharply as the black mist evaporated as his body became fully solid. The connection had flickered stronger than before, lingering longer than in previous attempts. He was close—so close he could almost taste the breakthrough. But he needed more practice, more precision.

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  Meanwhile, Jake gripped his rifle-spear firmly, stepping into a series of practice thrusts. His footwork was unusual but precise—rather than always stepping forward to drive his weight into a thrust, he often shifted a foot backward, as if holding something in reserve. Yet, despite the unorthodox movements, each strike was executed with strength and efficiency, revealing the discipline of someone who had clearly spent time honing his technique.

  Cole yawned, the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. The rations they were provided during training barely replenished the energy he'd burned throughout the day. His eyelids grew heavier.

  “You can sleep,” Jake said, glancing at him as he continued practicing with his rifle-spear. “I'm going to keep training. I can keep watch.”

  Cole didn’t argue. Closing his eyes, he let the rhythmic sound of Jake’s training lull him. Before long, sleep claimed him.

  In his dream, he found himself walking along a beach. Each step left faint footprints in the damp sand, the gritty texture making his bare feet cringe. He wasn’t used to the sensation, but he didn’t stop walking. The last time he had this dream, there had been a figure in the distance—a person, or so it seemed, moving steadily ahead of him. No matter how fast Cole walked, he could never close the gap.

  The gentle crash of waves grew louder, their deep blue depths now carrying something toward the shore. He squinted, trying to make out what the water brought, but before he could see, a voice echoed faintly in the background.

  “Wa—”

  The voice pulled his attention, and he looked around, searching for its source. But the sound was swallowed by the increasing roar of the waves. Suddenly, something solid bumped against his foot.

  Cole looked down and froze. It was a head—a human head, still attached to a lifeless body. Then another body drifted onto the shore. And another. His stomach twisted as the tide delivered corpse after corpse, forming a grotesque pile.

  At the top of the mound lay his brother’s and his own body, limp and lifeless,

  The idyllic scenery of the beach was now a stark contrast to the horrors before him. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries cutting through the salty wind. The once-pristine sand was streaked with crimson, the vivid stains of death staining the beauty of the shoreline.

  Cole turned away sharply, his breath unsteady—only to find himself face-to-face with the figure he’d seen in the distance. It mirrored his movements, as if it were a reflection, but it wasn’t him. The figure had no eyes.

  Slowly, it raised a bony finger and pointed to Cole’s eyes, then gestured toward the pile of bodies. Cole felt a chill creep through him, confusion evident in his expression. The figure began to laugh, a hoarse, grating sound, as it covered its crooked mouth with one hand.

  The voice returned, louder this time, its ethereal whispers overpowering the sound of the waves. The bodies, the figure—everything dissolved into the wind, leaving Cole walking again. But now, each step he took left a streak of blood trailing behind him, which he failed to notice.

  “Wake up!” Jake’s urgent whisper cut through the dream, his hands shaking Cole awake.

  Cole blinked, disoriented, and rubbed the scarred part of his neck, trying to relieve the persistent itch that always seemed to plague him.

  “What is it?” he muttered groggily.

  Jake handed him a bundle of black clothing. “It’s time. I’ll be waiting outside that guy’s tent.” With that, he turned and walked off.

  Cole stretched, his body stiff and uneasy. The dream lingered in his mind, vivid and unsettling. He recognized it for what it was—a dreamscape trial that would come every so often, a test every essentia user had to face. These trials forced users to confront the deepest parts of themselves, guiding them to discover their essentia trait—the core representation of their identity. It would allow them to see their true self. Only then could they unlock their forced reality and begin to attempt to use it, only the strongest few ever able to.

  But that figure…

  ‘Who is he?’ Cole thought, the memory of those eyeless sockets sending another shiver down his spine. The figure felt strangely familiar, yet entirely foreign.

  Shaking off the unease, he stripped off his armour and changed into the black clothing Jake had given him. He then wrapped the black bandana on his face, only revealing his eyes. Adjusting the fit, he welcomed the cool night air and made his way to the tent, where Jake and Rhea were already waiting.