After a long day of travel, dust clinging to their clothes and the weight of the journey settling into their bones, Mr. Alden slowed his pace and glanced sideways at Ronan. The boy's steps had grown heavier, though he tried to hide it behind a straight back.
"We'll rest for two days before heading into the Aether-dense zone," Mr. Alden said, his tone casual but firm. "You'll need your strength."
Ronan exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He didn't argue.
They soon arrived at a tranquil lakeside. The air shifted the moment they stepped into the clearing—cooler, softer, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet. Lush greenery encircled the lake, leaves whispering in the evening breeze. White and crimson water lilies drifted across the surface, their petals spread wide as though basking in the fading light. Gentle ripples fractured the reflection of the setting sun, turning gold into trembling shards.
Ronan slowed, then stopped entirely.
"This spot…" he murmured, eyes fixed on the lake. "It's perfect." His voice softened, almost reverent. "Let's stay here."
Mr. Alden gave a small nod and began unloading their supplies, the quiet clink of metal and rustle of cloth blending into the rhythm of the place.
Ronan drifted closer to the water's edge, boots sinking slightly into the moist soil. He crouched, studying the lilies. Their colours were too vivid, their bloom too full—untouched by the natural ebb of seasons.
"This is odd…" he murmured, reaching out but stopping just short of the surface. "It's not the season for water lilies."
"You noticed."
Mr. Alden's voice came from beside him. Ronan hadn't heard him approach. He looked up.
"They're magical," Mr. Alden continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he folded his arms. "They don't answer to the same rules as ordinary plants."
Ronan straightened slowly, gaze drifting across the lake again, deeper now—searching.
"What is this place, Sir?" The questions came one after another, quiet but insistent. "Why do things like this grow here? What happened to this land… how did it end up like this? And why is it inside a Dimensional Rift?"
For a moment, Mr. Alden didn't answer.
He looked up instead, toward the sky where the last light of day bled into violet. Something in his expression shifted—subtle, but heavy, like a shadow passing over still water.
"I don't have all the answers, Ronan," he said at last, voice softer than before. "But this much is known… this land once belonged to our world. Long ago." He paused, exhaling slowly, as though the air itself carried memories. "How it fell… how it was torn into this distorted place…" His gaze lowered again, distant. "Some things are simply lost to time."
The wind stirred. Leaves brushed together in a dry whisper.
Ronan didn't speak again. He turned back to the lake, but his focus had shifted inward. The lilies blurred at the edges as something older surfaced—something warm, bright, and painfully distant.
A memory.
A wandering traveller's voice echoed faintly in his mind, filled with laughter and wonder, spinning tales of distant lands and endless skies.
"I want to see the world…"
The words slipped through his thoughts like a breath.
In the memory, he turned, eyes shining, unable to contain the surge of excitement. "Let's explore the world together, Kairos!"
Kairos stood beside him, steady as always, his smile quiet but certain. "Of course."
Then—another voice, sharp and playful.
"Hey! Don't forget me!"
Samantha stepped in, arms folded, chin tilted with mock authority. "Who's going to protect my little brothers if I stay behind?"
Ronan snorted, crossing his arms in exaggerated defiance. "Who said we need your protection?"
Kairos chuckled. "Yeah, we'll protect you instead."
For a heartbeat, Samantha held her stern expression… then it cracked. Laughter spilt out, warm and unrestrained. "Fine," she said, shaking her head. "Then we'll protect each other."
The memory lingered—sunlight, laughter, the feeling of standing at the edge of something vast and full of promise.
"Ronan."
The voice cut through it cleanly.
"Ronan!"
He blinked, the lake snapping back into focus. The lilies, the fading light, the cool air against his skin—it all rushed back at once.
"Ah—sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I got… caught up in some old memories."
"Already?" Mr. Alden raised an eyebrow, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Save the daydreaming for later. Come on—we still need a camp."
Ronan let out a quiet breath and nodded, stepping away from the water.
They worked side by side in companionable silence. Stakes were driven into the earth with dull thuds, canvas stretched and secured, firewood gathered from the forest floor—dry branches snapping underfoot, the scent of bark and resin clinging to their hands. The steady rhythm of simple tasks grounded him, pulling him fully back into the present.
By the time they finished, the sun had slipped beneath the horizon.
Moonlight spread across the lake like a silver veil. The lilies seemed to glow faintly now, their colours deepened, almost luminous. The water mirrored the stars above, blurring sky and earth into one endless expanse.
Ronan found himself drawn back to the shore.
The air was cooler now, brushing against his damp skin. He stood still, staring at the quiet shimmer of the lake. The unknown pressed in from all sides—the strange land, the unanswered questions—but beneath it, something steadier took root.
A quiet resolve.
Behind him, the campfire crackled to life, its warmth pushing back the chill. Shadows flickered against the surrounding trees, stretching and shrinking with every shift of flame.
Ronan returned and sat beside Mr. Alden, resting his arms loosely on his knees. For a while, he simply watched the fire—embers collapsing inward, sparks drifting upward like fleeting stars.
"Sir…" His voice came slower this time, as if weighed down by thought. "Can you teach me how to walk on water?"
Mr. Alden glanced at him, a faint chuckle escaping. "Walk on water?" He leaned back slightly, studying Ronan's face. "You'll learn it naturally once you reach Master Tier Five. Why rush?"
Ronan scratched the back of his head, gaze dropping to the flames. "I know." A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at his lips. "It just… looked beautiful when I saw it before. I want to learn it."
For a moment, Mr. Alden said nothing.
Then he nodded. "Alright. We'll start tomorrow morning."
Ronan's head snapped up, surprise flashing across his face before it softened into something brighter. "Thank you."
The next morning, the forest stirred with quiet life. Leaves rustled overhead, birds called to one another in soft, layered melodies, and the lake lay still—its surface smooth as polished glass.
Ronan stood at the edge, bare feet sinking slightly into the cool mud, while Mr. Alden watched from a short distance away.
"Walking on water requires absolute control over your Aether," Mr. Alden said, his voice cutting cleanly through the morning air. "Gather it around your feet. Form a stable layer—like a second set of soles beneath you." He gestured toward the water. "But remember—if your control wavers, even slightly, you'll sink."
Ronan nodded, drawing in a slow breath.
He closed his eyes.
The world dimmed, replaced by the steady pulse of Aether within him. He guided it downward, focusing, shaping—crimson tendrils curling around his feet, tightening, compressing.
Carefully, he stepped forward.
The water dipped… then held.
A faint ripple spread outward.
"Good," Mr. Alden said, watching closely. "Now take another step. Keep it steady."
Ronan shifted his weight.
For a brief moment, it worked.
Then the flow stuttered.
The crimson aura flickered—
—and the surface gave way.
Cold water surged up to his knees with a sharp splash.
Ronan gasped, stumbling back, the chill biting into his skin. He coughed, dragging himself onto the bank, water dripping from his clothes.
"…Harder than it looks," he muttered, breath uneven.
"Of course it is." Mr. Alden stepped forward, offering a hand. "Your control isn't the problem." He pulled Ronan up with a firm grip. "Your focus is. You can guide your Aether—but you can't hold it steady."
Ronan exhaled, water dripping from his sleeves. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
"Again."
The word came without hesitation.
Hours passed.
Again and again, he stepped onto the water—and again and again, he failed. Sometimes the Aether dispersed too quickly, dissolving beneath him. Other times, it gathered unevenly, tipping his balance before he could correct it.
Each failure ended the same way.
A splash. Cold water. The sharp intake of breath.
The sun climbed, then began its slow descent.
By evening, his movements had grown sluggish. His legs trembled each time he stood, and his breathing came in shallow pulls. On his final attempt, the moment his foot touched the surface, his control shattered completely.
He fell in without resistance.
This time, he didn't rush to get back up.
When he finally dragged himself onto the shore, he collapsed onto the grass, chest rising and falling unevenly. The earth felt cool beneath him, grounding.
"Let's rest." Mr. Alden's voice was closer now. He knelt beside him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder—not heavy, just enough to anchor. "You're improving, even if you don't see it. You're learning how your Aether behaves. That's the foundation."
Ronan didn't respond immediately.
His eyes were half-lidded, fixed on the sky as it shifted toward dusk.
"…I'll keep trying," he said at last, voice rough but steady. "I won't stop."
A faint smile touched Mr. Alden's lips. "Good." He withdrew his hand, standing slowly. "Tomorrow, we head into a high-density Aether zone. It'll push you harder—but you'll grow faster."
Ronan gave a small nod, barely moving.
The sounds of the forest returned around him—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds settling for the night, the soft lapping of water against the shore.
Sleep came quietly.
By the time the stars began to emerge, Ronan was already still, his breathing even.
The fire crackled softly nearby, its glow steady against the encroaching dark.
Mr. Alden remained seated, watching him for a long moment.
Then his gaze shifted—to the lake, to the strange lilies glowing under moonlight, to the sky beyond.
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
But when he looked back at Ronan, it was gone—replaced by quiet, unspoken approval.