[A New Journey]

As Claude regained his senses, he found himself once more in his Soul Sea. The silver lake of his mental energy shimmered softly in the vast, pitch-black expanse. Gentle ripples spread across its surface.

But that was not his focus. Striding through the endless darkness, Claude soon arrived before a familiar sight—The Subspace Network.

The amethyst tree stood more vibrant than ever, its roots entrenched in the void, stretching beyond comprehension.

Since his journey to that foreign realm, the resplendent lights that once adorned its leaves had dimmed. But now, their radiance had returned, illuminating the surrounding darkness with an ethereal glow, as if infused with a divine power.

Claude's gaze lingered, a fervent desire igniting within him.

'This is it...' he thought.

Having advanced to an Official Mage, he had come to inspect the Subspace Network, curious to see if it had undergone any changes.

And indeed, it had. New information surfaced in his mind. The Network had evolved.

More specifically, he could once again travel to another world.

But...

'Why did this happen after advancing?' The question gnawed at him. 'Does my Mental Energy influence it?'

That notion seemed flawed. Mental Energy had only emerged after The Cataclysm—long after the gods had faded from the world.

So why would it affect the workings of a divine creation such as the Subspace Network?

But, Claude set the thought aside. There were more pressing matters.

The most significant change was that the Subspace Network no longer required his physical body to traverse worlds.

Now, he could project only his consciousness through to a different realm, and inhabit the body of a native. This granted not only greater safety but also allowed him to more smoothly integrate into the foreign realm.

After all, he couldn't always rely on deceit to establish an identity. Luck might not be on his side next time.

And there was one final change—

His control over the Subspace Network had deepened.

Taking a slow breath, Claude stepped closer to the colossal tree, his thoughts forming a single command:

"Send me to a world where the rate of time flows at least twenty times faster than it does here. And, ensure my designed host is..."

Shing!

One of the glowing lights flared, expanding in brilliance before launching itself toward him.

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"Heugh!" With a groan, Claude's eyes fluttered open, his body tensing as he sat up from his prone position. A dull ache throbbed in his skull.

His hand drifted to his temple, massaging it gently—more an act of habit than an effective remedy. Still, any distraction from the searing pain that clawed at his mind was welcome.

Amid his inner turmoil, his gaze wandered across the dimly lit room. The chamber bore the unmistakable grandeur of nobility, albeit restrained. Heavy wooden beams lined the high ceiling, their dark oak adding to the austere atmosphere.

A tall, narrow window, veiled by thick wool curtains, permitted only slivers of sunlight to enter. The cold stone walls, sparsely adorned, held only a single tapestry—a hunting scene, its colours faded by time.

With pressed lips, he glanced at the bed he was currently sitting upon. It was a sturdy four-poster bed, the mattress beneath him was stuffed with straw and covered in soft wool. Rich furs were piled atop the bed, warding off the chill that permeated the air.

The scent of burning tallow lingered, the remnants of a candle that had long since been extinguished.

Despite this, Claude had little time to admire his surroundings. A fresh wave of pain assaulted him—like jagged shards of glass being driven into his very skull.

Huff! Puff!

His laboured breathing echoed in the quiet room.

'So...' Claude ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair as the agony finally began to subside. 'This is the new world?'

The answer came as his mind flooded with foreign recollections. It was the aftermath of his fusion with the original host's memories.

He was now Claude Talbot, third son of Baron Talbot of Wycombe—a boy who had just succumbed to a fever.

Claude resisted the urge to immediately sift through the vast sea of memories. There would be time for that later.

For now, he needed to take stock of himself. Pressing his lips together, he reached inward, attempting to summon his Mental Energy.

Relief washed over him as he felt that familiar presence, the core of his power still intact.

But then—

His body stiffened as an unnatural strain coiled around him, his muscles stiffening at the sudden sensation of resistance. 'What was that?' Claude narrowed his eyes as he wondered. And, after a brief moment of contemplation, realisation dawned upon him. 'It's this body.'

Unlike his original body, this body was not attuned to Mental Energy. Though he could still cast spells, his capabilities were drastically limited.

If his Mental Energy had once been a flowing spring, then this body was a dam—restricting its movement and bottling its full potential.

Whish! Whoosh!

Claude grit his teeth as he cast several basic Water Orb spells, determined to understand the limits of this new body.

Soon, he determined that, at best, he could wield Mental Energy equivalent to a Mage Apprentice in his current form.

However, there was one silver lining. His condensed Mental Energy meant that while his spells would be few, each one would be significantly more potent than when he was a Mage Apprentice.

'But that also means…' Claude clenched his fist, the grim reality settling over him. A memory stirred—of an old book he had read before. One that spoke of the consequences of Mental Energy exposure in non-mages. '...every time I use magic, this body will weaken.'

How long could this body last?

If he pushed too far if he overextended himself, would this body perish in an instant?

'This was an unfortunate oversight…' He exhaled sharply, frustration gnawing at him. He had been far too accustomed to his old self, too reliant on magic to consider such a fundamental flaw.

Nevertheless, whilst such a careless mistake seemed ridiculous to Claude, it was indeed his current reality.

But brooding would accomplish nothing.

'I just need to calm down…' He forced his tumultuous thoughts into submission. 'There must be a way to strengthen this body. If not, the worst-case scenario is that this journey has been wasted.'

Knock! Knock!

A sharp rapping at the wooden door pulled Claude from his reverie.

"Master Claude?" A soft voice chirped from beyond the door.

Creak!

The wooden door yawned open, revealing a hesitant figure lingering at the threshold.

After a brief pause, a head cautiously craned into the room—a young girl, no older than sixteen, with chestnut-brown hair neatly braided down her back and striking green eyes.

The moment her gaze landed on Claude sitting upright in bed, her expression brightened with relief.

"Thank heavens you're awake!" she gasped, barely restraining a squeal. Realising her slip, she cleared her throat and composed herself, stepping inside.

She was modestly dressed—an ankle-length woollen kirtle of deep blue, cinched at the waist with a simple leather belt.

Over it, she wore a white linen apron, its edges neatly pressed, and a matching wimple that covered her hair, save for the few wisps that had escaped in her rush.

"Master Claude," she scolded, folding her hands in front of her apron. "Why did you go sneaking out like that? And in the rain, no less!"

Her words tumbled out in hurried concern, but Claude barely reacted. He simply stared at her, his mind flickering through his newly acquired memories, piecing together who she was.

Evelyn. She was a personal maid and caretaker assigned to take care of him.

It took only a moment for him to offer a response.

"I'm sorry, Evelyn…" He dared not speak too much. His mannerisms, his cadence—any misstep could betray him.

He had yet to fully integrate with these foreign memories, and until then, it was best to remain reserved.

Evelyn sighed, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thankfully, you are alright." But the worry in her eyes quickly gave way to mild exasperation.

"However…" She hesitated for a moment, shifting on her feet. "You may need to come at once."

Claude caught the flicker of reluctance in her face—she was clearly unhappy about disturbing someone who had barely recovered from illness.

"Sir Walter has been sent by your father." Her voice lowered slightly. "It's about your brother..."