Seventy-Four: Life

Hyades City, Exterior Ward

Spring Court, Hidden World

Terra, Gaea Solar system

Milky Way Galaxy,

Neutral Free Zone

Sam listened intently as Leon recounted his story, particularly the part where he spoke of the lives he had taken. His expression remained unreadable, his emotions elusive even to her unique abilities. Yet, despite that, she could sense that a part of him was fractured, weighed down by the choices he had made.

He and Emily had destroyed the transport vessel, erasing any trace of their presence and making the incident appear as a pirate attack—a common enough occurrence to avoid immediate suspicion. Even so, they had drawn the ire of both Starlight and the Federation. Were it not for his mother's influence and his father's legacy, their punishment would have been far more severe.

And it was because of that leniency that Sam had the chance to meet Leon. 

"It's funny," Leon said, a bitter edge to his voice. "Ryu made it seem like, in exchange for the lives I took, I'd get the chance to cure myself. But I was a fool to believe him after everything that happened. And still… I guess I was selfish. Selfish enough that I didn't care how many lives I sacrificed."

"There has to be a way… a cure…" Sam murmured, desperation lacing her voice.

"I thought so too," Leon admitted. "I thought if I could find the Fallen Stars if I could meet the Herald, maybe I'd get an answer. A clue about what happened to my father… a cure for my sickness. But it didn't turn out that way." He let out a hollow laugh before adding, "The only good thing that came from all of it was meeting you. Getting to know you…"

A sudden cough wracked his body, cutting off his words. The pain hit him hard, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled against the effort it took just to speak. The door to the room opened, and Dr. Ahmad stepped inside. His gaze shifted from Leon to Sam before he spoke.

"Miss Sinclair, we should let him rest," the doctor said as he moved to check Leon's vitals.

Sam hesitated for a moment before rising from her seat, her chest tightening at the sight of Leon's condition. He looked worse than before, his breath shallow, his body frail. A wave of helplessness crashed over her. She hated this feeling—this inability to do anything.

Without another word, she turned and rushed out of the room. The moment she stepped into the hallway, she braced herself against the wall, swallowing back the nausea that threatened to overtake her. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breath, trying to fight the overwhelming urge to vomit.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the weight of her powerlessness. By the time she regained control of herself, Sam returned to the room assigned to her. As she pushed open the door, she wasn't surprised to find Sophia waiting inside.

Her mother's expression was calm, serene even, yet Sam could feel the weight of her gaze—sharp, assessing, peeling away her defenses with an eerie silence. Sam barely had the energy to care. She looked exhausted, dark circles shadowing her eyes, her body slouched with fatigue. She hadn't slept. Hadn't eaten. She was still wearing the same clothes from Stella's rescue mission, stained with the remnants of that failure. Wordlessly, she leaned against the desk, its surface cluttered with books. The weight of everything pressed down on her chest, and finally, she spoke.

"Do you think I'm weak?"

Sophia didn't react, only tilting her head slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"I failed." Sam's voice was hollow. "I was supposed to bring Stella back, and yet…I couldn't. I thought—" she swallowed, her throat tightening, "I thought with the power I had, I could stop this. Stop all of this—this thing…"

"The pain," Sophia said.

"Yes!" Sam's voice cracked into a scream. "All my life—I've suffered! Suffered so much!"

The words tore out of her, but they weren't enough. The rage, the sorrow—it swelled inside her like a storm, bursting at the seams.

Her mana stirred, her Odic force lashing outward. The air vibrated. The mirrors lining the room cracked, fractures webbing across the glass. The Odic atmosphere trembled, resonating with the raw power surging from her soul.

Sam clenched her fists, trembling, her breath ragged. But no matter how much power she unleashed, no matter how much she screamed, the pain inside her remained. The power vanished as suddenly as it had flared. The crackling energy that once filled the room dissipated into silence, leaving only the faint hum of fractured air in its wake. The broken mirrors reflected jagged, distorted images of Sam, fragments of herself staring back at her from every direction.

Her body slumped, drained as if the outburst had stripped away the last of her strength. She sank into the chair by the desk, her arms trembling as she wrapped them around herself. Tears slipped down her cheeks in silent streams, her breath shuddering between sobs.

"What's the point of living?" she muttered, her voice raw and cracked. "The point of life… if it's all just suffering?"

Sophia remained where she stood, gazing at her daughter with a calm, unwavering expression. She didn't flinch at the question, nor did she rush to fill the silence that followed. Instead, she allowed Sam's words to settle into the air before answering.

"Life isn't about suffering," she said finally, her voice even, steady. "But suffering is a part of life."

Sam lifted her gaze, her eyes red and swollen as they met her mother's.

"It's an unavoidable aspect of existence," Sophia continued, stepping closer, "just like joy, love, struggle, and growth. Pain… the suffering we endure, it forges us. It strengthens the soul. But suffering is not all there is. Just as pain exists, so do resilience, healing, and the potential for change."

"Potential for change," Sam echoed bitterly. "But how?" Her fingers curled into fists on her lap, nails biting into her skin. "I wanted to change. I wanted to make my life worth something, to prove to myself that it had meaning. But what have I done? What can I show for my life?" Her voice broke, the weight of her failures pressing against her chest.

"I have nothing. No friends. No real connection. And the one thing I thought I had… the one thing I was trying to build—" Her breath hitched. "It was all a lie."

Sophia studied her daughter, the depth of her sorrow reflected in the quiet understanding of her gaze. "The potential for change only transforms us when we discover the meaning of life through suffering."

Sam swallowed hard. "The meaning of life?" Her voice trembled. "What is it?"

Sophia exhaled softly and took a step forward, her movements slow and deliberate. "I cannot tell you," she said.

Before Sam could respond, she felt the warmth of her mother's arms around her. The embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside her.

"The meaning of life… one's purpose… is something only you can discover," Sophia murmured. "It is not given. It is not dictated by fate or written in the stars. It is something you must define for yourself."

Sam's body stiffened, but she didn't pull away.

"We, mortals," Sophia continued, "experience life in three phases. The first ends with the loss of naiveté, the second with the loss of innocence, and the third with the loss of life itself."

Sam's breath trembled. "What does that mean?" she whispered.

"It means that purpose is not preordained," Sophia said softly, brushing Sam's hair back from her damp face. "It is something we create. And only you, Sam, can know what your purpose is."

A heavy silence hung between them before Sophia tightened her embrace just slightly, her voice filled with quiet conviction.

"But I do know one thing." She leaned down, resting her chin lightly against the top of Sam's head.

"Your purpose is not to die a meaningless death."

Sam squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her face. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel alone in her suffering.

She just didn't know if that was enough.

"As for connections, it is not too late to strengthen the bonds you have already," Sophia said. "I believe that there are more people who care about you than you realize,"

****

Sam lay sprawled across her bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts. Sleep eluded her, just as it had for the past several nights. Her mind was a storm, a cacophony of emotions and unanswered questions swirling endlessly.

She thought about Leon—his body failing, his breath growing weaker with each passing day. The image of him coughing, struggling against the weight of his mortality, burned itself into her mind. It was unfair. He was too stubborn to admit it, but she could see it—the inevitability of his fate closing in.

Then, there was herself. She had changed. It wasn't just her body, her abilities, or even the newfound strength she had gained. It was something deeper, something shifting within her soul. She tried not to think about Stella, about what she had lost. The pain was still too fresh, too raw. Instead, she forced her mind to focus on something else—something she could try to understand.

Her gaze shifted inward, and the familiar Runic Interface appeared before her eyes, a translucent screen that only she could see. It detailed her stats, her abilities, and the growing complexity of what she had become.

Her focus settled on Terramorphosis, the newest Ability Factor she had somehow unlocked. The knowledge of its existence had appeared in her mind like a whisper, a secret she had always known but only now remembered. How had it happened? She wasn't sure, but she had a feeling it was connected to the Gaea Spell System.

Again, she questioned the nature of this system. What was it, truly?

Her first assumption had been that it was linked to Asha, the goddess of life—back when she still believed Asha to be her household goddess. But that assumption had been wrong. Asha had no direct bearing on her awakening. And yet… there was a connection. Something hidden from her. Something just beyond her reach.

Her fingers twitched as she willed the Interface to shift, her status appearing in front of her.

Status

Name: Samantha Sinclair

Rank: Peak-Stage Adept [Tier 10] (Adept-Rank Mage) [Tier 5]

Star Core: Fifth Star Rings

Physique: Awakened - (Sacred)

Physical Stats

Strength: 300

Dexterity: 419

Endurance: 300

Physical Power: 1,019

Mental Stats

Intelligence: 325

Wisdom: 300

Will: 500

Mental Power: 1,125

Spiritual Stats

Mana Capacity: 500

Mana Efficiency: 300

Energy Adaptability: 600

Spiritual Power: 1,400

Arcane Arts

Elemental Magic: (Contract with Thunder Elemental Spirit King)

Spells:

Thunderbolt – Tier 4 (Minor Mastery)

Sonata Requiem – Tier 6 (Minor Mastery)

Stormfall – Tier 5 (Minor Mastery)

Exploding Cube Prison – Tier 5 (Minor Mastery)

Combat Arts:

Adamantium Fist Martial Art – Five-Star Rank (Major Mastery)

Ability Factors:

Symphony

Terramorphosis

Symphony – The ability to access the Música Universalis

Unique Techniques:

Música Conductor – Allows the user to peer into the soul's frequency and wavelength.

Resonance – Matches the user's resonant frequency with their target to unleash a highly destructive concussive blast.

Consonance – Aligns with the natural vibrations and frequencies of reality, allowing the user to pull matter together on a molecular level

.Dissonance – Creates discordant frequencies that push matter apart on a molecular level.

Terramorphosis – The ability to shape, manipulate, and transform earth and its variant elements.

Unique Techniques:

Metal Forge – Manipulates metal, refining and shaping it at will.

Earth Sculpt – Reshapes terrain with precision, molding it like clay.

Crystal Bloom – Generates and grows crystalline structures at will.

Magma Surge – Controls molten rock, summoning volcanic power.

Seismic Resonance – Channels vibrations through the earth, triggering controlled tremors or devastating quakes.

Sam stared at the screen, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. Terramorphosis was more than just an ability—it was something fundamental, something primal.

She could feel it now, a deep, rhythmic pulse that seemed to resonate with the very bones of the planet. It wasn't just about controlling Earth. It was about understanding it. Listening to its song. Feeling its breath. Just like her Música Universalis allowed her to tap into the cosmic harmony of souls, Terramorphosis allowed her to attune herself to the language of the land. To the will of nature itself.

Why?

Why did she have this power? Why did it feel natural, as though it had always been a part of her? And more importantly… what did it mean?

Her mind drifted back to the unknown connection—the invisible thread linking her to something beyond her comprehension.

Asha. The Goddess of Life.

Sam almost laughed at the irony. Life. That was what she was supposedly tied to, some divine concept of existence, growth, and vitality. Yet, not long ago, she had tried to throw her own life away as if it meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.

And now? Now, she bore this mysterious connection to life itself… yet she couldn't heal Leon.

Because she was weak.

A bitter taste filled her mouth, and she clenched her fists. What was the point of all this power if it couldn't do what truly mattered? If she couldn't stop the people she cared about from slipping away? If she was still helpless when it counted?

Her vision blurred slightly as she stared at the Runic Interface, frustration and exhaustion clouding her thoughts. Then, something caught her attention—

A question mark at the bottom of the screen.

Frowning, she focused on it. The moment her mind latched onto the symbol, the interface shifted.

New words began to form, glowing faintly against the dark backdrop of her mind:

[Enlightened has reached the threshold of Ascension.]

[Soul Core saturation has reached its limit.]

[Begin Ascension.]

Sam's breath hitched. Ascension? Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs as she stared at the message. Something deep within her stirred, a feeling both foreign and familiar, as if a door she hadn't even known existed had just unlocked.

****

"So, you want me to help with your Ascension?" Emily asked, setting down her fork with a soft clink against the plate. They were seated in one of the dining halls within Sophia's quarters, located deep inside the Fallen Star's headquarters. The room was lavish yet practical, dimly lit by warm chandeliers that cast flickering shadows across the long wooden table. The scent of food still lingered in the air, though Emily had lost most of her appetite the moment Sam sat down across from her.

Days had passed since their return from the mission—since Leon fell unconscious—and this was the first time Emily had seen Sam since then. The burial of Stella had taken place weeks ago. Sam hadn't been there. Emily, however, had attended. Out of respect. Out of consideration for her host. She hadn't known Stella personally, but something about the way the Fallen Stars mourned had made her feel… obligated. Yet, the moment she stepped into the ceremony, she had felt it—the looks, the unspoken hostility.

They didn't trust her. Not that she could blame them. She was a Paladin, even if an exiled one. After the burial, Emily had mostly kept to herself, alternating between the room she'd been given and the health ward where Leon lay unconscious. She didn't know why she kept visiting him. Maybe it was because he was the only familiar face in this forsaken place.

And now, after weeks of absence, Sam had finally appeared—not to talk about Leon, not to talk about Stella, but to ask for help.

Emily leaned back slightly, exhaling as she activated her Internal Sight. Her perception sharpened, and her gaze shifted to Sam's sternum. There it was. Sam's core—a radiant, shimmering orb of energy—was pulsating with power, its once-fluid essence now dense, concentrated, saturated. It had reached its limit. It was ripe for breaking through.

Emily clicked her tongue. "You're ready, alright," she muttered, her tone carrying something unreadable. Jealousy? Annoyance? Concern? Even she wasn't sure.

All she knew was that this girl had only started cultivating months ago, and now she was about to enter the Warrior realm as if it were effortless. Her growth rate was nothing short of monstrous—so fast that Emily began to wonder if such rapid advancement was truly a good thing.

Her gaze darkened slightly as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked, her voice measured. "You've only been an Adept for, what, a few months? And let's not forget you skipped the Novice and Acolyte ranks entirely."

Emily exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. "If you keep pushing forward at this pace, your cultivation base might not be stable enough."

She studied Sam's expression, searching for any sign of hesitation. Seeing none, she sighed and continued, her voice quieter but firm.

"Your cultivation base is your foundation—the very structure from which all your spiritual power is built. A rushed or unstable base means instability in your soul, and that's not something you can afford to ignore. If your foundation isn't strong enough to support the next realm, it could weaken your soul core itself."

Emily's fingers tapped against the table in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. "And a damaged core?" Her gaze met Sam's. "That's permanent. Once it breaks, it can't be fixed."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken warnings lingering in their weight.

Emily leaned back slightly, folding her arms. "So tell me, Sam—are you really ready for this? Or are you just desperate to become stronger, no matter the cost?"

She waited, watching, curious to see if Sam understood the risk she was about to take. Under normal circumstances, Sam might have been afraid—hesitant after hearing Emily's warning. But now?

Now, she didn't care.

Was she afraid of her soul core breaking? The answer was a complicated no. Not because she was reckless, but because she had come to understand something about herself during the countless nights she had spent awake, staring into the void, dissecting every fragment of what she had become.

Her ability factor—her attunement to frequencies and vibrations—wasn't just physical. No… it went deeper than that. It extended beyond the material world, beyond the tangible limits of reality. It touched the metaphysical, resonating at a level that most wouldn't even perceive.

Sam's power wasn't just about manipulating the vibrations of matter. It interacted with the very fabric of reality itself. She hadn't yet grasped the full extent of what that meant. But she knew this much—she wasn't fragile.

"I'm well aware of what a broken core means," Sam said, her voice steady, unwavering. "But I don't plan on being a cripple. I'm going to ascend, and when I do—" her fingers curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms—"I'm going to save Leon. If it's the last thing I do."

Emily opened her mouth as if to argue, but then she stopped.

The look in Sam's eyes—burning, unshakable, absolute—left no room for disagreement. Emily exhaled through her nose, rubbing her temples. If I refuse, she'll just do it without me. That much was obvious. And if Sam went through this process alone… the risks would only multiply.

Emily sighed. "Fine," she relented. "But if you can't break through the threshold, then promise me you won't force it."

The threshold was a natural limit within each Realm of Ascension, a force that anchored one's power in check. To ascend meant that the threshold had weakened, that the connection between one's soul and the Odyllic had strengthened enough to push past it.

But forcing an ascension? That could shatter a person from the inside out.

Sam didn't hesitate. "I promise," she said. But the way she said it…

Emily wasn't sure if she believed her.