Chapter 8: When the Horn Blows

Thea broke the silence with a nervous laugh, her voice trembling slightly. "Peter, it's not that rare to be a late bloomer—"

"Thea, stop." My voice cracked, frustration bleeding through despite my best efforts. "You have to find it strange. I don't know anything past two days ago. I can't read when it seems like everyone else can. I didn't even know about mandatory conscription, about the war, about… anything. Stuff that should be common knowledge."

I paused, realizing how sharp my words had become, how much I'd let my fear slip through. "Thea, I'm not from here."

The weight of my words settled between us, heavy and unyielding. The wind stirred around us, carrying faint whispers from the forest nearby.

I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands—hands I recognized, hands that felt like mine. I didn't know what exactly happened in the cafeteria that day, but I knew, deep in my bones, that this was my body. My height, my build, my scars. No possession, no swapped souls—it was me.

And yet… I was an alien here.

Thea's storm-gray eyes searched mine, her expression torn between confusion and concern. "I don't understand what you're saying, Peter. You mean… you're from another country?"

"No." I let out a shaky breath, steeling myself. "I don't know if you'll believe me. Honestly, it's hard to believe myself. But, hey—magic exists here, so maybe it'll help make this easier to swallow." I forced out a dry chuckle, but judging by Thea's tight expression, I'd failed spectacularly at lightening the mood.

"I'm not from here, Thea. Not this country, not this world, not even this… reality or whatever this place counts as. This is all—" I gestured weakly at the distant Hall of Heroes, at the chaotic energy of the world bustling around us, at the distant glow of star-light cutting through the early night—"it's like something out of a fantasy novel. Magic, cultivation, systems. It's something I've only ever read about in books or seen in games back home."

Thea didn't respond right away. Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes flicking downward as she processed everything I'd said. I braced myself for disbelief, for rejection, for laughter. But none of that came.

She shook her head softly. "Peter… I'm trying. I really am. It's not that I don't believe you—it's just… I don't understand."

Her voice wavered at the end, and the quiet vulnerability in her tone made something tighten in my chest.

Slowly, I stepped closer and placed my uninjured hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at the contact but didn't pull away.

"I know it's a lot," I said softly, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions in my chest. "But it doesn't change anything, does it? I'm still me. You're still you. I won't ever get a system, but I'll still do everything I can to keep up with you, Grandmaster Thea."

The corner of her lips twitched upward in the faintest smile. "You wouldn't have caught up to me with one anyway."

I let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching my chest like she'd struck me with her words. "Rude! Here I am, bearing my soul to you, and this is the thanks I get?"

She let out a soft laugh, one that felt like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for too long. "Let's go back and I'll teach you how to read–something."

We walked back together in silence—not the awkward, heavy kind, but something quieter, something comfortable. The kind of silence you could wrap around yourself like a warm blanket. It was… nice. Just walking beside her, knowing she was there. Someone to confide in, someone I trusted.

But speaking of trust—I realized I knew so little about her. Thea was sharp, stubborn, and had a knack for throwing me face-first into the dirt during sparring. But past that? Nothing.

"So, Thea," I started, breaking the calm, "why are you so obsessed with cultivation? I mean, nobody else here seems to care about it half as much as you do."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Obsessed?"

I cleared my throat, trying to recover. "Uh, yeah. Obsessed. It's a compliment, I swear."

Her smirk softened into something more thoughtful as she looked ahead. "I guess there's no grand reason. My parents both practiced cultivation—they made it to core formation, actually. They always said having that extra reservoir of energy made everything easier—spells, techniques, even healing."

She paused for a moment before continuing. "But… I think I just like it. No one seems to really understand it. The information past core formation is all fragmented—just scraps of knowledge passed around like rumors. Nobody knows the limits, or if there are limits."

Without warning, she punched me lightly in the shoulder. Playful, sure, but ouch. It still stung way more than I was ready for. I tried—and probably failed—not to flinch.

"But I love it," she said, her voice carrying that spark of excitement she always got when talking about cultivation. "I want to figure it out. I want to see just how far we can go with it."

I nodded, her words settling into the quiet space between us. There was something so Thea about her drive—steady, determined, unshakable.

By now, we were passing the stone building leading underground, our boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The tents were just up ahead, their canvas shapes glowing faintly under flickering lantern light.

"Maybe…" I hesitated, then decided to just say it. "Maybe we can put reading on hold for now. I mean, you're basically my walking, talking translator anyway. We can go over a little bit each day, but improving cultivation feels… more important right now."

Thea considered my words, her brows pulling together as she thought. After a moment, she nodded, her expression softening.

"I turn eighteen in four days," she said, her voice quieter now. "That's probably when I'll get my system. If that happens—and unless I end up being a tank or something—we'll probably be split up in the mornings and evenings. We'll still meet in the Hall, but… time will be tight."

She glanced over at me, her eyes sharp yet uncertain. "Maybe tomorrow we can buy some paper and ink. I'll write down the letters, teach you what they sound like, and you can practice on your own when we're apart."

I let out a small breath, relief settling in my chest. "That sounds good to me. Thanks, Thea."

She smiled—small, but warm. For a brief moment, the lantern light caught in her eyes, turning them into molten silver.

We fell back into silence again, walking side by side. It wasn't heavy or uncomfortable; it just was. A simple, shared quiet.

The tents were just ahead now, the glow of campfires flickering in the distance, casting shadows that danced along the ground.

"Hey, Thea…" I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

She turned to look at me, her head tilted slightly, curiosity sparking in her storm-gray eyes.

"Thanks. For everything."

Her smile softened further, and for a brief second, it felt like the world slowed down around us.

"Anytime, Peter."

And just like that, we walked into camp together—side by side—under a sky scattered with stars.

Thankfully, my pillow and blanket were still in the same spot outside. Maybe a bit dustier, sure, but no worse for wear.

"Wait a sec," Thea said, scrambling off toward the girls' tent. She reappeared moments later, her own sleeping gear tucked under one arm. "Trust me, they probably aren't any quieter than the guys."

I snorted at that, adjusting my blanket on the uneven ground. "Maybe we should move behind the tents. Last thing I want is to wake up to someone accidentally stepping on my face."

She nodded, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Good point. I'd rather not get trampled either."

We shuffled our things a bit farther back, finding a quieter spot nestled between two tents and partially shielded by some low bushes. It wasn't exactly cozy, but it felt a little more private—and less prone to foot traffic.

Once we settled in, I broke the silence. "More cultivation? We could finish up the shoulders, and if we've got time, maybe even start and finish a reservoir in our hands."

Thea glanced at me, her brows raising slightly. "If you feel any resistance, stop. Who knows if there are consequences for moving too quickly? After we consolidate our gains, it should be fine, but it's best to tread carefully."

"Agreed," I said with a nod, already settling cross-legged on the blanket.

We both closed our eyes, sinking into focus.

I started as usual, drawing in the world's energy and letting it gather at my central channel before guiding the excess upward. It flowed through the chest reservoir, weaving outward into the shoulder reservoir like threads of liquid light. Slowly but surely, the web of energy expanded, threading its way down to my upper arms, elbows, and finally, the tips of my fingers.

There was a faint pop—a subtle internal shift, like something locking into place—and I knew the shoulder reservoir had stabilized. The energy web felt solid now, no longer fragile or fleeting.

But before I could enjoy the sensation, I felt it. That look.

You know the one.

The intense, burning gaze of a cultivation maniac staring holes into the side of my head.

I sighed heavily, cracking one eye open. Sure enough, Thea was sitting there, eyes locked on me, practically vibrating with energy and itching for a fight.

"Alright, fine," I groaned, pushing myself up with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to a dentist appointment. "Stop staring. I'm getting up."

Thea's grin was downright predatory as she sprang to her feet, bouncing lightly on her toes.

"Don't hold back this time, Peter. You've got reservoirs in your chest and shoulders now—you should be able to keep up better."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, rolling my shoulders and wincing slightly at the lingering stiffness. "Let's just get this over with."

Thea darted forward, and the sparring began.

This time, though, it felt… different. Better.

The energy circulating through my reservoirs flowed smoother, faster. It didn't feel like I was trying to scoop water out of a well with a leaky bucket anymore. When Thea lunged, I could react quicker. When she struck, I could absorb the impact better.

For once, I wasn't just desperately flailing to survive.

Don't get me wrong—Thea still wiped the floor with me. But I managed to dodge more, block more, and even land a couple of hits that made her blink in surprise.

Eventually, we both collapsed back onto our blankets, gasping for breath and staring up at the starlit sky above us.

"You're getting better," Thea said between breaths, her voice softer now, almost proud.

"Thanks, Grandmaster Thea," I said with a tired grin, earning an eye roll and a laugh from her.

The night sky stretched above us, stars twinkling faintly in the vast dark expanse. The distant crackle of campfires and quiet murmurs from the tents around us drifted through the air as we focused on consolidating our cultivation.

Eventually, Thea spoke again, her voice quieter now. "You know… I'm glad we're in this together, Peter."

I turned my head to look at her, finding her already staring up at the sky, her chestnut hair spilling across her blanket like a cascade of shadows.

"Yeah," I said softly, my chest tightening with something warm. "Me too."

No one had come back yet, which I suppose made sense—the instructor hadn't specifically told us to return to camp for sleep, just to be here by dawn. The quiet of the night stretched around us, broken only by the distant occasional chirp of some unseen creature.

"Let's try forming another," I suggested softly.

Thea nodded, closing her eyes with that sharp focus she always had during cultivation. "Let's do the right fist first."

We both fell into our breathing patterns, drawing in the faint hum of world energy around us. I guided it into my main channel, letting it pool in my chest before carefully redirecting it into the reservoir in my shoulder. From there, I threaded it further, weaving it into the fine, fragile structure forming in my fist.

The process felt smoother now, more intuitive, like my body was adapting to this method with each attempt. But as the energy solidified into delicate web-like threads in my hand, I could feel it—resistance. Not in forming the reservoir, but in my ability to pull in more energy into my main channel. It felt stretched thin, strained under the weight of the constant flow.

The sensation reminded me of when Thea had first guided me, her energy like an overwhelming river coursing through me. The flow now wasn't nearly as vast, but it was approaching that same weight, that same saturation.

It still baffled me that people found this method slow. Maybe it spoke more about how absurdly efficient systems were, rather than how effective cultivation itself was. If this energy saturation meant I could theoretically form a core soon… then why did I still feel so weak? So far behind?

The memory of my earlier opponent came rushing back—the way his swings carried bone-shattering force, the way his stats turned him into a juggernaut. If this was the difference between someone with a system and someone without, then Thea and I had our work cut out for us.

Systems weren't just powerful—they were a completely different playing field. And once Thea got hers, it would elevate her to a level that felt almost unreachable to me.

But despite the faint sting of that thought, I smiled faintly. Because even if we were on different levels… we'd still be fighting side by side.

The same process resumed as earlier—energy flowing, reservoirs forming, and another brief sparring match that ended with both of us sprawled on the dusty ground, panting like we'd run a marathon. Thea was definitely more skilled, but power-wise, we were starting to feel evenly matched.

"I'm done for tonight," I gasped, my arms spread wide as I stared at the night sky. "I still don't know much about this place. You said we become citizens after our service, right? How did your parents feel about you being taken away?"

Between tired gulps of air, Thea responded, "They were… fine?" Her questioning tone caught me off guard.

"I thought most parents would be sad sending their kid off to war," I said, tilting my head to glance at her.

"Hm." She stared up at the sky, her chestnut hair splayed out on the ground. "I don't know how it is where you're from, but this is just… expected of us. It's part of life. They went through it, and now we do too. Brothers, sisters, family dying in battle—it's not that uncommon."

Her words carried a blunt honesty, but there was something hollow underneath.

I frowned. Even though I'd grown up in a foster home, her words felt so devoid of warmth that it unsettled me. "So… parental love? Like hugs and stuff?"

At that, Thea's face turned an impressive shade of red, and she sputtered. "No! That—that's just crazy!"

I laughed despite the ache in my chest. "Relax! Didn't realize this place was so… reserved. Back where I'm from, most families are really close. Lots of hugs. Lots of… affection."

She went quiet, her gaze shifting upward to the moon hanging low in the sky. Its pale light caught in her eyes, turning them silver and distant. For a moment, she looked lost in thought—somewhere far away from this camp, this night.

"Not here," she mumbled softly. "Parents are more like instructors than anything else. Like I said, they told me about cultivation—its benefits, why I should practice it. So I started about a month ago. Slowly building it up, learning the steps."

I hesitated, unsure what to say. Sorry didn't feel right. It wasn't pity she needed, and honestly, I wasn't even sure if she wanted whatever version of family I was picturing in my head. Maybe she didn't hate the way things were—maybe she just didn't know any different.

So instead, I asked, "Siblings?"

She gave a small nod, her lips curling into something halfway between a smile and a frown. "A little sister. Five years younger. In a bit, she'll be here too. But by then, we'll both be gone. If we're alive, we'll nearly be done with our service."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and it took me a moment to realize she was waiting for me to answer the same question.

"How about you?" she asked.

"Me?" I paused, thinking back. "I guess I had plenty of brothers and sisters… but they came and went."

Thea sat up slightly, leaning on her elbows, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Did they… die?"

My eyes widened. "What? No! They were adopted into families or aged out of the home. I was on my way out too, actually. It's just how the process works back there for kids without parents."

She stared at me for a beat, then snorted lightly. "Weird."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm weird? You're the one who thinks hugs are some alien concept."

She laughed, the sound soft and genuine, and I couldn't help but join in.

The weight in the air seemed to lift slightly, and for a brief moment, everything felt… lighter. A campfire flickered in the distance, and the forest whispered softly in the night breeze.

Eventually, the gentle hum of the night, the faint glow of moonlight, and the quiet rustle of leaves lulled us into an unplanned sleep. Neither of us noticed it happening—we were just… still. Comfortable.

But then, the pale light of dawn pierced through my eyelids, sharp and unyielding, followed immediately by that horn. That horrible, dreadful horn, blaring through the silence like a war cry.

Another day had come.