A Moment To Breathe

Soren crouched by the riverbank, his ragged hands cupping the cold water before splashing it onto his bloodied face. The stinging sensation barely registered—his mind was elsewhere. The guard's strike had left a shallow wound, but it wasn't deep enough to slow him down. He tore a strip from his already worn clothes, wrapping it tightly around the cut. The fabric pressed against the wound, a crude but necessary fix.

He was far from the labor camp now. Far enough that no one would bother chasing him. An awakened traveling alone in the Havens might as well be walking to their own funeral. The wilds were relentless, and without a clan's protection, survival was a gamble few won.

After knocking out the guard—hopefully knocking him out—Soren had wasted no time. He ran without stopping, weaving through the forest with nothing but the fading light to guide him. Only now, as evening settled in, had he finally allowed himself to stop.

If anyone had followed him—someone like Selene—he would have already been caught. But it seemed they had deemed him not worth the effort. A lone awakened running into the unknown? A suicidal fool.

Soren had hoped the mysterious old man would appear once he was out of the camp, but there was no sign of him. No cryptic advice, no guiding voice. The old man—who was undoubtedly at least transcendent, if not something more—was gone.

That meant Soren was on his own. And he needed a plan.

He had already thought about his next steps back at the camp, but there were still things to refine. Sitting by the riverbank, surrounded by the sounds of the forest, he let his thoughts settle.

The old man led me out, but now what? I ran east… or at least, I think I did. The Havens don't follow normal geography—I can't just rely on direction alone. Survival comes first.

Shelter first. At night, I should stay in the trees—but what if something's already up there? The guards at the labor camp must have cleared the area of monsters, which is probably why I made it this far without being torn apart. But now? I can't assume I'll be that lucky again.

No fire, then. No light. Stay hidden.

Since I've awakened, I should start testing my abilities—but there's a problem. I don't seem to have any direct masteries. When I moved that rock earlier, I felt drained almost instantly. Not a good sign.

Soren muttered to himself, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

"That means I need a different approach. Essence. It's flowing through me now, even when I'm not trying. Maybe I should learn more about it… Creating water, for example—that could solve my drinking problem."

He let out a slow breath. "One step at a time. Survive first. Then experiment."

His gaze flickered toward the darkening treetops.

And the old man—where the hell is he now?

A multitude of problems stacked in Soren's mind, each one threatening to hinder his journey to a citadel—or anywhere remotely safe. Fighting was another issue. He had no consistency in his combat style; the only weapon he had was a dagger, which made his fighting unpredictable. And worse, he had no idea what kind of monsters lurked inside the Havens.

With a heavy sigh, Soren pushed himself up and began climbing a tree.

Settling onto a sturdy branch, he adjusted his position until he was comfortable. For a moment, he just sat there—silent, unmoving. The wind wove through the leaves, rustling them in a steady rhythm. Below him, the river continued its quiet journey, its soft, flowing sound a rare comfort.

Every now and then, a twig snapped in the distance, or the underbrush rustled with unseen movement. Soren remained still, listening. He didn't move from his branch. If something was out there, he'd rather it pass by without noticing him.

The suns were already sinking beyond the horizon, their dim glow fading beneath the treetops. The night was settling in.

Soren exhaled slowly, leaning back against the rough bark. There was no point in staying awake. He had no fire, no destination, and no idea what awaited him tomorrow.

For now, sleep would have to do.

With that, Soren, battered and exhausted, shut his eyes and drifted into sleep.

The night passed without incident. No disturbances, no lurking monsters—just the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of the river.

As the morning suns crept over the horizon, their warmth stirred Soren from his slumber. His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the light filtering through the canopy. Surprisingly, he felt better than he had the night before. His body wasn't as stiff, the dull ache in his muscles had eased, and even his shoulder—where the guard had struck him—wasn't throbbing as much.

Frowning slightly, Soren unwrapped the cloth around his shoulder and examined the wound.

It was smaller.

The cut, which had been a noticeable gash yesterday, had shrunk to nearly a third of its original size. The skin was still tender, but it was already closing far faster than it should have.

So this is what it means to be Awakened.

A slow exhale left his lips. Even though he had suspected it, actually seeing the difference in his recovery confirmed it—Awakened individuals really did heal faster than regular humans.

After finishing his self-examination, Soren quickly climbed down from the tree.

As his feet touched the ground, something near the river caught his eye—tracks.

They weren't human.

The footprints were small but numerous, heading upstream. It was difficult to tell whether they belonged to a group of creatures or just one with multiple heavy legs. The sheer number of imprints in the damp soil suggested something sizable had passed by during the night.

Whatever left those marks… he wasn't ready to face it. Not yet.

Turning away from the river, he glanced back toward the faint trail he had followed while escaping the labor camp. It was a few hundred meters behind him, winding away from the water. That left him with two options.

He could wait here, train, and learn more about his abilities while keeping an eye on the road—in case someone passed by.

Or he could leave immediately and try to reach a citadel as quickly as possible.

Soren weighed the choices carefully.

If he followed the trail now, he'd reach civilization faster. The problem? If he ran into something dangerous before he was ready, it could mean instant death.

The other option was to stay, train, and prepare. But there was no guarantee that anyone would pass through the road. And the longer he stayed, the higher the chance that monsters would eventually come to him.

Still, the choice was clear.

He had already familiarized himself with the area, and heading straight for the citadel without proper training was a death sentence. If he got ambushed—or worse, faced something beyond his level—he wouldn't stand a chance.

Soren decided to stay at the riverbank. He needed to train. To be ready.

Only then could he survive the journey ahead.

Soren sat down near the river, his gaze drifting across the flowing water. He let out a slow breath before muttering,

"The old man is still hiding…"

Silence was his only answer.

With a sigh, his eyes lowered, focusing on the gentle current in front of him. The way it moved, the way it flowed without resistance—it was calm, yet relentless.

Just like essence.

Closing his eyes, he stilled his breathing, sinking into the quiet pull of energy around him. Just as he had done before, back in the tent with the soil, he focused on the traces of essence flowing within the water.

Even with his eyes shut, he felt them—small, glimmering lights suspended within the current. Faint yet vibrant, shifting with the water's motion as they drifted beneath his hands.

Soren slowly raised his hands, palms hovering above the river's surface. The lights responded, brushing against his fingertips like fleeting embers. He focused on them—not as scattered specks, but as a whole.

Gather.

A pulse of essence surged outward from his hands, tethering to the energy within the water. In his mind, he collected the glimmering traces together, weaving them into a single form.

With each trace of light he pulled in, he felt a steady drain—his essence bleeding away, his body growing sluggish.

And then, he lifted.

His eyes snapped open—

Hovering above the river, a sphere of water nearly three meters across floated effortlessly in the air.

Soren's breath caught in his throat. Impossible.

And yet—it was real.

With the sudden lapse in his concentration, the floating mass of water collapsed instantly, crashing back into the river.

Soren exhaled sharply as he fell onto his back, staring up at the branches swaying above him.

"Interesting…" he muttered, his voice laced with quiet curiosity. "Was I just exhausted after the trial?"

His eyelids grew heavy as he let his body relax, sinking into the moment. With a slow inhale, he focused inward—toward the familiar warmth lingering in his chest.

The world around him faded.

And once again, he found himself in the abyss.

A floating screen hovered before him, its details unchanged from before. Yet this time, his eyes narrowed on a single line.

"Aeternis."

A slow sigh escaped him.

"So… next up is you."

His tone was calm, but beneath it, a flicker of irritation surfaced.