Four Years Later
The forest stretched in a vast expanse of green, bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the canopy. Birds chirped in distant melodies, and a gentle breeze stirred the leaves, creating a soothing rustle that echoed through the woods. Amid this tranquility, a lone deer grazed upon a patch of mossy ground, twitching its ears at every subtle sound. Its amber eyes scanned the surroundings, it was alert, yet calm as it plucked tender shoots quietly.
A sudden rustle.
The deer's head snapped toward the source, tensing its muscles. Silence. Only the wind swayed branches overhead. Cautiously, it resumed its feeding, nibbling at the foliage—unaware.
Until—
Schlik!
From above, a figure descended. A boy drove his knife into the deer's neck with precision. The deer kicked once, twice, before stilling. Warm blood seeped into the forest floor, and the woods fell quiet again.
Velren exhaled, pulling his blade free. The knife, though aged, gleamed with a well-maintained edge. Its handle, wrapped in dark leather worn from years of use, fit perfectly in his grip—like an extension of himself. He wiped the blade on the grass before sheathing it with practiced ease.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the deer's legs, hoisting the carcass over his shoulder. The weight was notable, but he carried it with ease.
Four years.
That incident... it felt like a lifetime ago. Time, as it does, had pressed onward, molding boy into youth. His responsibilities had grown too—one of which was hunting. It wasn't just necessity anymore; it was routine, survival.
His boots crunched against fallen leaves as he made his way back. Familiar trees marked the path, and soon, through the foliage, the outline of the hut emerged. Approaching the porch, Velren shrugged off the carcass with a thud, letting it rest beside a collection of firewood and scattered tools.
Stretching his whole body, he let out a low grunt. Dropping onto the wooden steps of the porch, he exhaled, letting the cool breeze hit his sweat-dampened skin. With a flick of his hand, a translucent interface flickered to life before him—the Codex.
---
Nam3: Velren
Rac3: Human (An0maly)
Titl3(s): Fat3's An0maly | [??]
Aff1l1at10n: N0ne
Skills:
[0bs3rvat10n]: Bas1c und3rstand1ng 0f surr0und1ngs
[Inst1nctiv3 Res1stance]: M3ntal res1l1ence aga1nst ext3rnal 1nflu3nc3
[Predatory Accumen]: H0n3d sk1ll 1n track1ng, hunt1ng, and adapt1ng t0 t3rra1n
Anomaly Traits:
[Fate D1vergenc3]: Y0ur ex1stence dev1at3s fr0m pr3det3rm1ned fat3.
[Syst3m Interf3rence Det3cted]: C3rta1n funct10ns may b3have abn0rmally.
[V1tal cr3st]: A World Not Mine
Velren tapped on the vital crest option, and the interface flickered, shifting into a new display:
[v1tal ech0: Phantas Rift, Gravemaw, Eidolon Veil]
He clicked on the last two echoes:
[V1tal Ech0: Gravemaw]
"Manif3stat10n born fr0m User repress3d des1re t0 cons1gn thr3ats to 0bliv10n. This ech0 taps int0 th3 abyss betwe3n existence and v01d, creating a m0mentary 'maw' that drags matt3r and Ka 1nto a s3m1-null spac3. Wh1le active, th3 pull t3mp0rarily rem0ves targ3ts fr0m r34l1ty; b0th 1nn4m4t3 0bj3cts 4nd l1v1ng b31ngs return aft3r the ech0 collaps3s—f0r n0w."
[Skill Ability]
User can man1fest a small, ether3al v0rtex that pulls n3arby matter and Ka-bas3d entit1es int0 a semi-null space f0r a br1ef durat10n. B0th 1nnamate 0bjects and Ka-based 3ntity r3appear 0nce the echo ends, th0ugh s0m3 0bjects may show temp0r4ry degradat10n. [Need Further Update//!!]
[Use Count: 17/1000]
It had first manifested when Velren was clearing debris near a cliffside. A boulder too large to move on his own vanished into the void for seconds before reappearing with its surface marred and brittle. The experience left him breathless... and deeply unsettled.
[V1tal Ech0: Eidolon Veil]
"Man1festat10n b0rn from User unspok3n d3sir3 t0 b3 unt0uched and unfelt. Th1s ech0 temp0rar1ly severs the connect1on b3tween User and the w0rld's sens0ry rec0gn1t10n, mak1ng User pr3sence sl1p b3tw33n p3rcept10ns. St1ll N33d Furtherr Updat3!!!"
[Skill Ability]
User c4n 3nt3r 4 st4t3 where their pres3nce bec0mes c0nceptually unconnected fr0m th3 env1r0nm3nt. N0t tradit10nal invisibil1ty, but sens3s—b0th mundane and Ka-based—struggl3 t0 register User existenc3.
[Use Count: 9/1000]
Velren manifested this Echo while evading a pack of territorial bears. With nowhere to run, his body instinctively 'slipped' from their notice—their eyes passed over him as if he weren't there. It was effective... but left him cold and disconnected for hours afterward.
Gramps' explanation about Vital Echoes was blunt: "Kid, a Vital Echo ain't just a trick. It's a part of you—a reflection of somethin' deeper. They ain't things you just pick up; they surface when somethin' inside you resonates with the world—or clashes with it. You want more? It isn't about pushin' harder... it's about understandin' what's stirrin' inside."
He glanced down at his interface, where the system quietly logged the use counts. Seventeen for Gravemaw. Nine for Eidolon Veil. Out of a thousand.
He never did ask Gramps—or the wolves—what those numbers actually meant. Why a thousand? Why the ceiling?
A part of him always assumed it was just the system's way of tracking usage, but now… he wasn't so sure. The phrasing of it—Use Count: 17/1000—felt less like a log and more like a threshold.
What would happen at a thousand?
Would the Echo evolve? Shift into something more potent? Or perhaps...
Velren exhaled, dismissing the Codex. The interface flickered and vanished. His gaze lingered on the trees beyond. Each Vital Echo was power—yes—but also a reminder. His anomaly wasn't just a quirk. It was a fracture in the world's logic.
But there was one more thing that bothered him most:
It was the fact that...
For the past five years, he had only been able to manifest two new echoes.
'Isn't that considered too little?!'
Considering the dangers he'd faced—the close calls, the hunts—surely more should've surfaced. Then again... his life wasn't exactly what you would called a grand adventures either. It was only filled with daily chores and endless hunting on his part.
A familiar rustle drew his attention. From the tree line, Fenrir emerged. The wolf padded towards him with unhurried steps.
"How'd the hunt go?"
Velren smiled and gave him a thumbs up.
Fenrir snorted. He then shifted his gaze toward the hut.
"Grandmaster wants to see you. Said he's by the garden."
"Got it," Velren replied, stretching again before heading off.
***
The path wound behind the hut to a large garden—a a well-tended plot, and a patchwork of stubborn greenery that the old man refused to let die. And there he was: Gramps, seated on a battered wooden bench, sipping from a bottle that reeked of strong liquor even from a distance.
Typical.
"You drink more than you breathe," Velren muttered under his breath as he approached.
The old man lowered the bottle and glanced his way, curling his lips into a smirk.
"And yet I'm still alive. Must be doin' somethin' right."
Velren stopped a few steps away, crossing his arms.
"So? What is it?"
Gramps tapped the bottle against his knee.
"Let's go to the capital."