Skies

The domain around him expanded once more, stretching to encompass what seemed like the entire plains. But then, slowly, it began to shrink, folding over itself, retreating inward.

As it condensed, it did not simply disappear—it deepened, growing denser, richer, and more refined.

It only stopped when it had formed a sphere around Icarus, wide enough to completely enclose his body. Then, like a second layer of skin, it tightened, contouring every dip and curve of his refined form.

And just like that, the domain faded from sight.

Icarus slowly opened his eyes.

He could feel it. His other paths—Sword, Arcane, and Alchemical—were bubbling beneath the surface, ready to break through at any moment. But he suppressed them, knowing that now was not the time.

His senses stretched beyond himself. He felt everything—the pulse of the world, the subtle fluctuations of essence around him.

Regardless of distance, it felt as though he could reach out and grasp it all.

He lifted a single finger.

A small, featureless white serpent appeared, coiling around his index. It slithered through his fingers, flickering in and out of existence like a playful wisp of energy.

Then, it faded.

Satisfied, Icarus submerged himself fully beneath the waters. Moments later, he resurfaced, stepping out of the emerald lake to clothe himself.

'My comprehension had a direct and tangible effect on my body… that's interesting to know.'

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

'These paths, auxiliary to cultivation, must rely on comprehension to alter and prime the body, deepening one's foundation and essentially molding them.'

'Which means the higher the stage I reach before I begin cultivating, the better—just as I assumed.'

He mused for a moment, running his fingers through his damp hair.

'At best, I can reach the peak in a year. At worst, two years.'

Icarus straightened his simple oversized changpao, adjusting the folds before making his way back home. As he walked, the earth beneath him shifted—a bed of serpents emerged from the soil, forming beneath his feet. With just two steps, he was propelled forward, his body blurring through space.

By the next breath, he stood at the wooden doorstep of their house.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the warmth of a burning chimney and the fragrant aroma of spices wafting through the air.

Their house was large, spanning two levels.

The upper floor held their personal rooms, while the lower level—the entrance—was cozy and simple.

The living room was centered around a grand fireplace, its flames flickering in a dance of orange and gold, casting soft shadows against the wooden walls.

Leather couches framed the space, positioned around a polished table, set with four wooden chairs.

At the far end of the room, the kitchen stood, where Lord Henry worked, meticulously crafting one of his many culinary masterpieces.

Icarus stepped inside, shutting the door behind him before immediately collapsing onto the couch, slouching beside Amalia, who sat silently, reading.

"Are we not training today?" Icarus asked lazily, his eyes already half-closed.

"Be quiet."

"I'll take that as a no." He rolled onto his side, tucking his hands behind his head, his gaze drifting to the wooden ceiling beams above.

Amalia chuckled. "We're leaving soon, so there isn't much of a need. We've been here for years—it would be unfortunate to spend our last moments ignoring its worth, don't you think?"

"You speak as if we'll never come back."

Icarus murmured, his tone even.

Amalia shrugged. "Who knows? The tides of the heavens are unpredictable. Anything may happen."

Icarus sighed. "To me, that translates to, 'I know something you don't.'"

Amalia smirked but said nothing, her eyes returning to the pages of her book.

After a brief silence, she finally spoke again. "I see you've broken into the Slithering Flow stage. How do you feel?"

Icarus groaned, rolling onto his stomach to face her. "Strange."

He furrowed his brows, trying to put his thoughts into words.

"It's like… my affinity to essence, the thing that allowed me to manipulate it, has been remodeled—as if it's twisting into something different."

"I also feel essence more clearly. My body hasn't completely settled yet, so I can't determine the full extent of the change, but… it seems game-changing."

Amalia closed her book, setting it aside. Her golden eyes gleamed as she leaned slightly toward him.

"The secrets of Slithering Flow are rather simple to decipher—well, relatively."

"As you've likely noticed, the spark that allowed you to break through was harmony—harmony between the essence embedded within your body and the essence in the atmosphere."

"Once they resonate, they essentially become one and the same—well, partially. Your pores open to the world, allowing you to draw in and release essence at will."

"That's the flow part of it all. It's a cycle. Essence constantly moves into you and out into the world."

"This resonance, once stabilized, forms a domain that is intrinsically part of your body. You can either passively have it drawn to your skin, or you can expand it outward."

Icarus listened intently, nodding as he processed the information.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, rolling from topic to topic, building upon each discovery, each insight. As the hours passed, they dived deeper, dissecting the intricate mechanics of essence control.

Eventually, Lord Henry joined them, setting plates of food onto the table as they continued their discussions over dinner.

The night stretched on, filled with quiet laughter, insightful debate, and the ever-present warmth of companionship.

Peace echoed, endlessly.

***

Days passed.

Icarus, Lord Henry, and Lady Amalia sat atop a massive eagle, soaring through the skies at breathtaking speeds. Their bodies remained rooted in place, held firm by essence stabilization techniques.

Below them, the landscape unfolded in waves of endless beauty—vast oceans, sprawling forests, golden deserts, and mountains that pierced the heavens.

They dove through clouds, brushed against the stars, and twisted through currents of wind, their journey a breathtaking spectacle of boundless freedom.

Dressed in light rose-colored robes, Icarus sat cross-legged, resting his chin against his closed fist. His keen gaze remained fixed on the horizon, drinking in the wonders of the world.

After a moment, he turned toward Amalia, who sat beside him in her flowing black robes.

"Master, I forgot to ask—where exactly are we going?"

Amalia tilted her head slightly, then answered.

"We're heading to the Central Plains of the Stormveil Realm—more specifically, the Jaded Blade Valley."

"There's a competition happening there. A tournament for youths."

She smiled.

"The prize is something I need you to win. Understand?"

Icarus frowned slightly. "A competition?"

Over the years, he had participated in many tournaments. However, in recent times, Amalia had stopped bringing him to them, claiming they were becoming pointless—that his growth had already outpaced most competitors.

"What is it you need me to win?" he asked, intrigued.

Amalia's lips curled into a grin.

"A Dungeon Key."