Chapter 2: The Trueflame Remnant Seal

Five minutes later.

"In—Group Three!" barked Instructor Thorne.

Cael rose along with the others and filed into the observation chamber. The air was dense with expectation.

Set into the far wall was a towering slab of stone—its surface marred by deep, ancient cuts. Sword. Axe. Claw. The scars crisscrossed and spiraled toward the faint impression of a silhouette—vague, looming, and impossible to look at without effort.

This was the Aetherwall.

Etched across its surface was the Spirit Trace Pattern—a mystical imprint said to contain echoes of the first warriors who awakened to aether long ago.

Beside it, a timing clock ticked ominously.

Thorne turned the dial to zero. "Begin."

All ten students focused their gaze.

The moment Cael looked, the marks on the stone blurred into chaos. He had to dig deep—force his concentration to settle—until finally, the shape began to form.

Even then, he was surprised.

At level 2, his Eye of All-Seeing had taken nearly two seconds to break through the wall's illusion. Now? It took barely one. The two extra points in his mental pool made a massive difference.

Thirty seconds in, the first student's body trembled. He grunted, blinked hard, and looked away—unable to withstand the mental strain any longer.

Thorne jotted down the time with a barely hidden shake of his head.

No seal for that one, Cael thought.

Another ten seconds passed before Cael's mind hit its limit. He exhaled slowly and pulled away.

He glanced at the clock.

42 seconds.

A quiet grin tugged at his lips. Top ten in the class, easily.

He checked his mental stats.

Spirit Value: -1.5 points.Even more efficient than last time. Level 3 is no joke.

Unbeknownst to him, Instructor Thorne stood in the corner, watching him with a look of measured surprise.

Soon after, the rest of the class completed their observation.

Thorne raised his voice. "Meditation within two hours of viewing the Aetherwall yields the strongest results. Get to it."

Dozens of students unrolled floor mats and took cross-legged positions in silence.

Cael tucked himself into a quiet corner and closed his eyes.

In this world, meditation meant one thing: constructing a mental image of the Spirit Trace Pattern. It had three stages.

Stage One: A vague, unstable outline—where most students remained for years.

Stage Two: A clear, detailed visualization—achieved by about thirty percent with discipline.

Stage Three: A rare transformation—a spiritual breakthrough that birthed the Sense Sigil, the first key to becoming a warrior.

At this point, 95% of his classmates were still stuck at the first stage. Some hadn't even reached that.

Cael had only just begun his first session of the day, but something was already different.

Ten minutes later, he completed one full mental pass of the pattern. About 40% of the lines were sharp and detailed—up from less than 30% in his last session just three days ago.

That was a 10% leap—a shocking gain in such a short time.

Most students needed months to see that kind of improvement.

This was the power of a level 3 skill.

Thirty minutes passed. Cael had completed three visualizations.

He paused and checked his stats.

Spirit Value: 7.2 / 13.2

Three runs cost him 2.7 points—not bad.

According to Thorne, pushing further would risk burnout. The next step was practicing breathing techniques to stabilize the mind.

But Cael had another idea.

Might as well use the Eye of All-Seeing again—get some bonus proficiency.

He whispered:"Begin deduction: today's insight…"

Then paused.

A thought struck him.

"No… not just the day. Analyze the sun. Or—whatever force governs day and night in this world…"

Suddenly, a chill ran across his scalp.

His mind went blank. Empty. Still.

Then… nothing.

No result. No insight. The Eye of All-Seeing had activated—but returned empty.

Cael clicked his tongue. "Figures. The mechanics of day and night must be too deep for level 3."

Just as he was about to shift to breathing exercises, a burst of radiant light flashed—not in front of his eyes, but inside his mind.

It wasn't sight. It was sensation. A visualization from within.

Colors. Patterns. Flames—glorious, dancing flames. The light wasn't just bright; it was dense with meaning.

Knowledge. Symbols. Secrets.

Cael froze in awe.

The light condensed—compressing into a flickering ball of flame suspended in the sea of his consciousness.

A message appeared:

[Analyzed: Trueflame Remnant Seal]

His heart nearly stopped.

Trueflame? What even is that?

A second notification followed:

+12 Proficiency

Current Proficiency: 16 / 1000Spirit Value: 1.6 / 13.2

Five. Point. Six. Points. Gone.

That was nearly half his entire pool.

And the gain? The highest yet.

He hadn't even begun to explore the seal before something else hit him—a searing pain across his forehead, like someone had slammed a brand against his skull.

"Aaah—!"

He cried out.

And immediately regretted it.

In meditation class, disturbing others is the one unbreakable rule. The punishment? A strike from Thorne's heavy ironwood ruler.

One pound of solid pain.

A single hit left a blood welt for days.

The burning sensation faded—but Cael could feel every eye in the room on him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned toward Instructor Thorne.

Sure enough, Thorne was glaring at him, hands folded behind his back.

Silence.

"Why did you scream?" Thorne asked, voice like cold iron.

Cael, honest to the end, said, "I… don't know. I suddenly had a sharp pain in my head."

Rhea Quinn blinked, genuinely surprised. That was not a great excuse. She expected Cael to be hauled out and handed three lashes.

Others were less sympathetic—some even smirking, eager to see him punished.

But what happened next stunned everyone.

Thorne studied him for a long moment.

Then said, "Hmm."

He cleared his throat. "Mental stress can occasionally trigger cranial pain when aether levels fluctuate rapidly. You're likely experiencing that."

A beat.

"Take the evening off. Rest your mind."

Cael stared in disbelief.

Did he just… let me off?

Rhea's jaw nearly dropped.

Is this the same Thorne who once assigned a detention for sneezing during silence period?

Around the room, shock spread like wildfire.

Instructor Thorne scanned the class. "Eyes closed. Continue meditating."

Then added with a frown, "Once you graduate, the only way to view the Aetherwall again will be through a licensed martial hall—at eighty copper coins per session. The school gives you these lessons free. Appreciate it."

The students quickly shut their eyes and sat up straight.

In this world, the average monthly wage was 18–20 silver coins. A pound of potatoes cost two copper.

By that math? One trip to a martial hall was the equivalent of forty bucks.

That was not cheap.