Into the Fold

Back at the School

Rachel moved quickly between her evidence board, laptop, and notebook, lost in her work. Time slipped by unnoticed until she glanced up and realized the school day was over. She began packing her things.

"There's no need to rush," came a voice—smooth and sudden.

Rachel jumped. Amelia stood by the door, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

"You're part of the school newspaper now. Students leave at three, but faculty and staff often stay until six or seven."

Rachel relaxed slightly. "That helps for the future, but I still need to head home."

Amelia strolled into the room, glancing over the scattered papers. Rachel, feeling exposed, tried discreetly gathering everything, but it was too late. Amelia's gaze locked on the evidence board.

"It's just—" Rachel began.

Amelia raised a hand. Silence fell.

The two stood there: Rachel fidgeting, unsure; Amelia, eyes scanning every pin and thread.

Finally, Amelia spoke. "Let me ask you something: What is the meaning of life?"

Rachel blinked. "What does that have to do with—?"

"Just answer."

Rachel hesitated. "To live, I guess. To really live, like each day could be your last. To do what matters—and even what doesn't—because maybe those things shape you too."

Amelia nodded. "Not too deep, but not shallow either."

"What about you?" Rachel asked, cautious.

Amelia's smile curved slowly. "To explore the unexplored. To uncover truths long buried. To take in all there is—and all there ever will be."

Rachel scoffed lightly. "Nice. But who has time for all that?"

Amelia's grin widened mischievously. Rachel caught the implication.

"That's not what I meant. I meant… it sounds like a lot to do in a lifetime."

"I know what you meant," Amelia replied. "But who said my time was limited?"

Rachel studied her, unease creeping in. "Everyone has to die someday."

Amelia's voice dropped. "Some of us."

She turned back to the board. "I'm impressed, by the way. You're piecing this together much faster than expected. But then again, the resurgence is happening. We can't hide forever."

"Amelia…" Rachel began, hesitant.

Amelia looked over her shoulder. "What if I told you I could give you the opportunity to live out every day—not just this one or the next, but all that will ever come? Would you take it?"

Rachel stared. "You're talking about immortality."

"Something like that. But perhaps that's a conversation for another time."

Amelia reached into her blazer pocket. Rachel stepped back instinctively.

With a smirk, Amelia produced a sleek black business card. Embossed in silver dust was a single word: Twilight.

"When you want to know more," Amelia said, placing the card on the desk, "and I mean really know more, go to the address listed. We're looking forward to hearing from you. Don't keep us waiting."

With that, she walked past Rachel and disappeared through the door. Rachel watched her go, then turned to the card. She picked it up and felt its weight. It didn't bend or tear.

She thought for a long moment, then slipped it into her pocket, packed her bag, and left.

Once the door closed, Amelia emerged from the shadows again. The shadow man stood beside her.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "That's one of your final recommendations. Took you ten years to earn the first. You only get one more."

"It's a bet," she said calmly. "Will she fall and stay behind? Or will she risk everything to rise?"

He scoffed. "You thinkers always talk like riddles."

And with that, he vanished.

Amelia remained.

Let's hope I'm right. These recommendations are as good as gold in the times to come.

Elsewhere: Theo's Study

Theo is in his home, surrounded by an expansive library with floors that stretch endlessly upward, shelves teeming with books and scrolls as far as the eye could see. He's reading a book similar to the one Stella's mother owned.

'These low-level books aren't going to get me anywhere,' he thinks to himself as he shuts it and places it back on the shelf. 'I'm at the peak of Tier 2, but I don't know how to reach the next level. I reached the ultimate level of Tier 1, but this is much harder. Should I ask Father?'

Hesitant, but resolute, he makes his way to his father's study. He stands in front of the grand wooden doors, motionless.

"It's best not to waste my time and money, boy," comes his father's voice from inside. The words strip away all hesitation.

Theo pushes the doors open. As always, Alaric is buried in paperwork.

"What do you need, boy?"

"I want to find out how to reach the ultimate level of Tier 2."

Alaric looks up from his work and smiles. "The ultimate path. I expect nothing less. But you know this road is hazy, no one has seen the end of it."

"If I'm to be the best, I need to be the absolute best."

"Then let me ask: what is Tier 2?"

"Qi Refining: After building your body to withstand mana, you open the dantian and begin refining ambient mana."

"Good. Now tell me: what limits the size of the dantian or how much mana you can draw in at once?"

"Talent and constitution."

"Correct. That's why serious cultivators refine the body to the utmost — to lay the strongest foundation, yet most don't pursue the ultimate level in Qi Refining. Why?"

Theo hesitates. 'If they already refined the body, why stop there?' He reflects on his own journey.

"It takes too long and too many resources."

"Exactly," Alaric replies with a smile. "To expand the dantian to its utmost, you must surpass your capacity daily to force it to grow, but if you're not careful, your meridians may collapse or your dantian might explode entirely."

"Why couldn't I find this in the library? It would've been simpler to learn on my own."

"It is in the library. You just lack the permissions to access it."

"Why? I'm your—" he stops, remembering past events. "Don't you trust me?"

"It's not about trust. It's about the danger information brings, our library is a mirror of the organization's headquarters. If we made this public, too many would chase the ultimate path, cultivation would take too long, cost too many resources, and become more dangerous than it already is.

"This isn't the era of genesis. Back then, beings were born for cultivation. Now, we are fragile many can't even take the first step. Imagine how many fools would convince themselves they could walk the ultimate path, only to give up halfway, wasting years they could've used breaking into higher realms."

He flicks a finger. A book flies from the shelf and lands in Theo's hands. Its cover is old, made from some unknown beast's hide. The title reads: From 0 to 1: The Art of Creation.

Theo eyes the title skeptically. "Are you sure this is the book?"

"Positive. Flip through its pages, then return to me."

Theo gives a slight bow and heads to his room. When he arrives, he opens the book. Its pages are blank — no words, no images.

Unfazed, he channels mana into it. Still nothing. He frowns, then draws a knife from his ring and pricks his finger. A drop of blood, dark with a hint of purple, lands on the page.

The book drinks it in.

Ink spreads across the paper.

The first chapter is on body refining. Theo doesn't skip it. He reads each word carefully, seeking deeper meanings. Time slips away.

'Luckily I had Father's guidance,' he reflects. 'Otherwise I would've made countless mistakes.'

He flips the page.

Tier 2: Qi Refining.

The structure is dense, the analogies obscure. He reads slowly, jotting down notes, pausing often. Eventually, he reaches the end—only to find the remaining pages blank.

'One of those, huh?'

He's heard of tomes that withhold knowledge until one meets specific conditions.

'I'll have to break through first before it lets me read further. But I have enough to begin. I need to digest what I've learned.'

He returns the book to his ring, sits on his meditation cushion, and begins his practice.

Sweat beads across his skin. His face flushes red with strain. Yet he makes no sound—not a whisper or groan.

He endures in silence.

How long will he go?

The night is long.

The Basement

Stella gasps for air, sweat raining down her face.

"Three minutes. That's just sad. Did we not feed you enough growing up? You could've told us. We would've given you more food."

Stella glares up at him, rage flickering in her eyes. "You placed a mountain upon my shoulders. How long was I supposed to hold out?"

"Now you're exaggerating," Shaka replied, unfazed. "A mountain weighs far more."

Stella gives him a blank look, but before she can retort, a voice calls from the entrance.

"Now, now. What are you two bickering about down here?"

"Mother!" Stella cries, and immediately runs toward her.

Shaka shakes his head. 'Into the lion's den.'

Stella charges forward, but each step is heavier than the last. The distance between her and Nyasha stretches endlessly, her breath shortens, her muscles scream.

She looks up. "Mother, why?"

"If you wish to reach me—truly reach me—you must work for it."

Gritting her teeth, Stella takes another step, then another. Each one more painful than the last, but she walks in silence.

With every step, she grows closer, yet each feels longer, heavier. When only ten steps remain, the pressure becomes overwhelming, and she falls to her knees.

Still, she does not scream, she grits her teeth and begins to crawl. But crawling is no easier. The weight pressing down on her is unrelenting, she makes it five steps.

Then she collapses.

Nyasha gazes down at her daughter, then turns to Shaka. "She has the physique of someone who's completed seven refinings, and the seal was just broken today?"

"About an hour ago," Shaka replies.

"She completed a process that takes months—in an hour?"

"Her foundation runs deep, the mana is just filling in gaps that have been forming for years, her progress should slow down from here... but even then, it'll be too fast."

"She won't understand what it really means to cultivate—or the weight of the path ahead."

"Then send her to the Crucible."

"No. She's not strong enough."

"I know that, but she will be. Leave the training to me. You need to rest, filling the Goblet has left you drained, even your breath is shaky. Rest, my dear."

A heavy sigh escapes Nyasha. She steps forward and hugs Shaka.

"You're right. I should rest."

She looks down at Stella, motionless on the ground. "Should I bring her, too?"

Shaka glances down. "Yes. It's only her first day. I can't break her yet."

He bends down and gently lifts Stella into his arms. Together, they head upstairs, once there, they tuck her into bed. Shaka leans down, brushing hair from her forehead.

He kisses her head softly.

"Rest well, there is more to come."