A miniature figure, no bigger than his palm, zipped around across his vision. She screamed, and it was the same scream he had heard before. It was his name that she screamed in a tone that was frantic. Linden could not understand why, but somehow that scream seemed to rent at his heart. He should recognise that voice, he knew, but whenever he tried to reach for that recognition, it seemed to slip away from him as if he was trying to grasp at the air. It was so difficult to think. Memories faded. Memories he knew were dear to him. "Tim, you must hurry," The tiny humanoid figure said. "He won't last much longer. Linden, Please. You must not give up. You have to hold on, Linden. LINDEN." His vision faded, and with it, the pain. With the darkness came relief. Relief from the pain, relief from the responsibilities. He did not know he could fulfill. His relief seemed to last only for an instant, like a teaser to something you could never have. It was like a sick joke of a madman. Pain wre

Rina groaned. Her skin burned. She was still healing from those long, sharp wounds that had marred her body. The healing potion she had taken had done wonders for her. Her wounds had faded into angry red rashes. However, the healing was still too slow for her comfort. It was perhaps the human kind's failings, no matter how fast you could heal, no matter how fast the pain faded—it wasn't fast enough. Pain was like that, she thought. Besides, humans were never satisfied with what they have. They always wanted more—she wasn't an exception to it, she knew.She hadn't expected a spatial jump to be so dangerous, and she was supposed to be most compatible with it, having a space core herself. Ignoring the burning pain throughout her body, she forced herself to get out of the tent. There were still recruits healing inside, their groans reverberating across the test. She didn't want to stay in such a depressing area for one more second.On her way to find Sigmund's group, she talked to a few el

Sigmund did not have to wait long for Elder Ryan to return. He strolled into the tent as if he owned the place. Perhaps he did. He turned to Elder Reginald. “So, how did he do?” Elder Reginald hesitated before speaking. “His refining methods were crude and his talent as an alchemist is at best average for our standard.” He paused for a long second before continuing. “However, for someone with his background, his talent is among the best. Perhaps he could go far with proper education. It will depend on his own dedication.” Elder Ryan nodded. “However, there is something amiss with him,” Elder Reginald added. Elder Ryan Raised an eyebrow. “Explain yourself.” “With his talent, he should have been able to invent the energy of the core into his potion within a few minutes, if even that. However, it took him almost half an hour to do it. I can only think of a few reasons as to why. That’s why I called him average.” Elder Ryan narrowed his eyes, and two Spiritual Sense locked onto him

Edwin walked out of Elder Ryan’s tent, satisfied with himself. He had impressed the Elder with his swordsmanship, and the Elder even tasked him to train a few recruits with swords for ten sect points an hour. The Elder had also warned him about Dwelling, and he would follow that advice—even though he itched to learn more about his powers. He was curious, but not stupid. Now, he had a clear schedule until they arrived at the Aether tribe. The first and most important one was to train Jimmy with his target. Edwin was both surprised and pleased to find out over the next week that he had an obvious talent with it. “You are incredible,” Edwin praised his brother. Jimmy beamed at him. *** Edwin walked among the assembly of all twenty recruits. He corrected their posture, gave them advice to fix their mistakes, and praised those who were exceeding expectations. None of them made any scene or voiced any complaints—they only asked the relevant questions. Edwin knew why. Elder Ryan had m

Linden ducked to the side, dodging the distortion of force that looked like a simmering edge of a blade. Of course, that attack would not have wounded him that badly. Tim would never attack him with something that could endanger his life.His Fate Perception screamed danger, and he dodged another three blades of pure force that produced sharp cuts in the arena. Linden was getting nowhere with this fight. There was no progress. Fighting against Tim was like trying to hit an elephant with a rotten stick. Pointless! Their advancement realm was too far apart for this fight to be worth anything. But he had no other choice. His previous experience with the Assassin taught him fighting against anyone else was inviting his own death. Either way, he could not fight with someone that would allow him to progress further.Linden felt Tim setting up another attack. It was worthless.Linden threw his sword away. “Enough,” he said. “This is getting me nowhere. Even if ten of me were fighting against