Logan woke before the forge's first breath of smoke.
His pulse was calm, but his body buzzed—every joint humming like a tuning fork. It wasn't adrenaline. It was awareness. He moved differently now. As if space had stopped resisting him.
"Status," he whispered, still beneath the blanket.
Name: Logan Von
Condition: Stable
Aspect Core:Void Master
Aspect Level: 1 (Void Initiate)
Aspect Points: 52 / 100
Spatial Awareness: 16
Spatial Signature: Fluctuating
Abilities (Locked): Nullification, Dimensional Folding, Untethered Movement, Anchor Displacement
Active Abilities:
– Voidline Sensitivity
– Spatial Instinct I
Passive Skills:
– Echo Perception I
– Internal Stabilizer
Fate Link: Severed
Then came the prompt:
[Spatial Awareness threshold met. Unlock skill from Protocol Store?]
He barely waited. "Yes."
[Skill Unlocked: Spatial Jab (Level 1)]
A focused strike that generates a short-range spatial distortion. Can be used twice per day. Precision and intent required.
Side Note: Spatial reverberations may persist post-impact.
Logan sat up fully, exhaling through a grin.
Today was for practice.
Then his door creaked open.
"Day off," Harold announced without looking up. "Don't come near the bellows."
Logan blinked. "You serious?"
"You've pulled your weight lately. Those blades you forged? Paid for half our charcoal this week."
He hesitated.
"You're steadying. I'm not mad about it."
The door closed again.
For a moment, Logan just… breathed.
A whole day.
Alone.
With power.
The room was still. His stance was tight.
He struck with focus—no roar, no windup.
Spatial Jab.
The ripple curved out in a narrow cone. It passed through the air like light bent through water—silent, until it cracked against his cabinet with a pop. The wood trembled. A scroll rolled off the shelf.
He exhaled, hand tingling.
"One left."
[New Daily Mission: Physical Strain Alignment]
Objective: 25 minutes of focused, high-strain effort
Activities: forging, climbing, load-bearing
Reward: +2 to +5 Aspect Points
[New Active Mission – Kinetic Feedback Loop]
Step 1: Strike three materials (wood, metal, stone) with force
Step 2: Detect Echo Perception recoil
Step 3: Repeat strikes, aligned to resonance feedback
Reward: +20 Aspect Points
New Skill Unlock: Force Rebound I
He glanced at the hammer by the forge wall.
Not yet.
Mid-morning.
Logan ducked into the alley behind the shop with a worn practice post, broken cobblestone, and a rusted plate lodged in the wall.
He struck each once—barehanded.
Wood. Stone. Metal.
His Echo Perception flared after each—dim pulses, like sonar brushing the inside of his skull.
On the second round, he aligned.
Matched vibration to intent. Hit the plate again.
It rang in harmony.
The space didn't resist.
It followed.
His breath caught.
And then—
"Logan!"
He jolted.
Harold stood at the back door, arms folded.
"You back there folding space again?"
"…No."
The lie was immediate. Stupid.
Harold stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "That technique you just used—I've seen it only once before. A null operative shattered an arcwall with something similar."
"I didn't break anything—"
"You bent the humidity line in the air."
Logan froze. "You could see that?"
"I could smell it. You don't punch wind and make the scent change unless something's wrong."
They stared at each other.
Harold broke first.
He exhaled, low.
"You're stronger than I thought. But you better start thinking about consequences, son."
Logan lowered his eyes.
"I am."
Only one system noticed.
A single crystal scribe stationed three blocks away flared once—picking up Logan's second jab.
The signature was logged. Classified.
Unshared.
Anomaly Registered. Sector Twelve.
Distortion: 2.1
Intent Vector: Confirmed
Echo Pattern: Void-consistent
No escalation warranted. Continue passive trace.
No name attached. No visible handler.
But the scribe kept listening.
Tessa arrived at the forge after lunch, her steps lighter than they should've been. She knocked once and peeked her head inside.
"Uncle Harold?"
He raised a brow, wiping his hands. "Miss Academy."
"I'm here for my field assignment."
"Sure you are."
They shared a smile.
"Logan's not here," he said gently. "Off making space shiver or whatever it is he does."
Tessa laughed. "That tracks."
Harold stepped aside. Then hesitated.
"You ever see one of his blades?"
"Not finished."
He reached into a narrow drawer and unwrapped something carefully on the workbench.
Tessa gasped.
The blade was slender, curved, almost delicate in structure—but its edge shimmered like refracted moonlight. A hollow core ran down its length like a rip in the sky, and at the base of the grip...
A tulip.
Soft pink. Just opening.
She reached for it. The handle was smaller than she expected—weighted precisely to her palm. When she raised it, the blade whispered through the air like it had a path already drawn.
"He never said," Harold murmured. "But he built that with you in mind."
Tessa turned the tulip toward the light.
"He remembered," she said. "After all this time."
Harold nodded. "And he folded the whole world into steel just to show it."