Dawn broke over Crossroads with a fury that tore the sky into streaks of crimson and gold. Ellis woke to the distant sound of a bell—the guildhall calling the day's first meeting to order. He had slept better than expected, his body responding to the physical reality of this world with surprising ease. His status window showed his Endurance had increased by one point overnight:
[Endurance increased to 10]
[Health regeneration rate improved]
He donned the simple clothes he'd found in the room's dresser—sturdy trousers, a linen shirt, and a leather vest that fit as if made for him. At the door, he hesitated, hand hovering over the dagger he'd purchased last night from a retiring guard. Ellis had never carried a weapon before, but here every traveler seemed armed against the wilderness beyond the village.
The blade slid into his belt with unexpected familiarity. Another reminder that he wasn't in his world anymore.
The morning air hit him like a slap—crisp, tinged with woodsmoke and something wild that caught in his throat. The square bustled with villagers opening stalls, merchants arranging wares, and guild members gathering for assignments. Normal people living normal lives in a world that existed only in code just days ago.
The Adventurer's Guild outpost dominated the eastern side of the square, its wooden sign bearing the Guild's emblem—a compass rose superimposed over a shield—creaking in the morning breeze. Inside, several notice boards displayed parchments with various requests and announcements. A long counter stretched along one wall, staffed by a severe-looking woman in a blue uniform.
Merek was already waiting, engrossed in conversation with a Guild official wearing a silver pin on her collar. The researcher noticed Ellis and waved him over.
"Ah, perfect timing! Ellis, this is Guildmaster Sylaris, who oversees this outpost."
The official—[Sylaris Ironheart - Guildmaster - Level 34]—gave Ellis an appraising look. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight braid, and a scar ran from her temple to her jaw, puckering the skin around one piercing green eye.
"Merek tells me you're interested in registering with the Guild, despite having no cultivation training or combat experience," she said, her voice carrying the clipped accent of Ironheart, Terravale's capital.
"That's correct," Ellis confirmed. "I understand the journey to Zephyria will be dangerous, particularly crossing the Fissure regions. I need to prepare accordingly."
Sylaris's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Normally I'd refuse such a request. The Guild isn't a training ground for complete novices." She glanced at Merek, who nodded encouragingly. "However, your Aether affinity is... unusual. And Merek vouches for you."
She placed a crystal on the counter between them. It was sapphire blue, roughly the size of Ellis's palm, and seemed to pulse with an inner light.
"This is a Cultivation Seed," she explained. "Rare and typically reserved for promising recruits. It will accelerate your initial awakening to the Arcane Lattice."
Ellis stared at the crystal. He had designed the Cultivation Seeds as part of Veldoria's magic system, but seeing one in reality was different—the light within moved like liquid, shifting and dancing in patterns that seemed almost sentient.
"I'm grateful," he said, reaching for it.
Sylaris's hand closed over his. "This gift comes with expectations. The Guild invests in those who will contribute in return." Her grip was iron. "Do we understand each other?"
Ellis met her gaze. "Perfectly."
She nodded, releasing him. "Merek will guide you through the awakening process. If you survive, return here for your first assignment."
"If I survive?" Ellis echoed, but Sylaris had already turned to address another guild member.
Merek clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't mind her dramatic flair. The process is... uncomfortable, but rarely fatal. At least, not with your affinity levels."
"Rarely fatal. Very reassuring."
They left the guild hall, Ellis clutching the Cultivation Seed in a leather pouch Merek had provided. The researcher led him toward the eastern edge of the village, where the buildings thinned and gave way to an ancient grove of silver-barked trees.
"The Whispering Grove," Merek explained. "A natural convergence point for elemental energies. Ideal for your awakening."
The grove was eerily silent despite the breeze that rustled the leaves. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The air felt heavy, charged with potential.
At the center of the grove stood a circle of standing stones, each twice the height of a man and covered in spiraling runes that glowed faintly blue in the morning light. Within the circle, the ground was bare earth, perfectly flat and sprinkled with what looked like crushed gemstones.
"Sit there," Merek instructed, pointing to the center of the circle. "Cross-legged, back straight."
Ellis obeyed, settling onto the cool earth. The gemstone dust felt oddly warm against his palms as he placed them on the ground.
Merek circled him, murmuring words in a language Ellis didn't recognize. The researcher's hands traced patterns in the air, leaving faint blue trails that lingered like smoke.
"Now, take out the Seed."
Ellis removed the crystal from its pouch. In the grove's strange light, it seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.
"Place it against your chest, directly over your heart."
The crystal was cold against his skin, even through his shirt. Ellis shivered.
"Close your eyes," Merek instructed. "Visualize the crystal's energy spreading through your body. Feel it seeking the pathways of your internal essence."
Ellis closed his eyes, trying to follow the instructions. At first, he felt nothing but the weight of the crystal and the coolness of the morning air. Then, gradually, a tingling sensation began to spread from the point where the Seed touched his chest. It was pleasant at first, like pins and needles after a limb falls asleep.
"Good," Merek's voice seemed to come from far away. "Now, imagine drawing that energy inward, into your core. Picture it circulating through your body—from your heart to your lungs, down to your stomach, through your limbs, and back again."
The tingling intensified, becoming a warmth that spread through Ellis's chest. He focused on the sensation, imagining it as Merek described—a current flowing through invisible channels within his body.
Suddenly, the warmth became heat, and the heat became pain. Ellis gasped, his eyes flying open. The crystal was sinking into his chest, not physically, but energetically—its light seeming to pour into his body like water into parched earth.
"Don't fight it," Merek warned, his voice sharp. "Accept the energy. Guide it. If you resist, it will overwhelm you."
Ellis gritted his teeth against the burning sensation. It felt like molten metal flowing through his veins, searingly hot yet somehow invigorating. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to visualize the energy circulating rather than consuming.
The pain crested, reaching an intensity that threatened to blank out his consciousness. Ellis's back arched, his hands clenching in the gemstone dust. A scream built in his throat—
Then broke, like a wave against a cliff, into something else entirely.
Pleasure. Power. Awareness.
The world around him seemed to shift, revealing layers he hadn't perceived before. The trees of the grove weren't just trees—they were conduits of life energy, drawing power from the earth and sky in constant, flowing exchange. The standing stones hummed with stored potential, each rune a carefully crafted channel for specific elemental forces.
And Merek—Merek glowed with an intricate network of energy pathways, like a living constellation. Ellis could see how the researcher's cultivation had shaped his essence into disciplined channels, how years of practice had refined his control.
"I can see it," Ellis whispered, awed. "The Arcane Lattice. It's everywhere."
Merek smiled. "What you're seeing is the foundation of all cultivation—the network of energy that connects all living things to the elemental planes. With practice, you'll learn to draw on these connections, to shape and direct the flow of essence."
The crystal had ceased its burning entry. Instead, it had become a warm pulse at the center of Ellis's chest, a new heartbeat alongside his own. He looked down at his hands and saw faint lines of light tracing beneath his skin—his own essence pathways beginning to form.
"What happens now?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from the strain.
"Now," Merek said, offering a hand to help him up, "you begin the real work. The Seed has awakened your awareness, but cultivation is a lifelong journey of refinement and growth."
Ellis stood, feeling oddly energized despite the ordeal. His status window had updated:
Level: 1 (Experience: 5/100)
Class: Unassigned
Cultivation: Foundation Stage 1 (Initiate)
Primary Attributes:
Strength: 10
Agility: 12
Endurance: 10
Perception: 14
Intelligence: 17
Willpower: 15
Elemental Affinities:
Earth: 10%
Fire: 8%
Water: 12%
Air: 15%
Aether: 35%
Skills:
[Advanced Programming] - Level MAX
[System Analysis] - Level MAX
[World Creation] - Level UNIQUE
[Physical Conditioning] - Level 3
[Survival Knowledge] - Level 2
[Mana Perception] - Level 1 NEW!
[Mana Circulation] - Level 1 NEW!
Available Skill Points: 0
Quests:
[The Way Home] - In Progress
- Learn about the local political situation and any recent unusual events.
- Travel to the Zephyrian Academy with Merek Windstride.>
"I've unlocked new skills," Ellis noted, studying the window.
"The basic building blocks of any cultivator's path," Merek confirmed. "With practice, you'll develop more specialized skills based on your elemental affinities." He glanced at Ellis's status window, visible only to its owner. "Speaking of which, I'd be very interested to know which elements have the strongest resonance with you."
Ellis hesitated, then decided there was little point in concealing the information. "Aether at 35%, followed by Air at 15%, Water at 12%, Earth at 10%, and Fire at 8%."
Merek whistled low. "Aether at 35% is... extraordinary. Most initiates show no Aether affinity at all—it typically manifests only at higher cultivation stages, if ever." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This supports my theory about your trans-dimensional nature. Aether governs spaces between realities, the very fabric of existence itself."
"What does that mean for my cultivation path?"
"It means your journey will be unique," Merek said carefully. "Traditional elemental paths may not suit you. At the Academy, we can explore specialized techniques better aligned with your affinities."
They walked back toward the village, Ellis acutely aware of the new energy humming within him. The world seemed sharper somehow, colors more vibrant, sounds more distinct. He found himself noticing details he'd overlooked before—the precise pattern of bark on the trees, the subtle variations in bird calls, the way the wind carried different scents from different directions.
"The heightened perception will stabilize," Merek assured him, noting his distracted gaze. "Your senses are raw now, overwhelmed by information they previously filtered out. With practice, you'll learn to control what you perceive."
Back at the guild hall, Sylaris was waiting. She nodded approvingly when she saw Ellis. "You survived, then. And awakened quite strongly, from the look of your aura." She gestured for them to follow her to a private room at the back of the hall.
Inside, a large map of the region was spread across a table. Various markers indicated settlements, dangers, and routes. Sylaris pointed to Crossroads, then traced a path eastward.
"The road to Zephyria crosses three distinct regions," she explained. "First, the Eastern Terravale plains—relatively safe, patrolled regularly by guild members and local militia. Then, the Mist Marshes—treacherous terrain with creatures that have adapted to the constant fog. Finally, the Fissure Crossing at Shrouded Pass—the most dangerous segment."
Her finger circled a jagged mountain pass marked with warning symbols. "The Fissure regions have grown increasingly unstable. What was once a two-hour crossing now takes nearly a day, and some parties don't return at all."
Ellis studied the map, committing the route to memory. "What makes the Fissure regions so dangerous?"
"Reality itself becomes... fluid," Merek explained. "Distance and time distort. Matter can transform suddenly. And creatures from other planes occasionally slip through the weakened barriers."
"Which is why," Sylaris continued, "no one crosses without proper preparation. For the next three days, you'll train with guild members to develop your basic combat and survival skills. Merek will guide your initial cultivation practice. On the fourth day, you'll depart with the regular caravan to Misthold, the last settlement before the Fissure Crossing."
Ellis nodded. "And from Misthold to Zephyria?"
Sylaris and Merek exchanged glances. "That will depend on conditions at the crossing," Merek said carefully. "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
The next three days passed in a blur of training, study, and preparation. In the mornings, Ellis worked with a guild combat instructor named Korden Thornfist—a burly, taciturn man with hands like hammers and the patience of a glacier.
"No, no, no," Korden growled, adjusting Ellis's stance for the tenth time that hour. "Lower your center. Feet shoulder-width apart. If I can push you over with one finger, you're dead in a real fight."
Ellis adjusted, his muscles aching from the unfamiliar exertion. They were in the guild's training yard, a dust-filled space behind the main hall where recruits and veterans alike honed their skills. The morning sun beat down mercilessly, turning the packed earth into a kiln that radiated heat through the soles of his boots.
"Again," Korden commanded, circling Ellis with predatory focus. "The dagger isn't an extension of your arm—it's a part of you. Feel its weight, its balance."
Ellis lunged, aiming for the straw dummy's chest. His blade sank into the burlap with a satisfying thunk.
"Better," Korden admitted grudgingly. "But in real combat, your enemy moves. Reacts." The instructor drew his own blade—a wickedly curved knife with an edge that caught the sunlight. "Defend yourself."
Before Ellis could register the shift from practice to sparring, Korden was on him. The instructor moved with brutal efficiency, his attacks precise and measured—just fast enough to challenge without overwhelming.
Ellis blocked the first strike, the impact jarring his arm to the shoulder. He dodged the second, remembering Korden's lessons on footwork. The third caught him across the forearm, a stinging cut that instantly welled with blood.
"First blood to me," Korden said, stepping back. "But you're learning. Three days ago, I'd have had your throat open before you blinked."
Ellis wiped sweat from his brow, his arm throbbing. "Comforting thought."
A notification appeared:
[Physical Conditioning increased to Level 4]
[Dagger Proficiency increased to Level 2]
The afternoons were devoted to cultivation practice with Merek. They would return to the Whispering Grove, where Ellis would sit cross-legged within the stone circle, focusing on the energy currents flowing through his newly awakened pathways.
"Imagine your essence as a river," Merek instructed, his voice calm and rhythmic. "In its natural state, it meanders, splits into tributaries, loses force. Your task is to guide it—to channel it into strong, directed flow."
Ellis closed his eyes, concentrating on the warm pulse of energy centered in his chest. With effort, he could extend his awareness outward, feeling how his essence connected to the elemental forces around him—the steady weight of earth below, the flowing currents of water in a nearby stream, the caress of air against his skin, the distant warmth of fire from the village forges.
But most fascinating was the Aether—not an element in the traditional sense, but the space between elements, the binding force that connected all things. To Ellis's perception, it manifested as faintly shimmering veils that overlapped the physical world, rippling like heat haze above sun-baked stone.
"Your Aether affinity manifests strongly," Merek noted, observing the faint purple glow that occasionally shimmered around Ellis during deep meditation. "Most cultivators require years to sense Aether currents, let alone manipulate them."
"Is that good or bad?" Ellis asked, opening his eyes.
Merek's expression was thoughtful. "Powerful, certainly. But potentially dangerous. Aether responds to intent and imagination more directly than other elements. Without proper control..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "But that's why we're practicing."
By the third day, Ellis had established a basic cultivation cycling technique—drawing in elemental essence, circulating it through his pathways, and using it to strengthen his body and senses. His status window reflected this progress:
Level: 1 (Experience: 75/100)
Class: Unassigned
Cultivation: Foundation Stage 1 (Initiate) [Progress: 23%]
Primary Attributes:
Strength: 11
Agility: 13
Endurance: 12
Perception: 15
Intelligence: 17
Willpower: 16
Elemental Affinities:
Earth: 11%
Fire: 9%
Water: 13%
Air: 16%
Aether: 37%
Skills:
[Advanced Programming] - Level MAX
[System Analysis] - Level MAX
[World Creation] - Level UNIQUE
[Physical Conditioning] - Level 4
[Survival Knowledge] - Level 3
[Mana Perception] - Level 3
[Mana Circulation] - Level 2
[Dagger Proficiency] - Level 2
[Elemental Sensing] - Level 1 NEW!
[Aether Affinity] - Level 1 NEW!
Available Skill Points: 0>
The evenings were his own, and Ellis spent them in the Wayfarer's Rest, listening to travelers' tales and piecing together the political landscape of Veldoria. The picture that emerged was complex—five major domains, each with its own ruling structure, all nominally allied but with centuries of rivalries and border disputes simmering beneath the surface.
"The balance has held since the Sundering," explained an elderly merchant named Halden, who had taken a liking to Ellis. "Not peace, mind you—too much bad blood for that—but a kind of wary coexistence. Each domain needs what the others produce, so open war benefits no one."
"And the Fissure regions between the domains?" Ellis asked, refilling the old man's cup from a pitcher of ale.
Halden's expression darkened. "Those are the scars left by the Sundering—wounds in reality itself that never fully healed. For centuries, they've been stable enough, with established crossing points guarded by wardens trained to navigate the distortions." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But lately, the wounds are festering. The crossings grow more dangerous by the month. Some say it's a sign of worse to come—that the fragile peace between domains will shatter as the physical barriers between them do."
Ellis considered this information, thinking of the energy surge that had coincided with his arrival. "Have there been any other unusual events recently? Strange phenomena?"
"Besides the Fissure disruptions?" Halden stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Well, there was that business with the star-fall three weeks back. Night turned bright as day for a few heartbeats. Some believed it an omen. The Temple of the Five Elements in Ironheart declared it a manifestation of the gods' displeasure."
This aligned with Merek's report of the Aether surge. Ellis pressed further. "And politically? Any unusual movements or alliances?"
"Hmm." Halden's eyes narrowed slightly. "You ask pointed questions for a new arrival, young man."
Ellis shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "I'm traveling to Zephyria. Seems wise to know what I might be walking into."
The old merchant seemed to accept this. "Zephyria has always stood apart—too focused on their academic pursuits to engage in the petty squabbles of the other domains. But there are rumors that the Pyralis Conclave has been courting them lately, seeking an alliance. Against whom?" He spread his hands. "That's the real question."
On the morning of the fourth day, Ellis met Merek at the eastern gate of Crossroads. The researcher was dressed for travel in a well-worn blue robe with numerous pockets, a sturdy pack slung over one shoulder. At his belt hung a curved ceremonial dagger—the mark of a Zephyrian Academy scholar.
"Ready for your first journey across the domains?" Merek asked, his eyes bright with excitement despite the early hour.
Ellis nodded, adjusting his own newly acquired equipment. Sylaris had been surprisingly generous, providing him with basic adventuring gear: a reinforced leather jerkin, sturdy boots, a belt pouch containing basic medical supplies, and a steel dagger to replace the iron one he'd been training with.
"As ready as three days of training can make me," he replied.
Merek laughed. "Humility is wise, but don't underestimate yourself. Your progress has been remarkable for an initiate." He glanced at Ellis's status window, invisible to him but clearly a subject of curiosity. "I'd wager you've already developed several useful skills."
"A few," Ellis admitted. "Though how useful they'll be against whatever lurks in the Fissure regions remains to be seen."
They were joined at the gate by the caravan they would travel with—a modest affair consisting of three wagons laden with trade goods, eight merchants of varying ages, and four hired guards wearing the bronze badges of the Mercenary's League. The caravan master, a weather-beaten woman named Sylva with arms like tree trunks, looked them over critically.
"Researcher Windstride, welcome again," she said, nodding to Merek. "And this is your apprentice?"
Before Ellis could correct her assumption, Merek stepped in smoothly. "Yes, Ellis is accompanying me to the Academy. His talents are... unique."
Sylva seemed satisfied with this explanation. "Keep up and pull your weight. We stop for nothing but necessary rest until we reach Misthold." She turned back to organizing the final preparations, barking orders at the merchants and guards alike.
"Apprentice?" Ellis murmured, raising an eyebrow at Merek.
The researcher winked. "Easier than explaining your actual circumstances. Besides, it's not entirely false—you are learning from me, after all."
With a final creak of wagon wheels and the sharp commands of the caravan master, their journey began. The road east from Crossroads was well-maintained, cutting through golden fields of barley that stretched to the horizon, occasionally broken by copses of silver-leafed trees or small farming hamlets.
Ellis found himself positioned near the middle of the caravan, walking alongside the second wagon. The merchant driving it, a middle-aged man with an impressive mustache, introduced himself as Dorric.
"First time crossing to Zephyria?" he asked, offering Ellis a piece of dried fruit from a small pouch.
Ellis accepted the fruit—something like a pear but with a spicy aftertaste. "Is it that obvious?"
Dorric chuckled. "You've got that look—wide eyes, taking in everything, hand never far from your dagger. Don't worry, the Eastern Terravale is peaceful enough. It's not until the Mist Marshes that we need to really watch our steps."
The caravan maintained a steady pace throughout the day, stopping only briefly at midday to rest the draft horses and share a cold meal of cured meats, hard cheese, and flatbread. By evening, they had covered nearly twenty miles and reached a waypoint known as the Shepherd's Cross—a collection of sturdy stone buildings surrounding a central well.
"We'll rest here for the night," Sylva announced as they pulled into the waypoint's courtyard. "Dorric, Merek, take first watch. Toren and Lysta, second. Ellis and Kell, third. Everyone else, get your rest while you can."
The sleeping arrangements were simple but comfortable—straw pallets in a common room with a central hearth. After a hot meal of lamb stew and corn bread, most of the travelers retired, exhausted from the day's journey.
Ellis found himself unable to sleep despite his fatigue. His third watch wasn't for hours yet, so he slipped outside, seeking fresh air and quiet to practice his cultivation cycling.
The night was clear, stars scattered across the sky like diamond dust on black velvet. Ellis settled on a stone bench near the well, closing his eyes and focusing on his breath. The energy pathways within him responded more readily now, the circulation becoming smoother with each practice session.
He was deep in meditation when a voice startled him back to awareness.
"Your technique is unorthodox."
Ellis's eyes snapped open. Before him stood a figure in a hooded cloak, face obscured in shadow. The stranger moved with liquid grace, settling on the bench beside Ellis without making a sound.
"Who are you?" Ellis asked, hand instinctively moving to his dagger.
The figure pushed back their hood, revealing a woman with striking features—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes of startling violet, and hair so pale it seemed to capture the starlight. No name floated above her head—an anomaly that immediately put Ellis on alert.
"Someone curious about a traveler with such... unusual energy patterns," she replied, her voice melodic yet somehow distant, as if coming from much farther away than the bench beside him. "You draw on Aether directly. Without preparation or protection. Fascinating... and reckless."
Ellis tensed. "You can sense that?"
A smile played at the corners of her mouth. "I sense many things others miss." She tilted her head, studying him with unnerving intensity. "You don't belong here, do you?"
The directness of the question caught Ellis off-guard. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"You vibrate at a different frequency than this reality," she said simply, as if discussing the weather. "Like a note played in the wrong key—beautiful, perhaps, but discordant."
Ellis weighed his options. This stranger clearly possessed knowledge and abilities beyond what he'd encountered so far. Denying the truth seemed pointless.
"You're right," he admitted. "I'm not from this world. But I didn't choose to come here."
The woman nodded, unsurprised. "Few traverse the veils between worlds by choice. Intention rarely governs such transitions." She extended her hand, palm up. "May I?"
Hesitantly, Ellis placed his hand in hers. Her touch was cool, almost ethereal. The moment their skin connected, he felt a gentle probe—like tendrils of thought brushing against his consciousness.
"Remarkable," she murmured. "Your world and ours—connected by strands of intention and creation. You shaped this reality, yet it existed before you conceived it." Her violet eyes met his, filled with wonder. "A paradox of causality."
Ellis withdrew his hand, unnerved by her insight. "Who are you? Really?"
"I am Lyrisiel," she said, the name carrying a strange resonance that seemed to ripple through the air. "Some call me Wayfinder, others Fissure Walker. I study the spaces between realms."
"Are you with the Zephyrian Academy? Like Merek?"
Lyrisiel laughed softly. "The Academy is a child playing at the shore of an ocean of knowledge. I swim in deeper waters." She stood in one fluid motion. "But I do not dismiss their efforts. Your friend Merek seeks understanding with admirable dedication."
"Can you help me get home?" Ellis asked, the question escaping before he could consider its implications.
Her expression softened. "Perhaps. But first, you must understand why you're here at all. No crossing between worlds happens without purpose." She gazed upward at the stars. "The disruptions in the Fissure regions, the weakening of barriers between domains—these are not coincidental to your arrival."
"You think I caused them?"
"I think you and they are symptoms of the same underlying shift." Lyrisiel turned back to him. "Reality is reweaving itself, Ellis Brown. And you are threaded through the new pattern."
Before he could ask what she meant, a notification appeared in his vision:
[Quest Update: The Way Home]
Objective: Learn more about the nature of the Fissure disruptions from Lyrisiel.>
"I'll be watching your journey with interest," Lyrisiel continued. "When you reach the Fissure Crossing at Shrouded Pass, seek the Warden named Thaleon. Tell him the Wayfinder sent you." She drew her hood up, once again shrouding her features in shadow. "He guards more than just the physical passage."
With that cryptic statement, she turned and walked away, her form seeming to blur at the edges until she vanished entirely into the darkness between one heartbeat and the next.
Ellis sat motionless, processing the encounter. After a moment, he noticed a small object on the bench where Lyrisiel had been sitting—a crystal similar to the Cultivation Seed, but midnight black with flecks of what looked like stars captured within.
A final notification appeared:
[Item Acquired: Fissure Shard]
Note: This item will activate when needed.>
Ellis carefully placed the shard in his belt pouch, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into—and whether the path home would be as straightforward as he'd initially hoped.