Player 0.4 [You have died.] [Reset in progress.]

The palace’s tower clock chimed from somewhere overhead, deep and resonant. Almost immediately, the palace shifted, growing abuzz with movement.

Doors opened across the distant halls. The steady rhythm of countless footsteps filled the corridors beyond Augustus’s office as officials, attendants, and palace personnel concluded their work and left for the day.

The warm orange glow of the sun stretched long across the office floor through the tall windows behind Augustus, catching on the stacks of reports I had completed reviewing and summarizing for him, sitting now across his desk.

And while my own official internship work had technically concluded, it did not mean I was free to leave. If anything, the real trial was only about to begin.

“The day is done, let’s get going as well,” Augustus said brightly, and twirled the fingers on his right hand.

A large oval blue portal appeared beside me, its edges rippling like disturbed water.

Augustus motioned for me to enter first.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

However, the blonde mage merely smiled and ushered me forward.

“You’ll see,” he replied.

That answer did not inspire much confidence, but I did as he said and walked forward.

Once on the other side of the portal, I immediately recoiled at the sight. Goosebumps covered my arms after coming into contact with the cool, silent air.

It appeared to be the throne room of some palace, albeit one that had succumbed to the ravages of time.

Dust coated the cracked marble beneath my shoes in a thin grey layer that shifted softly with every step. Long fractures ran through the floor like spiderwebs, while moss and creeping vines pushed through gaps in the stone. Nature had evidently been slowly reclaiming the kingdom for itself.

To my left and right, towering windows stretched nearly two stories high, bathing the ruined chamber in warm golden light. The sunlight gave the destruction an almost peaceful appearance.

I was thankful for the light, as the enormous chandeliers overhead were not in working order, and one having had crashed into the marble floor behind me at some point in time, its crystal shards scattered among weeds and rubble.

The chirping of birds echoed softly in the massive room, coming from somewhere high in the rafters.

These birds were the only living beings here, and humans were certainly not.

My gaze drifted toward the skeletal remains slumped against collapsed pillars and broken furniture. Even after all this time, fragments of luxurious fabrics that had not yet been eaten away by moths still clung to their brittle bones. There were even tarnished pieces of jewelry that glittered faintly beneath layers of dust. Sapphire necklaces, golden rings, and intricate embroidery embedded with colorful gems.

Whoever died here had once been important and powerful. Even time, dust, and moths could not erase their significance.

However, as significant as these individuals might have once been, they were dead. And given their skeletal remains and odd positioning, they had met their end in quite an untimely manner.

A cold breeze slipped through the shattered windows and stirred the faded banners hanging on the distant walls, whose coat of arms I could not make out.

“Where are we?” I asked again, quieter this time as Augustus stepped through the portal behind me.

He no longer wore the elaborate robes of a Red Royal Mage. Instead, he was dressed almost casually: a light wool jacket over a loose white linen shirt, dark trousers, and sturdy walking boots. Most notably, his RRM pin was nowhere to be found on his person.

“Somewhere I doubt we’ll ever be disturbed,” Augustus replied cryptically, giving me a wink.

I frowned and nodded toward the skeleton nearest to me. “Is this place safe…?”

The lack of people and only skeletons for company did little to comfort me.

Augustus followed my gaze and chuckled softly.

“It is considered cursed land,” he explained, stepping over a collapsed section of marble with evident familiarity. “That is why none of the surrounding kingdoms have attempted to reclaim it despite the obvious advantages the location of this territory would normally provide.”

Warm late-day light spilled across his blonde hair as he turned back toward me with a bright, reassuring smile.

“However,” he continued casually, “during my explorations of this supposedly cursed land, I have not found any lingering traces of whatever ravaged this kingdom.”

Augustus motioned for me to follow him toward one side of the ruined hall.

“The throne room is the most stable location to teleport into,” he explained. “But the air here is stale and mold-ridden. It’s better to move into the gardens for our purposes.”

He pushed open a pair of towering iron-and-glass doors. The hinges groaned loudly, revealing a balcony overlooking an excessively overgrown garden. Nature had reclaimed nearly everything here.

Overgrown hedges rose like walls, vines strangled marble statues and fountains, and bright wildflowers and weeds burst through the cracked stone pathways.

Farther in the distance, beyond the gardens and outer palace walls, the blue-shingled rooftops of a sprawling city stretched toward the horizon beneath the orange glow of sunset. However, given the staggering silence, I had a strong suspicion that there was no human life out there either.

A faint chill crawled up my spine.

“What happened here?” I asked.

Augustus shrugged.

“No one truly knows,” he admitted. “I investigated the matter personally, but even our kingdom’s intelligence possesses little reliable information regarding this place.”

He stepped onto the balcony’s rusty iron railing, balancing with ease, as the breeze lifted his blonde hair.

“Though,” he added lightly, “this kingdom’s destruction had been prophesied long before it occurred. One could argue it merely met the end it was always destined for.”

And then, without warning, he stepped off the balcony. However, he didn’t fall. Instead, he floated downward effortlessly into the gardens below, his wool coat fluttering softly in the late-day breeze.

Without even looking back, he motioned casually with his right hand.

A strange buoyant sensation wrapped around my body a moment later, and the ground slipped away beneath my feet. I floated after him through the open air above the overgrown garden below.

The lowering sun stretched long shadows across the palace grounds, and I caught sight of my own shadow distorting unnaturally long beneath me. Or rather, Void. He elongated across the palace walls, the cracked pathways, and overgrown hedges below us like spilled ink following faithfully behind.

We descended into one of the few sections of the gardens that appeared somewhat maintained. The grass here was shorter, the stone benches less consumed by moss, and several narrow pathways had been cleared of vines.

At the center stood a massive circular gazebo crafted from pale marble.

Tall white pillars ringed the structure, with climbing rose vines coiling around several of the columns. However, unlike the rest of the palace and the garden grounds, the structure remained well-intact and retained an undeniable grandeur.

Augustus landed lightly upon the marble floor and snapped his fingers.

One by one, the surrounding iron lanterns flickered to life, their warm golden glow of fire pushing back the encroaching dusk while long shadows stretched across the ruined garden around us.

And at the gazebo’s center rested an enormous iron brazier. Upon Augustus’ command, orange flames roared within it, bathing the marble structure in a steady furnace-like glow.

A cool breeze drifted through the gazebo's open arches, carrying the distant rustle of leaves and the sounds of birds.

I stepped beneath the massive marble dome and glanced upward.

Even broken apart by time, the place still felt quite regal.

“Now that the location is prepared, we can move on to the technique itself,” Augustus explained.

He sat down directly upon the marble floor beside the massive brazier and motioned for me to sit across from him. The orange flames cast shifting light across his features.

I obediently lowered myself opposite him.

For a brief moment, Augustus simply observed the fire in silence.

Then he spoke.

“Before I show you the technique itself, I should first explain the underlying theory behind it—and how I came upon it,” Augustus began calmly. “Or rather, how Professor Sullivan did.”

At the mention of the professor, I straightened slightly.

“This is an extension of Sullivan’s soul-reincarnation theory,” Augustus continued. “The same theory he teaches in his Advanced Life Essence course, which you are part of and should therefore already be familiar with.”

I nodded slowly, recalling Sullivan’s lecture almost word for word. The soul was the true source of life essence, while the body was merely a vessel. And how mana cores depended upon life essence to function at all.

Augustus extended a hand toward the brazier.

The flames within suddenly shifted shape, and a small sphere of fire separated itself from the rest and hovered above his palm.

“Most mages,” Augustus explained, “view the mana core practically as though it were a physical organ. A container that stores mana and whose size is determined almost entirely at birth.”

The flame pulsed softly once.

“To some extent, that understanding is correct. A starving child raised in a mana-poor environment will naturally develop a weaker mana core than a noble raised atop a leyline.” Augustus smiled faintly. “I am personally familiar with this reality.”

The fire expanded outward slightly. Thin threads of orange light spiraled around the flame, with new rings adding on.

“However,” Augustus continued, “the mana core is not merely a vessel. That is one of the first misconceptions taught to young mages, and one that everyone is currently under the illusion of.”

The rings of light surrounding the fire multiplied, forming a sphere.

“Professor Sullivan’s theory suggested something far more interesting—that the mana core is merely a manifestation of the soul’s resonance.”

My eyes narrowed slightly.

“The theory I developed afterward,” Augustus said, “was that mana itself is not truly generated by the body. Rather, it is drawn through the soul, while the physical body merely stabilizes the process.”

~Oho. Apophis hissed approvingly from my shoulder.

As for myself, I stared at the flame and continued to listen.

Augustus continued speaking while the flame above his hand shifted again.

“Now,” he said, “if Sullivan’s theory regarding reincarnation is correct—and the soul persists after death before inhabiting a new vessel—then logically the soul itself should continue developing across successive incarnations.”

The spiraling threads around the flame continued to be added, one after another, until the fire was cocooned in a translucent sphere.

“Most individuals passively accumulate that growth throughout countless lifetimes,” Augustus explained.

His green eyes met mine again.

“My contribution was realizing that the process could potentially be accelerated.”

Several of the orange rings around the flame compressed sharply inward. And the flame within suddenly burned brighter.

“That is Horizon Compression,” Augustus said softly. “The technique I’ve developed to extend beyond the bounds of my current incarnation’s capabilities.”

My gaze narrowed slightly.

“And what is the cost?” I asked.

Warlocks like Chase consumed their lifespan. The Spiders forcibly injected mana into children under excruciating procedures that most did not survive. Chaos users required refined dead mana and absurdly expensive artifacts merely to avoid soul corruption.

Nothing powerful ever came free. That was the reality.

Augustus’s expression remained calm.

“You are correct,” he replied without hesitation. “There is indeed a price.”

He closed his palm, and the flame disappeared.

“Your future incarnations will possess diminished mana affinity depending on how much you pull from them, since you are effectively drawing from their unrealized potential to strengthen your present self. Excessive use may weaken the soul’s future developmental ceiling considerably.”

He shrugged lightly.

“A regrettable trade. Though one I personally found worthwhile.”

I had to agree with him. The present was one I knew well; what my future self in another lifetime would face was one I did not know, or, frankly, even care about. That individual was not truly me. Not really.

Would a version of myself without my memories, experiences, or personality even still be me?

I frowned at the sudden and unpleasant thought.

My own memories had already eroded considerably. How much of the original me remained intact?

However, I did not feel that different. Partly because I did not remember what I had forgotten.

And my family seemed to see me and accept me as I was…. So I couldn’t have changed too much. Yes, I was still me.

I assured myself with this subsequent final thought before returning fully to the present and away from the dangerous train of thoughts that I feared might cut into my Sanity if it continued.

Augustus raised one hand, index finger pointing up.

“Before we begin, understand something important,” he said, his tone sharpening slightly. “This technique does not forcibly drain mana from the surrounding environment and inject it into the mana core. You must not, under any circumstances, pull mana from your physical environment. It’s from within that you pull out your potential. Understood?”

I quickly nodded, but asked the subsequent question, which I had a feeling I knew the answer to all too well. “What would happen if I did so?”

“That barbaric approach damages the environment, destabilizes the mana core, and eventually corrupts both,” Augustus continued. “It’s temporary rewards for permanent ruin. What we will be doing instead is expanding your soul’s resonance.”

I bit my lip. The so-called barbaric approach sounded disturbingly similar to what Claude Noire and the Spiders had likely been doing, thereby explaining the corruption of the land in my realm.

“Instead, you must look inward. And since you are contracted to an elemental, you have likely already begun touching upon this principle.”

At the mention of Void, my shadow shifted faintly beneath me.

“Close your eyes,” Augustus instructed. “Feel your mana core. Not merely the mana within it—but the resonance itself.”

I obeyed immediately.

The warmth of the brazier flickered across my skin while the cool evening air brushed against my neck.

“Good,” Augustus’s voice said. “Now… reach beyond. You should be able to sense the rings of your mana core’s potential surrounding it. They will feel faint. Each ring represents a future incarnation and the unrealized potential tied to it.”

Silence followed, with only the crackling of the fire filling my ears, as I concentrated on the task.

“Let me know when you sense them,” Augustus instructed softly. “Then I’ll guide you further.”

I furrowed my brows.

This was significantly more difficult than attuning myself to Void’s frequency. It felt more abstract. Like reaching out one's hands in the dark, feeling for an unknown object.

Heat from the brazier pressed against my face while beads of sweat slowly formed along my forehead.

Just when I was about to complain about the difficulty, I sensed it.

The rings weren’t surrounding the core in a spherical curve, like the visual example Augustus gave with the fire in his palm. Instead, the faint rings lay outward on a flat plane, extending out one after another like a ripple.

My breath caught at this breakthrough.

“I feel it,” I whispered carefully, afraid that speaking too loudly or adding any more words might shatter my concentration.

“Good,” Augustus replied immediately. “Now begin counting the rings. It is important to understand what potential you are working with. The number of remaining rings should theoretically correspond to the remaining incarnations available to your soul. Their density and thickness indicate how much unrealized potential may be compressed—that is my theory at the very least.”

~A fairly decent theory… Apophis hissed quietly.

I focused harder.

The first several dozen were easy enough to distinguish. However, to keep counting, I had to keep expanding my focus further and further out. The rings weren’t far apart, so I was able to count the first couple of dozen easily enough, but counting the rest was the equivalent of trying to decipher how many steps were needed to walk to the horizon. And they weren’t particularly thick either, so it felt akin to counting hairs.

“There’s… too many,” I muttered finally.

“Too many?” Augustus’s voice sharpened instantly, disrupting what little concentration I still maintained. “How many?”

I exhaled and opened my eyes.

Mentally, I felt the equivalent of having attempted to cross my eyes for too long a period of time.

“I counted up to a hundred and twenty-two,” I admitted. “But there was far more than that. I lost focus before I could continue.”

For several seconds, Augustus simply stared at me. The fire’s light flickered across his face, but the usual amusement was absent now.

Looking past him, it was evident to me that the sun had long set, and it was nighttime. How late, I did not know.

“You’re serious,” he murmured.

I made a face.

Of course, I was serious. Why would I be joking around during a training I specifically asked for?

He clasped his hands together, staring hard at me. That severe expression did not suit him at all.

“Perhaps…” he said slowly, “you are simply a very new soul.”

I blinked. “New?”

Augustus nodded, still studying me with unsettling intensity.

“I have only ever been capable of counting thirty-two rings for myself,” he admitted.

I stared at him.

“What exactly does that mean for me then?” I said.

And then his serious expression abruptly cracked. A grin spread slowly across Augustus’s face, bright and unmistakably excited. And perhaps slightly mad.

“It means,” he said, “you possess an absurd amount of future potential to draw from.”

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