Orion's mind was still processing everything Aryan had revealed. Hekatryon, Sensoria, and now Akhashuret—a force that went beyond power, sothing that defined a warrior's very presence. The idea of it stirred sothing inside him, but he needed clarity.
He exhaled slowly, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece it together. "So what exactly is Akhashuret? You said it wasn't just energy, but also not just an extension of Hekatryon." His voice carried a mix of curiosity and skepticism, his gaze fixed on Aryan.
Aryan nodded approvingly. "Good. You're asking the right questions." He raised his hand, and the air around it shimred. Orion realized the subtle distortion wasn't just an illusion. Aryan's arm looked twice present, as if reality was catching up to him.
Aryan opened his mouth to explain, but Orion cut in. "Also, seriously—what kind of na is Akhashuret? "
Aryan gave him a flat look. "It ans 'soul' in the oldest recorded Hekatryon language."
"Akhashuret is your anchor to existence," Aryan explained. "It is not just power—it is the imprint of your actions on the world. Every movent, every battle, every mont of struggle leaves a resonance within you, and that resonance lingers. So call it a warrior's presence, others call it aftershock. But in truth, it is your connection to sothing far greater."
He let his hand fall to his side. "The Xenothalamus is the key," he continued. "Once activated, it allows you to enter your Mindscape—a space where your Akhashuret takes form. There, you will find the foundation of your strength: Sigils."
Orion frowned, his brows knitting together. "Sigils?" he echoed, his voice laced with confusion.
Aryan smirked, his eyes gleaming with a knowing edge. "You could call them inscriptions of Hekatryon," he said. "They are representations of how your Akhashuret manifests. Every warrior's Sigils are different. So manifest chains, so manifest flas, others manifest rivers that flow endlessly."
He tapped Orion lightly on the forehead. "And before you ask, no, you cannot simply 'choose' your Sigils. They are discovered, earned through battle, refined through ditation. The more you cultivate Akhashuret, the deeper into your Mindscape you go, and the more Sigils you awaken."
A slow realization dawned on Orion. "So... when you attacked earlier, the way your movents felt like they were happening ahead of ti—was that your Sigil?"
Aryan's grin widened. "Yup, one of my sigils allow to create a mirage like presence of my body."
Orion's pulse quickened. A power that wasn't just about raw strength, but understanding oneself, anchoring oneself to reality. If he could access this Mindscape, if he could unlock these Sigils, then he would certainly grow stronger.
Aryan's expression turned sharp. "Enough talk. You need to experience it yourself."
He stepped forward, raising two fingers. "I'm going to force your Xenothalamus to activate. You will enter your Mindscape for the first ti."
Orion swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Alright," he said.
Aryan smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Try not to die," he said, pressing his fingers against Orion's forehead.
—and the world collapsed into darkness.
Orion gasped as his senses spiraled, his body dissolving into nothingness. He wasn't falling. He wasn't floating. He simply wasn't.
Then—
A pull.
Light blood in the abyss, and then—a storm erupted.
Thunder cracked through the void, and Orion found himself standing on nothing. Beneath his feet, winds roared, lightning forked across the sky, and the storm stretched endlessly around him. The sky itself was fractured, flickering in its shattered expanse, unreachable.
This was his Mindscape.
And within the storm, he saw three distant stars within the maelstrom.
His Sigils.
He took a step forward, and suddenly, the storm reacted fiercely—winds howled, the ground beneath him shifted, trying to reject his presence. It was like the storm itself was telling him you are not worthy.
Then, his eyes locked onto the first Sigil.
A single na burned into his mind. Vyomnetra's (The Sky Sovereign) Eyes.
For an instant, clarity pierced through the storm—his vision expanded, the cracks in the sky aligned. He could see beyond what he was normally used to see, brief flashes of movent, as if the world had slowed just enough for him to grasp its flow.
But it didn't last.
His head pounded, his sight blurred, and the storm swallowed his perception again. His Vyomnetra's Eyes had flickered open—but he couldn't control it.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward, reaching for the second Sigil. Stride
A sensation flooded his body—weightlessness, speed, motion without friction.
He stepped, and suddenly, he was sowhere else.
Or rather—he had moved too fast, too far. His balance shattered, and he tumbled, barely catching himself before the storm swallowed him whole.
He had activated Stride without understanding it—his movent had beco too sharp, too precise, without his control.
But there was still one more Sigil.
Through the storm, he reached out—and as his fingers neared the last pulse of power, it ignited. Spark
A burning heat surged through his arms. Fire danced at his fingertips, and lightning crackled through his body, demanding release.
He clenched his fists—and the energy flared, wild, unstable.
The flas in his hands fizzled out before they could fully form. The lightning jolted through his body painfully, uncontrolled.
He had touched the roots of his power, but none of it was his to wield yet.
And the storm raged against him.
The winds shrieked, the world twisted, and he felt himself being pulled under—he had lingered too long, his presence still too weak to command his own Mindscape.
Then—a sharp force yanked him back.
The storm vanished.
Orion's eyes snapped open, his breath ragged. His body felt heavy, as if he had been subrged in sothing far deeper than water.
Aryan was crouched in front of him, studying him carefully. "How many?"
Orion nodded, his throat dry. "Three Sigils... Vyomnetra's Eyes, Stride, and Spark."
A rare flicker of approval crossed Aryan's face. "Hmm."
Orion flexed his fingers, still feeling the ghost of lightning between them. His movents felt different, as if the storm had left a mark on him. He had glimpsed his power, but it had also overwheld him.
"That was just the first step," Aryan warned. "You touched upon them, but you haven't earned their approval yet."
Orion eyed the glowing sigils before him, their intricate patterns shifting as if breathing. A strange weight pressed down on him, but he wasn't sure why. "So... you are saying these sigils are sentient?" he asked, hesitant.
Aryan let out a short breath. "So believe Sigils have a will of their own," he said. "The way they resist, the way they react when you approach them in the Mindscape."
Orion frowned. "It seems you don't see it that way." he asked, putting his arm under his chin in contemplation.
Aryan shrugged. "Hard to say. There are people who swear their Sigils rejected them, refusing to manifest unless properly acknowledged."
Orion shivered. The idea unsettled him. "That... doesn't make sense. They're just part of Akhashuret, right? Just a power you unlock?"
Aryan gave him a knowing look. "Then why do so people never unlock theirs? Why do so die before ever manifesting even a single Sigil?" He gestured toward the glowing symbols before them.
"Maybe they're just reflections of the user. Or maybe they really do have their own conditions for acceptance. But I don't think they are sentient."
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