The evolution hadn’t just changed me; it had rung a bell in the souls of everyone connected to me.

  I sat in the training hall of the Cradle, my perception extended through the bond that tethered my Anima. The usual sensation of ‘holding’ them — like keeping kites aloft in a steady wind — had vanished. Instead, the tethers felt like steel cables, thick and conductive, vibrating with the massive surplus of Tier 7 density my new Core was generating.

  “Jeeves,” I projected, testing the line. “Report.”

  The response was instant. And not just a voice.

  A fracture appeared in the air of the training hall. Shadow-matter didn’t ooze out; it crystallized. Jeeves stepped through, his suit sharper, darker, woven from a shadow that seemed deeper than black. His monocle was gone, replaced by a left eye that burned with a cool, digital-blue light.

  “Master,” Jeeves bowed. The movement left a trailing after-image of static. “Your recent ascension appears to have... disrupted my filing system. In a productive manner, of course.”

  “You look dense, Jeeves,” I noted, walking around him. “Like you are more ‘solid’.”

  “I feel categorized,” Jeeves smoothed his lapels. “My connection to the System interface has expanded. I am no longer merely observing data; I seem to be integrated into the localized System. I was managing the Bastion logistics remotely when the surge hit. I suddenly found myself able to process three times the usual individual mana-signatures simultaneously.”

  He flicked his hand. A holographic projection of Bastion appeared — not flat, but a perfect, real-time 3D rendering. I could see individual blades of grass moving in the wind miles away.

  “You have a real time observation satellite hooked up now?”

  “And an effective defensive deterrent,” Jeeves added politely. He pointed a finger at a dummy in the corner. Shadows lashed out from the floor — not wisps, but spikes of solidified darkness — skewering the wood instantly. “Defensive protocols will have to be modified to account for changes. My Body has also improved alongside my Spirit.”

  “Tier?”

  “High Tier 6,” Jeeves adjusted his cufflinks. “Perhaps pushing into Peak levels soon. The mental improvements, especially data processing capability, however, now rival an entire Imperial Logistics Hub.”

  “Good,” I nodded. “We’re going to need that brain. I didn’t realize the changes would be so instantaneous, let’s check in on Rexxar.”

  Jeeves paused, his silver eyes flickering. A rare look of amusement — or perhaps concern — crossed his face.

  “I believe Rexxar is currently attempting to apologize to a mountain range, Master.”

  The feed from Rexxar’s comms-crystal opened with the sound of coughing and falling rocks.

  “Master!” Rexxar’s voice was deafening, distorted by excitement. “I have made a slight error in judgment regarding my biceps!”

  “What happened, Rexxar?”

  “We were hunting! The Pride and I found a Crystal-Hawk. A majestic creature of gems and a bad attitude. I leaped to engage, intending a standard Vertical Cleaving strike with my claymore.”

  I winced. “And then the evolution hit?”

  “Like a bolt of lightning in my marrow!” Rexxar cheered. “Mid-jump! My sword felt light as a feather. The mana flooded my arms. I swung... and I missed the Behemoth.”

  “I’m sorry, I did not know this evolution would be so different, causing immediate changes for all of you guys like this. So, you missed… wait… what did you hit…?”

  “Just hit the cliff behind it!” Rexxar admitted. “The cliff is now... gravel. And the Behemoth fell into the ravine I created. I don’t think there is much to salvage down there.”

  “Ah that’s good, you had me worried for a second. Is the squad okay?”

  “The cubs are dusty, but ecstatic! Master, my Golden Aura... it is not just light anymore. It has weight.”

  He flexed on the visual feed. The armor Leoric recently crafted for him, the [Golden Lion’s Pride], had also shown improvements, taking more from his larger, denser Core. It looked thicker, the plates interlocking with organic perfection. The golden light radiating from him wasn’t just illumination; it was physical force. Dust particles were being pushed away from him by the sheer pressure of his presence.

  “Sovereign Presence,” I murmured. “You’re radiating a physical Domain, Rexxar. You won’t just be leading the charge anymore; you’ll be paving the road.”

  “I feel unstoppable!” Rexxar roared, kicking a boulder the size of a car. It shattered. “We are returning to base soon. I must show off my new strength against Lucas and all of his units to my cubs. I suspect I might accidentally rip the arena in half.”

  “Be gentle with Lucas and his people,” I ordered, smiling. “Don’t hurt anyone. Get used to your strength before you do anything crazy.”

  “Is it safe to come out?”

  Leoric’s voice drifted from the workshop entrance. I turned. The small Artificer was wearing a hazmat suit made of mana-glass.

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  “It’s safe, Leo. No more explosions.”

  Leoric waddled in, then stripped off the helmet. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated to the size of coins. He was vibrating.

  “My hands,” he held them up. “Look at my hands, Master.”

  They were glowing. Soft pulses of blue runic script were crawling under his fur, shifting and rewriting themselves.

  “Technomancy integration?” I guessed.

  “Matter manipulation!” Leoric corrected shrilly. “I was calibrating a Siegebreaker core when the wave hit. I didn’t need the wrench, Master. I just... told the metal to bend. It feels so intrinsically natural, as if it’s a limb I have regained.”

  He picked up a scrap of iron from the floor. He focused. The metal didn’t melt; it simply flowed, reshaping itself into a perfect sphere, then a cube, then a detailed miniature of Jeeves.

  “Direct Essence Molding,” I realized. “You aren’t hammering the material into the shape anymore. You're commanding the atomic structure. All by yourself without any Sanctum facilities…”

  “Do you understand how much time this saves?!” Leoric did a little hop. “I can build turrets in seconds on the field! I can repair armor by touching it! And the forge... Master, the Forge speaks to me now. I can feel the heat differential in the core from fifty feet away.”

  “Any chance of crafting Tier 7 equipment soon?”

  “Easily,” Leoric grinned, his teeth sharp. “If you give me the materials, I think I could craft a Legendary grade Tier 7 item within a few days. The throughput is insane. It feels like a dam has opened within my soul, allowing the river of Essence the freedom to finally flow.”

  “Unclogged is how I would describe it.”

  The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

  The shadows in the corner of the Cradle deepened, stretching out until they formed a pool of ink. Nyx rose from it, shedding darkness like water.

  She looked different. Dangerous. Her armor, usually matte leather and chain, now looked like it was woven from the night sky itself. Her daggers were gone, replaced by claws of solidified shadow that extended from her fingertips and retracted instantly.

  “Nyx,” I greeted. “You look... sharp.”

  “I feel sharp,” she murmured, walking toward me. Her steps made no sound. She didn’t disturb the air. “Before, I hid in the shadow. Now... I think I am the shadow. I was scouting the Akkadia perimeter when the wave hit. I slipped.”

  “Slipped?”

  “I fell through the shadow,” she explained, looking at her hand. It turned translucent, then smoky. “I stepped into the shadow of a tree, and stepped out of the shadow of a cloud three miles away. No mana cost. No transit time. A passive access method of Shadow Walking.”

  “Local teleportation via darkness,” I nodded. “Powerful. Test if you can maybe stay within, we can do a lot of interesting things if it works with my Veil if you hide in my shadow.”

  “Of course. And my ‘friends’...” She gestured. Two shadowy silhouettes peeled off her own shadow, standing guard. They had no features, but they radiated killing intent. “They persist now. I don’t have to concentrate. They can even hunt on their own.”

  “Autonomous Echoes,” I analyzed. “You have an army, Nyx. You’re a one-person siege unit.”

  She smirked. “And a very, very lethal scout.”

  Finally, I went to the Library.

  The Veiled Path’s archive had grown. The bookshelves stretched up into an infinite ceiling now, new titles appearing as the Sanctum sucked in the ambient knowledge of the world.

  Kasian was floating in the center of the atrium. He wasn’t a construct of stone and paper anymore. He was a being of pure, crystallized light and runic script, orbiting a central core of condensed knowledge.

  “Chronicle,” I said softly.

  “The pages have turned,” Kasian’s voice reverberated, sounding like a choir of scholars speaking in unison. “The binding is strengthened. The ink is fresh.”

  He drifted down, assuming his preferred humanoid avatar — the young scholar — but his skin was now etched with moving text.

  “The Lore,” Kasian said, tapping his temple. “It is not static. I can see the connections. Before, I glimpsed recorded history. Now... I can extrapolate it. Predictive algorithms based on millions of years of causal data.”

  “Oracle abilities?”

  “Probability assessment,” Kasian corrected. “I looked at the map of the Empire’s movements. I can see the friction points. I can see where their supply lines will break before they even send the convoy. Tactical foresight.”

  “And the collection?”

  “The Library connects to the Akashic stream more freely now,” Kasian gestured to a new section of books that glowed with a faint gold light. “I am pulling records from adjacent realities. Techniques forgotten by this cycle. Blueprints for weapons used in wars that haven’t happened yet. The Soul Gate expansion you underwent... it widened the bandwidth.”

  I gathered them all in the Cradle later that evening. The heat of the magma was a comfortable background radiation for the reunion.

  They looked different. Stronger. More realized.

  But more importantly, the connection between us hummed with a frictionless clarity.

  “It’s the Soul Gate,” I explained, looking at my hand where the mana flowed like liquid light. “Tier 7 didn’t just expand my pool. It densified the channel. Before, I was pushing mana to you through a straw. Now... it’s a firehose. My evolution dragged you all up the ladder.”

  “Does this mean you will get me more snacks?” Bennu chirped from his perch, glowing brighter than ever. His fire was white-gold now, matching mine.

  “Infinite snacks,” I promised.

  I looked around the Cradle. The walls felt thicker. The air tasted richer. Even the stone seemed to be more durable. The Veiled Path’s Singularity Chamber in my mind felt effortless to access, its capacity seemingly doubled by the boost in my Spatial affinity.

  And beneath it all...

  I felt a tug.

  It wasn’t a demand. It was a space waiting to be filled.

  A new hollow had opened up in my Soul Aperture. A slot.

  “You feel it too?” Nyx asked, her eyes darting to the empty space beside Arthur’s ghost.

  “Yes,” I nodded, excitement prickling at the back of my neck. “The circuit isn’t complete. There’s room for one more.”

  “What will it be?” Lucas asked. “A tank? A powerful mage?”

  “I don’t think I will get to choose this time,” I said, remembering the summoning rituals of the past. “The Void seems to want to provide what I lack. But judging by the scale of what’s coming... by the threat radiating from that new Capital…”

  I clenched my fist, feeling the Tier 7 power ripple.

  “Whatever answers the call next... it’s going to be a heavy hitter.”

  I dismissed the interfaces. We were stronger. The Anima were evolved. The base was secure. The plan was in motion.

  “Get some rest,” I told them. “Tomorrow, we will not be reacting to the Kyorians. Tomorrow, we will start writing the next chapter.”

  I looked at the empty space in the room one last time, wondering who — or what — would soon be standing there. The anticipation was a physical weight, but a welcome one. We were building a pantheon, one broken soul at a time.