Orn's hand rested lightly on the worn grip of his weapon, fingers loose, unhurried. He didn't draw it. Not yet. There was no point in brandishing steel against something that did not obey the rules of steel.

Three other men on board felt it too.

Emergents.

Their presence was like distant bonfires in the cold—a sensation that wasn't physical, but could still be felt. Even when silent, even when unmoving, the weight of their existence pressed against the air. Their power had not yet fully shaped the world around them, but it was more than just a flicker in the dark.

They had already crossed the threshold.

They were acting, no longer just reacting.

And yet, even with four Emergents aboard, the presence beneath them did not waver.

That was the problem.

Because when two wills clashed, it was never about strength alone.

It was about who dictated reality first.

Orn remained still, his expression unreadable. He didn't need to speak to the other Emergents. They had all felt it—the way the ship had slowed, the way the weight of the air had changed, the way something was imposing itself upon the world.

A low vibration passed through the hull.

Not a voice.

Not a sound.

But a command.

A single word formed in his mind, pressing against his thoughts like unseen fingers tracing across his skull.

"Stay."

It wasn't spoken. It wasn't whispered. It wasn't even a voice.

It was intent.

A direct imposition of will.

The ship ceased moving.

Orders were made to be followed.

The sails were full, the wind had not died, but they were still. Frozen.

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No one moved.

One of the other Emergents inhaled slowly, then released a breath through his nose. His presence sharpened, the weight of his existence pressing outward. It wasn't a direct act of defiance—just a test. A ripple in the stagnant waters of reality.

Something beneath them pushed back.

The ship groaned louder this time, wood bending—not cracking, not breaking, but yielding.

Orn's fingers flexed slightly.

He had faced Void Beings before.

They were creatures of hunger, pure instinct, mindless, formless. They acted without thought, without will. Even a strong Awakened could handle them with discipline and preparation.

But this...

This was an Emergent.

Not a thing.

Not a creature.

A being.

It had already begun shaping the world around itself. It had already taken the first step into mastery.

It wasn't attacking. It was waiting.

For a challenge. A test. A warning.

Orn exhaled. Because, it would not stop with a single word.

It would not leave unless it was forced to.

And force, in this case, was not measured in weapons or strength.

It was measured in domain.

―

Emergents emerged domains.

Domains were emergents will upon the world.

Emerging from within.

"Who else?" Orn's voice was quiet.

One of the Emergents, a man named Ikar, turned his head slightly. "Not me."

Another, a woman with a scar running across her cheek, shook her head. "I would have felt it earlier if it was."

The last, a younger man barely into his twenties, said nothing. His jaw was tight.

That was enough.

It wasn't one of them.

Orn shifted his stance. "Three of us act. One anchors."

Ikar's brow furrowed slightly. "How deep?"

Orn's grip tightened slightly on his blade. "Full emergence. Do not hold back."

"No one was planning to."

No hesitation.

The three Emergents moved—not physically, but internally.

They reached outward—not with hands, but with their literal existence.

The shift was immediate.

The world around them did not change outright, but it responded.

The will of the world was heavy after all.

The weight pressing down on the ship met resistance—not in the form of an attack, but a refusal.

A battle of wills, played out in silence.

A Void Being would have scattered instantly. Even a lesser Awakened would have crumbled.

But the thing beneath the water did not retreat.

Obviously it wouldn't. It already sensed their will when it followed them.

And that was when Orn realized the problem.

This wasn't a conflict between a weak will and a stronger one.

It was a conflict between two Emergents.

And if that was the case...

It meant that the thing beneath the water was learning.

Adapting and shaping itself in real time.

Orn exhaled slowly. "This isn't working."

The others felt it too. Their power was pushing outward, shaping the space around them, but the force beneath them wasn't being repelled. It was shifting in response.

Ikar's voice was calm. "Then we go deeper."

Orn nodded. "Prepare."

The three of them braced.

The young Emergent—the fourth one, the anchor—stayed rooted. His role wasn't to push. It was to hold them steady, to keep the ship from becoming collateral in the conflict of forces.

Orn thought about using the new Awakened Hunter to transfer them and the ship back to the shore.

But he knew an Awakened's slumbering will cannot compete with the Emergent.

And the ship would lose its tether and break.

A sharp will assaulted their minds, as if the world it self was rejecting them.

The real fight was about to begin.

The fight was not with swords or spears. Or projectiles.

It was simply who would rewrite the world's will to their advantage the fastest.

A true Emergent's fight.