Kael had no way of knowing how much time had passed as he looked up at the swaying tree crowns. Through the small gaps in their dense canopy, he caught glimpses of clouds drifting slowly across the azure sky.

Kael sat up and split his consciousness once more, this time turning his focus inward—toward his soul.

Upon entering the endless white void, he looked ahead and saw a colossal river, swirling and curling through the space, forming a breathtaking scene. Within its flowing depths, countless silver particles drifted. New specks appeared rapidly, yet even at this pace, filling the vast river would take a day at best.

Scattered far between one another, each speck moved with purpose, struggling against the current, trying to break free from its pull. But no matter how they twisted or resisted, the river’s flow remained unyielding.

“Only 20,000 thoughts left.”

Kael’s expression remained stern, but small creases formed on his forehead as he furrowed his brows.

He had never let his reserves drop this low. Even in prolonged battles, he always ensured he either escaped or ended the fight before his thoughts fell below 100,000.

His gamble had paid off, but not without consequence. Nearly all of his thoughts had been drained, leaving him vulnerable—helpless, even if only for a short while.

However, he had also gained something in return.

New insights.

He had discovered a new way to use his soulbound mote, a theory he had once only speculated about, now proven possible. The realization stirred something within him.

Kael felt a quiet joy in his heart.

But more than that, he had also gained something even more precious, a rank two mote.

With a mental command, the river responded. Its vast, swirling current stirred, and from it, a small red stream emerged. It moved gently toward Kael, carrying with it countless silver specks, each drifting within the flow.

As the stream circled him gracefully before pooling in his outstretched hand, the white void responded as well. Fragments of its endless expanse broke free, turning into glowing white particles. They drifted toward the stream, drawn by his command, merging seamlessly as if they had always been meant to be part of it.

His soul had recognized the mote as a part of itself, and in return, it assisted in bringing it into existence.

The river flowed in a sphere, thoughts moving vividly within its current. As it swayed and swirled in his palm, small, clear white particles, resembling distant stars—drifted down, landing softly in the pool in his hand.

Soon, a figure began to take shape from the three elements. A small, cat-like mote appeared, curled up comfortably in Kael’s palm, its breathing slow and steady. It had shrunk significantly after merging with his soul, now small enough to rest perfectly in his hand.

“Titanwood stalker mote.”

Kael couldn’t help but let out a small, relieved smile. It was his first rank two mote.

He studied it carefully in his palm before dismissing it and pulling his consciousness back from his soul. As his awareness returned, he opened his eyes, his expression calm.

At that exact moment, the sound of a small branch snapping reached his ears. Kael turned toward the source of the noise.

It was Selene.

She walked with firm steps, pushing aside branches and bushes as they got in her way. Her voice, steady and composed, carried through the quiet.

“Daire, are you here?”

Kael watched as she struggled on the uneven rocks, making her way forward. He remained still, only calling out to her when she was just about to pass him.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Selene turned toward him, slightly startled, but her expression softened almost immediately.

“What are you doing all the way out here? We were starting to get worried back at camp.”

Kael waved his hand dismissively, offering a slightly awkward smile before answering.

"I must have been more tired than I thought. I slipped and fell and couldn’t be bothered to get up."

Selene studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders like she was shaking off a thought.

“Well, come on, let’s get back to camp before dark. Oh, and by the way, you look awful.”

Kael simply nodded in confirmation before rising to his feet, ignoring the last part as if the words had never been spoken.

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As they walked, the dense forest slowly faded behind them, giving way to the warm, flickering glow of a campfire in the distance. The towering trees, once casting long shadows, gave way to an open clearing where the light danced against the darkening sky.

The crisp, fresh scent of the woods was gradually replaced by the rich aroma of grilled meat and the faint, earthy scent of burning wood filled the air. The distant murmur of voices, the occasional crackling of the fire, and the soft rustle of movement in the camp replaced the quiet stillness of the forest.

They reached the camp, and the first thing Kael noticed was Malric resting on a thick branch, casually turning the meat over the fire. The sizzling fat sent up small bursts of smoke, mixing with the rich scent of roasting meat. He barely looked up, focused on making sure it cooked evenly.

A little further away, Torin leaned against a tree, just like always. He hung his lantern from a low branch, its glow flickering as he scribbled away in his notebook, completely absorbed in whatever he was writing.

Malric finally glanced up when Selene walked in, but his eyes quickly shifted to Kael.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Kael's eyes flickered across the temporary camp, taking in his surroundings before giving a response.

He repeated the same story he had given Selene, only this time adding a few extra details here and there to make it sound more believable. His tone was even, casual, as if the ordeal had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Malric listened with a firm expression, arms crossed as he watched Kael speak. His gaze didn’t waver, as if he was searching for cracks in the story. Only after Kael finished did Malric scoff slightly before reaching toward a piece of skewered meat. He pulled it from the fire, extending it toward him.

"Eat this. I happened upon it while scouting the area. Rest well tonight, we’re reaching the top of the mountain soon. It won’t get easier from here."

Kael grabbed the skewer without hesitation, feeling the comforting warmth of the wood against his cold fingers. He sat down near the fire, turning it slightly in his hand before taking a slow bite. The smoky flavor mixed with the lingering taste of exhaustion, made it even more enjoyable.

Selene soon joined him, settling down by the fire with a quiet sigh, the warmth a welcome contrast to the cold mountain air.

The evening soon turned into night, yet Kael still hadn’t fallen asleep. Lying on his temporary bed, he stared up at the impenetrable darkness above him, his thoughts drifting in the quiet stillness.

With a slow breath, he closed his eyes and split his consciousness once again, traveling deep into his soul.

The colossal red river revealed itself before him, its currents flowing endlessly through the vast white void. Without hesitation, he summoned the Titanwood Stalker Mote. With a simple act of will, it appeared in his hand, its small form solidifying as if it had always been there, waiting for his command.

He looked at it with a deep gaze. It was indeed impressive. He had only possessed it for a short time, yet it had already proven its value.

Selene, a rank one Luminaire, had walked right past him, completely unaware that he had been just meters away, watching her directly. The realization lingered in his mind.

Upon refining the mote, Kael had come to understand many things about it—its name, its abilities, the exact number of thoughts required to activate it. Yet despite knowing all of this, seeing the results firsthand still left him in silent surprise.

Its abilities were truly sublime, worthy of a rank two mote. If he were to summon it in its bound form he would almost be able to conceal his presence completely, however Even without summoning it, its presence within his soul remained, subtly altering him. It made his existence just a little less noticeable, his presence slightly harder to perceive.

Kaels eyes shone brightly when he thought about its potential, it was truly incredible.

However, when he thought about its bound form, his expression darkened slightly. Even if he were in peak condition, he wouldn’t be able to use it more than once. Its thought consumption was something he simply couldn’t do anything about.

There were many reasons why it drained so much, but the most obvious one was that he was still too low in rank to wield it properly. His soul and mind couldn’t yet fully bear the weight of something as profound as a rank two mote.

Kael sighed.

"It seems like I’ll have to increase my rank after all."

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried, he simply hadn’t been able to. The explanation for his failure remained frustratingly vague. Kael had no noble lineage, no mentors, no connections. Everything he had learned so far had been through his own struggles, his own perseverance. But even then, there were limits.

The history of Luminaires stretched back millions of years, and there was no shortage of knowledge on how one could increase their rank. That, however, wasn’t the real problem. The process was different for everyone, dictated by the unique pathway they followed.

Upon awakening, every Luminaire received two soulbound motes, often shaping the path they would walk, their pathway. But one was not bound to them forever. They could be traded or even given away if someone found a more suitable owner. However, the process was painful—giving away a mote meant giving away a piece of one’s soul.

Despite the cost, this practice was common among noble families.

But this was where the problem lay. He was uncertain of his own pathway, and that uncertainty created obstacles.

In essence, increasing one’s rank was done by gaining a deeper understanding of their pathway. Without a clear direction, progress became nearly impossible.

He had read about countless pathways, from the Phantom Pathway to the Abyssal Pathway, each one distinct, each one forged through the will and understanding of its practitioner.

Pathways could also be categorized based on their role in combat. Some fit into support, aiding allies with healing or enhancement. Others belonged to combat, excelling in direct confrontation. There were strategic pathways, built around deception and manipulation, and those focused on survival, ensuring longevity in battle.

Yet despite all his knowledge, he couldn't determine where he belonged.

On one hand, his obsidian shard mote aligned with a pathway centered around knowledge or creation, its abilities leaning toward understanding and transformation. But on the other, his golden pea mote was purely combat-oriented, built for direct confrontation.

Kael had never come across a pathway where soulbound motes varied this much. Most pathways followed a clear theme, with motes complementing one another, reinforcing a singular approach to battle. His, however, felt scattered, unfocused.

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

Kael cast one last glance at the colossal red river before withdrawing his consciousness from his soul. As reality settled back in, he let out a heavy sigh.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on these thoughts right now. His mind felt scattered and sluggish, and whether he liked it or not, his reserves were still dangerously low, nowhere near an acceptable level. The exhaustion pressing down on him was proof enough.

Closing his eyes once more, this time for sleep, he let the tension drain from his body. His breathing grew slow and steady, and before long, he had drifted into deep sleep.