A sharp, acrid smell shot through Darius’ senses like a shockwave, igniting every neuron as he jolted awake. Instinctively, he tensed, his pulse pounding with adrenaline, but he didn’t have to search far to see the cause. Wendigo’s large, wolfish grin hovered just inches from Darius’ face, casting a dark, menacing shadow over him.

“We told ya I could wake you up,” Wendigo murmured, his voice like gravel, shaking a mysterious bottle with fiendish delight. The odor drifted from the bottle, sharp as crushed spirits and burnt ozone.

Darius’ head throbbed as he tried to sit up, a dull ache radiating through his skull. Though he was awake, he wasn’t exactly better off, but he knew better than to let it show. He struggled to his feet, eyes adjusting to the dim, pulsing light that gave the underground space an almost organic ambiance. He braced himself, swallowing the pain, noting the glimmer of amusement in Blink’s eyes as she watched him. She looked like she was holding back a private joke—one only she knew the punchline to. She caught him staring, and her smirk widened slightly. She was pretty in a rugged, hardened way, the kind of beauty that came from grit rather than gloss. He quickly shook the thought from his mind; she was a few years older, and he was just... tired.

Without a word, Blink extended a murky orange drink toward him. "Drink this. It’ll help."

Darius opened his mouth to ask what it was, but she shook her head in refusal, her expression clearly saying, Just drink. He decided not to push his luck, not with Wendigo watching him like a hawk, and took a cautious sip. The taste hit him like a truck—some bitter concoction between synthetic citrus and raw fish oil. He gagged, but surprisingly, both Blink and Wendigo nodded as though they’d been in his shoes before, understanding his reaction. Moments after he swallowed, a surge of strength washed over him, the weariness in his bones fading. With the taste ignored, he drank greedily, ignoring the texture that was somehow both chalky and slimy.

“You’ve got a lot of power in you to pull off what you just did,” Wendigo said with a tinge of begrudging respect. “But that was a dumb stunt. Lucky for you, I can teach you how not to be so stupid, but unlucky for you…” Wendigo grinned wider. “Nobody rides for free.”

Darius perked up at this but narrowed his eyes. “How do you know what I’m doing wrong? I thought I was just teleporting across the room.”

“No questions about my power until I trust you more than I can throw you,” Wendigo replied cryptically. “I’ll give you one piece of advice, though. First hit’s always free, right?” He leaned closer, the smell of his drink still faintly lingering on his breath. “You’re ripping open a tunnel through space from where you are to where you want to go, like a damn kid with a chainsaw. Impressive, but wasteful. I don’t know how you’re strong enough to pull that off—but I’ll tell you this: you’re thinking in three dimensions, kid. That’s why it’s kicking your ass. You need to think in four.”

Darius scoffed. “How can you think in four dimensions? That’s not even possible.”

Wendigo shook his head. “It’s possible. And if you want to make use of that power, you’re gonna have to think in more than just four dimensions.”

Blink stepped in, her voice softer but no less firm. “Wendigo can show you how to use your ability,” she explained, “for a cost. Dodge doesn’t shackle you with loyalty chains like the Guardians do, with golden handcuffs and a shiny badge. Here, you’re not bound by anything but the deals you choose to make. We’ve got operatives who run jobs, help the cause, and get paid in turn. We’ll place you with a team if you pass initiation, but there’s one rule—complete secrecy.”

The idea of jobs made Darius tense, though it was better than enforced conscription. He forced himself to ask, “What’s the job?”

The mission, as it turned out, was relatively straightforward. The Dodge team in Soca needed materials for covert construction, which meant mining ocean ore deposits. The Guardians had cracked down on black market supplies, and Dodge had been struggling to get their hands on what they needed. They’d located a factory producing underwater continuous mining devices (UCMDs), powerful machines that could mine metals from beneath the seabed. If Dodge could secure one, they’d have a steady supply of materials for their projects.

It sounded simple, but Darius’s role made his stomach twist. He would be responsible for teleporting the team in, assisting with securing the vehicle, and then teleporting everyone out.

The blood drained from his face. “I can’t teleport that many people. I’m not even sure I can teleport one other person! And what if I pass out?”

Wendigo smirked. “You’ll manage. If you can move objects, you can move people. Trust me—I know more about teleportation than you do.”

“But I’m still getting the hang of it. I barely managed the last jump without passing out. Teleporting all of you—” His voice hitched, panic creeping in.

Blink laughed. “Oh, you wouldn’t just pass out if you tried to pull that with all of us,” she said, her tone almost amused. “You’d die. I bet you’d go out with a bang, too. Like a firecracker on the First of July.”

Wendigo joined in with a chuckle. “Kid, it was impressive, swinging that power around like you had a ten-foot dick, but you’re gonna need my help. For the next three days, you’re training with me. In return, you help us secure the UCMD. Four days of hard practice, then we’ll see what you’re really capable of. Deal?”

Darius hesitated, eyeing the massive hand Wendigo extended, the muscles and tendons standing out like knotted cords. He clenched his jaw and took it, voicing his agreement. But as soon as their hands met, Wendigo’s grip tightened, and Darius felt something creeping along his skin. Inky black tendrils snaked out from Wendigo’s arm, curling around his wrist and up his arm, tightening like a vice. He stifled a scream as white-hot pain flared through him.

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“What are you doing?” Darius shouted, fear lacing his voice.

Wendigo’s grin never wavered. “Dodge doesn’t leave anything to chance, kid. We’re not exactly talked about freely. A few seeds on message boards, maybe, but for the most part, we’re shadows. What you’re feeling? That’s insurance. No matter what, you can’t talk about us or reveal our names. Not to anyone outside Dodge.”

As quickly as it started, the pain faded, and the tendrils sank into his skin, disappearing. Darius stared at his arm, half-expecting to see the black marks linger, but his skin was unmarked.

“With that out of the way…” Wendigo let go, his tone casual as if they hadn’t just bonded Darius to their organization by force. “Let’s get started on lesson one.”

Lesson one, as it turned out, was a mental exercise—or as Wendigo had put it, "learning to see before you jump." Blink departed with a nod, muttering something about other business to attend to, and Wendigo gestured for Darius to follow. They approached a door that was nearly invisible, recessed so seamlessly into the concrete wall that Darius wouldn’t have noticed it without Wendigo guiding the way.

The door slid open with a soft, barely audible hiss, revealing a space that was a stark contrast to the industrial grit he’d just left behind. Stepping inside, Darius felt like he’d entered an entirely different world.

The room was large and open, its floor covered in soft, cream-colored tatami style mats that gave it the peaceful, ordered air of what Darius imagined a traditional dojo was. Dark and expensive looking wooden beams ran along the walls, their surfaces polished to a high sheen that reflected the soft, ambient lighting above. The walls were adorned with serene, holographic landscapes that shifted and flowed like living paintings—mountains with mist rolling off their peaks, calm rivers winding through lush forests, and tranquil beaches with waves lapping against the shore. Renderings of a planet that seemed to exist in another universe. The gentle hum of distant ocean waves filled the air, as if inviting a deeper focus.

In the center of the room was a sleek, round platform, its surface embedded with various lights and sensors, each pulsing softly. Darius recognized it as advanced VR tech designed to monitor a user’s vital stats, mental acuity, and energy output to perform ultra realistic simulations. Around the platform were holographic panels floating in midair, waiting for commands. Each panel displayed intricate diagrams and data on teleportation techniques and spatial manipulation, with three-dimensional grids rotating slowly, demonstrating how space could be folded or twisted.

A pair of tall, thin rods stood at the far end of the room, each equipped with hologram projectors that cast simulated obstacles and targets into the air. The holograms shimmered faintly, outlining imaginary structures or glowing points in the room, giving the impression of distant locations Darius could practice teleporting to.

The ceiling, high and arched, was adorned with rows of carefully positioned, dim LED lights, each designed to emulate the glow of paper lanterns, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. At the center hung a single large hologram of a lotus flower, softly pulsing in sync with the ambient sounds of water, adding an element of calm to the high-tech space.

Wendigo guided him to the center platform, gesturing for Darius to stand on it. “First lesson,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “is about visualizing the space around you, not just in three dimensions, but in potential layers you can’t see. If you’re going to teleport without passing out, you need to go beyond that tunnel vision you’ve got going.”

Darius took in his surroundings, marveling again at the serene, high-tech dojo with its glowing holograms and tranquil, low-lit ambiance. “What is this place? This looks… expensive,” he said, wonder evident in his voice as he momentarily forgot the weight of Wendigo's advice.

“This is one of Dodge’s training centers,” Wendigo replied, his gruffness softened by a surprising openness since that ominous tendril ritual. “It’s linked to my Netacts, so I can pull up data on the monitors and shift things around. Handy for a fast learner like yourself.”

Darius nodded, letting the unusual calm of the room settle over him. Here, with the hum of distant water and the soft glow of virtual lanterns, he felt his nerves finally begin to ease, his focus sharpening. Wendigo’s earlier words echoed in his head—thinking in four dimensions—but despite the quieting of his mind, the concept felt just beyond reach.

“I can’t quite picture it,” he admitted, closing his eyes and frowning.

“Open your eyes,” Wendigo instructed, holding a thin sheet of translucent kelp paper. “I want you to focus on this paper’s corners. Let’s say I want to connect two opposite corners. Now, I could just draw a line from one to the other.” He traced a line in the air, mimicking the expected, conventional path.

Darius nodded. So far, this felt as straightforward as high school geometry.

“But there’s a much quicker, more efficient way,” Wendigo continued, speaking slowly, deliberately, each word landing with a palpable gravity. He folded the paper until the two opposite corners touched. “By folding this sheet, I’ve brought them together, directly connected. That’s the shortest path. I want you to imagine doing this in four dimensions. Picture an axis you can’t see but that’s there, orthogonal to the three dimensions you know. You can bend space around it, connecting where you are to where you need to be without ripping reality apart.”

As Wendigo’s words sank in, Darius felt a glimmer of understanding. It was faint, like the feeling of recalling a half-forgotten dream, but it was there. He closed his eyes again, focusing intently on the softly glowing target point Wendigo had programmed across the room.

In his mind, he strained to picture the world folding, clumsily at first, along that elusive fourth-dimensional axis. The point across the room began drawing closer, not by his own movement but by the way the space between them shrank, like the paper folded until its corners met. A tunnel formed, narrow, controlled, bridging the gap. He stepped through.

The familiar sensation of constriction came, but it was gentler this time, less like being flung across the room and more like stepping into a narrow hallway. He arrived at his destination, feeling winded but not shattered. The effort had cost him, but at maybe half the energy he’d used before.

He let out a triumphant whoop, his first real glimmer of confidence shining through.

Wendigo, however, was unimpressed. “You cheated,” he grunted, eyes narrowing. “Sure, it was a smaller tear, but you still ripped a hole in space. You've got to resist that shortcut, or you’ll end up limiting yourself.”

Darius took a few breaths, letting Wendigo’s critique sink in. He could feel it now, that tendency to cut corners, to rely on force rather than precision, but the path Wendigo had shown felt so close, almost intuitive. And while the man was gruff, Darius could tell he wanted him to succeed, for more than just Dodge's sake.

“I know,” Darius said, determined. “Let’s go again.”