“Lucky Kid, do it now!”

The experience was like a wild rodeo.

I clung to the horn of a massive, rhino-like beast while it thrashed beneath me. Its powerful body twisted and bucked, jerking side to side, then rearing and slamming down so violently I nearly lost my grip more than once.

For five chaotic minutes, it felt like a blur of motion—jumping, twisting, stomping.

But I held on.

My fingers stayed locked around the beast’s pinkish-red horn; it had strange carvings that felt suspiciously like handholds.

It charged forward, exactly as planned, barreling straight toward Chevonne. She had lured it there deliberately, standing her ground as the creature thundered closer, drawn into Lucky Kid’s thought.

Then—bang!

*****

Right after the giant incident, we had moved to a safer spot and camped for the night. We were exhausted, but the unease hadn’t left us.

The next morning, we woke early. Chevonne kept close watch on Lucky Kid, acting like he might bolt at any second.

I had only half grasped what was going on. Something about this thinker thingy, but the details were still foggy. All I knew was that it somehow involved me, too, even though I wasn’t special enough for something this bizarre.

Or so I thought.

During our trek that morning, a strange sound made us drop to our knees. A deep, rumbling vibration echoed through the ground. We hid behind a shrub of berry bushes, trying to stay low.

Lucky Kid, as usual, ignored all caution and grabbed a handful of berries, stuffing them into his mouth like we weren’t in mortal danger. I almost scolded him until I remembered what he could do. After all, I might be the one in actual danger if he got annoyed.

Chevonne had called me a pothink. It was short for potential thinker. She claimed I had a thought ability but hadn’t unlocked it fully yet. I was a “diamond in the rough,” as she put it.

It felt ridiculous.

But there was no time to argue about it because we had bigger problems.

Peering through a gap in the bushes, we spotted the source of the sound.

It was a beast.

It wasn’t just strange—it was otherworldly.

It grazed nearby, grunting as it chewed, its enormous bulk framed by jagged horns jutting out from every part of its body.

But the main horn—the one on its forehead—was different. It glowed faintly pinkish-red; grooves were carved along its length. The carvings looked deliberate, designed almost like grips for human hands.

And that wasn’t all.

There was a saddle strapped to its back.

Someone owned this thing.

But where was the rider?

Chevonne gave me a look, then she gestured for me to watch carefully.

She whispered something to Lucky Kid, who nodded—perhaps a little too eagerly—and stepped out of hiding.

“Hey! Wait—” I croaked, reaching out, but he ignored me.

Lucky Kid was already committed.

He sprinted toward the creature, winding up his arm, and smacked it hard on the rear.

The beast barely flinched.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then, Lucky Kid bent, grabbed a rock, and hurled it straight at the beast’s head.

The stone struck with a dull thunk.

I winced, bracing for disaster.

The creature’s eyes flashed wide. Its roar shattered the air; it was a deep, bone-rattling bellow.

And when I looked back up, Lucky Kid was already standing in that strange stance again.

Just like with the giant.

A soft rustling beside me caught my attention.

Chevonne stood, her gaze sharp, and the same shimmering force field pulsed from her temple. It was a thought, as she had explained.

The rhino-like beast was enveloped by it.

Chevonne glanced my way and whispered, “Watch and learn.”

Lucky Kid reached out and touched the beast. Then, without a word, he retreated and crouched beside me.

Suddenly, Chevonne started tickling him.

Lucky Kid burst into laughter, squirming and rolling on the grass.

I was still trying to process how strange this was when the beast… rolled, too.

It flopped over on its back, writhing in the grass. A bizarre sound escaped it—something between a chortle and a snort.

I blinked, trying to make sense of it.

Chevonne tickled Lucky Kid again.

The beast let out another garbled laugh.

Oh.

I wasn’t that dense. It hit me all at once.

Chevonne had called herself a linker. She wasn’t just controlling the beast—she had linked it to Lucky Kid.

Whatever she did to him, the beast felt it, too.

“I get it now,” I said, my voice low but sure.

She smirked. “That’s good. That saves me a lot of explaining.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I have a question, though.”

Chevonne paused, finally letting Lucky Kid catch his breath. He sat up, still giggling as he wiped his eyes.

“Go on,” she said, face serious now.

“To what extent is that creature affected by what you're doing?”

She smiled, then she helped Lucky Kid back to his feet. “A linker can connect up to three living creatures within their thought. Rare cases have reported linkers managing five, but it’s exhausting for them.

“There’s also one rumored case of someone linking ten, but the credibility is… questionable. Most people think it’s a myth.”

I nodded, absorbing her words.

“When I link someone,” she continued, “anything that happens to me reflects on the linked inside my thought. The first linked receives the full effect—100%. The second linked gets 80%, and the third receives 60%.

“However, if the first linked is the one affected, the second linked takes 100%, and the third takes 80%. If the second linked is affected, the third gets the full force, and the cycle goes on. The damage shifts depending on the source.”

I frowned, turning the idea over. “So, if the second linked takes the hit, you and the first linked feel nothing?”

“Exactly.”

“And if the third—the last linked—gets hurt, no one else feels anything since there’s no one after them?”

She nodded, impressed. “You catch on fast.”

I folded my arms. “Okay. But how do you link someone?”

Chevonne shrugged. “When I initiate a thought, I just need to touch any living creature within it.”

“When did you link Lucky Kid and that thing? I didn’t see you release the thought field until just now.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Back when I grabbed his collar in the building. Since you’re still a pothink, you can’t fully perceive a thought yet. Not unless you focus—like when Finlay silenced the giant.

“Once someone’s linked, any living creature they touch within my thought becomes linked, too.”

I narrowed my eyes further. “So… Normal people can’t see this thought thing at all?”

“Right.”

I hesitated, a new question forming. “And what about Finlay? Since he’s already linked, does that mean—”

Chevonne cut me off with a smirk.

“Since he’s linked, he can’t do much to us. Even if he wanted to kill me, he’d basically be committing suicide. The link stays—permanent—until the linker releases it. Even outside my thought, it won’t break unless I decide to end it.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Now, that was a nasty power.

“By the way,” I said, shifting the conversation, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. I hope you’ll give me a straight answer since I already know a lot now. What were you doing on the school rooftop yesterday?”

A sly smirk spread across Chevonne’s face. She took her time before finally responding.

“Do you play Dota? Or any MOBA games?”

I blinked. “What? Yeah… I do. Why?”

She leaned closer. “You know what a passive skill is, right?”

“Yeah?”

“In a linker’s case, either their mother or father is their buddy. A buddy is a special linked individual, and that link can’t be broken—ever. Not until death.”

I nodded, staying quiet so she’d keep going.

“This grants the linker a unique ability: telepathy. No matter where they are in the world, the linker can speak directly to their buddy. But there’s a catch—it only works one way. The linker has to be the one to initiate it, and it’s exhausting. When it happens, the linker is completely isolated, fully enveloped in their thought and unable to sense the outside world.”

The rooftop incident suddenly made perfect sense.

“That’s why you were drenched in sweat back then,” I muttered.

She nodded. “Yeah. I was trying to reach my buddy.”

“Who is it?”

Chevonne exhaled softly, gaze lowering. “My father.”

The word hit me harder than I expected.

Father.

It made me think of my parents. I missed them. So much. And Vincent… I wondered what they were doing now, whether they were safe, whether they were worried about me. I hoped they were okay.

I was about to ask Chevonne what she and her father had talked about when a deafening roar tore through the air.

The beast had spotted us.

It snorted, pawing the ground with its massive hoof like a bull preparing to charge.

Then, it charged.

I threw myself forward, shoving Chevonne and Lucky Kid out of the way.

The beast slammed into me instead, ramming me full-force into the hairy trunk of a cocohair tree. Breath whooshed from my lungs. Pain exploded in my back, but I managed to grab hold of its horn.

The beast bucked violently, twisting its neck. With a swift, powerful motion, it flung me off and slammed me onto the ground.

My vision blurred.

I rolled, barely dodging a bone-crushing stomp that cracked the earth where I’d been lying.

Coughing, I spat blood into my palm. Damn.

The beast paused, swaying slightly, then flopped onto its side, rolling in the grass as if it were being tickled.

Chevonne.

I glanced over. Sure enough, she was still tickling Lucky Kid, who was practically breathless with laughter.

I gave her a shaky thumbs-up.

But this couldn’t last forever. I had no plan—no strategy—but I knew one thing.

I wouldn’t let Chevonne keep carrying us.

“Chevonne, watch me,” I muttered.

I grabbed a low-hanging cocohair leaf and hauled myself up the tree, climbing higher.

“From now on, I’d be worthy of being your protector,” I whispered to myself.

I leapt, landing squarely on the beast’s back.

*****

Lucky Kid silenced the beast. It evaporated into mist.

I collapsed onto the ground, coughing up blood again.

“Josh! Are you okay?” Chevonne asked.

She knelt beside me, extending a hand. She hadn’t noticed the blood. I wiped my stained palm against the dirt before taking her hand.

I grinned, dusting myself off. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”

She exhaled in relief. “No, thank God. And also… Thank you. For bravely luring that thing toward Finlay.”

I frowned. “Weren’t you the one who did that?”

“Did what?”

“Never mind,” I muttered, letting it go. “Anyway, since Lucky Kid was able to silence it, does that mean the beast was a product of a thought?”

Her smile returned, bright and approving. “I like how fast you’re catching on.”

I hope you’ll like me, too, I thought, but I only said, “It’s basic once you know how a thought works.”

“Maybe you’re just too smart to begin with.”

“Not really. But since it was a product of a thought, doesn’t that mean a thinker must have summoned it?”

Her smile faded. She looked toward the sky, suddenly serious. “You know what a realm is?”

“The definition? Yeah. A realm is a—”

“No. Not the English definition. It’s different for thinkers. I need you to understand what truly makes a thinker before we go further.”

The shift in her tone made me focus.

“Okay,” I said.

“Let’s find a place to sit first.”

We moved to a small meadow where a shimmering lake lay nestled among cocohair trees. Lucky Kid, carefree as ever, tumbled down a grassy slope, laughing. Chevonne and I sat nearby, keeping him in sight.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. The breeze whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of damp earth and sunlit grass. It felt… peaceful. It was strange, considering everything that had happened.

The stillness didn’t last long.

Chevonne’s voice broke the calm. “How are you feeling? I know it’s a lot to take in, and I—”

“I’m fine.” I smiled, hoping it was convincing. “It’s weird, yeah, but I’m not about to break down over it.”

Truth was, I couldn’t waste time being overwhelmed. This wasn’t some over-the-top anime plot or cliché dream. This was real.

Chevonne nodded, satisfied. “Good. Would you mind trying it again?”

“Trying what again?”

“Your power. You’ve learned a lot today. You might be able to activate it now. But this time, keep it simple. Don’t imagine anything complex—just focus on transforming an object. Let’s start with that pebble.”

She pointed behind me. I grabbed the small stone, turning it over in my palm.

“Since you’re still a pothink, you’ll need to concentrate more. Close your eyes. Picture the object clearly. Transform it into something vivid—something you can see in your mind.”

I nodded, shutting my eyes.

A sampaguita.

I pictured the delicate white petals and how they curled gently outward.

A strange weightlessness spread through me. The fatigue lifted, and for a moment, I felt calm. Everything felt clear.

But the sensation passed almost as soon as it came.

I opened my eyes. The pebble was gone.

In its place rested a perfect, snow-white flower.

“Oh my God… Did I just—” I broke off, staring at the flower.

But within seconds, it reverted to a pebble.

Chevonne gave me another heart-wrenching smile. “Looks like you just surpassed the ten percent limitation of your brain.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Normal humans can only access about ten percent of their brain’s capacity. But if someone manages to break past that—say, eleven percent—that person becomes a thinker. You’ve probably heard stories about people controlling objects, generating electricity, or even walking on water, right? Those people were thinkers. Like you. There’s actually a special thinker called a teacher who can gauge and classify a person’s ability, but based on what you just did, I think you’re a morpher.”

“So… By the word itself, I can transfigure things?”

“Exactly. But only within your thought.”

“The sphere thingy? The force field I keep seeing?”

“Yeah, that. Like what I told you. The thought—your force field—is the area of limitation. Anything outside of it won’t be affected by your power. The size varies from thinker to thinker. It expands from your temple since the brain is the source of your thought ability. It’d be complicated if I told you more about it. But that’s the gist of it.”

“But I didn’t release a thought when I morphed the pebble. My eyes were closed the whole time.”

“You did. You just didn’t see it since, as you mentioned, your eyes were close. Also, someone with sharp focus can perceive a thought even when it’s faint—and it’s a huge advantage when two thinkers face off. Here, try morphing the pebble again, but keep your eyes open this time.”

I focused on the pebble, picturing the sampaguita flower again. This time, I saw it—the faint, shimmering barrier expanding outward from my head.

Chevonne picked up the transformed flower and walked toward the edge of my thought. The moment she crossed it, the flower blinked back into a pebble.

“See?” She stepped back inside, the pebble still in her hand. “Now morph it again.”

I did. The pebble returned to the flower.

“Good. Now, cancel your thought. Clear your mind completely.”

I exhaled and focused on… nothing. The shimmering sphere vanished. The flower dissolved back into a pebble.

I let out a deep sigh. “So, I’m really a morpher, huh?”

For the first time, the strange things that happened on my seventeenth birthday actually made sense.

Chevonne’s expression shifted. “Well… about that. I’m not completely sure yet.”

I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“As I said, only a teacher can officially gauge and classify your thought. A morpher is just one of many thought abilities. There’s a whole spectrum of thought abilities a thinker can be categorized into, and sometimes, a thinker can even be reclassified as their abilities evolve. So, while you seem like a morpher, your true classification is still up in the air.”

I frowned. “A spectrum?”

She nodded and sneezed suddenly before continuing. “Yeah. Thinkers are divided into three margins—green, orange, and red.”

“Like a traffic light? Green means good, red means bad?”

Chevonne shrugged. “Maybe. But to clarify, green margin thoughts are the rarest and most powerful. Thinkers in this category can’t even be classified or measured by a teacher. There are only two known thought abilities in the green margin, and they’re considered the greatest of all thinkers.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. “And the red margin?”

“That one’s more straightforward. Red margin thoughts are dangerous. They can directly harm—or even kill—someone.”

I swallowed hard. “What about the orange margin?”

She hesitated, clearly thinking carefully. “I’m not completely sure yet, but from what I’ve learned, orange thoughts are mostly supportive. They can’t directly hurt anyone. But don’t be fooled into thinking they’re harmless. Orange thinkers can still cause harm—just indirectly.”

I nodded slowly, processing that. “And the sphere? The thought barrier thing? Does it apply to all thoughts?”

“Not always. My linked ability, for example, stays active even if the linked individuals leave my thought’s range. That’s part of why I’m still a bit confused about orange-margin thinkers.”

“So… You’re in the orange margin?”

“Yes. If you’re really a morpher, then we’d be the same.”

The idea of sharing the same thought margin with her made my heart race.

We kept talking, our conversation drifting between thinkers and personal stories. For the first time in a while, it felt like I was getting closer to her again, rebuilding what we once had.

Suddenly, Chevonne bolted upright, scanning the area.

“Finlay’s gone.”

I shot to my feet and searched the clearing for tracks. Nothing.

I clenched my fists and muttered to myself, “I’m going to scold that brat when we find him. Enemy or not, he’s still my student.”

Chevonne shot her thought, which spread wide, and looked ready to hurt herself to trigger her ability, but I caught her wrist. “Let’s try to find him first. No need for that yet.”

I pointed ahead. “Let’s check that rocky trail.”

We hiked deeper into the woods, finding a small stream along the way. We drank handfuls of water, then we walked a little farther until we discovered some berries and apples.

For a moment, it felt peaceful again. Just the two of us.

Thinker or not, my wish had surely been granted.

Then, a memory struck me.

“Hey… Weren’t you going to explain what a realm is?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, right! Sorry, I totally forgot.”

I smirked. “Since you call it a realm, does it have something to do with a place? A territory?”

She nodded. “Kind of. Remember how a person can only be called a thinker if they surpass the ten percent brain limit? The two thought abilities in the green margin are so ridiculously powerful that only a handful of people belong to it. They achieved almost ninety percent brain capacity.

“The first one is a teacher. As what I told you, they’re the only thinkers who can gauge and classify other thinkers. There are only a few of them in the entire world. One of them, according to my father, is Finlay’s mother.”

I blinked. “His mom’s a thinker?”

She nodded. “The second thought ability in the green margin is even rarer—it’s considered the strongest of all. This thinker’s power can only be inherited or transferred. There are only four known individuals like this worldwide.”

My mind raced. “Wait… Are you saying you know one of them?”

“Yes. And Josh… We’re inside his thought right now.”

“Whut?”

“Think back to that rhino-like beast. Why do you think Finlay was able to silence it?”

“Wasn’t it because it was a product of a thou—” I stopped mid-sentence. My mind caught up with hers, connecting all the dots. The beast. The strange events. The island itself.

“Chevonne… Don’t tell me we’ve been inside a thought this whole time.”

She met my eyes, deadly serious. “Yes, Josh. This entire island is inside a thought. I believe it was Bantayan Island, but something happened here—something hidden from the outside world. Only a creator can produce a thought this massive, controlling everything inside it… including the power to create. Like the beast.”