"You look terrible," Elene said.

  "I know," Arthian replied.

  "*Very terrible*."

  "I still know."

  "Your skin is seeping black vapor."

  "..." Arthian went silent. "That I didn't know."

  He looked at his hand. Skin pale as ash. Black vapor seeping through small cracks.

  Not blood. Not wounds. But *pressure*.

  The 7% soul core compressed to pinpoint size when hiding from Sound Purge units was slowly relaxing.

  And this emaciated body wasn't ready to contain it yet.

  Elene sat beside him. Not too close. "You need to rest."

  "There's no time."

  "If you don't rest, you'll die."

  "If I rest, I'll die slower," Arthian replied. "But still die."

  She frowned. "What do you mean?"

  He pointed toward the dimensional slip zone around them. Energy storms churning continuously. Currents flowing in chaotic opposition.

  "See that?"

  Elene nodded.

  "That's what ordinary beings avoid," he explained. "Because energy here *doesn't choose its owner*."

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "So?"

  "So I'll use it."

  Elene stared at him. "You're insane."

  "Perhaps," Arthian conceded, smiling faintly. "But those who aren't insane in this rift die faster."

  Before she could argue, he stood and walked into the storm.

  "You—!" Elene reached out but didn't follow.

  She knew if she entered, she'd die within three seconds.

  Arthian sat in the middle of the energy storm. Closed eyes. Breathing slowed.

  *If I try to stop it, I'll die.*

  *If I try to fight it, I'll die.*

  *Then what if...*

  He murmured to himself, voice calm.

  "Then just *use* it."

  He opened himself.

  The Origin Core in his chest began working in a new pattern. Not black hole absorption, but *filtering*.

  Chaotic energy currents surged through his body.

  Elene watched in horror. She saw the storm rush into him, expected to see him explode into pieces.

  But it didn't happen.

  The storm *flowed through* him.

  Parts full of impurities, fragmented will, malice—let to flow through to the other side.

  But in the split second touching the Origin Core, one thing was caught.

  *Raw Veracity.*

  Pure energy belonging to no one. Untwisted. Uncorrupted.

  It accumulated slowly. Drop by drop.

  "He..." Elene murmured. "He's not *fighting* the storm."

  A pause.

  "He *is* the filter."

  Pain multiplied. More black vapor seeping. Body trembling. Veins under skin darkening. Fingertips numb beyond feeling.

  Bones cracking *snap*.

  Elene jumped startled. "Stop! You'll die!"

  Arthian didn't answer. He didn't hear, or chose not to listen.

  He forced on. Pressure rising until the soul core vibrated with tremors.

  *If I stop now, safe but not enough.*

  *If I force on, might die but if I survive...*

  He compressed the filter tighter.

  Filtered energy began growing dense. Heavy. Stable.

  7.2%... 7.5%... 7.8%...

  But not just numbers. It was *quality*.

  The obtained energy gradually mended internal cracks. Reinforced bent structures stronger.

  Elene stared, not daring to move, not daring to breathe loud.

  Minutes passed like hours.

  Until the storm weakened. Not because it calmed, but because the parts *with value* were drawn out nearly completely.

  What remained was refuse no one wanted. It flowed through Arthian to the other side, becoming fine dust settling on the ground.

  He opened his eyes slowly.

  Black vapor faded. Breath still heavy but more stable than before.

  8%

  Elene ran over. Knelt beside him. "You... you're still alive."

  "Obviously," he answered, voice hoarse.

  "I thought you would die."

  "I thought so too," Arthian admitted, then smiled. "But I'm *not dead yet*."

  She lightly hit his head. "Don't do this again!"

  "I will do it again," he answered directly.

  "You—!"

  "Because if I don't," he interrupted, looking straight into her eyes, "I'll never be strong enough."

  A pause.

  "And if I'm not strong enough, you'll die before me."

  Elene stared at him, stunned.

  "Why..." she asked softly. "Why do you care if I die or not?"

  Arthian thought a moment.

  "Because I chose to," he answered. "That's all."

  He stood. Frame still emaciated. Expression emotionless.

  But the pressure emanating wasn't the same as before.

  Not violent crushing force, but still heaviness. Like a large stone resting on fabric.

  It did nothing, but it was there.

  Elene looked at him again. This time longer.

  She was beside a strange creature that didn't hunt for survival, but hunted to write its own rules.

  And in that silence, she understood.

  She hadn't *accidentally* followed.

  She *chose* to follow.

  Arthian looked toward the deeper zone. Power in his chest still and calm. Ready to be used.

  "Continue?" Elene asked.

  He nodded. "Continue."

  "Do you know what's ahead?"

  "No," he admitted, then smiled coldly.

  "But that's what makes it interesting.”