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The morning mist still clung to the forest floor when Cael woke. Birds were just beginning their songs, and the air held a chill that nipped at his skin. Their tent rustled lightly as he pushed himself upright, stretching his sore limbs. He could already hear the old man moving about, humming some off-key tune as he stirred the embers of last night's fire.
"Morning, boy," the old man greeted without looking up. "Sleep well or did the sound of my greatness keep you up again?"
Cael groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "More like your snoring almost knocked me into another dimension."
The old man chuckled. "You'll miss that snoring one day. Now get up—we're doing imprint drills today."
Cael's eyes brightened slightly despite himself. "We're finally training again?"
"You think meditation's not training? Tch. Kids these days," the old man muttered. "But yes. Time to get your body and your imprint talking to each other."
They moved to a clearing nearby, where the grass was thick and the trees gave them enough space to spar. The old man stood with his hands behind his back, giving Cael a quick once-over.
"You're still all bones and stubbornness," he said. "But it'll do."
Cael cracked his knuckles, already feeling the faint tingling of anticipation in his chest. "So what's the plan? You finally going to teach me something that's not just 'breathe and feel your inner self'?"
"You mock, but breathing is the cornerstone of everything."
"Yeah, yeah. I know."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Then prove it. Show me your imprint."
Cael narrowed his eyes, taking a step back. He centered his breath, grounding himself the way he had practiced over the past week. Slowly, he extended his hand—and a faint shimmer formed around it. The air warped slightly, a thin vibration filling the space between his fingers and the earth. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Hmm," the old man mused. "You're starting to grasp the timing. That delay, that tension in space… that's 'Interval' talking."
Cael blinked. "So it is working?"
"Barely," the old man said bluntly. "But yes, it's there. Just confused. Like you."
Cael sighed. "Thanks for the encouragement."
"Hey, I'm just here to keep your ego from ballooning."
The old man walked in a slow circle around him. "Now, let's take that spark and push it. Try to delay your movement. Make the force land after you move."
Cael frowned. "Like a punch that hits after it's thrown?"
"Exactly. Fold the impact. Don't force it—listen for the moment."
He stepped forward, offering his arm. "Hit me."
Cael hesitated. "You sure?"
The old man grinned. "Please. If you can even make me flinch, I'll cook breakfast tomorrow."
That was motivation enough.
Cael focused again, gathering the strange, vibrating feeling into his knuckles. He lunged forward, driving a punch toward the old man's chest—and missed.
Or rather, the fist connected, but the impact didn't land.
"Too soon," the old man said, stepping back. "Try again. Feel the pause. The interval between action and effect."
Cael gritted his teeth, trying again—and again—and again.
Each time, something was off. The shimmer wouldn't hold. The punch either hit like normal or dispersed before contact. Sweat beaded on his forehead as frustration began to set in.
"This is useless," he muttered, stepping back and shaking out his arms. "You make it look easy."
The old man smirked. "That's because I'm me."
Cael rolled his eyes. "You're infuriating."
"And you're impatient. Perfect match, don't you think?"
The tension broke just a little, and Cael exhaled. He didn't want to admit it, but the old man's annoying confidence somehow grounded him.
"Sit," the old man ordered.
Cael dropped to the grass with a sigh, arms resting on his knees.
"Listen up, boy. It's time you understand the bigger picture."
He drew a stick in the dirt, sketching a simple diagram.
"There are four main types of imprints. Each one shapes the way power manifests in the world—and how it resonates with the user."
He pointed to the first quadrant. "Physical. This one's the most straightforward. Elemental, body-based, tangible. Think fire, stone, strength, speed. Anything you can see or touch."
He moved to the next. "Temporal. Trickier. This deals with time, space, meta-abilities. Like your 'Interval'. Also includes things like 'Trace', 'Echo', 'Blink'—powers that play with perception, flow, or reality's rhythm."
The third quadrant was labeled differently. "Conceptual. These are... deeper. Emotional, behavioral, abstract. 'Wait'. 'Regret'. 'Rage'. 'Joy'. Even 'Silence'. These imprints grow with understanding. They evolve based on who you are."
Cael frowned thoughtfully. "So something like 'Stability' or 'Longing'?"
"Exactly. They're tied to the soul more than the body. They're the most volatile, but also the most limitless."
"And the last one?" Cael asked, pointing to the final section.
"Hybrids," the old man said simply. "Rare combinations. Like yours. Born from two distinct sources. They can evolve in ways we don't fully understand. They carry echoes of both sides—and sometimes, something entirely new."
Cael stared at the diagram in silence. It was a lot, but something about it clicked.
"And all of them can be strong?" he asked.
"Only if the user is," the old man replied. "Power isn't in the name. It's in the meaning you give it."
Cael looked down at his hand again, flexing his fingers.
"Interval…" he murmured.
The old man stood up. "You'll get there. But don't expect it to happen overnight. Your imprint isn't just a tool. It's a conversation. One between who you are, who you were—and who you want to become."
Cael nodded, slower this time. The frustration didn't vanish, but it softened. The path wasn't simple, but it was his.
"Alright," he said, rising to his feet again. "One more time."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "You're learning."
Cael never knew imprints were classified into many categories. His thoughts were full of questions about his imprint which were apparently a hybrid.
"My parents, .....they must have had quite interesting imprints huh." Cael was curious how his Interval came to being.
They returned to the center of the clearing, the morning sun warming their backs as the forest watched in quiet approval.
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More details on the geographical and political structure dropping in later chapters. Stay tuned.