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The morning light glowed upon the dense foliage of the forest.
The light simmered in the creeks, the bubbling water of streams clashing against each other.
Cael woke up feeling refreshed from his heavy sleep the night before. Leaving the makeshift tent, Cael headed towards the creek to clean and freshen up.
Staring at his reflection in the calm corner of the creek, Cael begins to realise how much time had passed.
Recalling the day he first went looking for a job, Cael stared at his reflection as it somehow turns into his younger self.
Cael snaps out of his reverie and sits down under a tall tree to meditate.
The Mindscape was something the old man said to be a reflection of one's own imprint.
He could never pass that thin barrier which always seemed to hold him back from entering his Mindscape.
As Cael begins to funnel out all unnecessary thoughts, his mind begins to calm down and relax. His breath steady and calm, he begins to concentrate on his mental training.
As his meditation deepened, Cael was lost in his mind. All he could perceive was empty chaos.
The air around him seemed to be more unbound and free.
The old man had woken up earlier and was now staring at Cael who was in a deep reverie.
The morning light in contrast to his relaxed state painted a calm picture.
The old man also started meditating at a distance from Cael and got quickly immersed in the silence.
His was more refined and controlled. While Cael resembled a relaxing state, the old man had a different aura to him. He was more steady and focused.
"The old man said I have to find order in this chaos, then my mindscape will be revealed." Cael thought as he begins to unravel the mystery behind this veil.
He could see some resemblance to how his skills work. All the chaos seemed to move in a proper order the more he looked carefully.
"It's moving and changing like a piece of origami." Cael tries harder to look at what this change and movement hid from him.
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The sun shined directly above his head making Cael shower in his own sweat.
Cael ran up and down the rocky mountain trail, his shoulders aching under the weight of two wooden buckets filled with water. The buckets were tied to each end of a wooden pole balanced across his back. With each step, the water sloshed and threatened to spill. Sweat streamed down his temples, soaking into his shirt and chest. His breathing was steady but labored, each inhale and exhale slow and controlled.
This wasn't just a physical exercise—it was a lesson in control.
"If your skill is what you say it is," the old man beside him said, keeping a steady pace without breaking a sweat, "then mastering it will boost your strength by a mile."
Cael glanced at him, then looked forward again, keeping his focus on the trail.
"Your skill, 'Folded Space'—as you call it—folds the distance between you and a chosen point, right? You make that space shorter, nearly zero."
"Yeah," Cael panted.
"But that doesn't mean it's good enough just because it sounds fancy. You need to be able to use it smoothly, without messing up the world around you. Control, Cael. Strength without control is nothing."
Cael didn't need reminding. His body still ached from the last time he lost control.
He remembered the moment clearly. He had delayed the release of a strike, then layered it with another. When both strikes landed at once, the result was devastating—but the backlash had nearly dislocated his shoulder.
He had superimposed his strength, but his body had paid the price.
Even now, after hours of training, his legs trembled and his arms burned. But he didn't stop. He wouldn't stop.
Cael knew the world didn't hand out power to just anyone. The world offered chances, but only for those willing to break themselves for it. It was never easy. Many had tried. Many had failed.
But Cael wouldn't be one of them.
His life—the pain, the solitude, the mystery of who he really was—was a constant reminder of what he had to do. He would grow stronger. He had to.
His resolve and his Imprint made him someone the world would one day fear.
"Once you can use Folded Space without disturbing the calm of the water," the old man said, eyeing the buckets sloshing with every step, "we'll move on to your other techniques."
With that, the old man sped ahead, leaving Cael alone on the trail once more.
Cael focused inward.
His body was tired, but his mind began to calm. His breathing matched the rhythm of his feet. The sloshing water, the burning in his legs, the rocky terrain—they faded into the background.
He breathed. In. Out. In. Out.
Suddenly, something shifted. The space ahead of him twisted. Not visibly, but intuitively. It was like a sheet of paper being folded in half.
In a flash, Cael appeared a few meters ahead. The buckets swayed violently, but he regained balance just in time.
He looked back.
He could see it now, more clearly than ever before.
If a piece of paper lay flat, the top and bottom corners were far apart. But fold that paper, and those corners almost touched. That was how Folded Space worked.
He wasn't teleporting. He was folding the space in front of him. Skipping through the crease.
"I can use it now," Cael whispered. "Not perfectly. But better."
Still, the water hadn't remained calm. The old man would notice.
But progress was progress.
By now, the sun had begun to dip below the mountain, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. Cael's legs wobbled with every step. He'd been training since sunrise.
Deciding to end the day's session, he made his way down the path. He spotted the old man in the distance, crouched near a fire, preparing dinner.
Cael placed the buckets down carefully, avoiding any splash. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then walked toward the small stream nearby to clean up.
Dinner would be quiet. They usually didn't talk much at night. But the silence had its own rhythm—like the fold between two moments.
Just like his skill.
Tomorrow, he would run again. Tomorrow, the buckets might stay still.
Tomorrow, he would fold the world better.