The start of the new week came quietly.

Monday morning unfolded like routine.

In FOU-100, Professor Cael discussed lattice harmonics and dimensional anchors.

In FOU-101, Professor Nyra had the students practice emotional resonance—Aston and Gray remained in tune almost effortlessly now, a quiet familiarity forming between their pulses.

But it was during FOU-102—Essence Channeling and Core Cultivation with Professor Veris, that something unexpected happened.

The room was quiet. Meditation mats laid across the stone floor, one per student, each with a small basin of cold spirit-water and a ring of faintly glowing incense. The lesson had been about controlled flow and containment—drawing spirit essence from one's environment, then learning how not to immediately spend it.

Aston had entered trance swiftly. It wasn't new to him anymore. His breathing slowed. His pulse slowed. The spirit threads in the air felt like drifting motes of silk, ready to be gathered.

Professor Veris paced slowly among the seated students, robes barely rustling.

Then, midway down the aisle, he stopped.

His head turned. Then slightly tilted.

He said nothing for a few seconds.

Then softly, "All but one of you… stop. Observe."

He whispered to the student to just continue what he was doing.

Confused murmurs rippled at first—but everyone obeyed.

The air shifted subtly. The incense curled more tightly. Spirit light danced faintly over one of the students seated near the eastern wall—a quiet boy named Ien Halstrom, someone Aston had only spoken to in passing. His eyes were closed. His expression was calm. But the energy around him had changed.

The water in Ien's spirit basin rippled outward without wind. His body shimmered faintly with silver light. A low hum, barely perceptible, echoed beneath his mat.

Professor Veris's voice was gentle, reverent.

"He's breaking through the barrier."

The class watched in silence.

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Aston leaned forward slightly, breath caught.

Ien's core—a bright internal node just beneath his solar plexus—began spinning faster. It was subtle at first. Then it sharpened—like a whirlpool drawing in spiritual flow from every direction.

The glow increased. Beads of sweat appeared along Ien's brow. His fingers trembled slightly.

Then it happened.

The core gave a faint pulse of resistance—then slipped through something invisible.

It spun faster again—but now with new stability.

The light dimmed.

And Ien exhaled, eyes fluttering open.

Professor Veris placed a hand gently on the student's shoulder. "Welcome," he said softly, "to the first wall. You are no longer a Novice, but an Elite spirit professional. Do have your records updated in the division's registrar later during your free time."

No applause. No congratulations. Just quiet understanding.

Then the professor turned to the rest of the class.

"For those unfamiliar… that was a natural breakthrough. This was not forced. It was not induced with elixirs or pills. This was internal cultivation meeting sustained pressure—reaching what we call the Threshold of Resonant Saturation."

He gestured to the incense. The water. The core that still glimmered faintly inside Ien's chest.

"You will feel it, when it happens. Your core will begin to fill—not just collect energy, but resist further intake. The spirit threads around you will feel denser, heavier, as if pulled toward you without effort."

He turned, folding his arms within his robe sleeves.

"Then the symptoms begin. Your breathing becomes shallow. Your heartbeat may synchronize unnaturally with your surroundings. Some feel heat. Others cold. Some feel pressure behind the eyes. All of them mean the same thing."

He paused.

"Your spirit core wants to grow. And you must choose whether to let it."

Aston swallowed.

His hands were resting lightly over his centerline—but even now, he could feel something faint.

Not spinning. Not yet.

But warm.

A soft coiling pressure, like potential being compressed. Something deeper than breath or thought—like a chamber filling with slow rain.

He said nothing. But his gaze lingered on Ien, who had now returned to silence, meditating again—but with more weight in his presence than before.

Aston wasn't there yet.

But he was close.

—

After class, students spoke in hushed tones as they left. A few congratulated Ien. Others tried to hide their envy. Aston said nothing. But his stride was a little slower.

Seria noticed.

"Something wrong?" she asked, adjusting the sleeve of her robe as they walked.

"No. Just… thinking."

"You always are," Genevieve teased.

He gave a faint smile.

Then glanced at his hands.

The warmth was still there.

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