---
[Two Months Later - Sensariel Training Grounds]
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and stone.
Cirel stood in the center of the training arena—a circular platform of reinforced composite, designed to withstand the strain of Biological System combat. Around its perimeter, observation platforms held clusters of Sensariel instructors, their eyes trained on the two boys below.
Across from him, Elyrus waited in his usual relaxed posture, bandaged eyes facing forward, a faint smile on his lips.
"Ready?" Elyrus asked.
Cirel's Lojun flared to life, mapping the arena in perfect detail:
Platform diameter: 50 meters. Surface friction coefficient: 0.68. Air temperature: 16°C. Wind velocity: 2.1 m/s from the northeast. Elyrus's position: 23 meters distant. Heart rate: 72 bpm. Respiratory rate: 14 breaths per minute.
Everything measurable. Everything clear.
"Ready," Cirel replied.
The Matriarch's voice echoed from the primary observation deck:
"Biological Systems only. No Divine Techniques. First to score three touches wins. Begin."
---
Elyrus moved first.
Not toward Cirel, but at an angle—diagonal, circling left. His footsteps were precise, measured, confident despite his blindness.
Cirel tracked him effortlessly:
Velocity: 4.2 m/s. Trajectory: arc pattern, maintaining 20-meter distance. Intention: probing. Searching for—
Elyrus lunged.
Velocity spike: 8.7 m/s. Angle: direct approach. Strike trajectory: right shoulder. Time to contact: 1.4 seconds.
Cirel sidestepped smoothly, letting Elyrus's hand pass through empty air.
But Elyrus didn't stop.
His momentum carried him past Cirel, his fingers grazing the air where Cirel's arm had been—then his body twisted mid-motion, redirecting without losing speed.
Secondary strike: left side. Contact in 0.6 seconds.
Cirel pivoted, evading again.
Elyrus's hand slapped the ground where Cirel's foot had been.
"Close," Cirel observed.
"Not close enough," Elyrus replied, already moving again.
This time, his pattern was different—erratic, unpredictable by conventional standards. He moved left, then right, then stopped entirely, then burst forward at an angle that defied his previous momentum.
But Cirel's Lojun saw through it:
Pattern analysis: semi-random motion compensated by micro-adjustments in balance and acceleration. Conclusion: testing my reaction time.
He waited.
Elyrus feinted left—Cirel didn't react.
Feinted right—Cirel remained still.
Then Elyrus actually attacked, straight forward, fingers extended toward Cirel's chest.
Contact in 0.8 seconds.
Cirel shifted his weight, transfiguring his center of mass—not with Idle Rewrite, but through pure biological control. His Sensory System fed him perfect proprioceptive data, allowing him to move with mechanical efficiency.
Elyrus's fingers touched air.
Cirel's hand tapped Elyrus's shoulder in the same motion.
"One touch," the Matriarch announced.
Elyrus smiled wider. "You're faster than two months ago."
"You're still predictable."
"Am I?"
---
The second exchange began immediately.
This time, Elyrus didn't approach directly. He moved in a wide circle, his head tilted as if listening to something beyond sound.
Cirel watched him carefully, analyzing:
Breathing pattern unchanged. Heart rate elevated slightly—anticipation, not exertion. Footwork: deliberate, but not aggressive. Conclusion: waiting for something.
"What are you waiting for?" Cirel asked.
"For you to attack," Elyrus replied.
Cirel frowned. His Lojun hadn't detected any setup, no trap, no preparation.
But Elyrus had seen something.
A consequence.
Cirel decided to test it.
He moved—not in a straight line, but in a calculated arc designed to minimize Elyrus's reaction window. His approach was optimized: maximum speed, minimal telegraph, perfect angle.
Contact in 1.2 seconds.
Elyrus didn't move until the last possible moment.
Then he stepped—not backward, not sideways, but into Cirel's approach.
His hand rose, not to block, but to intercept.
Their trajectories collided.
Elyrus's fingers tapped Cirel's chest.
"One touch," the Matriarch called.
Cirel stopped, confused. "How did you—"
"I saw where you would be," Elyrus said simply. "Not where you were. You moved perfectly—exactly the way you were always going to move. So I just stood where that motion ended."
Cirel's jaw tightened.
He'd calculated the optimal approach. Perfect execution. Zero wasted motion.
And Elyrus had countered it because it was perfect.
Because perfection was predictable.
"Again," Cirel said.
---
The third exchange was faster.
Cirel didn't optimize this time. He moved erratically—suboptimal angles, wasted motion, deliberate inefficiency. His Lojun screamed at him that his trajectory was flawed, but he ignored it.
If he sees consequences, then I need to create consequences he can't predict.
He feinted left, committed right, then abruptly stopped and pivoted backward.
Elyrus followed the motion smoothly, his body adjusting to each shift.
Cirel attacked from an awkward angle—unbalanced, inefficient, wrong by every physical metric.
But unexpected.
His hand shot toward Elyrus's side.
Elyrus tilted—too late.
Cirel's fingers grazed fabric.
"Two touches," the Matriarch announced.
Elyrus's smile faded slightly. "Interesting. You moved wrong on purpose."
"If you see what I'm going to do, then I need to do things I wouldn't do."
"Clever." Elyrus nodded. "But exhausting. How long can you fight against your own instincts?"
Cirel didn't answer.
Because Elyrus was right.
Fighting suboptimally drained him mentally—every motion felt like sand in gears, every choice fighting against his Lojun's perfect data.
But it was working.
---
The fourth exchange lasted longer.
Both boys circled each other, testing, probing, waiting for openings.
Cirel moved erratically again, forcing unpredictability.
Elyrus adapted, his causal perception reading deeper—not just where Cirel would be, but where he could be.
They clashed three times in rapid succession:
Cirel attacked high—Elyrus ducked.
Elyrus countered low—Cirel jumped.
Cirel feinted left, committed right—Elyrus was already there.
Their hands met in midair, palm to palm.
Stalemate.
They broke apart.
"You're getting better at reading me," Elyrus admitted.
"You're still better at reading me," Cirel replied.
"But you're learning." Elyrus's tone was approving. "Two months ago, you wouldn't have lasted ten seconds against causal perception. Now you're forcing me to work for it."
"I'm still losing."
"Are you?" Elyrus tilted his head. "You've scored two touches. I've scored one. Who's losing?"
Cirel realized: he'd been so focused on the challenge of fighting Elyrus that he'd forgotten the score.
He was winning.
"One more touch," Cirel said quietly.
"Then come take it."
---
The final exchange was silent.
No feints. No wasted motion. Just pure focus.
Cirel moved first—a direct approach, optimized trajectory, maximum speed.
But this time, he watched Elyrus's response pattern.
Elyrus shifted left.
Cirel adjusted his angle mid-motion—something Elyrus's causal perception should have seen.
But Cirel had noticed something over two months of training:
Elyrus's perception showed him consequences based on current motion. If the motion changed mid-action, there was a fraction of a second where the causal chain had to recalculate.
It wasn't much.
0.2 seconds, maybe less.
But it was enough.
Cirel shifted again—another mid-motion adjustment, compounding the unpredictability.
Elyrus's head turned, tracking the new consequence.
Too slow.
Cirel's hand tapped his shoulder.
"Three touches. Match concluded."
---
They stood in the center of the arena, both breathing hard.
Elyrus was still smiling. "You figured it out."
"Your perception has a delay when motion changes mid-execution."
"Half a second," Elyrus confirmed. "The causal chain has to rewrite itself. Most people can't capitalize on it because they can't change direction that precisely. But you can."
"Because Lojun lets me recalculate momentum in real-time."
"Exactly." Elyrus extended his hand. "Well fought."
Cirel shook it. "You went easy on me."
"A little," Elyrus admitted. "But you're learning fast. Another few months, and I won't be able to."
From the observation deck, the Matriarch's voice carried across the arena:
"Excellent progress, both of you. Dismissed for morning training. Report to the tactical briefing room at midday."
The boys nodded and headed toward the exit.
As they walked, Elyrus spoke quietly:
"You're frustrated."
"I'm fine."
"You're lying again." Elyrus's tone was gentle, not mocking. "You beat me in sparring, but you're still frustrated because you can't understand how I see."
Cirel said nothing.
"You will," Elyrus continued. "Not soon. But one day. And when you do..."
He smiled.
"The world won't know what hit it."
---
[Tactical Briefing Room - Midday]
The chamber was austere: a circular table, holographic projectors, and walls lined with tactical displays showing maps of Veirra's continents.
The Matriarch stood at the head of the table. Beside her were three other figures:
Elder Torvax - Chief of External Relations, his expression grim.
Commander Sira - Head of Sensariel Security, her eyes sharp and calculating.
Archivist Kellan- Keeper of Clan Records, elderly and stooped but radiating quiet authority.
Cirel and Elyrus entered and took their seats.
"You summoned us," Cirel said.
The Matriarch nodded. "Recent intelligence suggests that word of your awakening has spread beyond our borders."
A holographic map materialized above the table, showing Veirra's major continents and the territories of the Thirteen Great Clans.
"Three clans have sent formal requests to observe your training," Elder Torvax said. "The Synapse Clan, the Ossarian Bone Lords, and the Circulit Blood Sovereigns."
"Requests," Commander Sira added coldly, "that are really demands veiled in diplomatic courtesy."
Cirel's Lojun analyzed the map, tracking territorial boundaries, population centers, military installations.
"They want to assess me," he said flatly.
"Both of you," the Matriarch corrected, glancing at Elyrus. "Cirel's Double Bloom has been confirmed and announced. But Elyrus... your classification remains ambiguous."
Elyrus tilted his head slightly. "And they want to see if I'm truly a Double Bloom as well?"
"Yes." Archivist Kellan's voice was measured. "Your awakening predates Cirel's by several months. But the Vale Clan never pushed for formal classification. Now, with Cirel setting the standard for what a Double Bloom represents, scholars are re-examining your case."
"So I'm a curiosity," Elyrus said without bitterness. "The boy who might have been first, but wasn't clear enough to matter."
"Until now," the Matriarch replied. "Now, every clan wants to know: are you a Double Bloom who preceded Cirel, or merely an extreme mutation?"
She leaned forward.
"And they've sent their heirs to find out."
The holograms shifted, displaying three faces:
---
[Profile One: Cadence Lumiere]
Age: 8 years old
Clan: Synapse × Sensariel (Hybrid)
Biological Systems: Nervous + Sensory
Divine Technique: Omnireading
Classification: A-Rank (Provisional)
Description: Cadence perceives all forms of communication—neural signals, emotional intent, environmental information, even the "language" of elemental forces. His hybrid lineage makes him exceptionally rare, and his DT allows him to intercept, interpret, and potentially control any transmitted information.
Threat Assessment: High. His perception operates on a different axis than yours—he reads meaning, not structure. Approach with caution.
---
[Profile Two: Kael Ossior]
Age: 9 years old
Clan: Ossarian Bone Lords
Biological System: Skeletal
Divine Technique: None (Single Bloom)
Classification: B-Rank (Provisional)
Description: Third son of the Bone Sovereign. Prodigy-level skeletal manipulation—capable of forging bone constructs with tensile strength exceeding steel. Known for aggressive combat style and clan pride. Lacks Divine Technique but compensates with brutal efficiency.
Threat Assessment: Moderate. Physically dangerous, but lacks metaphysical capabilities. Direct confrontation inadvisable without preparation.
---
[Profile Three: Serath Vellin]
Age: 8 years old
Clan: Circulit Blood Sovereigns
Biological System: Circulatory
Divine Technique: Crimson Weave
Classification: A-Rank (Provisional)
Description: Daughter of the Blood Matriarch. Awakened her DT at age six—among the youngest recorded Blooms in Circulit history. Capable of external blood manipulation, pressure control, and reportedly able to sense the "pulse" of living beings from great distances. Personality: calculating, observant, dangerous.
Threat Assessment: Very High. Her DT is combat-oriented and versatile. Avoid prolonged engagements.
---
The holograms faded.
Cirel absorbed the information silently.
Elyrus spoke first: "They're sending their best."
"Not their best," Commander Sira corrected. "Their successors. The ones who will lead their clans in the next generation. They want to see how you compare."
"And if we don't compare favorably?" Cirel asked.
The Matriarch's expression was unreadable. "Then they'll remember you as potential wasted. But if you do..."
She leaned forward.
"They'll remember you as a threat."
Silence filled the chamber.
Elder Torvax spoke: "The formal delegation arrives in three days. You will participate in a joint training exhibition—a demonstration of your capabilities before representatives of all three clans."
"And after the exhibition?" Cirel asked.
"Free combat trials," Commander Sira said. "Voluntary, but expected. The heirs will challenge you. You may accept or decline."
"But declining," the Matriarch added, "will be interpreted as weakness."
Cirel's hands rested on the table, fingers laced together.
"What do you want us to do?"
The Matriarch held his gaze.
"Show them why the Sensariel Clan does not fear comparisons."
---
[Three Days Later - Exhibition Arena]
The arena was massive—ten times larger than the training platform Cirel was used to. Tiered seating surrounded it on all sides, filled with dignitaries, clan representatives, and observers from across Veirra's political landscape.
In the VIP section sat three distinct groups:
The Synapse Delegation: Robed figures in deep violet, their expressions analytical, their eyes sharp.
The Ossarian Observers: Warriors clad in bone-plate armor, their presence radiating controlled violence.
The Circulit Envoys: Elegant figures in crimson, their posture regal, their gazes measuring.
And in the front row of each section sat the heirs:
Cadence Lumiere - calm, attentive, his eyes seeming to see through everything.
Kael Ossior - tense, eager, his fingers drumming against bone gauntlets.
Serath Vellin - still, composed, her expression unreadable.
Cirel stood in the arena's center, alone.
Elyrus waited in the wings—his turn would come later.
The Matriarch's voice echoed through the arena:
"Today, we present Cirel Nazrawre, heir of the Sensariel High Lineage. The first confirmed Double Bloom of the Divine Era. Bearer of Lojun—the Eyes of Physics. Wielder of Idle Rewrite—the Divine Technique of Transfiguration."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
In the Synapse section, one elder leaned toward another: "The Vale boy Bloomed months earlier, didn't he?"
"Unconfirmed classification," the other replied quietly. "His case was ambiguous—mutation and technique too intertwined. Nazrawre's awakening provided the clarity needed to define what a Double Bloom truly is."
"So in terms of chronology—"
"Irrelevant. Nazrawre is the standard. Everything else is measured against him now."
The Matriarch continued:
"For this exhibition, Cirel will demonstrate both his Biological System and his Divine Technique against a series of combat constructs. Observe."
The arena floor split open.
From below rose three constructs—sleek, humanoid, built from reinforced alloy and combat-grade actuators. Each one stood three meters tall, armed with energy blades and adaptive targeting systems.
Combat Constructs - Model VII
Threat Level: C-Rank equivalent
Specifications: Enhanced speed, predictive algorithms, adaptive combat response
The constructs activated, their optical sensors glowing red.
Cirel's Lojun flared.
Three targets. Distance: 30 meters, 35 meters, 28 meters. Mass: approximately 400kg each. Weapons: plasma-edged blades, reach 2.1 meters. Movement patterns: coordinated pack tactics. Threat assessment: manageable.
"Begin," the Matriarch commanded.
---
The constructs moved as one.
Approach velocity: 12 m/s. Formation: triangular pincer. Estimated contact: 2.4 seconds.
Cirel didn't move.
He watched them close the distance, his Lojun reading every variable:
Blade angles. Joint rotation. Energy distribution. Predictive algorithms calculating my most likely evasion patterns.
When they were five meters away, Cirel raised his right hand.
Idle Rewrite: Activate.
The air around the lead construct shimmered.
Gravity inverted.
The construct lurched upward violently, its momentum redirected skyward. It crashed into the arena's energy barrier thirty meters above, systems sparking.
The second construct adjusted instantly, pivoting to attack from a new angle.
Cirel transfigured friction beneath its feet.
The construct's legs slipped, balance algorithms failing as the ground became frictionless. It toppled, blades clattering against stone.
The third construct was smarter—it leaped, attacking from above to avoid ground-based transfigurations.
Aerial approach. Velocity: 15 m/s descending. Blade trajectory: overhead bisection.
Cirel waited until it was two meters away.
Then he transfigured air resistance.
The construct hit an invisible wall of compressed atmosphere—air molecules packed so densely they became nearly solid. Its momentum bled away in an instant, and it hung suspended in midair, struggling against physics itself.
Cirel walked past it calmly.
He flicked his wrist.
Gravity normalized. Friction returned. Air resistance released.
All three constructs crashed to the ground, deactivated by safety protocols.
Total elapsed time: 8.3 seconds.
The arena was silent.
Then applause—polite, measured, but genuine.
In the VIP section:
Cadence leaned forward, his eyes glowing faintly. "He didn't just defeat them. He rewrote the rules they operated under. Fascinating."
Kael grinned, knuckles cracking. "Tricks. Let's see how he does against something that can adapt."
Serath watched without expression, but her fingers tapped a slow rhythm against her armrest. "He wasted no motion. Every transfiguration was precise. Efficient. Terrifying."
---
The Matriarch's voice returned:
"Next demonstration: Elyrus Vale of the Sensariel Sister Clan—the Vale Branch. Bearer of Causal Perception. Wielder of Canvas of Casualty."
Elyrus stepped into the arena, his bandaged eyes somehow focused on the crowd.
Three new constructs rose from the floor—identical to the first set.
But these were different.
Combat Constructs - Model IX
Threat Level: B-Rank equivalent
Specifications: Adaptive learning algorithms, enhanced speed, anti-perception countermeasures
The constructs activated.
Elyrus tilted his head, as if listening.
"Begin."
---
The constructs attacked immediately—faster than before, more coordinated.
Elyrus didn't move.
The first construct swung its blade in a wide arc.
Elyrus stepped—not away, but into the swing's path.
The blade passed behind him, missing by a hair.
The second construct attacked simultaneously from the opposite side.
Elyrus shifted his weight forward—an awkward motion that should have left him vulnerable.
Both blades crossed in the space where he'd been, colliding with each other. The constructs' targeting systems faltered, recalculating.
The third construct leaped, attempting the same aerial strike Cirel had faced.
Elyrus didn't look up.
He simply walked three steps to the left.
The construct landed where he'd been, its blade embedding in stone.
"Interesting," Elyrus murmured.
Then he moved.
Not toward the constructs—*through* their attack patterns.
Every blade strike missed by the smallest margin. Every coordinated assault found only empty space. Elyrus moved with impossible confidence, his blind eyes somehow predicting every angle, every trajectory, every consequence.
But he didn't attack.
He just... existed in the spaces where harm couldn't reach him.
Until the constructs' algorithms began to overheat, unable to resolve why their predictive models kept failing.
Elyrus stopped in the center of the arena.
He raised one hand.
"Canvas of Casualty."
The words were soft, almost conversational.
Nothing visible changed.
No light. No energy field. No distortion in the air.
But Elyrus's posture shifted—head tilting slightly, as if observing something only he could see.
His hand moved—a short, precise strike through empty air.
Thirty meters away, the first construct's chest plate crumpled inward. Circuits sparked. Systems failed.
The crowd gasped.
Elyrus stepped left, his fingers tracing an invisible line through the space before him.
The second construct collapsed, servos locking as if crushed by phantom hands.
He pointed at nothing—just empty air to everyone watching.
The third construct's energy core destabilized, forcing emergency shutdown.
Total elapsed time: 12 seconds.
The arena was silent again.
But this time, the silence was different.
Not admiration.
Unease.
Because what Elyrus had done couldn't be explained by physics.
In the VIP section:
Cadence's eyes glowed brighter as he tried to read the information flow. "There's... nothing. No signal. No transmission. No communication between him and the targets."
Kael frowned, knuckles white. "Then how—"
"He's not attacking them," Serath interrupted, voice quiet but certain. "He's attacking something we can't see. Something that isn't here."
"Then where is it?" Kael demanded.
Cadence answered, his voice unsettled: "Somewhere we don't have eyes."
---
The Matriarch returned to the center of the arena.
"The exhibition is concluded. Both heirs have demonstrated mastery befitting their status. We now open the floor for formal challenges."
She paused.
"Any heir present may issue a challenge. Cirel and Elyrus may accept or decline at their discretion."
From the Ossarian section, Kael Ossior stood immediately.
"I challenge Cirel Nazrawre to single combat."
From the Circulit section, Serath Vellin rose gracefully.
"I challenge Elyrus Vale to single combat."
From the Synapse section, Cadence Lumiere stood last, his expression thoughtful.
"I challenge... both of them. Simultaneously."
The arena erupted in murmurs.
The Matriarch's eyebrow rose. "That is highly irregular."
"But not forbidden," Cadence replied, his voice carrying across the space. "I wish to see how they fight together. How their perceptions complement each other."
He smiled—polite, but there was steel beneath it.
"After all, that's the real question, isn't it? Not how strong they are individually... but whether physics and causality can truly unify their sight."
Cirel and Elyrus exchanged glances.
Elyrus spoke first: "I accept."
Cirel nodded. "As do I."
The Matriarch's lips curved into a small smile.
"Then let it be so. Tomorrow at dawn—joint combat trial. Cirel Nazrawre and Elyrus Vale versus Cadence Lumiere."
She looked at Kael and Serath.
"Your challenges will follow. Prepare accordingly."
---
[That Night - Cirel's Chamber]
Cirel sat cross-legged, his Lojun active, reviewing recordings of Cadence from the archives.
Age: 8. Biological Systems: Nervous + Sensory (Hybrid). Divine Technique: Omnireading.
The recordings showed brief demonstrations:
Cadence intercepting encrypted communications without devices.
Cadence "reading" the intent of attacking opponents before they moved.
Cadence disrupting enemy coordination by flooding their neural signals with conflicting information.
He doesn't just perceive communication. He controls it.
A knock on the door.
"Come in."
Elyrus entered, his steps confident despite the darkness.
"Reviewing our opponent?" he asked.
"Trying to." Cirel closed the recording. "His Divine Technique is... broad."
"Omnireading," Elyrus mused. "He perceives all forms of communication. Thoughts, signals, intent, even environmental messages."
"Can he read causality?"
"No." Elyrus shook his head. "Causality isn't communication—it's relationship. He sees the message, I see the consequence. Different layers."
"What about me?"
"You see the structure," Elyrus replied. "The laws that govern how messages travel, how consequences form, how reality operates."
He sat down across from Cirel.
"Three different perceptions. Tomorrow, we'll see which one sees deepest."
Cirel was quiet for a moment.
"We've never fought together. Not truly."
"No," Elyrus agreed. "But we've trained together for two months. You know how I move. I know how you think."
"Is that enough?"
Elyrus smiled. "We'll find out."
He stood to leave, then paused at the door.
"Cirel."
"Yes?"
"Tomorrow, when we fight Cadence... trust what you don't see."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll know when it happens."
And he left.
Cirel sat alone in the darkness, his Lojun deactivated for once.
Tomorrow, he would fight an heir who could read every signal, every intent, every thought.
Alongside a blind boy who could see consequences.
He closed his eyes.
And prepared for dawn.
---
[END OF CHAPTER X ]