Tom was leaning heavily against the ancient oak, his body slick with sweat, his eyes still stinging from the last forced deactivation of the Hunter's Eye. He had spent his entire Essence reserve on the previous two tests, and his Core, the tiny spark of his newfound power, felt like a dying ember. The final test required him to push past this physical and energetic exhaustion.
"Alright, Tom, this is the final exercise for today. And it's the most important for survival," Lillia said, walking toward a small, clear patch of earth. "The Holy Kingdom of Ark won't send just men; they'll send Essence Constructs—warriors or monsters created purely out of concentrated Essence. To beat them, you need to find their Core, their Weakness Nexus."
She gestured to herself. "As a Milli, my unique Essence Discipline is Self-Replication. I can create one perfect clone of myself. The clone is an exact physical match, it retains my speed, and it is governed by a small, independent Essence core that I project. It's the closest thing I can provide to an Essence Construct for you to analyze."
Tom's eyes narrowed, his analytical mind snapping to full attention, overriding the biological distress. "A projected core. If the clone has an independent Essence Signature, I must distinguish the true core from the false one. The Weakness Highlighting function should identify the primary, true nexus of power, while the clone's nexus will appear secondary, or 'echoed.'"
"Precisely! Now, the clone and I are going to move. You must use the Hunter's Eye to distinguish the real Lillia from the fake Lillia. Once you identify the real me, you must call out my name and tell me my 'weakness'—or rather, the point of maximum Essence flow you can perceive in my true self. If you guess wrong, you fail the test. If you maintain the Eye for too long, you risk collapsing entirely."
Lillia took five steps back, closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then a ripple of brilliant green Essence flowed away from her. A sudden, precise copy of Lillia appeared beside her—identical in every way, down to the set of the bow resting on her hip. Both women were now radiating the same strong, verdant Aura Tracing signature.
"Ready, Dr. Smith?" both Lillias asked in perfect unison, their cheerful voices echoing, the effect unsettling even for Tom.
Tom knew he had to initiate the process now, forcing his spent Core to yield one last burst of energy. He activated the Hunter's Eye. The pressure was already immense from the previous strain, compounded by the deficit in his Essence reserves. He had pushed his body past the limit of three minutes, and he was now in uncharted territory.
Two glowing green signatures danced before him. He attempted to activate the Weakness Highlighting function on the Lillia to his left, but the signal was immediate and incoherent—the yellow overlay identifying dozens of potential points: joints, arteries, major muscle groups.
"Inconsistent data," Tom thought, the voice in his head strained. "The clone is structurally too close to the original. I am highlighting physical vulnerabilities, not the energetic source. I must trace the Core's origin point."
He switched his focus to the Lillia on the right. He drew Essence through the "fine wire" method, stabilizing the connection and running a deeper energy trace, trying to find the source of the energy, not its vessel. He began to perceive a subtle, critical difference: the right Lillia's Essence signature was brighter, deeper, and, most importantly, had a continuous, stable anchor point that radiated outwards. The left Lillia's signature, though intense, was flickering, a beautiful but fundamentally unstable reflection of the right—an Essence Echo.
Real vs. Echo. Stability differential is the key discriminator.
He forced the Hunter's Eye to push the Weakness Highlighting past the physical points, demanding it isolate the highest-density, self-sustaining Essence nexus. He needed the true, original Essence Core. The headache was searing now, a white-hot agony threatening to overwhelm his focus and consciousness.
He located the point: a spot just beneath the right Lillia's sternum, the precise location of the Essence Core. A focused, brilliant gold overlay—the sign of a central, true weakness or source—flared for a split second, cutting through all the distracting yellow lines and the throbbing blue background. This was the target, the vital anchor of her power.
"Lillia!" Tom yelled, his voice strained and ragged from the immense mental effort. "The real Lillia is on the right! The nexus point is beneath your sternum, the Core—the primary source of the Essence flow!"
The Lillia on the left instantly dissolved into a shimmer of green light, leaving only a fading residue on the forest floor, confirming the identification of the clone.
The true Lillia rushed forward, her face full of pride and concern. "Perfect, Tom! Absolutely perfect! That gold overlay is rare for a first activation of the highlighting function. You've used pure deduction to fuel the ability, not just brute Essence. Your analytical mind makes this ability terrifyingly efficient."
Tom stumbled, his glasses clouding over as the world began to spin uncontrollably. The cost of maintaining the Eye through the three intense exercises had finally pushed him past the critical limit. His Essence Core sputtered, and his body gave way. Lillia caught him as his vision went completely black, the silent, overwhelming pain finally forcing him into immediate unconsciousness.
Tom awoke moments later, propped against the great oak, the cool, gentle sensation of Lillia holding a damp, cold compress to his forehead a welcome relief.
"The whiplash was severe, Dr. Smith," Lillia said, her voice now appropriately low and concerned. "You suffered temporary cortical Essence depletion. Your body registered it as a critical failure. Don't try that again until your Essence capacity improves and your Core stabilizes."
"Noted," Tom managed, his voice hoarse, though his mind was already recovering. "The key differential was the signature stability. The clone's signature was a perfect mirror, but its Essence anchor was fundamentally unstable. The highlighting function correctly identified the original source, validating the Core's integrity and my hypothesis on Essence stability."
Lillia nodded, impressed by his immediate, lucid analysis. "You see the Essence ability not as magic, but as measurable physics. That is why you are quick to adapt, and why you will survive. You know how the machine works, and that gives you an edge over the Ark forces who rely on blind faith and brute power."
She looked toward the distant ramparts of the Fortress of Avalon, her features darkening with strategic concern. "The Holy Kingdom of Ark are led by highly Ranked individuals—Transcended and higher. They don't really show themselves unless they are facing a foe of a similar strength to theirs. They mostly rely on their foot soldiers: Rift-Born and Essence Constructs—low-Rank entities that you can counter."
She handed him his spectacles. "Your training is done for today. Your Essence reserves are depleted. But remember this, Tom. You have the Eye. Use the Aura Tracing to track their movements, use the Weakness Highlighting to find the Core of the Essence Construct, and strike there. That is how we survive ."
Tom stood, feeling the weight of the scar on his cheek and the silver watch on his wrist—the only reminders of Earth 313. He was no longer just a researcher; he was a weapon, calibrated by C.A.R.C. and empowered by the cosmos. The analytical detachment remained, but it was now overlaid with a cold, clear, deadly purpose.
"Understood, Lillia," Tom said, his composure fully restored. "I have enough data for a preliminary combat algorithm. When does the siege of Avalon begin?"
Lillia gave him a grim but determined look. "Soon, Tom. Very soon. But until then, keep training your ability. Rest and replenishment are now your most critical functions."
With that, she turned and, with a subtle shimmer, unfolded her magnificent, silvery wings, rising just high enough to clear the tree line before gliding back toward the fortress walls, leaving Tom alone with the heavy scent of Essence and the distant, thunderous promise of war.
He stood there for several minutes, staring at the faint silver trace of her flight. The Fortress of Avalon, the Tomes, the shattered Gods, the consumed Earth—it was a reality that dwarfed anything his old life had prepared him for. He was a scientist without a lab, a researcher without a budget, and a survivor with a debt to a world that had devoured his own. He adjusted his glasses, turning his back on the woods and beginning the methodical walk back to the fortress. His life was now defined by survival, Essence, and the immediate imperative to Ascend. There was no tutorial, no reset button, only the brutal, unfiltered reality of the First Realm.