1. Eyes in the Canopy
The Skimmer glided over a living ocean of green. The Vergo Region unfolded beneath them in waves of towering trees, luminous foliage, and flowing Flux lines that shimmered just below the visible spectrum. The air itself felt different—thick with quiet power, organized into subtle currents that brushed against Roy's SS-rank core like careful hands.
Taro checked the fading usefulness of the instruments. "We're past the point where tech really understands this place. From here on, it's mostly trust in Dreik's map and the Faelis tolerating our presence."
"The second part worries me more," Lyra muttered.
Roy stood at the front, fingers resting over the tuning band. It pulsed gently, warmth spreading up his arm. The core in his chest hummed back with an almost instinctive curiosity.
"Bring us lower," Jean said. "If they want to intercept us, give them the chance."
They didn't have to wait long.
Six figures emerged from the forest as if the trees themselves had decided to walk. They stood on a wide, living branch that curved up to meet the Skimmer's path. When Taro eased the craft into a hover and dropped the ramp, the team stepped out into Vergo air for the first time.
2. The Faelis Sentinels
The Faelis were exactly what Dr. Dreik had warned them about and nothing like Roy had imagined.
Six of them waited—lean, lithe silhouettes dressed in layered, flexible armor that flowed like cloth but moved like living bark. Their ears were tall and furred, twitching with every faint sound, and long, expressive tails flicked behind them, betraying mood more clearly than any facial tic.
At the center stood a female Faelis who drew every gaze without trying.
Her eyes were a deep, reflective gold, slitted like a predator's but softened by a strange, calm intelligence. Her hair fell in layered waves, the color of midnight with faint streaks of silver that caught the ambient Flux glow. Grace lived in every line of her body: shoulders relaxed yet ready, steps so silent the branch barely noticed her weight. Her skin held a subtle, warm tone that contrasted with the verdant environment, and her features balanced sharpness and softness—high cheekbones, a small, decisive mouth, and faint markings along her jaw that glowed when she moved.
When she spoke, her voice carried the smoothness of well-spoken words and the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed.
"You come from the Academy world," she said, eyes moving from Jean to Roy to the others. "You bring an unstable storm into our harmony."
Jean stepped forward, offering an open, non-hostile stance. "Jean Selvan. These are my companions—Lyra, Kira, Taro, and Roy Umbryon." She paused. "We request entry and guidance. We seek training, not conquest."
The Faelis woman's gaze settled on Roy. Her pupils narrowed, then widened slightly as she *felt* the SS-rank resonance. The tuning band on his wrist brightened in response, syncing with the ambient field.
"You carry a core that sings too loudly," she said. "I am Seris Ver'Lai, Sentinel of Vergo's outer field. These are my watchmates. You are allowed to stand on our branch. Whether you walk deeper is not yet decided."
3. Rules of Vergo
Six Faelis. Six sets of keen eyes, whisker-like sensory hairs, and twitching ears trained on the intruders. Roy had the uncomfortable feeling that every micro-flutter of his core was being cataloged in real-time.
"State your reason for coming," Seris said.
Roy stepped forward, feeling the weight of her attention. "My core advanced beyond human limits. The Academy fears it. The Cult of Vanes hunts it. Lord Arcel believes your people understand Fluxite in ways humans never did. We're here to learn how to control this power before it destroys more than enemies."
Seris's tail moved in a slow, thoughtful sway. "You seek to tune the storm without killing it."
"Yes," Roy answered simply.
Another Faelis, a male with darker fur at his ears and a scar across his nose, spoke up. "Your presence strains our lattice. Your SS-rank resonance tugs at every branch for leagues. Our defense fields do not tolerate Neutron corruption—or careless Pulsars."
Seris raised a hand, silencing him. She addressed the humans again.
"Vergo has rules," she said. "You walk under our protection only if you accept them."
Kira nodded curtly. "Name them."
"First," Seris said, "no uncontrolled resonance. You will not unleash your full core within our fields. If the tuning band bites, you stop. If it burns, you kneel. If it scars you, you leave."
Roy felt the band pulse, as if agreeing.
"Second, no weapon raised in hunger," she continued. "You do not hunt our beasts, challenge our scouts, or test your strength on our home. Training is for control, not ego."
Lyra gave a small, respectful bow. "Understood."
"Third," Seris said, eyes narrowing slightly, "you speak truth to our elders. Lies fracture fields. We feel fractures."
Jean met her gaze. "Then we will tell them everything."
Seris studied them for a long heartbeat, nose lifting just slightly, as if scenting more than the air. Finally, she turned and gestured deeper into the forest.
"Walk with us," she said. "The Elders of Vergo will decide if your storm is worth the risk."
None of them noticed the small flutter of shadow that clung to the underside of the Skimmer's hull—an unseen presence slipping from metal to bark, moving with patient, predatory care. Someone else had followed them into Vergo, wrapped in darkness that did not belong to this forest.
4. Toward the Heart of Vergo
They walked along living bridges—thick branches woven and reinforced by both nature and Faelis craft. The settlement revealed itself gradually: platforms wrapped around colossal trunks, soft lights grown rather than built, threads of Flux woven through leaves, forming subtle, humming patterns.
As they walked, conversation began—careful, probing.
Lyra glanced at Seris. "So, Sentinel, do we pass the first impression test?"
Seris's ear twitched, the faintest hint of amusement crossing her eyes. "You step lightly for outsiders. Your water core hums in tune with the Vergo flows. That helps."
She looked to Kira. "You carry earth in your shield. Stable. Heavy. Our branches like that."
Kira inclined her head. "I was taught that a shield is not just defense. It's a promise."
"A good promise," Seris replied quietly.
Taro, unable to hold back, gestured at the luminous patterns along the bark. "You use ambient Flux as a constant tuning net, don't you? The whole settlement is a stabilizer."
Seris gave him a sidelong look. "You see more than most. Yes. Vergo is not just home. Vergo is our instrument. It plays with us. It listens."
Roy walked beside them, silent, feeling the way the forest reacted to his presence. Every time his core fluttered, the tuning band and nearby leaves vibrated in synchrony, as if reminding him that he was not the center of this system—just a disruptive guest.
Behind them, in the deeper shadows between platforms, something moved where no Faelis walked—sliding from dark patch to dark patch, listening.
5. The Elders of Vergo
They arrived at a vast central platform carved into the base of a massive tree whose trunk was so wide it could have held an entire Academy courtyard. At its heart, a low, circular hall glowed with soft, pulsing light.
Seris led them inside.
Three Elders waited—Faelis older than Roy thought possible, their fur threaded with silver, eyes clouded only in color, not sharpness. Their bodies were more still, but the air around them hummed with intense, disciplined resonance.
The First Elder, a male with long, braided hair and deep green markings on his cheeks, spoke first. "You carry Dreik's pattern," he said, gaze on Taro's data slate and Roy's tuning band. "And something far more dangerous."
Jean bowed. "We come on Dreik's word. He said you once taught him to listen to the core instead of force it."
The Second Elder, a female whose tail barely moved but whose eyes missed nothing, regarded Roy. "You are the SS-rank Pulsar the currents whispered about."
Roy didn't try to downplay it. "Yes."
"Explain," the Third Elder said—a lean, intense Faelis with sharp features and a faint, almost imperceptible tension in his posture. His eyes lingered longer on Roy than on the others, unreadable. This was the Third Elder, the one whose ambitions no one yet saw clearly.
Jean and Roy did not hold back.
They spoke of the Cult of Vanes: of the Wretch, of Neutron-corrupted armor, of the ambush in the Dead Zone. They described the illegal tech on the road, the Vanes symbol etched into stolen devices, the way the cult was arming bandits and destabilizing travel routes.
"The Vanes are not just fanatics," Kira added. "They're building an underground supply chain. Chaos is their training ground."
Taro projected a brief, simplified resonance chart. "Roy's core surged to 3.0 in a combat spike. That's beyond safe human regulation. If we don't learn to tune it, it becomes a contagion of destruction."
The First Elder listened, whiskers still. "You come because your world cannot contain what you have become."
"We come," Roy said, "because if we don't learn control, the Vanes will shape the future using my power or something worse."
The Second Elder's gaze softened slightly. "Humans chase strength. You speak of control. That is… less foolish."
The Third Elder's eyes flicked to the side for a heartbeat, masking something like irritation. "The Vanes hunt legendary cores. Bringing such a core here invites their gaze on Vergo."
Seris spoke from behind Roy. "They were already hunting this one. If he falls, the Vanes grow stronger. If he learns, the Vanes face resistance they do not understand."
Silence stretched. Ambient Flux in the hall thrummed with quiet, almost musical pressure.
Finally, the First Elder inclined his head. "You may train under Vergo's rules. Five days. We will see if the storm can learn to whisper."
Roy bowed deeply. "Thank you."
In the shadows near the hall's edge, a pair of eyes watched and then slipped away, unseen. The Dark that followed them into Vergo had found something interesting.
6. The Tuning of a Storm
Training under the Faelis was nothing like Academy drills.
On the first day, they brought Roy to a clearing where luminous vines hung in still air, each one linked to a different resonance thread. Seris stood beside him.
"This is the Quiet Lattice," she said. "You will walk through it without moving a single vine."
Roy frowned. "With my core? That's—"
"Difficult," she finished. "Good."
He stepped forward. Every breath, every spike of tension, every stray thought made the vines shiver. The tuning band burned when his resonance flared, forcing him to adjust, to slow, to *feel* the impact of his presence on everything around him.
On another platform, Jean and Kira trained with Faelis shield-weavers. They learned how to redistribute incoming Flux instead of simply blocking it—how to turn Roy's accidental spikes into redirected flows that bled safely into Vergo's lattice, not into explosive blasts.
Lyra worked with agile Faelis scouts, practicing micro-movement patterns that made her water-based attacks almost invisible to standard Puls senses. She learned to strike in ways that did not disturb the ambient field—a technique that would one day make her a nightmare for Vanes scouts.
Taro spent hours with Faelis analysts around a living Flux pool, watching how their readings mapped emotional state, intent, and environmental interaction—not just numbers. He began to integrate their harmonic models into his own calculations.
Each night, Roy collapsed into sleep feeling the core slightly less wild, slightly more attuned—but never tame. The tuning band was his constant teacher, punishing every attempt at raw, unshaped power.
7. Cracks in the Harmony
On the fifth night, the Vergo field trembled.
Roy woke to a sharp pulse through the tuning band and a distant, animalistic cry cut off too quickly. Outside the guest platform, Faelis were already moving—silent but fast, ears alert, tails rigid with alarm.
Seris met them as they armed themselves. "Something breached the outer lattice," she said. "We detected Neutron signatures."
Taro froze. "Neutrons? Here? But your field—"
"Our field rejects them," Seris said, eyes hard. "None have set foot in Vergo in generations. Yet our scouts report corrupted pulses. Something is wrong."
They moved as a group toward the disturbance.
In a lower grove, they found the aftermath: twisted, mutated Neutron creatures crumpled against trees that still hummed with defensive resonance. The beasts were dead or dying, their corruption held at bay but not fully dissolved.
"These things shouldn't have made it past your boundaries," Kira said, shield half-raised.
"They did not," the Second Elder answered, arriving with a group of Faelis guardians. "They appeared inside."
Roy felt a chill unrelated to Flux. "Then someone helped them in."
Whispers started among the Faelis. Suspicion, quiet but sharp, threaded the air.
The First Elder's gaze swept the gathered crowd. "Vergo has no natural Neutron breach. This is sabotage."
The Third Elder stepped forward, posture controlled. "We should consider that outsiders arrived just before the breach," he said calmly. "Their enemies use Neutrons as tools. Cause and effect."
Jean bristled. "We were under your eyes the entire time. If we wanted to bring Neutrons, we would not risk your wrath by doing it this way."
Seris's tail lashed once. "Enough. Blame without proof fractures trust."
But the seed of doubt had been planted—by design.
8. The Traitor Revealed
Investigation began immediately.
Taro and Faelis analysts traced resonance signatures back through the lattice, searching for the point of entry. The Elders reviewed patrol logs, field tension readings, and core fluctuations.
The pattern that emerged was subtle—but real.
"There," Taro pointed at a layered chart, standing beside the First and Second Elders. "The Neutron pulses match a blind spot in the inner field. Someone lowered the barrier from inside. Briefly. Precisely."
The First Elder's expression darkened. "Only those with lattice access could do this."
Seris looked troubled. "Only the Elders and a few fieldmasters hold that level of control."
When they cross-referenced timing and access signatures, the truth pointed in a direction no one wanted.
The Third Elder's field codes matched the lowered barrier.
A confrontation followed on one of the main platforms, under a sky thick with humming Flux.
The First Elder faced him, grief and anger mingling in his eyes. "You opened Vergo to Neutron corruption."
The Third Elder's ears flattened slightly, but he did not look away. "I opened Vergo to necessity."
Roy's core throbbed uneasily. "The Vanes got to you."
The Third Elder smiled—a sharp, thin expression. "The Academy world burns in slow motion. Your leaders hoard power, your cults chase legends. Vergo sits above it all, pretending neutrality will save it forever."
From the shadows at the edge of the platform, a presence unfolded.
Umbryon energy, but colder and older, spread like a stain. A figure stepped into view—tall, wrapped in layered dark armor that seemed to drink light, eyes gleaming with a deep, predatory void.
The air itself recoiled.
Seris hissed, claws sliding out. "You brought an outsider general into our heart."
The Third Elder bowed his head slightly toward the dark figure. "I brought evolution."
Roy felt the SS-rank core respond instinctively to the aura—a recognition of kinship twisted sideways.
Taro whispered, "Umbryon signature… massive. This isn't a lieutenant."
Jean's flames flickered to life. "Name yourself."
The figure's voice was smooth, edged with lethality. "Zorga," he said. "Umbryon wielder. One of the Seven Generals of the Vanes."
Roy's hand tightened on his Shadow blades. This was the first time he had seen one of the true architects of the chaos tearing the world apart.
9. Escape into Deeper Shadow
Faelis guardians surged forward, resonance weaving into defensive patterns, but Zorga moved through the field like someone who had been studying it for years. His Umbryon energy slipped between stabilizing lines, brushing them without shattering—yet.
"You were warned," the First Elder said to the Third. "Vergo does not trade safety for power."
"You cling to old balance while the world shifts," the Third Elder replied, stepping closer to Zorga. "You would have let this chance pass. I will not."
Jean's voice cut through the charged air. "You won't use Vergo as your battleground."
Zorga regarded Roy with cool interest. "SS-rank Fluxite. The rumors undersold you." His gaze flicked to the tuning band. "And you seek training instead of thrones. Interesting."
Before anyone could close in, Umbryon shadows rose at Zorga's feet, swirling like sentient smoke. They wrapped around the Third Elder and their would-be captors alike, disrupting the immediate lattice just enough.
Seris lunged, claws and speed blurring, but her strike cut only fading shadow. Kira's shield slammed into empty air, Lyra's water blades carving through the last of the dark veil.
When the vortex cleared, Zorga and the Third Elder were gone—slipped through a tear of carefully shaped darkness that did not belong to Vergo's natural patterns.
The Vergo lattice rippled, then stabilized with a pained shudder.
The First Elder's shoulders sagged. "Our own council used against us."
Roy stared at the place where Zorga had stood, the SS-rank core in his chest burning with a new, sharper awareness.
"The Vanes have eyes everywhere," he said quietly. "Even here."
Seris's jaw was clenched, eyes hard. "We trained you to hear the field. Now you must help us defend it. The storm you carry just became more necessary than ever."
The tuning band pulsed with the forest's strain—no longer just a teacher, but a reminder that the harmony Roy had come to learn was already under siege from within and without.
And somewhere in the distance, deep within shadow and corrupted currents, Zorga and the fallen Third Elder vanished into the dark, threads of their plan tightening around Vergo and the world beyond.