Realising he was dead
Lys asked the dragon" so how can I get back"
"You would need to learn the true meaning of aetherium" the dragon said.
Not violently.
Deliberately.
The Shin Dragon's coils rearranged, forming vast circular paths—like diagrams drawn with continents. Symbols surfaced in the air, not sigils, but principles.
"You cannot use Aetherium," the Shin Dragon said.
"But you may learn what it truly is."
Lys looked down at his hands.
They were empty.
No glow. No claws. No pulse.
"I had it," he said. "I fought with it. I—"
"You borrowed it," the Shin Dragon interrupted.
"So do the Eclipse.
So do the incarnations.
So does GAPA, blindly."
The Shin Dragon lowered its head until its eyes filled the horizon.
"Aetherium is not energy," it said.
The word energy shattered into fragments.
"It is permission."
The space around Lys folded—not attacking, not crushing—revealing. Threads appeared everywhere, flowing through reality, through time, through death itself.
"This is what the Eclipse exploit," the Shin Dragon continued.
"They do not generate power. They overwrite resistance."
Lys felt it then—not strength, but alignment.
"When you breathed green fire," the Shin Dragon said, "you were forcing permission."
"That's why it hurt," Lys whispered.
"Yes."
The Shin Dragon's presence shifted.
"Watch."
A vision unfolded.
An Eclipse advanced—but instead of attacking, it waited. Reality bent around it naturally, effortlessly.
"No strain," the Shin Dragon said.
"No recoil."
The vision dissolved.
"You will not learn to be stronger here," it said.
"You will learn to be correct."
Training One — Stillness
Lys was placed at the center of the scale-sea.
"Do nothing," the Shin Dragon commanded.
Time passed—or didn't.
Lys felt impulses rise and fall. The instinct to react. To correct. To fight.
Each time, the Shin Dragon spoke only once:
"Incorrect."
Eventually, the impulses faded.
For the first time since gaining power, Lys existed without pushing against the world
The Shin Dragon nodded.
"You have stopped demanding Aetherium respond."
Training Two — Recognition
Threads of Aetherium flowed past Lys.
"Do not touch them," the Shin Dragon said.
"Name them."
Lys watched.
Some threads pulsed violently—Eclipse-aligned.
Others were rigid—GAPA's forced synchronization.
A few were clean, balanced—incarnations like Valerius.
And then—
One thread coiled inward on itself, looping endlessly.
Time.
Lys's awareness sharpened.
"That one is wrong," he said.
The Shin Dragon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Good."
Training Three — Authority
The Shin Dragon extended a single claw—not toward Lys, but toward reality itself.
"Authority over Aetherium does not come from power," it said.
"It comes from belonging."
The claw passed through Lys.
Nothing happened.
Then—quietly—the Aetherium threads around him stilled.
Not obeying.
Acknowledging.
Lys felt it settle into him—not usable, not weaponized.
But known.
"You will never wield Aetherium again," the Shin Dragon said.
"But if you had known this in life…"
The sentence was left unfinished.
The domain stabilized once more.
Lys stood unchanged.
And yet—
He now understood why the Eclipse adapted.
Why GAPA failed.
Why Valerius survived.
And why the Shin Dragon waited where it did.
"Why teach me this," Lys asked, "if I can never act on it?"
The Shin Dragon's gaze turned distant.
"Because knowledge does not vanish when you do," it said.
"And the world is not finished making mistakes."
Lys returned to stillness.
Watching.
Learning.
No longer powerless—
Just unable to interfere.