Aris was not walking fast…
and he was not slow either.
His steps were measured, calm, as if each step was weighed before touching the ground. Since his new energy awakened, something in the way he moved had changed… he no longer moved like a child, but like a being that had begun to understand its weight in this world.
Ahead of him stretched the clan's training grounds for the first level.
Rows of similar stone rooms, lined up in a strict order that suggested discipline more than education. From the outside, those halls looked small… so small that Aris wondered if they were truly meant for combat training or just for basic exercises.
Before his question could fully form, the system's voice flowed into his awareness, cold as usual:
[Alert… spatial disturbance detected.]
[Analyzing… compression and distortion found in the spatial structure.]
[Most likely result: multiple subspaces.]
Aris did not stop walking, but something inside him became attentive.
Spatial distortion…
Even the term alone was enough to remind him again that he was no longer in a world ruled by simple laws.
He chose one of the halls. There was no clear reason for his choice… just a faint feeling pulling him toward it, the kind of instinct he had gained after two centuries of standing on the edges of death.
The moment he crossed the threshold—
the system said:
[The host has crossed the spatial distortion.]
[The host has entered a compressed spatial zone.]
Aris stopped for only one step.
Not because he felt something.
But because… he felt nothing at all.
No tearing in space.
No dizziness.
Not even a change in pressure.
And yet, when he lifted his head…
his eyes widened, if only for a fraction of a second.
The hall that had not exceeded a few meters from the outside now opened before him like land within land. A high ceiling lost in shadows, and spaces stretching in a way logic immediately rejected… but his eyes confirmed without argument.
The system muttered:
[Analysis complete.]
[Stable spatial distortion.]
[Result: expanded space.]
In this world…
even distances could lie.
Aris breathed slowly, then continued forward, his eyes scanning the place without haste.
Combat arenas.
Many of them.
Arranged with a precision that made chaos impossible.
Each arena was close to one hundred square meters, separated by transparent barriers that were almost invisible, yet carried a faint ripple in the air… as if space itself were stretched over them.
And in every arena—
two children.
Dueling.
There was no shouting.
No cheering.
No noise of friction.
Only muted strikes… and controlled breathing.
A trainer moved between the arenas with calm steps. He did not raise his voice and rarely interfered… yet simply passing near any arena was enough to change the rhythm of the fight, as if his presence alone were a hidden standard of perfection.
Aris stopped at the edge of one arena.
Inside him… a small smile.
He imagined he would see childish fighting.
Wide movements.
Blind rushing.
Serious mistakes.
But what he saw—
erased that smile before it was born.
One of the children moved.
A short step.
A limited turn.
A fist launched without warning.
The other avoided it with a shift no more than a few centimeters… and at the same moment, his leg slipped behind his opponent's ankle.
The first fell.
Before he could touch the ground—
a strike stopped at his throat.
The fight was over.
Two seconds… maybe less.
It was not the strength that was frightening.
It was… the absence of waste.
Aris felt something cold pass through his spine.
These were not children fighting like children.
They fought… like survivors.
His eyes moved from one arena to another, and the more he looked, the heavier that feeling became.
Reaction speeds that did not match bodies that had not fully grown.
Senses catching the smallest changes.
Instincts moving before thought.
For a brief moment—
a trace of an old memory returned to him… rows of elite soldiers, men who had spent their lives in wars.
He swallowed the thought immediately.
Then he whispered internally:
"This world truly… amazes me more every time."
Some children noticed him.
Their looks carried no mockery… no contempt.
Only pure surprise.
A five-year-old… inside a combat hall.
In the clan, this was a fact almost everyone knew; real training in spiritual energy did not begin before the age of seven. Even after that, most children spent years locked in foundation exercises, trying to build the dantian — the center without which combat had no meaning.
Three years… was a normal period.
Even geniuses could not escape the patience of foundation.
As for the arenas?
They were another world… usually not stepped into by anyone under ten.
So the looks did not last long.
After a few short moments, every child returned to their duel… as if Aris were nothing more than a passing ripple at the edge of vision.
Strange.
In other places, the presence of an exception would have been enough to stop everything.
But here—
exceptions meant nothing to anyone.
It seemed that when you started here and how you began truly meant nothing.
The only thing that mattered
was what you would become.
Aris felt something subtle tighten and then calm inside his chest.
Suddenly he remembered Elder Varin's words:
"A world that does not care about what you are now…"
"But about what you may become."
He did not know how much time passed while he watched, but suddenly—
he felt it.
A gaze.
Distant… but precise as a needle.
He did not need to search long.
The trainer.
He was standing by another arena, yet his attention rested on Aris with an uncomfortable steadiness… a steadiness that carried no hostility, no curiosity, but silent evaluation.
Before Aris could decide whether to approach him—
the man was in front of him.
No sound of steps.
No noticeable movement.
He was simply… far.
Then he was not.
Aris did not allow any surprise to show on his face, but his inner voice muttered slowly:
"This world… is truly insane."
"I don't think I will easily get used to the existence of beings like this."
The trainer looked at him without a word.
Calm eyes… calmer than they should be.
For a reason he could not explain, Aris felt that gaze did not stop at his skin… nor at his muscles… but penetrated deeper, passing through flesh and bone, continuing toward something he had always tried to hide.
His secrets.
His history.
That age that did not belong in a child's body.
For a second—
a dangerous feeling came over him.
As if the man was not looking at him…
but reading him.
A short silence passed.
Heavy.
Then Aris realized a cold truth that slipped into his awareness without permission:
In a place like this…
power might not be the first thing to be exposed.
But… the truth.
Aris muttered inside his mind, cursing:
"That terrifying gaze again… damn it, why do I feel every time like I am just an open book?"