As Benjamin sat at the desk, soaking in the warmth of the sunlight and the sounds of the bustling city outside, a soft purring drew his attention. He turned his head toward the window and froze. Sitting on the ledge, its black fur glinting faintly in the sunlight, was a cat—or so he thought at first.
Its sleek black coat was interrupted by a single white spot on its right eye, unmistakable. Benjamin's breath caught. It was the same animal that had saved him the night before, the one whose fierce attack had turned the tide when he was about to be beaten senseless.
"You're back," he said softly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He extended a hand cautiously. The creature regarded him for a moment, its golden eyes narrowing slightly, before leaping gracefully onto the desk. It walked toward him with the air of a royal inspecting its subject, tail flicking lazily behind it.
Benjamin chuckled, feeling oddly comforted by its presence. "You really know how to make an entrance, don't you?"
The cat—or rather, what he thought was a cat—strode past him and hopped onto the bed, curling up in a spot that wasn't soaked in blood or sweat. It stretched luxuriously, purring as if it owned the room.
---
It was only as he got a closer look that Benjamin realized something was off. The creature's fur shimmered slightly in the sunlight, and its body seemed more streamlined than any cat he'd seen back on Earth. Its long, bushy tail twitched with an almost liquid grace, and its paws, though delicate, had subtle webbing between the toes.
His old-world instincts had tricked him into assuming it was a cat, but the books he'd absorbed hinted at something else entirely. He leaned forward, studying it carefully, and recognition clicked in his mind.
Attush, he thought, the word surfacing from the depths of his subconscious. These creatures resembled cats but were far more than they appeared. The fur on their bodies could transform into protective scales, allowing them to move seamlessly between land and water. When swimming, their bushy tails would elongate and split into a fish-like fin, and their legs would become sleek and amphibious, with pinna-like structures to propel them through water.
Benjamin marveled at the creature. Its movements were fluid, almost unnaturally so, and its golden eyes had an intelligence behind them that he couldn't ignore. It wasn't just a beast—it was something more, something native to Khial's unique natural laws.
"Well, you're full of surprises," he said, sitting back in his chair. The Attush ignored him, curling into a ball and letting out a contented sigh as it nestled into the bed.
---
Benjamin stood, stretching out his sore limbs. The Attush cracked open one eye to watch him but made no move to follow as he walked to the door.
"You're welcome to stay," he said, glancing back at the creature. "Just don't tear the place apart, alright?"
The Attush let out a low, almost dismissive purr, its tail flicking once as if to say, This is my space now.
Benjamin shook his head, smirking to himself as he left the room, closing the door behind him. The creature had saved his life, and now it had taken up residence in his room. He didn't mind. For the first time since arriving in Khial, he felt like he had an ally—even if it was a mysterious, semi-aquatic pseudo-cat with an attitude.
--
Benjamin stepped out of the inn into the lively streets of Hukuma. The scent of baked goods and the sound of merchants hawking their wares filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the previous night. As he glanced back toward the inn, he noticed Zifa wasn't there. Likely out running errands, he thought, while others—probably family members—handled the bustling activity inside.
The thought of thanking her lingered in his mind, but for now, he had another destination: the library and the promises made by Kareya.
---
When Benjamin entered the library, Kareya looked up from her desk, her sharp eyes immediately narrowing as she took in his appearance. Though he had cleaned himself up, his lingering bruises and pale complexion betrayed the severity of the previous night.
"You look terrible," she said bluntly, standing from her chair and walking around the desk. "What happened?"
Benjamin hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Let's just say... I learned the streets here aren't as safe as they seem."
Kareya's expression hardened. "You're not from a city, are you?" She shook her head, already answering her own question. "Come here."
She reached out, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. Benjamin flinched slightly at the unexpected contact, but before he could say anything, a warm sensation spread through him. Her hand glowed faintly, a soft green light emanating from her palm as a rush of vitality surged through his body.
"This is the Law of Life," Kareya said, her voice calm but firm. "It's not just for healing wounds. It connects us to the essence of living things, understanding them, restoring them."
Benjamin felt the pain in his body melt away, his bruises fading as strength returned to his limbs. The feverish haze that had clung to him dissipated, leaving his mind clearer than it had been in days.
"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Kareya asked, her tone a mix of irritation and genuine concern. "If you're so determined to join the Academy, you can't go around getting yourself half-killed."
"I didn't plan on it," Benjamin replied, managing a faint smile. "It just... happened."
She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze pinning him in place. "What exactly happened?"
---
Benjamin hesitated. The memory of the alley was still raw, but he could tell from her expression that she wasn't going to let it go. Reluctantly, he recounted the events—the men in the alley, the couple, the Attush, and his eventual escape. He left out the part about the cat's strange reaction, not wanting to sound delusional.
By the time he finished, Kareya's expression had shifted to something more somber. "You're reckless," she said, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. "But... it's admirable. Stupid, but admirable."
"I didn't have a choice," Benjamin said, his tone firm. "I couldn't just walk away."
For a moment, Kareya said nothing, her gaze distant. Finally, she sighed. "I shouldn't have sent you off with nothing but books and questions. You're clearly resourceful, but resourcefulness alone won't get you into the Academy. Or keep you alive."
Benjamin blinked, surprised by the admission. "Does this mean you're going to help me?"
Kareya fixed him with a piercing look. "I wasn't sure about you before. But after hearing this, I can't ignore the fact that you've got potential. You're rough, unpolished, but you've got something worth refining."
---
Benjamin relaxed slightly, though he knew he had to tread carefully. His lack of a mentor or connections to the Sages was a glaring issue. If he wasn't careful, it could raise more questions than he wanted to answer.
"I'm from a small village," Benjamin began, crafting his story carefully. "We didn't have Sages, just stories about them. My parents... they noticed I had a knack for memorization, for understanding things quickly. They thought it was worth taking the risk, sending me here to try my luck."
Kareya arched a brow. "No mentors, no connections? Just raw talent?"
Benjamin nodded. "That's all I have to offer. But I've come this far, and I don't plan on wasting the opportunity."
For a moment, Kareya seemed unconvinced, but she finally nodded. "It's rare, but not impossible. We've had candidates like you before—those from nowhere who make something of themselves. Let's see if you're one of them."
---
She led him to a room at the back of the library. Unlike the dim, book-filled halls, this space was wide, open, and well-lit. The wooden floor gleamed, polished to a sheen, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air.
"This is where we test practical skills," Kareya said, gesturing to the empty space. "It's clean, controlled. You'll find no distractions here—just you and the natural laws."
Benjamin swallowed hard, his gaze scanning the room. The quiet air seemed heavy with expectation, and he could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
"Now," Kareya said, her tone sharp as ever, "show me what you can do."
--
Kareya gestured for Benjamin to sit in the center of the room. Her movements were deliberate, calm, but her sharp gaze betrayed a flicker of curiosity and determination. As he lowered himself onto the polished wooden floor, she walked around him, her hands clasped behind her back, as though assessing the very air around him.
"This process has been refined for centuries," she began, her tone measured but firm. "The first Sages had to carve their connections to the natural laws through sheer force of will. Now, we can guide the soul to its resonance point much more efficiently."
Benjamin nodded, keeping his breathing steady. He didn't know what to expect, but the gravity of her words made him uneasy. The memory fragments from the books he'd absorbed hinted at this practice, but they hadn't prepared him for what it might feel like.
"Relax," Kareya said, moving to stand behind him. "This will only work if you let me guide your soul. Don't resist. Just let it happen."
She placed a firm but steady hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. Benjamin felt an immediate warmth spread from her palm, followed by a faint hum deep within his chest. It wasn't painful, but it was alien—a sensation that felt like someone tapping on a locked door inside him, waiting for an answer.
Kareya closed her eyes, focusing intently as the air in the room seemed to shift. It was subtle at first, like the faint stirrings of a breeze, but soon Benjamin could feel the space around him vibrating, humming with an unseen energy.
---
She began to speak softly, her voice steady and rhythmic, a chant-like cadence that resonated with the vibrations in the room. Benjamin couldn't make out the words, but they seemed to stir something inside him.
"The soul is the anchor," she murmured, half to herself. "It reaches for what it belongs to. Every Sage is a thread in the tapestry of this world."
But as Kareya delved deeper, her brow furrowed. The hum in the room faltered, the resonance wavering like a plucked string that refused to hold a note.
"There's nothing," she whispered, her voice edged with disbelief.
She pushed harder, her energy focusing more intently on Benjamin's soul. She was a master of this process—her ability to draw out resonance had shaped hundreds of pupils into accomplished Sages. Yet, with Benjamin, every attempt seemed to slide off into nothingness.
"There's... no connection," she said, her voice low and almost stunned. "No resonance. Nothing."
---
Benjamin, his eyes closed, could feel her frustration mounting behind him. The warmth from her hand grew hotter, her chant more insistent, as if she were trying to force a door open that simply didn't exist.
"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice strained.
Kareya didn't answer immediately. She withdrew her hand briefly, pacing behind him, before placing it back with renewed determination.
"It doesn't make sense," she muttered. "Every soul has a resonance. It's the very fabric of our connection to Khial. Even those with weak affinities are still tied to this world. But you…" She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly, "you're untethered."
Benjamin's chest tightened at her words. He didn't need to absorb another book to understand what she meant. His theory—that his soul, foreign to this world, might not connect with its natural laws—was being confirmed.
"What about the Law of Life?" he asked, grasping at straws. "You healed me earlier. Maybe that's something?"
Kareya shook her head, though he couldn't see it. "The Law of Life reacted to me, not you. I stirred a faint echo in your soul when I healed you, but it's nothing more than residual energy."
---
Hours passed as Kareya continued her attempts, refusing to give up. She guided him through breathing exercises, chanted in different patterns, and even drew symbols of resonance on the floor around him. Still, the results were the same: nothing.
Her frustration was palpable, but so was her resolve. Benjamin could feel it in her touch, in the sharpness of her voice as she muttered to herself, trying to figure out what was happening.
"Why won't it work?" she said under her breath, her tone almost desperate.
Benjamin finally opened his eyes, breaking the silence. "Maybe it's not going to. Maybe I'm... different."
Kareya stepped back, folding her arms as she regarded him with a mix of frustration and something else—pity, perhaps, but also an unspoken determination.
"You are different," she said finally, her voice softer but still firm. "But that doesn't mean you're hopeless. There has to be a way to connect you to this world. I've never failed a pupil before, and I won't start now."
Benjamin looked up at her, seeing not just a teacher but someone who had decided to fight for him. The weight of her words settled heavily in his chest, but for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt a flicker of hope.
"If anyone can figure it out," Kareya said, more to herself than to him, "it will be me."