The training hall smelled of scorched metal and sweat. Orion stood before Varun, his breath heavy from the last sparring session. The older warrior wiped his face with a cloth before tossing it aside, his obsidian blade resting against the wall.
"You've been asking about Hekatrya," Varun said, breaking the silence. His tone wasn't harsh, but there was a weight to it.
Orion nodded, still catching his breath. "I know it's more than just some advanced material. I have asked Cassiat about it—" He hesitated, searching for the right word.
Varun finished for him, his lips curling into a slow, unsettling grin. "And there's a reason you weren't supposed to know about it yet," he said.
Orion frowned, his shoulders tensing. "Because I'm not ready?" he said, his gaze searching Varun's face.
Varun exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. "Because when children were taught about it early, they got kidnapped and tortured for what they knew."
Orion stiffened. He had expected some vague excuse about responsibility or discipline—not that.
Varun gave him a moment before continuing. "About a decade ago, a rival faction found out that Archon families were training their kids in Hekatrya from an early age. So they started abducting them. Not just for ransom—for information. They wanted to know how it worked, how to create a Xenothalamus, how to harness it. But even worse, they wanted to find the ones who could use it. You don't need me to tell you what they did to get those answers."
Orion's stomach turned. He thought of the security details, the constant surveillance, the paranoia that had surrounded his childhood. He had always assumed it was because of war. He hadn't considered this.
"They stopped teaching it to kids after that," Varun continued. "Now, unless you're a special candidate, you don't hear a damn word about it until your third year. By then, you're old enough to be useful and strong enough not to break."
Orion swallowed, his throat dry. "But why do I get to know about it?" he said, shifting his weight slightly, his fingers tightening at his sides.
Varun uncrossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because you're my disciple."
Orion blinked. "Because of the Wraith style?" he said, his brow furrowing.
Varun nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. "The Wraith style relies on something called Sensoria. And you can't develop Sensoria without a Xenothalamus," he said.
The lab was quiet except for the steady hum of machinery. Orion sat on the examination table, his bare back against the cool metal of the chair. A small, floating sphere of shifting iridescent light hovered before him.
"This is a Hekatrya Orb," Varun said, standing beside him. He tapped a few controls on the holopanel, making the sphere shift in color. "It starts the process of forming a Xenothalamus in your brain. Without the chamber, this would take months of exposure normally, it was first formed in a rapture."
Orion stared at the orb, watching as tiny strands of light extended from its surface, shifting like nervous filaments. "And this thing is just going to... change my brain?"
He wanted to be excited—this was the threshold of something greater, something that had been hidden from him for so long. But a part of him hesitated.
What if this process rewired him in ways he couldn't control? What if he lost something essential, some part of himself he didn't even realize was irreplaceable? The thought unsettled him, but he pushed it down. There was no turning back now.
"The process is gradual—your synaptic architecture undergoes restructuring, dendritic pathways adjust, and the Hekatrya integrates into your cognitive framework at a fundamental level." Varun said. "That's how Sensoria starts."
Orion's fingers twitched, his jaw tightening slightly. "And if it rejects me?" he said, his voice quieter than before.
Varun smirked. "Then you die," he said, his fingers tapping idly against his arm.
Orion snapped his head toward him, and Varun chuckled. "Relax. If you weren't compatible, you wouldn't have been allowed in its vicinity."
Orion turned back to the sphere. "And after that?"
Varun's smirk twisted into something almost predatory. "After that your training starts for real."
The next phase required complete submersion. Orion found himself in a cylindrical chamber filled with a viscous, translucent solution—a neuroadaptive medium designed to accelerate cellular integration and supply essential nutrients to his brain.
Electrochemical pulses coursed through the liquid, syncing with his body's natural rhythms, enhancing the Hekatrya's assimilation. It was neither comfortable nor painless; every pulse sent a deep ache through his skull, like his neurons were being rewired in real time.
Hours blurred. A semi-transparent interface projected across the inside of his helmet, a HUD tracking his vitals and neural restructuring progress. Metrics fluctuated—cortical density up 12%, synaptic efficiency spiking erratically.
He could feel the changes, not just in his mind, but in his self. Sensory input sharpened beyond normal parameters. He could hear his own heartbeat like a distant war drum, feel the microcurrents of the fluid moving against his skin.
Then came the pain.
It wasn't a simple headache anymore—it was an unrelenting pressure, an overclocking of his cognitive functions beyond natural thresholds. His limbs twitched involuntarily, his breath hitched, and a sensation like static crawling through his skull made him want to scream. A warning flashed across the HUD: Neural Stress Threshold Approaching Critical.
Orion's body convulsed as the neural load overwhelmed him. His consciousness flickered in and out, thoughts scattering like static as his brain struggled to integrate the Xenothalamus. He barely registered the alarms blaring through the chamber, the warning flashes on his HUD turning into incomprehensible streaks of red. His nervous system burned, his muscles locked, and a distant part of him wondered if this was what dying felt like.
Then—stillness.
At first, everything was too much. The room felt impossibly dense, every sound a thunderclap, every shift in the air a ripple crashing against his skull. But then, as if a new filter had slid into place, his senses aligned.
His vitals, dangerously erratic just moments before, slowly began to stabilize. The Xenothalamus had latched on, its formation complete. Now came the healing process.
Hours later, Orion found himself lying on a medical platform, the nutrient-rich solution drained, his skin still damp from the immersion. His head pounded, but the pain had dulled to a manageable throb. As he blinked against the sterile glow of the overhead lights, a deep, unfamiliar awareness lingered beneath his thoughts. Something had changed—something irreversible.
Varun stood nearby, arms crossed, a slow, unsettling grin creeping across his face. "Took you long enough," he said.
Orion exhaled slowly, focusing. He had been expecting something dramatic—visions, power surging through his body, something that felt significant. But so far, all he had was an aching head and a strange sense that the room around him was... louder.
Not in sound. In presence.
He could feel Varun standing in front of him. Not just see him—feel him. The weight of his existence, the way his body displaced the space around him.
He swallowed, shifting his stance slightly. "I think I get it," he said, his fingers tightening at his sides.
Varun tilted his head, a slow smirk forming. "Describe it," he said, arms loosely crossed, his gaze sharp and expectant.
Orion struggled for words. "It's like... I'm aware of everything at once. Not just what I can see or hear. It's like I can sense what's about to happen before it does. Not in a supernatural way, just—like my body knows before my brain does."
Varun grinned. "That's Somatic Awakening," he said.
Orion blinked, his brow furrowing. "The first stage?" he said, shifting his stance slightly.
"Yeah." Varun took a step back and gestured. "Close your eyes. Catch."
Something small flew toward him. Orion's eyes snapped shut, his body moving before he could think. His hand shot up and caught the object mid-air.
A coin.
Orion opened his eyes, staring down at it.
Orion rolled the coin between his fingers. "So this is just the beginning?"
Varun's expression darkened slightly. "Yeah. And the easy part is over. Even within the Confederacy, there are factions that think this power should be controlled, regulated," he said, his gaze steady.
Orion looked at him, his brow furrowing. "Even Cassian?" he said, leaning forward slightly, tension in his shoulders.
Varun was silent for a moment before answering. "Your father wants power, but he doesn't want mindless weapons. The problem is, a lot of people don't see the difference. You become something else in their eyes—an asset or a potential threat."