The training chamber pulsed with an artificial heartbeat, a rhythmic hum of energy coursing through its reinforced walls. Orion stood at the center, muscles taut, his breath steadying after his last attempt. The air still carried the residual tension of failure. He could feel it—a discordant note in the otherwise precise harmony of his body.
Varun circled him with the slow, measured steps of a predator assessing its prey. His arms were behind his back, his expression unreadable. "You feel it, don't you?" he said.
Orion exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah. I just can't get them to move together," he said.
Varun nodded, a knowing look in his eyes.
"That's because they don't want to," he remarked, his tone calm but edged with certainty, as if stating a law of nature rather than an opinion.
Orion frowned, his brows knitting together as frustration crept into his voice. "They're both me. My body, my will. Why wouldn't they?"
Varun let a small smirk play at his lips, his gaze steady and knowing. "Because Sensoria and Hekatryon aren't just two techniques. They're two philosophies. One turns inward, the other reaches out. One refines, the other extends."
Orion closed his eyes, reaching for the memory of the sensation—his Sensoria thrumming beneath his skin, his body reacting on instinct, every fiber attuned to his will. And then there was Hekatryon—an external force bending the world around him, demanding a medium, an anchor. The moment he tried to use both, they clashed.
Varun's voice cut through his thoughts. "Sensoria is what allows you to move, adapt, and become something beyond human. It's not just augmentation—it's evolution, rewriting your biology in real-time." He paused, then extended a hand, palm up. "Hekatryon? It's an entirely different game. It manipulates the world around you, but it needs a conduit. A weapon, armor, something to anchor it. And that anchor can be broken."
Orion took a slow breath, his mind spinning through possibilities, his fingers curling slightly as if grasping at an unseen thread. "But if I could master both—if I could bring them into perfect sync—wouldn't that make me unstoppable?"
Varun cut him off, his tone edged with something between amusement and challenge. "You think you can balance two opposing forces? That's like trying to walk two different paths at once—eventually, you'll be torn apart."
Orion met his gaze, unwavering. "Why not?" he challenged, his voice steady but laced with defiance.
Varun crossed his arms, his gaze sharp yet not unkind. "Think of it like playing two different rhythms at the same time—one inside your body, one outside. At first, they seem to align, but the stronger you get, the more they start to pull apart."
Orion mulled over the words, his mind running through the last few weeks of training. He had felt it before—his Sensoria responding with natural precision, but the moment he willed Hekatryon into play, something became… off. His movements lagged, as if his body and the world around him were arguing over which should respond first.
"So, what, I just give up on one?" He hated the way the question sounded, like he was already conceding.
Varun shook his head. "Not necessarily. But you need to understand what you're working against." He gestured to the training chamber around them. "Most Sensoria users don't even bother with Hekatryon. They know it's a liability in a fight unless they build their entire style around it."
Orion tilted his head. "Why? Just because it needs a medium?"
"That's part of it," Varun admitted. "Your Sensoria is part of you, but Hekatryon? You're channeling something else. It's like trying to wield an extension of yourself that isn't fully yours." He tapped his fingers against his forearm. "And the stronger you get, the more your instincts will prioritize one over the other. Your body wants efficiency, not contradiction."
Orion frowned, stepping back to process. "So if I try to master both, I have to keep them in perfect synch at all times."
Varun gave a grim chuckle. "Not just perfect. Unbreakable. A single moment of disharmony, and your opponent will rip through the gap."
Orion's fingers curled into fists. He knew Varun wasn't trying to discourage him, but the weight of the challenge settled on his shoulders like gravity had suddenly increased.
Varun clapped him on the back, breaking the tension. "Look, I'm not saying it's impossible. But you're going to have to figure out your own way to bridge the gap. No one's done it yet. Not properly."
Varun let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again, his tone thoughtful. "You know, there was a time when people thought both Hekatryon and Sensoria were just anomalies. Some strange quirks of biology and physics that would eventually be explained away."
Orion glanced at him. "And now?"
"Now?" Varun exhaled through his nose. "We know they exist, but we don't fully understand why. Just personal experiments and whatever scraps of knowledge we can pass down."
Orion frowned. That was unnerving. In an age of hyper-advanced technology and scientific precision, the idea that something as fundamental as power still lacked a full explanation… it didn't sit right with him.
"So what you're saying is," Orion said slowly, "if I push too far, I might hit a wall no one's ever broken through before?"
Varun's lips quirked in amusement. "That's one way to look at it."
Orion crossed his arms. "And what's the other way?"
Varun's expression turned unreadable. "That you might break yourself before you ever find that wall."
The words sat heavy between them. Orion didn't respond immediately, because for the first time, he actually felt the weight of what he was trying to do.
Syncing Hekatryon and Sensoria wasn't just difficult—it was dangerous.
Most people stuck to one path because it was the only way to advance safely. Sensoria specialists honed their bodies into weapons. Hekatryon users refined their ability to manipulate the world around them. But both? Trying to walk both paths meant dividing your focus, slowing your growth, and risking catastrophic failure if the balance collapsed.
And yet…
Orion still felt that pull.
The instinct that told him it was possible—that he just needed to find the right approach.
He clenched his fists. "You're not saying it's impossible."
Varun gave him a long look before smirking. "No, I'm saying nobody's lived long enough to prove it's possible."
Orion met his gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "Then I'll be the first."
Varun chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a stubborn bastard, aren't you?"
Orion grinned. "Always."
The conversation could have ended there, but Varun's expression turned contemplative. He studied Orion for a moment before speaking.
"There's… one group that might have insights into this," he admitted. "If you really want to dig into the roots of Sensoria and Hekatryon."
Orion raised a brow. "Who?"
Varun leaned back slightly, arms still crossed. "The Celestian Concord."
Orion tilted his head. "And who exactly are they?"
Varun exhaled. "A benevolent order—or at least, that's what they claim to be. They offer protection to anyone who's ever come in contact with Hekatrya, but more importantly…" His gaze sharpened. "They're the ones who have spent years trying to understand all of this. Sensoria, Hekatryon, the mechanics, the philosophy… everything."
Orion narrowed his eyes. "So they might know more than they let on."
He would master both.
No matter what it took.