The distorted light of the rift spat Thomas out onto a windswept precipice, a jagged peak that clawed at the sky. Gone were the familiar shadows of London, replaced by the stark beauty of untamed mountains, their peaks capped with eternal snow. The air was thin and biting, carrying the scent of pine and stone. He stood at the edge of the world, the shattered ruins of the Seeker's Haven a distant memory, a haunting whisper in the silence of this desolate landscape. He was alone, truly alone, for the first time since he had found the strange paper that started his journey.He had crossed a threshold, not just in space but within himself. The rage, the raw, unbridled fury that had ripped him from the void, was now a volatile force within him, a constant reminder of his power, his loss, and his responsibility. But he would not be controlled by it, he would not fall into the trap of being ruled by blind rage alone, but instead master it, as if it were another language that needed to be understood. He would use that power as a tool, a brutal forge to temper his soul. He would become something new.He spent his first few weeks in the mountains simply surviving, learning to exist in this unforgiving landscape. He found a small cave, tucked away behind a curtain of ice, and made it his sanctuary. He practiced his glyphs in the cold solitude, the biting wind a constant companion as he honed his abilities. The mountain became his forge. He practiced drawing energy from the very air around him, the wind became an ally as he harnessed its power, forming shields that could withstand the most brutal storms, he would conjure storms to test these defenses, testing them as he also learned to bend it to his will, making complex patterns in the wind to test his focus and fine control over what should be wild. The very cold began to mold him, turning him into something new, his body becoming far more resilient than it previously had been, becoming used to even the most unforgiving climates with grace, elegance, and absolute ease. He trained for survival, learning how to move at his new speeds with precision, leaping over impossible gaps, scaling almost vertical walls, and never, for one moment, letting the weariness catch up to him.But it wasn't just his control over the elements and his body that was improving; it was also the mastery he was starting to attain over the Eternal Spark within him. He began to understand how to wield that raw energy without falling into the trap of pure violence, as his soul had begun to connect to its core more intimately with every passing day, creating a flow that was not just destructive, but transformative. He learned to channel that energy into his glyphs, weaving patterns of time, space, and intention into something that went beyond their simple uses. He started to experiment with the concepts he had picked up from the texts he had previously found, combining the knowledge from the Seekers and that of the distorted understanding of the fractured watchers to make new, almost living glyphs, that would dance on his skin and follow his intentions.He would practice for hours on end in the small cave, his mind moving, almost at an unnatural pace as he drew, erased, and redrew complex concepts, slowly transforming that space into a unique testing ground. He moved from intricate lines of energy to powerful symbols of intent and understanding. He now no longer just pushed for force, but to use his soul as a guide, the very embodiment of what he was now, of that immortal that strove to change and live within it. His path had shifted yet again.Then, he sought a different challenge. He ventured down into the vast, ancient forests that surrounded the base of the mountains. These were not simple forests but primeval landscapes of towering trees that reached toward the heavens, their ancient branches intertwined like gnarled fingers. He would use these forests as his proving grounds, as the tombs of his past. In his anger he would use them for raw power, his desire for control would lead to carefully placed cuts that would leave small scars that would serve as reminders of his path. His speed alone, would rip branches and break trees as he weaved between them all, as they would offer no protection to his blinding speed, all becoming just the victims of his destructive power.It was in the forest's solitude that he first fully realized the scope of his newfound control over his pistol. He focused his will on the weapon, and with a strange intent he started to slowly feel how his body seemed to mold to the gun. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but after a while, the cold metal began to flow, morphing under the pressure of his thoughts and imagination. The familiar pistol started to reshape itself, bending and twisting into a blade of pure energy, an extension of his anger, but also a mirror of his intent. He experimented with this new form, learning how to move with the blade, weaving a brutal dance that could both cut through steel and redirect attacks with the same movements. Then he turned that form into a whip of raw lightning that tore apart the trees with each passing touch. The forest became his workshop.He understood, as his thoughts drifted to his lost friends, that the gun was not just a weapon; it was an embodiment of the Eternal Spark, his interpretation, something he could reshape as he needed to. He learned he could manifest his power in almost any form, not just limited by what the physical world deemed possible. He transformed it into a bow that could fire projectiles imbued with his own volatile will, a staff that crackled with pure energy, or gauntlets that amplified his strength tenfold. He had now learned to reshape, reform, create, and destroy with an object that was tied directly to his very soul, he felt no bounds and realized that there were no limits.But, even as he gained control over his tools and his environment, he hadn't forgotten the rage that had nearly consumed him. He channeled it now, not with violence, but with precision, and it was through that raw emotion that he began to master the art of his time control glyphs. He would use that power to create pockets of shifted reality, accelerating his movements, slowing down projectiles, and allowing for better focus in his practice. He would turn to it to allow him to understand the world through different lenses. The practice sessions had gone from moments of extreme anger to controlled environments, where Thomas could hone his ability of what would happen in the future, it was starting to become clearer, his visions of the past, and the possible futures, both clear and muddy, were finally becoming clear. His vision was sharp and focused, he could no longer just rely on raw ability.He would use his past against himself. Thomas created a duplicate of himself in his mind that wielded that power and they would battle throughout the vast forests. He wasn't just moving through the forest, he was destroying and creating the new, again, and again. The power and intensity of those battles grew, testing not only his physical skills but also his psychological intent, pushing him further, into a form of self that was almost alien, yet so incredibly familiar and necessary. He wasn't simply mastering his powers, but turning his very self into his tool for change, accepting his anger and his hate and turning that into intent, and purpose, not only to fuel him but to also make him who he needed to become.His practice started to become less about training, but more about understanding and controlling his soul, understanding the path he was slowly carving. The mountains and the forest weren't just landscapes anymore; they were testaments to his power, his sorrow, and his unwavering determination, but they would become a new beginning. He had become a different being entirely, ready to walk into the unknown.His days were long, filled with relentless training and self-imposed trials. His nights were equally filled with reflection and introspection, with studies of glyphs, and new forms of movement, his connection to his past, present and the future had begun to fuse and a new Thomas was being born in the heart of the unforgiving landscape. He was no longer the broken boy or even the driven gunslinger. He was now becoming something else entirely.It had been six months since he had left London since he had entered the rift that tore his life apart. He was now a being born from the wreckage, an immortal soul, forged in a storm of his design. The call of his destiny was starting to echo in his heart, a new feeling of restlessness slowly creeping in. It was time. He was ready. He had become all of his pieces, good, bad, and what had been left behind. He was ready to face what awaited him. But first, there was a score to settle. He felt it, deep within, a lingering shadow in the corners of his vision, and he knew, it was time to face those that had once tried to break him. He closed his eyes, his pistol reformed once again into its trusted revolver state, and whispered to the wind, "It is time". His solitary training had now come to an end.
The whisper of the wind carried his words, a silent declaration that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of the mountains and the ancient forests below. Thomas, perched on the highest peak, felt a shift in the air, a subtle disturbance that heralded the arrival of the Watchers. It was no longer the tentative probe, the cautious observation of before. This was a focused intent, a direct challenge to his growing power. The game, he knew, had taken a new and far more dangerous turn. He looked towards the sky, with a silent and stoic calm, as if he knew the incoming storm had now finally arrived.They descended not as ethereal shadows but as monstrous amalgamations of flesh, bone, and pure chaos. Their forms twisted and writhed with corrupted power, a stark contrast to the rigid order they had once represented. Multiple eyes burned with an unnatural fire, and jagged tendrils of dark energy lashed out from their bodies. They had evolved, not just in their abilities but also in their very nature, twisted and contorted by the insidious influence of the Fractured. They no longer clung to order but had instead embraced chaos, turning the raw destructive energies into an unbridled form.The battle began without a word, a violent eruption of energy that tore through the tranquil landscape. Thomas met their onslaught with the full force of his now-refined power. His pistol, a manifestation of his intent, shifted into a blade of pure energy that crackled with the combined power of lightning, a long, and versatile whip, that moved like the dancing form of a living beast. He moved with a blinding speed that blurred the lines of reality, time seeming to bend and distort with every movement.He tore through the Watchers with precision and controlled chaos, his movements a symphony of destruction that ripped away the very fabric of their beings, leaving nothing but traces of warped and corrupted energy in its wake. Their attacks, now chaotic, but devastatingly powerful, crashed around him, their corrupted energy shattering the earth, splintering the ancient stone around him. His body absorbed their attacks as if it were one with the forces around him, never breaking and always learning more about what this new evolution meant for them.The first hours were a relentless push and pull, a battle that tested the very limits of his new control. He fought with a calculated aggression, using the mountain's vast landscape as his battleground. He channeled raw power into his glyphs, creating chaotic patterns that not only deflected their attacks but also warped and twisted their very essence. Time became a tool in his hands as he moved with impossible speeds, bending space around him to gain advantage and push through any barriers that were created. It seemed he could now command all of reality in his vicinity to conform to the vision in his mind, almost turning the landscape into an extension of his power. He was using their powers, twisted into an art form that felt almost unique to him, as it also tested his limits for how long he could stay in the chaotic forms of energy. He would then push his body to use raw force in an uncontrolled state to help learn more of the power that had nearly taken control of him before. The control and chaos were a unique pairing that he would strive to conquer.Then, as the first day waned into dusk, he noticed a pattern. Their attacks, while chaotic and destructive, lacked precision, and a true understanding of his movements. They were throwing power but it felt directionless and without proper intent. They were testing him, pushing him, trying to understand the full extent of his power, as he did of them. A realization began to dawn within Thomas. They were reacting, not anticipating, and he had them exactly where he needed them.As the second day started to dawn, he shifted his tactics. He let his rage resurface, allowed his movements to become more violent and uncontrolled, and let them take control over him once again, drawing them deeper into their intended battle. He moved through the Watchers like a force of nature unleashed, ripping them apart with the unbridled chaos he could now harness with purpose, each attack fueled by pure instinct. He shifted his form into his pure-force state and used this chaos to his benefit.Their numbers began to dwindle, but their attacks grew even more ferocious. They unleashed waves of corrupt energy, storms of twisted shadows, and blasts of force that cracked the very foundations of the mountain peaks. They were reacting, testing his resilience, and pushing his power to the very brink, as he did to them. This continued for what felt like a small eternity, his attacks relentless, as he shifted through his capabilities and his newly manifested tools with expertise, all with that chaotic and controlled ferocity that had become his new staple in combat.Then, he abruptly stopped.He stood amidst the destruction, the monstrous forms of the Watchers now few, the battlefield reduced to a landscape of broken rock, burnt trees, and lingering shadows. Thomas reformed his whip back into his trusted revolver, the cold steel emitting a silent hum. He looked towards them and let the corners of his lips creep into a silent smile."You were never meant to win here," he stated calmly, his voice resonating with newfound strength and a clear intent that cut through the chaotic energy surrounding them. "You came to learn, and in turn, you taught me what I truly needed, as my strength comes not just from power, but from the intention and knowledge behind it. I could've ended this battle a long time ago, as all that has occurred were the results of what you intended for this battle." He stared directly into the corrupted faces, with a hint of a strange amusement. "And now that I've reached my goal… it's time to end this game."A moment of pure, unfiltered chaos filled the space as Thomas channeled every ounce of his power and will into a single focused moment, that was unlike anything they had ever witnessed. He unleashed a single shot, it was more of an explosion of pure, controlled force that ripped through what was left of them, reducing them to nothing but particles of dissipating shadows, each form dissolved into nothing, leaving behind a sense of deep quiet and profound emptiness that permeated the landscape.But the battle wasn't truly over. The exhaustion, that now finally reached him after his rampage, seemed to nullify the pain that he had not felt in many days. He could now finally sense his injuries and feel a slight sense of relief, and a calming realization. He could now clearly see that while these entities had taken him to his very limits, they were not even pushing him to a place that had him struggling to fully comprehend. These Watchers were still the controlled and rigid figures, despite all of their chaotic evolution, and with that, he had managed to grow beyond them by an order of magnitude. Thomas could feel the familiar pulse of the Eternal Spark within him, stronger than ever, not a raw energy to simply unleash blindly but as an unending reservoir of potent strength that was capable of holding, a near-limitless duration of conflict. The fight had revealed a core truth: He was not merely wielding power; he was an embodiment of it.He was an immortal, and despite all their strength, he could have simply continued this conflict for countless days without fatigue. And in that thought, came a sense of both profound freedom and of responsibility for the vision of the world he now sought to make a reality. He knew they would come back, their corrupted forms twisted and evolved again. He knew this battle was merely a prelude, to something greater, something more significant, and a path to understand how he now perceived the world. This was but a stepping stone to an immeasurable road of progress and change. But the understanding had come at a terrible price, the faces of his fallen friends flashing back to his mind, their screams were haunting memories that were no longer of sadness, but of fuel for what must be done, what had to be done. This war was not just about survival. This was now a path to making sure the future would be written with the ideas, values, and intentions that he possessed within his very soul.Thomas took a deep breath and reformed the pistol once again, his purpose renewed. He now knew that the fight to reclaim his soul had come to a close. The fight that awaited would require more than raw ability, but to be more and better than what was being fought for and it was now time to act with every single intention that lay deep within his core being. As he stared to the horizon, and all of the future that had waited for him in what seemed to be forever, he had the clear intention of changing the very foundation of this entire realm to match it, the future that waited was to be one, for his soul alone to be at peace with its surroundings. He knew that they were not ready for him, not yet, for what was to come was only to be an introduction of the kind of change and new era that was approaching.