Chapter 503: Keep Trying

The implications of Theron's observation settled over the room with surprising weight. Until now, Bruce had regarded his situation in relatively simple terms. The Akashic Codex wanted a soul capable of reaching SSS rank and communicating with it. That alone was extraordinary enough. Yet Theron's interpretation suggested that the requirement might not have been nearly as broad as Bruce had assumed. Perhaps the Codex had not simply been waiting for someone powerful enough to approach it. Perhaps it had been waiting for someone possessing the precise kind of soul talent required to communicate with a Codex through its own language.

"Which means," Theron continued, "the Codex might have been asking Elenora for a soul who can speak with it in its own language rather than a soul who can simply meditate in front of it during an advancement."

"Which would explain a lot."

"Yes."

Bruce leaned back and remained silent for a long time.

If Theron was correct—and Bruce had already learned that Theron rarely reached a conclusion without having something substantial behind it—then Bruce's purpose in this entire situation was considerably more specific than he had previously believed. His talent was not merely some useful ability that happened to become more valuable at higher ranks. It might be the specific tool required to establish the particular kind of communication the Codices had been waiting for. Reaching SSS rank might only be the threshold. The true requirement could be possessing a soul capable of understanding and responding to a Codex on a level that ordinary souls simply could not reach.

The thought was enormous.

For the first time, Bruce allowed himself to consider the possibility that he might not simply be another soul climbing through the ranks toward an extraordinary destination. He might potentially be the first soul in an extraordinarily long time capable of actually conversing with a Codex as an equal.

That possibility demanded caution.

Bruce did not allow excitement to take hold of him. If anything, the realization made him more guarded. The more specific his importance became, the more dangerous the information became in the hands of the wrong people. If his talent really was the missing piece the Codices required, then Sisel Marn had even more reason to eliminate him before he reached the necessary rank. The factions within Xiltra that opposed Sisel would also have greater reason to fear him, particularly if they believed that speaking with a Codex could grant him access to knowledge or power they could not control.

This was not information that could be allowed to spread.

Not yet.

Bruce's gaze moved between Kael and Theron. "This does not leave this room."

Kael answered without hesitation. "Understood."

"Understood," Theron agreed.

"Not even to Elenora," Bruce continued. "Not even to Wren. Not until I decide that it should be known. Are you both agreed?"

"Agreed," Kael said.

"Agreed," Theron repeated.

"Thank you."

Bruce gathered the books and documents from the table and placed them into a neat stack. He had no intention of abandoning his research, but there was little point in continuing tonight. He had been given enough information to think about, and forcing himself to keep reading while his thoughts were already occupied would accomplish nothing.

He would return to the books tomorrow.

Tonight, he needed to think.

They ate at the old soul's establishment later that evening. Wren Ollan served them a considerably lighter meal than the ones they had grown accustomed to during their time in Xiltra. There was no alpha meat tonight and none of the dense preparations designed to replenish hunters after an exhausting expedition. Instead, Wren brought out a warm herb soup accompanied by a modest portion of soul-grain. The meal was simple, but the warmth of the soup and the subtle fragrance of the herbs made it surprisingly comforting after the long day.

Wren noticed almost immediately that something about Bruce was different.

The old soul had spent enough time around hunters to recognize the difference between ordinary exhaustion and the silence that followed an important discovery. Bruce was eating normally, but his attention occasionally drifted, his expression becoming distant for several seconds before he returned to the meal. There was clearly something occupying his thoughts.

Wren noticed.

Wren simply chose not to ask.

Bruce appreciated that.

They ate in relative silence, and Wren did not attempt to pry into whatever had happened during their studies. Bruce likewise offered no explanation. The decision to keep the discovery about his talent confined to their party remained firm in his mind, and Wren, despite being considerably more perceptive than most people realized, did not give him a reason to reconsider that decision.

When the meal was nearly finished, Wren finally spoke, though the subject had nothing to do with Bruce's mood.

"Deepwood is closed tomorrow."

Bruce looked up from his bowl. "You already know?"

"A guard came by earlier," Wren replied. "Word travels quickly when a portal is closed on short notice."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Yes."

The closure was not entirely unexpected after what had happened, but it still altered their plans. They had intended to continue hunting, and with Deepwood suddenly unavailable, they would have to decide how best to use the day.

"You can rest," Wren continued. "Or study. Or use the Proving Ground if you want combat practice without spending essence."

Bruce considered that for a moment. "I had not thought about the Proving Ground. That is a good idea."

"It is actually Elenora's idea," Wren said. "Not mine. She includes the Proving Ground in her sponsorship because most parties do not use it nearly enough. Combat practice without putting essence at risk is undervalued by most hunters, especially at your rank."

Bruce's expression became thoughtful. "Then tomorrow we might go there."

"Good."

There was nothing more to discuss. Wren collected the empty dishes once they finished, and after settling the bill, Bruce and the others rose from their seats. The old soul gave them the same quiet nod with which he had seen them off after every meal, an understated acknowledgment between people who had gradually become familiar with one another without ever needing to say much about it.

Bruce returned the gesture before leaving.

The night air outside was cool, and the streets of Xiltra had already begun to settle into their nocturnal rhythm. They made their way back to the rooming house without lingering, each of them carrying their own thoughts from the day.

Once upstairs, Bruce sat on the edge of his bed for a long time without immediately preparing himself for sleep.

His mind returned first to Yolen's essay.

Then to Theron's interpretation of it.

Then to the theory book's explanation of fabric-acting talents.

Every piece seemed to connect to the next, forming a picture that Bruce still did not fully understand. His thoughts repeatedly returned to the Codex and to the strange possibility that his talent had been relevant to it from the beginning. He thought about Elenora as well. She had clearly known enough about his potential to sponsor his journey, but Bruce could not determine how much she actually understood about what his talent might become at higher ranks.

Perhaps she knew.

Perhaps she did not.

Until he had more information, Bruce saw no reason to assume either possibility.

His thoughts eventually turned toward Wren. The old soul had deliberately chosen not to climb any further, and Bruce now understood that decision differently than he once had. Wren was not merely an old hunter who had abandoned ambition. In some way, Wren had become part of the quiet chain of people protecting the seventh case, passing along the same restrained counsel that had once been given to Wren. There was knowledge in Xiltra that was not written in books, knowledge that survived through people who understood when to speak and when to remain silent.

Bruce wondered how much of that knowledge had been lost over the years.

Then, inevitably, his thoughts turned toward Sophie.

The change was immediate.

The abstract questions surrounding Codices, ranks, talents, factions, and Xiltra's political struggles receded, replaced by a much more personal awareness. He could almost imagine her presence despite the impossible distance separating them.

Bruce eventually lay down and turned toward the wall. He closed the eyes of his soul-body and allowed his awareness to settle.

As he had done each night, he sent his thoughts along the connection.

I am all right. I hunted for part of the day and studied afterward. I have learned that my talent may be more specifically important than I previously understood. I miss you. I am building. I am careful.

He allowed the thought to linger for a moment before deliberately shifting his attention.

This time, however, he did something different.

He focused on the thread itself.

He could feel it.

The connection remained thin, almost impossibly delicate, yet undeniably present. It was warm in a way Bruce could not properly describe, not like physical warmth but like the faint sensation of life existing somewhere beyond the limits of his immediate perception. The thread connected him to the body that remained behind in the labyrinth, to the other side of the impossible distance that separated his current soul-body from his original existence.

Bruce concentrated.

Then he pushed his consciousness toward it.

His intention was simple.

He wanted to travel along the thread.

For a brief moment, he tried to imagine himself moving through it, allowing his consciousness to follow the connection back toward the body that was his. He concentrated harder, increasing the pressure of his soul against the thread and attempting to force his awareness farther along the path.

Nothing happened.

He continued trying.

Ten seconds passed.

Then twenty.

He pushed for perhaps thirty seconds before finally stopping.

His soul was still not strong enough.

The failure did not surprise him. The Akashic had already made it clear that the connection would strengthen as he advanced, and Bruce was only at the late stages of E rank. Expecting to cross such an immense distance already would have been unreasonable.

Still, something had changed.

Bruce remained still, maintaining his awareness of the thread even after he stopped trying to travel through it. He studied the sensation carefully, almost like an experiment. Compared with the previous night, the connection felt clearer. It was subtle, but Bruce could distinguish its presence with greater certainty now. His soul seemed more aware of the thread than it had been when he was at F rank.

Then he noticed something else.

A faint sensation came back along the thread.

Bruce froze.

It was barely there. He could not identify it, and he could not even be certain what he was feeling. It was too indistinct, too weak, almost like the memory of a sensation rather than a sensation itself.

But it had come from the other side.

Bruce held his awareness against the connection.

For several seconds, he simply waited.

The faint sensation remained.

Then it faded.

His eyes opened in the darkness.

Bruce stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

Something had happened.

He did not know exactly what it was, and he refused to assign a meaning to it before he had enough evidence. But something had unquestionably changed. His soul at late E rank was measurably more connected to the thread than his soul had been at F rank. The Akashic had been correct. The connection was strengthening alongside his growth.

He was still nowhere near strong enough to travel back.

But he might now be strong enough to sense faint signs coming from the other side.

That was new.

Bruce mentally filed the observation away. He would test it again in a few nights, but he would not attempt it constantly. Repeatedly forcing his soul against the connection and wasting energy simply for the sake of satisfying his curiosity would be foolish. The experiment needed to be controlled. He would try again periodically and compare what he experienced each time.

For now, he had discovered enough.

It was a small ritual, but it was his.

Keep climbing, he told himself.

The doorway will open.

With that thought settling quietly in his mind, Bruce closed his eyes again and allowed himself to fall asleep.

The tenth day was over.

Outside, Xiltra continued beneath the darkness, its streets gradually quieting as the city settled into another night. Hunters rested, businesses closed their doors, guards changed shifts, and countless souls continued pursuing their own ambitions beneath the towering structures of the city.

Somewhere in the Spire district, a member of the Nonagon with silver-white hair was likely reading the latest report from Caelen.

And somewhere much farther away, across a distance that Bruce could scarcely comprehend, in another realm entirely, a woman rested with one hand against a still chest. Whether she felt anything at all was impossible for him to know.

Perhaps nothing had reached her.

Perhaps that faint sensation had been nothing more than a reaction within his own soul.

Or perhaps, for the briefest moment, something had crossed the impossible space between them.

Bruce did not know.

He would keep trying.

The climb continued.