Priam closed his eyes, summoning every sense to scan the typhoon looming ahead. His Mist Concept painted a picture of a torrential rain descending like a storm of bullets, each drop laced with danger, a brutal reminder of his first Tribulation. He pushed deeper, before grimacing as [Ideal Aether Perception] failed to pierce the wall of clouds before him. The ambient aether density was too high.
Should I go straight in? Priam wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t foolish enough to take unnecessary risks.
Taking a step back, he assessed the towering steam monolith before him, craning his neck skyward until it almost strained—if that were even possible with his agility. The cloud seed to rise endlessly. Ti to gain so altitude. Unfurling his wings, he propelled himself upward with kinetic mastery, soaring for nearly a full minute before reaching the apex of the colossal, mutated cumulonimbus. The vaporous mass stretched nearly thirty kiloters high, twice the height of any Earthly counterpart.
“Woah…” Priam was impressed by what he saw... and a little terrified.
The dark gray, almost black cloud top was saturated with aether in maddening quantities. Massive currents surged toward its core with an apocalyptic fury. Lightning as wide as skyscrapers crackled through the monstrous cyclone multiple tis per second. The chaos above was way worse than at sea level.
As Priam felt curiosity tugging him closer, his instincts scread a warning.
Storms had always both awed and terrified him. To him, they were nature’s raw power and majesty made manifest, a natural purge born of special conditions, resetting the balance. He saw them as nature’s righteous anger—not against any one person, but against sothing deeply out of sync. But this deluge was different; it wasn’t here to restore climate balance. It was here to destroy. The sight alone set every hair on his body on end. Sothing’s wrong…
Priam looked higher, frowning. At this altitude, the sky should have faded from blue to black, the air thinning as he reached the edge of space. But no. He wasn’t on a planet, yet the laws of physics here were warped, too different to be untouched by magic.
“There’s sothing off about this fragnt of the world,” he murmured, flapping his wings harder. Propelled into the air, he kept rising, determined to test the limits of this fragnt’s physics.
Monts later, the deluge was a rumbling, dark mass beneath him. Aether continued pouring into it, a tangible flow Priam could see with his ta-perception. The energy arched in the air, like a siphon drawing in the world’s essence, feeding the tempest.
Another kiloter up, Priam noticed himself slowing. He was still flying at supersonic speed, yet the cloud below seed no further away. Eventually, he stalled mid-air. Confused, he poured more aether into his ascent, hoping brute force would overco the spatial block.
To his surprise, it worked. Rising another ter, he understood he was leveraging [Space Resistance]. His body possessed a unique dinsional identity that allowed him to partially ignore the quicksand-like pull of space. Collecting resistances had its advantages.
If his constitution had been unsealed, his skill would have progressed quickly, letting him push further. But reality didn’t deal in “ifs,” and neither did Priam. Just centiters from his face, he could see the aether rushing toward the typhoon below. Then—nothing. As if energy simply ceased to exist beyond it; as if reality itself had abandoned that space. This was at odds with the bright blue sky he could still see above. The truth dawned on him: he was facing an illusion, a realistic painting on a dinsional ceiling.
Priam extended his hand, touching the edge of Valaryth’s realm.
Title won!
[“To the Ends of the World!” - Silver] - A fragnt of the world, depending on its rules, can take many forms. While the depths of Valaryth 84 seem nearly limitless, and its ocean’s surface appears endless due to its non-Euclidean geotry, its sky is capped. At the level of a void vortex, it is exactly thirty kiloters high.
You have reached the edge of a world. Now, all that remains is to gain the ans to pierce a dinsional bubble… and perhaps obliterate Valaryth 84 in the process; a small price for the satisfaction of your boundless curiosity.
TA (Chance) 10%
TA (Authority) 10%
Valaryth's Ocean’s reward: Level up [Ideal Aether Perception] x5;
Lvl Up: [Ideal Aether Perception] Lvl 20,..., 24
TA (AFFI) 15
TA (PERC) 30
“Ah!” Priam grinned as he read his new Title and rewards. Like corrective lenses or a hearing aid, the five level-ups sharpened his aether perception. His sight, hearing, and even sll sharpened, allowing him to differentiate energy currents with a precision he had only dread of. It was like gazing into a river and seeing not just the broad flow but every micro-current, every whirlpool, with hints at the chaotic phenona yet to co. Further mastery would eventually let him anticipate the effects of his own skills.
With his hand pressed against the dinsional boundary of Valaryth, he could tell it was solid. That reassured him; Priam didn’t need the Title description to realize that breaching it would unleash catastrophic consequences. A single flaw would pop the protection like a soap bubble, plunging this world fragnt into a devastating spatial storm.
There was only one thing left to do. Priam descended toward the ocean, diving beneath the surface to confirm the presence of a colossal siphon. The vortex swallowed seawater, which vanished into the depths with a fury that could pulverize any submarine.
A lazy school of fish swam around him, skirting the deadly currents yet never crossing them. Occasionally, blood, shredded flesh, and broken bones spewed from the whirlpool, quickly devoured by the local fauna. The rule was clear to all: venturing into the vortex ant death, but beyond that boundary lay safety.
Air or sea, this storm was lethal. Best to face it on the surface.
Decision made, Priam hovered just above the water, advancing until he reached the invisible border. The calm around him stood in stark contrast to the chaos awaiting within. He moved forward.
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