Morning came with a quiet breeze and soft orange light spilling through the gaps in Kael's makeshift shelter. It wasn't much—just a hollow beneath the roots of a wind-gnarled tree and a ridge of stones to shield against the wind—but it kept him dry and mostly warm.
Kael stretched and sat upright thankful that nothing hurt aside from sleeping on a stone bed
He stepped into the morning air and crouched on a patch of grass, already planning the first part of his routine.
Minor Teleport practice.
He lined up stones, sticks, and clumps of dirt. Then he teleported them an inch to the left. An inch forward. Two inches back. A foot to the right. He practiced until he could do it without hesitation, always careful to watch how far and how accurately they reappeared.
Next, he tossed a pebble across the air and blinked it to the side mid-flight. The more he did it, the easier it became. As long as he could see the object clearly and hold it in his focus, it responded to his command.
But there were limits.
He tried a berry again. It vanished and reappeared—leaving behind several seeds that fell out mid-teleport and scattered on the ground.
Seeds, he realized, were alive.
Living things could not be teleported unless they gave consent. That was the rule. But parts of things—dead husks, torn bark, fallen leaves—were fair game.
When his stomach growled, he took a break. He had found a patch of small blue fruits the day before and double-checked their safety with Omni-Vision before eating them. He munched on a handful now, savoring the slightly tangy juice and crisp skin.
After breakfast, Kael packed what little he had and explored.
He avoided cliffs and unfamiliar valleys. Instead, he wandered the nearby hills and tree clusters, trying to map the land in his mind. No people yet. No buildings. But he found odd patterns of stone, hints that the world had once been touched by intelligent hands.
In the evening, as the suns began to dip, he returned to his shelter and sat with his back to the tree.
Then came the hardest part.
Omni-Vision.
He activated it slowly, just for a minute at first. Then he deactivated it and breathed. He saw the movement of particles, the delicate structure of leaves, the gentle sway of invisible currents. The complexity overwhelmed him, even in brief doses.
But the more he practiced, the clearer some parts became. Shapes began to simplify. His mind adjusted in tiny increments.
Ten minutes later, he let the skill fade. His temples ached, and his breath was shallow.
He leaned back, eyes heavy.
It was exhausting—but worth it.
As stars began to shimmer in the strange twilight, Kael settled into his hollow, wrapped in scavenged bark and grass.
This world was still a mystery.
But every day, he understood it a little more.