"Okay," Hugo said slowly, "how does it work? How do I activate it?"
"Simple, master. Close your eyes. Focus inward — on your soul. You'll find the art there, waiting. Then, push a little energy into it. The rest will take care of itself."
"That's it?" Hugo raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound very complicated."
"Most profound things rarely do." The raccoon smiled slyly.
Hugo gave a quiet, doubtful chuckle and sat cross-legged on the bed. He took a breath. Then another. Slowly, his surroundings faded to the periphery — the wooden creak of the floorboards, the faint city hum outside, even Randalf's occasional slurping sound as he finished his dessert.
He followed his breathing, letting it narrow, deepen, until the rhythm of his heart became the only sound left in his world.
Then he felt it — a faint glimmer somewhere deep inside him, like a lantern flickering in an endless dark.
"That's it," Randalf's voice drifted softly through his consciousness. "Now, feed it. Just a drop of energy."
Hugo obeyed. He pushed gently — a single thought, a whisper of will.
And the world dissolved.
It wasn't a feeling of falling. It wasn't a floating one either.
He was simply there — suspended in a place where space and direction had given up existing. The air — if it could even be called that — was thick, shimmering faintly with threads of blue and silver that drifted lazily like underwater currents.
He blinked, his senses struggling to make sense of it.
"What the hell…"
"This," Randalf's voice said cheerfully beside him, "is my Eon Subspace."
The little Lich appeared out of nowhere — one moment not there, the next hovering smugly at eye level. His tiny robe fluttered despite the absence of wind.
Hugo turned slowly, trying to take it all in. "It's… beautiful."
It was. In a quiet, alien way. The void wasn't black but translucent — filled with ribbons of glowing mist that pulsed like veins of light. Far in the distance, enormous shapes moved — massive orbs or currents of color that seemed alive, breathing. Each pulse sent a soft vibration through the air.
"Eon currents," Randalf said, noticing where he was looking. "Pure, unrefined energy — the building block of all cultivation."
Hugo reached out instinctively. The nearest ribbon of light drifted closer, brushing against his fingertips. The contact sent a shiver through him — not cold, not hot, just alive.
"Now then," Randalf said, suddenly floating backward like a conductor readying an orchestra, "time for your first cultivation. Draw the Eon into you. Don't force it — let it resonate with you. Your body will know what to do."
Hugo nodded and closed his eyes again.
At first, nothing happened. He waited, focusing on his breathing, trying not to overthink. Then — faintly — he felt something. A tingling around his chest, like the air vibrating softly.
Then came the pull.
It was subtle at first — like air slipping through his pores. But within seconds, the flow intensified.
The ribbons of Eon began spiraling toward him, drawn by some invisible force, wrapping around him in concentric circles.
The sensation was intoxicating.
Each breath drew more in, the energy sliding through his veins like liquid light. It wasn't just filling him; it was changing him — reshaping the rhythm of his heart, syncing every beat with that infinite, cosmic pulse.
The sound of it grew louder.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
"Good," Randalf's voice echoed faintly, distant but approving. "Don't resist it. Let it flow. Let it reforge you."
Hugo gritted his teeth as the flow surged. His body trembled. It wasn't pain — not exactly — but intensity. Every nerve sang, every muscle quivered like a string pulled taut. His vision blurred, and then exploded with color.
He could see the energy now — endless streams pouring into him from all directions, merging, twisting, burning through unseen pathways.
It was overwhelming. And addictive.
He gasped, his mind going blank as instinct took over. He wanted more.
He drew deeper.
And deeper.
Until the subspace itself seemed to tremble around him.
Randalf's grin widened. "Oh-ho, he's enjoying himself. Excellent."
Hours passed — though in the timeless subspace, it could have been minutes or days. Hugo lost sense of everything except the flow. It was ecstasy and chaos, serenity and storm. His heartbeat became thunder; his breath, a tide.
Then, suddenly —
BOOM.
A deafening roar echoed across the void.
A shockwave rippled outward from where he sat, tearing through the Eon mist like a meteor. Light exploded around him, a blinding flash that rippled through infinity.
When it cleared, Hugo floated at the center of a vast sphere of calm — the Eon currents swirling reverently around him like stars in orbit.
He opened his eyes.
And felt alive.
Every inch of him hummed with energy. His lungs burned, his skin glowed faintly, and deep within, his soul pulsed with a steady, confident rhythm.
He didn't know what he'd done, but he knew — instinctively — that something fundamental had shifted.
Randalf floated closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Congratulations, master. You've left mortality behind. Welcome to the Initiate — Minor Phase."
Hugo blinked. "Eh?! Already?!"
His disbelief was almost comical. "That's not possible. I've only been here— what, a few hours?"
Randalf chuckled. "Indeed. Some people spend decades clawing for what you just achieved. But you, master, are a different case. Your Resonance is high, and this subspace accelerates cultivation a hundredfold. This result is expected."
"Expected?" Hugo repeated faintly. "You call this expected?"
Randalf's whiskers twitched. "Well, perhaps a little above average."
Hugo sighed and let himself drift for a while. The afterglow of the breakthrough lingered — not triumph, not pride, but something gentler. Satisfaction. Progress.
He wasn't standing still anymore.
After a long silence, he tried cultivating again, but the energy now flowed slower, gentler. The thrill faded. Boredom crept in.
Eventually, he decided to leave.
He opened his eyes.
The familiar creak of his bed returned, the soft weight of gravity pressing him back to reality. The room was dim — late afternoon light spilling through the curtains, painting everything in quiet gold.
Randalf sat cross-legged beside him, eyes closed in apparent meditation — though his tail betrayed him, twitching lazily back and forth.
"How long was I gone?" Hugo asked.
"About three hours here," Randalf replied without opening his eyes. "And 12 in the subspace."
Hugo blinked. "…Wait. So time flows differently in there?"
"Of course," Randalf said. "Do you think I'd let my master waste real-world time cultivating? How terribly inefficient."
Hugo laughed weakly. "Efficient or not, I feel like my insides are buzzing."
"That's normal. Your body's adjusting to its new flow of Eon." Randalf opened one eye. "Drink water. Eat something. Mortals are fragile, remember?"
Hugo stood, stretching his arms. Every movement felt lighter — smoother. His breathing deeper, his senses sharper. The world seemed… clearer. He could hear faint noises downstairs — the clink of dishes, the soft hum of his mother humming an old song.
He smiled faintly.
Night had quietly settled over the little house by the time he made it upstairs.
His mother was already setting the table — a simple meal as always, though there was a small feast's effort behind it tonight. Maybe she could sense the change in him. She had always been like that — intuitive in quiet ways.
They ate together under the warm glow of the old kitchen lamp. The soft clatter of spoons and gentle conversation filled the silence.
Between bites, she mentioned that she'd already called Uncle Barns — that they'd have a meeting tomorrow about the Contracting. Hugo nodded along, half-listening, half-drifting. His mind kept returning to the subspace — the rivers of light, the weightless calm, the way Eon had felt against his skin.
After dinner, he helped her with the dishes, then headed downstairs.
Randalf was curled on his pillow now, snoring softly — a faint blue light pulsing from the markings on his robe with each breath.
Hugo stood there for a moment, just watching him. The absurdity of it all finally hit him — a thousand-year-old raccoon-lich sleeping on his bed, and him, a random nobody, now technically above mortalhood.
He chuckled under his breath. "This is insane."
He brushed a hand through the raccoon's fur — soft, strangely warm — and sat down at his desk.
The faint hum of energy still moved beneath his skin.
He could feel it now — not as something foreign, but as part of him. Like the rhythm of his pulse had found harmony with something greater.
For the first time in his life, the future didn't feel like a wall. It felt like a horizon.
He smiled faintly, letting his gaze drift to the moonlight spilling through the window.
Tomorrow would be a long day.
But tonight… he allowed himself the rarest of luxuries — peace.