The candle flickered, trembling against the shadows that curled along the wooden walls. Outside, the wasteland lay under the eternal eclipse, gray and still, as though time itself had paused to observe.
I moved—not merely in the present, but across all time: present, past, and future. Every technique I had mastered, every law I had wielded, every strike perfected over countless lifetimes converged in one impossible moment.
And yet…he did not move.
Khaldrin sat. Black cloth folded over his small frame, hands brushing the dry soil, tending a seedling with deliberate care. Each gesture was precise, ritualistic, yet unassuming. Dust spiraled in the candlelight, particles suspended as if held by the gravity of his presence. I unleashed everything, and still…he remained unaffected.
"You weave through time," he murmured, voice soft and cold, "yet you move where stillness reigns. You strike where there is no strike. You seek mastery where nothing is to be mastered."
I pressed further. I struck across past, present, and future, laws twisting, blades slicing through epochs. Every apex technique I had honed over millennia converged in a single attack. And still…he did not flinch.
I felt infinity pressing back against me. His eyes—timeless, unfathomable—looked through me. Not at me, but through me, unraveling the layers of my mind, exposing every victory, every failure, every desire. Each lifetime I had claimed mastery in collapsed into clarity: ego, pride, ambition…all meaningless.
"You measure power in motion," he said. "You measure mastery in law and technique…yet all falls where humility is absent. True mastery…is stillness. True power…dwells."
I staggered. Every apex skill, every weave of time, every blade I had ever commanded became null. My mind reeled as I felt thousands of lifetimes and battles replay, only to be undone by the weight of his calm.
Then he moved slightly—hands brushing soil, adjusting the seedling. The faintest gesture, almost invisible, carried authority beyond comprehension. He spoke again:
"To dwell is to master without effort. To claim nothing is to hold everything. You strike at infinity…yet infinity does not resist."
I looked down at the simple food and drink he had offered: grains, fermented wine, water. As I consumed it, clarity filled me. Arrogance dissolved, exhaustion faded. Strength and understanding seeped through simplicity itself. Every bite, every sip, became a lesson: power lies not in motion, nor law, nor technique, but in awareness, humility, and patience.
The candle trembled. Dust drifted. Shadows stretched along the walls. He returned to the seedling, still, unassuming, yet impossibly commanding. I realized then that my apex mastery, my manipulation of past, present, and future, had taught me nothing compared to the quiet authority of one who dwells.
He dwelled. The seedling grew. The candle flickered. I had attacked across all realities—past, present, and future—unleashing every technique, every law, every mastery I had ever attained. Yet everything collapsed, nullified by a single look. And I…finally understood what it meant to encounter true mastery beyond motion, beyond form, beyond time itself. That nullifying gaze, that effortless unraveling of all I could wield…that techniqueis called False Reality.