The one retrieved from The Void

In order for Vastian to draw upon the power of the spirit, he had to use different sigils. The first sigil, a complex pattern of swirling lines and concentric circles, materialized in his mind's eye. As he formed it, a sensation of detachment washed over him, as if he were slipping into a dreamlike state. The world blurred at the edges, and for a brief, disorienting moment, he existed outside the constraints of physical reality.

The second sigil, starkly different in design, consisted of overlapping triangles radiating outward from a central point. As he traced its form, a surge of energy coursed through him, granting him superhuman strength and speed. It was a potent ability, but one that demanded intense focus and control.

The third sigil was a network of intricate lines and dots, resembling a cosmic map. As he formed it, a sense of vertigo washed over him, and he felt the fabric of reality begin to tear. This sigil allowed him to create portals to other locations, but it was a dangerous ability, requiring precise calculations to avoid catastrophic consequences.

The final sigil, the most complex and powerful, was a representation of a singularity. As he formed it, a sense of awe and terror filled him. The sigil was a vortex of energy, capable of warping reality itself. It was a power to be used with extreme caution, for its potential for destruction was as great as its potential for creation.

These sigils were not merely symbols; they were conduits to a realm of extraordinary power. To wield them effectively required not only knowledge but also a deep understanding of their nature and limitations.

Those were the fourth spirits he had been given, and now they all had been forged into something he could use. He never left them behind, the chakrams being the most cumbersome to carry. Thanks to the same tech Kadmon used to conceal his weapons, he'd managed to do the same. In his case, the chakrams were disguised as a pair of rings adorning his index fingers.

"That was truly something," Anya said, her voice filled with awe.

"Yeah, it was," Lily added, turning to Vastian. "How are you doing, Vas?" she inquired.

Vastian grimaced. "I'm alright, though this one… it showed me a rather unpleasant memory."

Anya's curiosity piqued. "So, what kind of abilities did this one grant you?"

"These abilities require hand signs to activate," he explained. "Basically, they allow me to manipulate someone."

"So, have you thought of any names for the abilities you have?" Anya asked, leaning forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Names are incredibly powerful, you know. They're like the keys to unlocking their full potential. By giving them a name, you're essentially giving them intent, a purpose. It's like giving birth to a new idea. Amrita, responds better to focused intent, and a name is the ultimate focus."

Vastian knew Anya had a point, and a good one at that. But the thought of naming his abilities felt like trying to catch smoke. It was an elusive concept, a puzzle with missing pieces. "I'll get back to you on that," he finally managed, a hint of frustration coloring his voice.

Madeline's arrival was a welcome distraction. Her cheerful demeanor was like a breath of fresh air. "Glad you're all still here," she said, her eyes scanning the room. "I just ran into an old friend who might be able to help us with your brother's whereabouts."

Vastian's attention sharpened. "Really? That's great news, Madeline. Thanks a lot."

"No problem," she replied, her smile widening. "Consider it a down payment on the favor I'll be calling in soon."

A wave of relief washed over Vastian as he realized the weight of his troubles had temporarily lifted. 

After that, Vastian left, wanting to rest. Forging a spirit into something tangible always left him feeling exhausted. When he arrived home, no one was around, a scene he had grown accustomed to. Sometimes he would find Brandon or David guarding the door, well aware of the reason why they often worked overtime. His father frequently brought work home, and since it was top secret, the guards had to stay on duty.

That night, however, was different. He simply retreated to his room and went to sleep. Unfortunately, he didn't rest for long, as he soon found himself seated on a familiar chair in a familiar place. He was back at the ancient library where he had met The Archivist. In front of him, this time, was a little girl comically dressed in a huge coat. Just like last time, The Archivist was focused on the books on the desk.

"Congratulations on forging the four of them," the Archivist murmured, her eyes still glued to the ancient tome. "Quite an accomplishment."

Vastian felt a surge of pride. "Thanks," he replied, his voice filled with a sense of accomplishment. "But why am I here?"

The Archivist finally looked up, her gaze piercing. "Because you've stumbled upon a crucial piece of the puzzle, Vastian. Something that could lead you to one of the Forgotten."

Intrigue sparked in Vastian's eyes. "So, you're going to tell me everything?" he asked, eager anticipation coloring his voice.

The Archivist smiled cryptically. "I'm going to give you the tools to find your own answers. This library contains knowledge beyond your wildest dreams. Explore, discover, and piece together the puzzle."

A mixture of excitement and trepidation washed over Vastian. The prospect of such vast knowledge at his fingertips was exhilarating, yet daunting. "Can I start now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The Archivist nodded, returning to her book. "The library is yours to explore," she said dismissively.

With a deep breath, Vastian began to navigate the labyrinth of knowledge that surrounded him. 

Vastian spent the whole night poring over dusty tomes, his eyes burning with fatigue but alight with curiosity. The library held a wealth of secrets, and he was determined to unlock them. Among the countless scrolls and tablets, three things in particular drew his attention.

The first was a cryptic inscription that hinted at a way to use Amrita to defy gravity. The idea of hovering in the air and propelling himself with a jump sent a thrill through him. The second was a language so ancient that it was spoken only in whispers of forgotten lore. For some reason, he felt an irresistible pull towards it, as if it held the key to a mystery buried deep within him.

The last discovery was a treatise on Anima, a powerful energy that could be used to strengthen the body. Vastian had already learned that Anima could influence Amrita, but this text revealed a new way to channel it in pulses for maximum effect. 

Vastian delved deeper into the treatise, seeking a more profound understanding of Anima pulses. The text explained that Anima, when channeled in a focused burst, created a surge of energy that amplified the body's natural capabilities. By synchronizing these pulses with specific movements, one could enhance strength, speed, agility, and even reflexes.

The key was precision. The Anima pulse had to be timed perfectly with the muscle contraction, ensuring maximum efficiency. It was akin to a martial artist striking at the exact moment of peak power. The treatise emphasized that the mind was the conductor of this symphony, directing the flow of Anima with unwavering focus.

Mastering this technique would require countless hours of practice and experimentation. Vastian knew it would be a long and arduous journey, but the potential rewards were too enticing to ignore. He was determined to unlock the secrets of Anima pulses and harness their power.

Overall, although he hadn't uncovered any concrete clues about the Forgotten one his brother had encountered, the night's research proved fruitful. A particular language had resonated with him, sparking a creative spark. It was the catalyst he needed to finally name the abilities he'd derived from the spirits. While he was still mulling over potential names, the initial concepts were taking shape.

He woke feeling refreshed, a rarity after such an intense mental exertion. A quick shower invigorated him, and he slipped into his school uniform. Highest College of Nexus, a prestigious institution where nearly every member of his family had matriculated. The school mandated two uniforms: a formal attire for special occasions and a more casual option for everyday wear. Today was a casual uniform day, consisting of a crisp white jacket, comfortable shorts with ample pockets, undergarments for leg protection, a black tank top, and a pair of clean white sneakers.

He descended the stairs, the familiar routine comforting in the early morning quiet. Usually, he'd be joined by his siblings; they were all in their final year of school after all. But today, he was alone, the first to rise, as was often the case.

"Ah, the early bird strikes again," a voice teased, and Vastian turned to see his grandfather stepping out of the house, ready for his morning walk.

"Good morning, Grandfather," Vastian replied, a smile spreading across his face.

"If only your siblings possessed your discipline," Gerald mused, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "It would save me a lot of worry."

Vastian chuckled. "Maybe you should take that up with them," he suggested lightly.

Gerald chuckled in return, the amusement in his eyes softening his expression. "Believe me, I've tried. Your parents are a formidable duo when it comes to their parenting methods. They're so engrossed in their work that they've somehow managed to overlook the fact that they've left you on the sidelines. Even Jacob hasn't been able to convince them otherwise."

Vastian was well aware of his parents' demanding careers. At that moment, his siblings burst out of the house, their arrival coincidental with the school car's arrival. A strange sense of timing washed over him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Dressed identically, his siblings were already laughing and joking. Bidding his grandfather farewell, Vastian joined them in the car. The ride to school seemed to stretch on endlessly.

The car glided smoothly through the city, a symphony of glass, steel, and verdant life. Towering structures, their exteriors adorned with cascading waterfalls of greenery, reached for the sky. Sunlight filtered through a canopy of urban foliage, casting dappled patterns on the sleek, automated vehicle. Below, elevated walkways intertwined with the buildings, a bustling network of pedestrian traffic contrasting with the quiet efficiency of the road.

The Highest College of Nexus was a marvel of futuristic architecture. A colossal structure of glass and steel, it seemed to rise organically from the ground, its form echoing the natural curves of the surrounding landscape. Green walls cascaded down its exterior, a living tapestry that hummed with life.

He stepped into the building, a sense of calm washing over him. With the spirits forged, his focus shifted to uncovering the mysteries surrounding the Forgotten. He hoped Madeline's investigation would yield fruitful results. For now, school was the order of the day.

Inside, he spotted Lily. Unlike him, she was a social butterfly, surrounded by a constant buzz of activity. They had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps at school to avoid unnecessary complications with his siblings. Given their influential families and the school's tendency to revolve around popular students, it was a decision born of practicality.

He navigated the familiar corridors, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities. The night's revelations still pulsed through his consciousness. These provisional names for his abilities were mere placeholders, temporary markers on a vast, uncharted map. Voluntad sin Límites a psychic bond, hinted at a deep, empathetic connection. Visión del Velo, a glimpse beyond the veil of reality, promised access to hidden knowledge. Espirales del Olvido, a detachment from the physical, held the allure of strategic advantage. And finally, El Hilo del Destino, suggested a power over circumstance itself.

He navigated the familiar corridors, his mind still occupied by the night's revelations. The provisional names for his abilities felt like the first strokes on a blank canvas. A sense of anticipation and trepidation mingled within him as he considered the potential of these powers.

The school day passed in a blur of academic routine, punctuated by moments of mental escape. As the final bell rang, he gathered his belongings, eager to delve deeper into his newfound abilities. A text from Lily shattered his momentary peace: "Mom wants to talk to you." His heart skipped a beat; such direct requests were unusual.

Arriving at Lily's penthouse, he found Madeline freshly showered, wrapped in a robe, and exuding an air of casual authority. Lily, still in her uniform, seemed to be waiting for the impending storm.

"Good, you're here," Madeline stated, the cigarette between her fingers a stark contrast to the sterile elegance of the penthouse. "Time to collect on your debt."