Evan held the guides for a moment before placing them back on the counter. His attention shifted back to Valor, a thought forming as he replayed the previous day in his mind. "When you sent the enrollment request," he said, his tone steady, "you already knew where I stood. My level, my stage." He paused briefly, choosing his words with care. "How did you know that without asking?"
Valor regarded him quietly for a moment, as if measuring how much to explain. Then he spoke, his voice carrying the same calm weight as before. "At higher tiers, perception changes," he said. "You begin to read more than movement. Posture, control, the way someone carries effort. It becomes clear where they stand." His gaze held for a second longer. "Aura plays a part as well. You can't use it yet, but it's still there. Presence, pressure, stability. It shows in different ways." He shifted slightly, the explanation settling into something grounded rather than abstract. "And experience fills the rest. You see enough people at different stages, the patterns stop being difficult to recognize."
Evan nodded slowly, the explanation settling into place alongside everything else he had learned. It did not feel like guesswork. It felt like another layer of understanding he had yet to reach. His attention returned briefly to the guides on the counter, then back to Valor. "I'll go through these," he said. "And start the routine."
Valor gave a small nod. "Good." He stepped back slightly, his attention already shifting toward the training areas beyond. "Start with conditioning. Build consistency. Use the meditation room after your sessions." His gaze returned once more, steady and measured. "Come back this evening. We continue from there."
Evan glanced briefly down the corridor Valor had indicated earlier, then back at him. "Where is it exactly?" he asked.
Valor turned slightly and pointed toward a side passage that branched off from the main corridor. "Second turn on the left. You'll see the marking above the door." His gaze returned to Evan, holding a fraction longer this time. "Use it properly," he added. "Your focus breaks under pressure. Your thoughts pull away from what you're doing." His tone remained calm, but the intent behind it was clearer now. "That slows your progress more than anything else. Work on it with the same effort you put into your body."
Evan followed the direction with his eyes, noting the turn and the position relative to the main hall before looking back at Valor. The point had been made clearly enough. He gave a small nod, committing it alongside the rest of the instructions. His attention shifted once more to the guides on the counter, then he gathered them, holding them with care rather than tucking them away thoughtlessly.
Valor watched the motion, then gave a final nod. "Go," he said. "Read. Recover. Come back ready to train." His gaze moved past Evan toward the training floor again, already shifting to the next task. Evan stepped away from the counter and turned toward the corridor, the weight of the guides in his hands and the weight of the morning's training both settling into something he would have to carry forward.
Evan moved through the corridor at a measured pace, the sounds of training fading as he turned into the side passage Valor had pointed out. The space grew quieter, the air cooler, the walls less worn compared to the main sections of the facility. A small marking above one of the doors caught his attention, simple and clear. He paused there for a moment, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was calm, built for stillness rather than movement. A few individuals sat spaced apart on low mats, their posture upright, eyes closed, breathing slow and even. No one spoke. No one looked up. The space carried a quiet weight that encouraged the same. Evan stepped in and closed the door behind him, the outside world fading further as he stood there for a moment, taking in the environment before moving toward an empty spot.
Evan set the guides down beside the mat and lowered himself into a seated position, adjusting his posture until it felt stable. His legs crossed naturally, his back straightening as he placed his hands lightly on his thighs. The stillness of the room pressed in gently, not forcing quiet, yet shaping it. His breathing carried the weight of the morning's effort, deeper than usual, uneven at first.
He closed his eyes and focused on it. Inhale. Exhale. The pattern felt simple, yet holding it required attention. His thoughts drifted at the edges, fragments from the morning, the run, the strain, the dream before waking. He brought his focus back to the breath each time, letting the air move in and out without forcing it. The repetition began to settle into something steadier, his awareness narrowing to that single, controlled motion.
His breathing held for a few cycles, then his mind slipped. The image returned without warning. Arin standing there, hand raised, waiting with quiet patience. Behind him, familiar faces from Earth... friends, his professor, all of them looking at him the same way. The same silent request. Come back soon. The feeling tightened in his chest, pulling his focus away from the breath he had been trying to follow.
Evan drew in a deeper breath, slower this time, and held it for a moment before letting it out. He did not try to push the image away. He let it pass through, then brought his attention back to the rise and fall of his breathing. The next few cycles held longer. His thoughts still drifted, though with less force, each one returning more easily to the same point. The room remained quiet around him, the steady presence of others holding their own stillness, while he worked through the pull of his own mind, one breath at a time.
The image surfaced again, softer this time, less sharp at the edges. Arin's raised hand lingered for a moment before fading into something less defined. The voices that had felt close now seemed distant, like echoes carried from far away. Evan noticed it as it happened, the way the pull weakened just enough for him to hold his focus a little longer. He drew another breath, steady, letting it move through him without forcing it.
Time passed without him tracking it. His posture held, his breathing continued, and the interruptions grew less frequent. They did not disappear, but they came and went without taking hold in the same way. The tightness in his chest eased slightly, replaced by a quieter awareness of the present moment. It was a small shift, barely noticeable, yet it remained as he continued, breath following breath, holding onto it for as long as he could.
After a while, the strain from sitting in a fixed position began to make itself known again, this time in stillness. His legs grew stiff from holding position, a faint ache settling along his knees and hips. His back asked for adjustment, small shifts tempting him to break posture. He stayed with it for a few more breaths, maintaining the position as long as he could before slowly opening his eyes.
The room remained unchanged. A few others still sat in the same posture, their breathing calm, their presence steady. Evan exhaled and let his shoulders ease, the tension leaving gradually as he shifted out of the position. The noise in his mind had quieted slightly. The images had not disappeared, but they no longer pressed against him with the same force. He reached for the guides beside him, his attention returning to the next step.
He picked up the first guide and opened it, turning to the section on breathing control. The instructions were simple and structured, outlining patterns of inhale, hold, and release, each tied to a specific count. Small notes along the margins explained how to maintain awareness during the process, how to return focus when it drifted, how to keep the body relaxed without losing posture. Evan read through it once, then closed the guide and placed it beside him.
He adjusted his position again and followed the pattern described. Inhale for a count. Hold. Release. The structure gave his focus something clearer to follow. His thoughts still moved at the edges, but the pattern made it easier to return. Each cycle felt more deliberate, less scattered than before. The effort remained, but it was directed now, held within the boundaries of the exercise rather than pulling him away from it.
He continued through several cycles, keeping the count steady in his mind. The first few rounds required effort to maintain, his attention slipping for a moment before returning to the pattern. By the next set, the transitions between inhale, hold, and release came with less hesitation. His breathing deepened, moving more evenly through his chest, his shoulders staying relaxed instead of lifting with each breath.
The thoughts did not disappear. They surfaced in fragments, quieter now, less insistent. Arin's image came once, then faded without holding his focus. Evan noticed it and returned to the count without forcing the shift. The change was small, almost subtle, but it held. He stayed with the exercise a little longer before opening his eyes again, the room coming back into view with a clearer sense of presence than before.
Evan remained seated for a moment after opening his eyes, letting the quiet of the room settle around him. The tension in his chest had eased, replaced by a steadier awareness of his breathing. It did not feel complete or resolved. It felt manageable. That was enough for now. He reached for the guide again and glanced through the next section, committing its structure to memory before closing it and returning to the breathing exercise, letting his mind settle into something closer to calm.