As Zoey stood there, her mind began filling in the blanks with eerie precision.

  This was someone’s ability.

  The rug was a medium. A focal point for whatever technique was being used here. The how and what still eluded her, but the concept was clear as day.

  She bit her lip.

  The more her mind worked like this, the more she felt like her old self was slipping away. It was like her instincts were rewiring her, sharpening her thoughts into something unfamiliar. Maybe this was normal for Veythari, no one else seemed quite normal either.

  Jenna, meanwhile, was grinning like she was in on some grand secret. “Bet you weren’t expecting this!”

  Zoey didn’t respond.

  Crucible, noticing her silence, raised an eyebrow. “You alright, Zoey?”

  She nodded, her afterimages flickering slightly with the movement.

  She was fine.

  Crucible motioned toward Zoey’s notepad, expecting her to write something, but she brushed him off with a quick wave of her hand. Instead, she simply gestured toward the rug, making it clear—she was done with all the talking. She just wanted to get this over with.

  Jenna, sensing the tension, immediately tried to lighten the mood. “Oh, come on, don’t look so grim! It’s not like we’re feeding you to a monster… probably.” She grinned, nudging Zoey’s arm playfully.

  Zoey glanced at her, then forced a chuckle—fake as hell, but it was enough to make Jenna back off.

  Crucible, watching the exchange carefully, didn’t comment. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and knelt down, pressing his hand against the rug.

  Then, he lifted it.

  Zoey stepped forward out of curiosity—but the second she looked down, her heart skipped a beat.

  Underneath the rug

  Was a world.

  An endless void, starry and dreamlike, stretched beneath them. Floating building-like structures drifted lazily, twisting and turning like weightless islands, their structures defying logic. Everything had an almost painted quality to it, like a masterpiece that had come to life.

  Jenna beamed, seeing the shock on Zoey’s face. “I know, right?! I never get tired of seeing it!”

  Zoey didn’t answer.

  Instead, she took a step forward.

  Then, she jumped.

  She heard Crucible yell something behind her, but she didn’t care.

  This was like hopping a fence into an abandoned amusement park. Or climbing through a shattered window into an old asylum, chasing the thrill of the unknown.

  The free fall swallowed her whole, her afterimages trailing behind her. The lights of her own energy mixed with the soft luminescence of the floating world, encasing her in an ethereal embrace as she plummeted downward, weightless, free.

  The moment of ethereal beauty was violently interrupted as a floating building slammed into Zoey mid-fall.

  For a split second, she braced for pain, but instead—

  THUMP.

  She wasn’t crushed. Wasn’t even hurt. Instead, she found herself sprawled flat on the cool, smooth floor of the building, staring up at the painted void sky.

  Before she could even process what had just happened, a voice boomed down at her.

  “Ma’am, ARE YOU INSANE?!”

  Zoey turned her head and found herself looking up at a man.

  He looked about thirty, maybe late twenties if she was feeling generous. Short black hair, a scruffy beard, and a brown-and-black uniform that was almost stylish, but still screamed “strict instructor.” His expression was somewhere between shock and fury, but what caught Zoey’s attention most wasn’t his face—it was his aura.

  It was this place.

  This entire world—the floating buildings, the painted void, the very air—all of it was him. His presence was the space around them, interwoven into every inch of this strange dreamscape.

  Zoey’s eyes flickered with understanding. So this is another form of Barriers…

  Before she could sit up, the man took a step forward—except one step carried him instantly from several feet away to directly in front of her.

  She barely had time to blink before he was looming over her, hands on his hips like a furious teacher reprimanding a student.

  “You do not—I repeat, you do not—just leap into someone’s Barrier like a lunatic!” His voice was rich, booming, dripping with disapproval. “Such boldness! Such chaos!” He spread his arms dramatically, as if addressing an invisible audience.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Then, just as quickly, his expression darkened, his voice dropping into an accusatory hush.

  “But such utter carelessness!”

  Zoey blinked.

  Before she could respond, she caught movement from above—Crucible and Jenna were descending toward them on a floating platform.

  Jenna had the biggest grin on her face. “Ohhhh, she’s insane!,” she whispered gleefully to Crucible as they landed.

  Crucible sighed. “Sorry, Matt, she—”

  “No, no.” Matt cut him off, raising a dramatic hand. “She can speak for herself.”

  He turned his sharp gaze to Zoey, expecting an answer.

  Zoey reached for her notepad out of habit, only to realize—it was gone. Probably somewhere way back where she’d jumped.

  She shrugged, her afterimages shimmering around her in sync, enhancing her already nonchalant attitude.

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. “What were you thinking? Have you no common sense? Have you no respect for your own life?!”

  Zoey opened her mouth to answer—and, as usual, her words came out rapid-fire, almost overlapping themselves.

  “Iwasthinkingitbefunanditwashellaworthitsoyeah.”

  Matt blinked.

  He slowly turned to Jenna and Crucible, his voice deadpan. “What the hell did she just say?”

  Zoey chuckled, unable to help herself.

  Matt pointed at her. “You stop that. Oh my lord, I was hoping for someone normal.”

  Zoey, grinning, threw her arms open in an exaggerated mock hug.

  Matt sighed heavily, shaking his head. Then, after a long pause, he jabbed a thumb toward her and smirked. “I like her.”

  Jenna burst out laughing. Crucible just sighed, rubbing his temple.

  “Zoey,” he said, gesturing toward Matt, “this is Captain Matthew Hughes. Leader of V-35.”

  “Call me Matt,” he corrected instantly. “Matthew Hughes is my father.” Stretching out his hand.

  Zoey chuckled again while shaking it, thoroughly entertained.

  Crucible shook his head at Zoey, exhaling like he was dealing with a particularly troublesome younger sibling.

  “Next time, seriously—don’t just jump into pocket spaces without warning.”

  Zoey just smiled, her afterimages flickering around her with amusement.

  “I’m serious,” Crucible emphasized.

  Jenna, nudged Zoey in the side. “That was really cool, though. And your afterimages going like swoosh behind you? Pretty awesome.”

  Zoey smirked and raised her fist.

  Jenna grinned and fist-bumped her without hesitation.

  Matt, who had been rubbing his chin in deep thespian contemplation, suddenly threw his arms out.

  “Well, how the hell is she supposed to talk?!” he demanded, pacing in an exaggerated fashion. “Communication is a two-way street! A duet! A harmonious exchange! And yet—this poor girl has been silenced!” He gasped, clutching his chest as if personally wounded by the injustice.

  Crucible, simply responded flatly. “She dropped her notepad and pen.”

  Matt stopped mid-gesture.

  “Oh.” He blinked, “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

  He snapped his fingers.

  In an instant, Zoey’s notepad and pen reappeared in her hands.

  Her eyes went wide for a second.

  Matt noticed—and his lips curled into a knowing smile.

  Then, with another snap of his fingers, the entire barrier shifted.

  The drifting buildings moved together, seamlessly fusing as if they were pieces of a grand puzzle. Structures connected, rearranged, and settled into a circular formation. A new center formed—like a sunken amphitheater designed for sitting and gathering.

  The void beyond remained untouched, a starry masterpiece painted in the background. The entire scene felt like something out of a surrealist painting—layers of reality seeming too fold into themselves.

  A picture within a picture.

  Zoey looked around, her fingers tightening slightly on her notepad.

  Matt spread his arms out with pride. “Now this—this is a proper stage for conversation!”

  Zoey blinked, barely registering what was happening before everything shifted again.

  People appeared, already seated in chairs arranged in a loose semicircle. And before she could process how, she was suddenly in front of them, with Jenna and Crucible standing on either side like assigned escorts.

  Her afterimages flickered in delayed mimicry as she scanned the crowd—twenty-four people in total, ranging from around eighteen to forty-five.

  Zoey’s gaze immediately honed in on the four strongest.

  She didn’t need to see their auras to tell—they carried themselves differently. The way they sat, the way their eyes moved, the barely restrained edge in their body language. Fighters. Competitors.

  A sly grin spread across her face.

  Her afterimages mimicked the motion, creating an eerie ripple of light behind her.

  Then, Captain Matt stepped forward and flung out his arms.

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Warriors and dreamers! Seekers of glory and the misguided alike! Before you stands our newest recruit!”

  His voice carried across the space, commanding attention without effort.

  “Zoey Bail—fresh blood for the cause, an unknown force entering our ranks! Welcome her warmly, but be ever vigilant!” He wagged a finger. “For she is not just another comrade—no, no! She is another opponent in your climb up the ranks!”

  Zoey narrowed her eyes slightly. Oh? So that’s how we’re playing this.

  Matt continued, his pacing slow and deliberate. “And do take heed, dear students—our new arrival has been involved in a rather particular rift incident. As such, she bears some… aftereffects that may appear strange. Perhaps even unsettling.”

  He made a slow, dramatic turn back toward the crowd.

  “But rest assured!” He raised a single finger. “They are harmless.”

  Zoey could feel all eyes on her. Some curious, some skeptical, some already calculating.

  She smirked slightly and shifted her stance.

  Alright, then.

  If this was the game, she was more than ready to play.

  Matt clapped his hands together. “Any questions?”

  A hand shot up from the back.

  Before the person could even breathe out a word, Matt pointed at them.

  “Shut the hell up! I explained everything perfectly.”

  The hand immediately went back down.

  Matt gave a satisfied nod. “Now, we will continue our nap!”

  He turned to Zoey.

  “And no, Zoey, that does not mean sleep, you silly goose.”

  Jenna chuckled, while Crucible rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his skull.

  Matt, unfazed, continued. “Nap time, my dear Zoey, is an essential period of Manifestion refinement! Meditation. Reflection. To fine-tune one’s core and sharpen one’s presence. To understand and become one’s power.”

  Zoey quirked an eyebrow. So meditation with a stupid name? Noted.

  Matt clasped his hands again. “So, as I was saying, we will resume our activity—but you!” He spun, pointing at someone in the group, one of the strong auras she felt earlier.

  An African American man about Zoey’s age lazily lifted his head.

  He wore the same gray uniform as the others, his long locks pulled back into a loose tie that still let some strands fall naturally over his face. His dark brown eyes were half-lidded, giving the distinct impression that he just woke up—or was already planning to go back to sleep.

  “…What?” Devonte asked, voice deep, relaxed, unbothered.

  “You will be assisting Zoey with this exercise, since you already completed your task.”

  Devonte groaned dramatically. “Man! I was trynna go to sleep after dis.”

  Matt placed a hand over his chest. “And I want a pet wolverine that wears sweaters, but we all can’t live in a dream world, Devonte.”

  “Bro—”

  “It’s Captain!”

  “Matt.”

  “…Yes?”

  Devonte stared at him deadpan. “Ya Barrier is some dream bullshit. And it’s ya world… let someone else do it.”

  Matt gasped in faux offense. “How dare you insult my masterpiece!” Then, with a sudden grin, he wagged a finger. “But alas, you dared—and now, my dear Devonte, you shall.”

  Devonte exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as a lazy grin pulled at his lips.

  Zoey recognized that look.

  That was someone who knew they weren’t strong enough to argue yet. It was a feeling she was all too familiar with recently.

  But with this “training,” she just might find a way to… alter that.