Finn was right with his conjecture about the reason for the tight-knit solidarity among the various kingdoms with knowledge about Transcendents.

After the explanation from Thalia, Deacon and Keeva, Finn also met with the Monarchs of Astoria. The King and the Queen, who were also Thalia's parents. She was the heir to the throne of Astoria. The only child of the two Archons that ruled over the kingdom.

Finn hadn't been as surprised, considering he already knew she was somehow related to royalty from Agent Fors' deference to her. Even being in the presence of two Archons did not faze him. They were more powerful than normal Archons, yes. But he'd been in the presence of an even more powerful individual.

What did move him, though, was the content of what they discussed.

For reasons unknown, the world itself had started to act strangely during the reign of the previous monarchs. Areas of erratic mana behavior began to pop up across different kingdoms. Weakening what they'd come to know and refer to as the fabric of reality.

At the time, the phenomenon was dismissed as merely increased mana concentration. Erratic in nature, yes, but ultimately manageable.

The monarchs of the various kingdoms where such phenomena occurred kept it under wraps. Especially after discovering methods to control the erratic mana flow and turn such areas into secret training sites for their most promising Arcanists.

But it wasn't until their later years — when a small tear in reality actually formed — that they figured out the truth. The world was converging mana at specific points, attempting to heal itself.

That tear was small. Barely noticeable, really.

But it opened up to another world. A completely different plane of existence.

Finn had maintained a carefully crafted expression of surprise and confusion at that revelation, as if it was the first time he'd ever heard of such a possibility. Inside, though, his mind raced. This was it. The beginning of what would eventually become the chaos breaches of his future timeline.

The monarchs explained that the tear opening to another world signaled something significant. The start of a new age, perhaps.

But their scholars thought otherwise. They emphasized caution, stating that the fact this was happening for the first time in recorded history meant something fundamental had changed. Perhaps the seam of reality between their world and this other world they just discovered, had grown weaker. Closer.

All of this remained under wraps, of course. Unknown to the public.

A few years after that first tear, the first Transcendent was born.

A child from the Kingdom of Valendris who wielded Chaos itself. Not elements, not mana used to enhance the body or nurture beasts or artifacts, but an abstract concept. Magic that defied conventional logic entirely.

The first Transcendent.

Astoria and other kingdoms in the know were shaken. Many saw it as a potential weapon, a threat from Valendris that could destabilize the existing power structure.

But not long after, more Transcendents began appearing.

During that time, the monarchy of Astoria was transitioning to the next generation. And that was when it was discovered that their own child — Thalia — also possessed Transcendent abilities.

A more dedicated organization was immediately established to find others like her. And the second Transcendent of Astoria was discovered shortly after.

Casmir. The boy who could manipulate space to his will.

After them, more began appearing across various kingdoms with increasing frequency.

The Crown scholars of these kingdoms called it another method for the world to heal itself. To create defenders against something that was coming.

And this time, the monarchs took it seriously. They heeded the scholars' advice and predictions, nurturing the Transcendents in secret. Preparing for whatever threat might emerge.

And presently — just a few years ago — the reason for the Transcendents' existence had become apparent.

The tears in reality had become more frequent. More unstable. If not for artifacts created to sense large mana spikes and predict their locations beforehand, it would have already become a public crisis.

But it wasn't just the tears.

The mana itself was changing. Becoming thinner, as if being siphoned off through the tears into other worlds before they fully opened.

And the pattern of it... the way it moved...

It almost seemed conscious.

That statement had struck Finn as particularly unsettling.

Already, hearing all of this now, he understood. This was the beginning of what led to the reality of his future timeline. Where mana levels were lower across the board. Where Arcanist souls intertwined with mana on such a fundamental level that they became chaotic masses upon death. Where chaos breaches were a regular occurrence, requiring the birth of the first Ossuarists, who could purge the corrupted soul masses before they destabilized reality further.

The world was responding. Creating Transcendents first, then later in his time, Ossuarists. Different solutions to the same fundamental problem.

But that word. Conscious…

The King and Queen had used it deliberately. Were they suggesting the tears weren't natural phenomena at all? That something was orchestrating them? Deliberately siphoning mana from their world?

The implications were...

Finn pushed the thought aside. Too many variables. Not enough information.

.

.

.

Finn stopped replaying the memory and returned his focus to the present.

It had been three days since that meeting.

Right now, he was in what he'd taken to calling a training room, though that didn't quite capture the scale of it. The underground facility housing the Transcendents was massive. So many corridors and chambers, some vast as football fields.

For the most part, the Transcendents kept to themselves. Casmir and Lyris were rarely seen. Keeva moved like a ghost, present one moment and forgotten the next.

But occasionally, they sparred.

Finn had gone to watch several times. Had even wanted to participate a few times. Test himself against them properly.

But Thalia and Deacon insisted he continue focusing on Somatic Transmutation for his eyes. Nothing else. Finn privately thought he had the theoretical knowledge down perfectly. He'd memorized the entire primer and three additional texts, but Deacon disagreed.

"Keep at it," the golden-eyed man had said. "Focus on that and only that until it becomes part of you. Not something you do, but something you are."

A very faint glow had begun manifesting in Finn's eyes over the past three days. But it was only visible if someone stared very intently, and under the right lighting, that it appeared as an inner luminescence rather than normal reflection.

Deacon's eyes, by contrast, glowed golden even in bright sunlight. By default, they emitted light. And when he actively used his Truth abilities, they blazed even brighter.

Finn needed to reach at least half that level of constant manifestation before moving on to anything else.

Which meant learning to keep the most useless, watered-down version of his Error Vision active at all times.

The past few days had been excruciating.

Finn had worked to compress the spell down to something so minute and negligible it barely qualified as Error Vision at all. Like learning to perceive only the error-paths of dust particles floating in the air. Or the microscopic flaws in the stone walls around him.

The goal was continuous use. Uninterrupted activation.

He needed to keep the ability running constantly to force his eyes to adapt. To attune to Error itself.

From the books, he'd learned he was essentially reforging an organ. Turning a part of himself from something that used his concept as an external tool into something that was inherently connected to it. The difference between wielding a sword and having the sword be part of your arm.

But there was a significant downside.

The benefits were tremendous, yes. But he was literally giving his concept physical form. His eyes would become a vulnerability.

Another Transcendent — or even a sufficiently skilled Arcanist — could theoretically pluck the transmuted organ out and transplant it into themselves. They'd gain access to that ability, though at much lower proficiency and with significantly more strain.

One book detailed an experiment from a Transcendent in another kingdom who'd tested this. A normal Arcanist, depending on their talent and mental fortitude, could survive anywhere from one to three uses of a transplanted Transcendent organ before their mind collapsed from the strain and they died.

So Transcendents needed countermeasures. Ways to protect their transmuted organs from being harvested.

People like Deacon, who displayed his golden eyes so openly, were clearly confident no one could reach them. From the spars Finn had observed, Deacon created elaborate reality clauses as the foundation of his fighting style. Finn suspected the man had multiple failsafes in place — clauses that would activate even if he was unconscious or dying, preventing anyone from actually taking his eyes.

Presently, Finn was also considering what method to use to secure his own.

An Error clause, maybe? Some kind of dying-minute reversal? But triggered by what condition? He needed something that would convince reality to act in a way his attacker wouldn't anticipate. Because anyone reaching for his eyes wouldn't be a common Arcanist. They'd be someone who knew exactly what precautions to expect.

Finn stood in the center of the massive training chamber, eyes closed, maintaining the threadbare version of Error Vision he'd been practicing. Sensing the microscopic flaws in the ambient mana around him. The tiny imperfections in how reality held itself together.

His head throbbed dully. A constant, low-level pain that had become his companion over the past three days.

He was about to increase the load slightly — push the perception range a few inches further — when the door opened.

Keeva stepped inside.

Finn's eyes snapped open and the Error Vision flickered out as his concentration broke.

He turned toward her and she nodded at him.

"The team is handling a breach," she said simply. "It's reached the breaking point. You've been called to come watch. See how we operate in the field."

Finally…

Finn felt something spark in his chest.

Some actual action…

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