Chapter 8: Expedition Debrief

Valerio moved to the large rectangular table that dominated most of his office.

On top of it, a massive map of the Old World was spread out, taking up nearly the entire surface. Markers were placed across it, indicating known areas, points of interest, and notable forces.

Yet, despite the map’s vast expanse, these markers covered barely a sixth of it. Most were concentrated around the Republic and its expansion, along with the connection to Havlheim in the far north—the only other known remaining kingdom within relative reach.

The other factions were scattered across the globe, with contact highly infrequent ever since most space gates had been either sabotaged or sealed out of fear.

During the war against the Void, many of the mages capable of creating or even just maintaining these gates had been systematically assassinated, ensuring that the kingdoms remained disconnected and isolated even after the war had ended.

Valerio watched as the majority of the expeditionary group gathered around the table. Scanning their faces, he noted a mixture of expressions—some weary, others focused—but none grim, which gave him a measure of hope.

“I am glad to see all of you return safely,” he began. “Did you manage to complete your objectives?”

“We did,” Telemachos replied, picking up a handful of markers from the pile at the side of the table. He grimaced as he took far more purple pins—used to indicate undead—than he had hoped.

“Regrettably, a rather large horde of undead has roamed into the former capital of Milanos. We would need a much larger force to clear them out—either the majority of our family and retainers or hired mercenaries.”

Valerio shook his head as Telemachos placed four additional pins into the city of Milanos. “We do not have the funds yet. To properly educate our third generation, we were forced to spend a good portion of our savings to hire a university professor for five years—which did not come cheap.”

Telemachos tsked but nodded, clearly aware of the necessity. “We did, however, manage to confirm that the rift is still within the city and seems stable for the time being. We also tracked down the tribe of orcs that had been harassing our borders—and eliminated them.”

As he spoke, he pulled out a green pin indicating the greenskins and removed it from the map. Then, he took a circular token—used to mark rifts—and placed it next to the city already riddled with purple pins.

“Did their tribe own anything of value?” Valerio asked.

“They did,” Kyros replied, pulling a bundle of cloth from the satchel at his side and unwrapping it to reveal an Awakening Stone. The crystal was mostly clear, with sections that were perfectly see-through while others reflected the room’s light in fractured patterns.

“An Awakening Stone of Glass,” Kyros announced. “Sadly, they didn’t carry anything else of value aside from scrap metal, which we still recovered for our smiths.”

Valerio nodded. An Awakening Stone was always worth something, though Glass wasn’t highly coveted outside of certain crafters and alchemists—likely why the orcs hadn’t used it. Worst case, they could sell it in Stratosia to partially refill their coffers.

“Any other loot?” Valerio asked hopefully, feeling some relief when Kyros gave another nod.

“We managed to raid a garrison building at the edge of the city. It still had some Milaosian Steel and even a Milaosian suit of armor with a high mithril ratio. Besides that, we found some coin, though not much,” Kyros reported.

“Excellent,” Valerio said with satisfaction. “We’ll add the armor and other armaments to our equipment pool and assign it based on need. I presume you have more to report?”

There was a slight pause as the members of the expeditionary group exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Telemachos spoke up again.

“The shadows covering the lands have been driven back quite a bit,” he said, indicating an area to their immediate north and west. “The number of monsters on our immediate borders has also significantly decreased. But beyond that, I don’t think there’s much more of note to report.”

He glanced at the others, who all nodded in silent agreement.

Valerio let his gaze sweep over the map before returning his attention to the group. “You all did great work. Go home to your families and recover. I will likely call upon you in a week or two, assuming no emergencies arise. Until then, you are free to do as you please.”

Valerio didn’t miss the relieved expressions as the group gave him a hand-over-chest salute, crossing their right fist over their heart before turning to leave the room. He returned the gesture out of respect, then leaned over the table once more, his gaze locked onto the map as the door clicked shut behind them.

His eyes lingered on the city of Milanos, its name printed so close to their borders yet feeling impossibly distant. So close, yet out of reach. The thought settled heavy in his chest, frustration and longing intertwined. That city, once thriving, now festered with the undead, its lands waiting to be reclaimed.

Letting out a slow breath, he turned away from the table and moved to the window. Outside, the returning warriors dispersed, some hurrying toward their families, others laughing with comrades, the tension of battle giving way to the comfort of home. The sight eased the weight in his chest, if only slightly. At least, for now, they could rest.

Asterion once again snuck out of the house, heading for his usual spot in the hills. He was fairly certain his mother had heard him leave—his own ears were sharp enough to catch even the smallest sounds, and hers were far keener—but, as always, she chose not to stop him.

Sometimes, he cursed his inherited sharp senses. While he loved having his father around, he also understood far too well why his parents appreciated him finding ways to occupy himself elsewhere at night.

He looked up into the clear night sky, where the stars shone brightly, streaks of nebulae stretching across the dark expanse. A deep yearning stirred within him, a sense of connection he couldn’t quite explain. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch them, even though he knew that was impossible.

Mr. Seitz had given each of them study materials related to their essencia and awakened aspects. In Asterion’s case, it was a mix of astronomy, physics, and magical theory.

He carried the enchanted telescope Seitz had lent him, a tool that allowed him to see the stars with greater clarity. Through it, he had come to appreciate just how vast space truly was.

His studies covered the movements of planets and stars, the ways gravity shaped the world, and how magic interacted with those forces. While some of it was difficult to grasp, it all made sense in a way that felt natural to him—almost as if he were meant to understand it.

His mind absorbed the complex texts and explanations with ease, as if they were simply a part of him.

He had noted that this was the case everyone in his class—they grasped study material related to their essencia and awakened aspects far faster. And despite feeling that his own study material was among, if not the most, difficult in the class, he found he couldn’t follow the explanations Mr. Seitz gave to the other students nearly as well.

During their independent study sessions, he often listened in on the lessons of others out of curiosity. During a shared lesson, when Mr. Seitz explained tides to Zena, whose essencia was Sea, Asterion had no trouble keeping up. The way the moon’s gravitational pull influenced the rise and fall of the oceans made perfect sense to him.

But the next day, when their studies shifted to independent lessons again, he found himself listening in on Zena’s session about deep-sea density and how water adapted to crushing depths.

The explanation of the different interactions and the arithmetic behind it quickly became much harder to follow. It flew over his head in a way that made him feel a bit dumb when Zena nodded along excitedly.

It was the same for Anysia, whose essencia was Speech. She had been tasked with learning different languages and absorbed them with startling ease.

Grammar structures and subtle nuances came to her instinctively, leaving Asterion completely lost in comparison. Aside from Elvish, which his mother had taught him, he struggled to make sense of the words and patterns.

More than once, Mr. Seitz had caught him listening in and reminded him—sometimes sternly—to focus on his own studies instead of getting distracted by others’.

As he sat on the hill, Asterion inspected the telescope and its mount, considering whether to set it up again. He decided to do that later and carefully placed it beside him on the blanket he had brought. Lying down, he gazed at the sky, stretching out his hand before pinching a star between his index finger and thumb, as if holding it.

Even when he pinched his fingers together so he could no longer see the star in the sky, he could still feel it—the space between his fingers.

Space was strange—it existed, yet not in a way he could touch. It wasn’t just above him in the sky but all around him, filling every gap, every breath, every unseen distance between things. Even between him and the ground, there was space. It was not just an expanse but a presence, a vastness both infinite and intimate.

Closing his eyes, Asterion focused, trying to feel the space between himself and everything around him. He stretched out his arms beyond the blanket, feeling the cool blades of grass brush against his hands before swaying gently in the wind.

There was something there—a familiarity, a connection—but he couldn’t quite reach it. He didn’t know why. He knew these sensations and insights could lead to awakenings, and he felt it was close, but there was a missing piece.

"Why can’t I awaken this stupid space power? Mom and the rest of the family would be so happy, so proud. So why can’t I do it?"

It gnawed at him, the feeling of being so close yet just out of reach.

For as long as he could remember, his family had placed their hopes on him, frequently asking if he had awakened—only to be met with disappointment or gently scolded by his mother, who tried to protect him.

I’m failing them. They’re counting on me, and I can’t seem to take that step! Why?

Frustration surged, and anger flared. He churned his mana, trying to distract himself, to give himself something—anything—productive to do. If a tantrum or sheer frustration was enough to trigger an awakening, he would have unlocked his power long ago.

As he churned his mana, his mind raced. It couldn’t be a lack of insight holding him back—he understood space well. He felt it, the connection was there, woven into him, yet just out of reach.

He had been too young to remember awakening his gravity power, but the sense of familiarity was the same.

The difference was, he could touch gravity, manipulate it, make it his own. It was a part of him. Even when using his gravity power, he could sense space—he had to in order to navigate and direct gravity properly. And yet, space itself still eluded him, blocked by some invisible barrier he couldn’t break through.

Asterion didn’t know how long he had been lying there when a bright light pierced through his closed eyelids, blinding him. He scrunched up his face and raised a hand to shield his eyes.

"Is there space for one more?" came his father’s voice.

The light faded, and Asterion saw his father standing there, the glow in his hand dimming. A worried expression crossed his face.

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