The ship zoomed through space, crossing the asteroid belt we were in with insane speed, darting past the floating rocks that glowed faintly in the dim light of nearby stars.
The vibrations under my feet steadied as the stabilizers kicked in, and silence filled the cabin again, the kind that only space could offer.
Dante sat across from me, his hands clasped loosely, his eyes half-open as he looked at the stars streaming past. After a while, he spoke. "Before we reach Sukra, we can work on fixing something. Your will. It’s powerful, but it’s loud. You press against the world without realizing it."
I nodded. "You mean it leaks out?"
"Exactly," he said. "You have too much force behind every thought. Essence bends to it, and living beings feel crushed by it. That’s why I told you no one contests you. They’re terrified of you even without you meaning to."
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. "So how do I fix that?"
He smiled faintly and gestured toward the window. "Start by pulling it back. Imagine your will like a hand spread open across the world. Now close your fist. Draw it inward until nothing of it touches anything outside you."
I nodded and closed my eyes.
My perception flared lightly, showing me the faint web of Essence and particles around me. My will stretched across them, like invisible threads tugging at the air. Slowly, I tried to retract it, calling it back, pulling that sense of control toward my core.
It wasn’t easy. The more I drew in, the heavier it felt, like the universe resisted being left alone and my will wanted to spread around and not remain confined. My chest tightened, but I kept going until I felt nothing but myself, just my breath and heartbeat.
"Good," Dante said softly. "Now, hold that. The moment you think too loud, it’ll spread again."
I maintained it, breathing slowly. For a moment, the silence inside me matched the silence outside the ship. Then, he nodded. "You’ve got control. Now let’s move to the next part, your presence."
I opened my eyes.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "You’re still a beacon. Even with your will retracted, Essence knows where you are. You’re too dense, too active. The world reacts to you, air stirs, light bends slightly. You must learn to exist without being noticed."
I frowned. "So basically vanish without actually vanishing."
"Exactly," he said. "Think of it like this, you stop asking the world to acknowledge you. You stop existing as a command."
I took a deep breath again and focused.
The Essence around me was calm now, compressed and steady. I imagined it diffusing, not disappearing, just blending with everything around me. The hum of Essence outside my body began to even out. The tension in the air faded, and for the first time, I felt the ship’s silence without my aura pressing against it.
Dante’s gaze sharpened. "Better. Keep going. You need to make the world forget you’re here."
I sank deeper into the state, letting every thought, every spark of power dissolve into nothing. Soon, even my breathing felt distant. The Essence around me no longer shifted to my rhythm, it simply flowed on, like I wasn’t there.
A faint smile crossed Dante’s face. "Perfect. You’ve reached what we call the Quiet State. Masters can stay like this for hours. Some for days. It’s what keeps them alive in places where attention means death."
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling lighter than before. "Feels strange," I admitted. "Like I’m here but not really."
"That’s the point," he said. "When you can exist without disturbing anything, you’re finally in control, not just of your will, but of how the universe sees you."
Dante leaned back with a faint nod. "Good. You’re learning faster than I expected. Keep that up, and no one will sense you coming. And even if they do see you, you’ll look... average."
I nodded slowly, still holding onto the quiet state he had taught me. "You said something about talent markings as well," I asked.
Dante’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing just slightly. The casual tone faded. "Yes. Let me tell you about talent and its division first."
That caught me off guard. "There’s a division in talent? I thought there wasn’t such a thing."
"There is," he said, his voice even. "Talents are divided into five categories. Each carries its own color and its own frequency. Violet is the weakest, then indigo, then blue, then green. And finally, the strongest, yellow." He paused, watching my face before continuing.
"The first time I met you and saw your talent, it was yellow, the mark of the strongest talent."
I frowned. "And now?"
"The next time I met you," he said slowly, "the marking had changed from yellow to black."
I blinked, startled. "Black? What does black stand for? And do they change for others as well?"
He shook his head firmly. "No. There is no black, at least, not that I’m aware of. And talents don’t change once they’re assigned. They’re fixed from the moment of awakening."
His words echoed inside my head. Black. My thoughts went instantly to the chains, to that man I had seen in my vision, the one whose presence had burned into me. That was the only time when my talent had been affected, reshaped, changed.
Dante continued, his gaze steady on me. "And right now, it’s black. I can see it as clear as day. But one good thing about it is that not everyone knows how to read talent markings. Only the strong or the deeply knowledgeable can, and those are the kinds of people you don’t want coming after you."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Is this marking different from presence and will?"
"Yes," Dante said without hesitation. "Completely different. This marking is from the System itself. It’s not about your Essence control or the way your will leaks out. It’s a layer deeper, something written into you.
It’s what the System shows to those who know how to look. And once you learn to see it yourself, you’ll also be able to see the System’s interference or connection with any person."