Veil of Aether

Glancing around, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight before him.

“To think such beautiful scenery could exist… hues of green, blue, and purple. Lush grass, towering trees… even the rocks look so wondrous.”

It was the first day of the Expanse. Like everyone else, he had just been thrown into this alien world, but unlike the sea of wide-eyed strangers around him, he tilted his head back, his gaze drawn upward.

“Those landmasses…” he whispered, squinting. “They look like a staircase leading straight into the heavens.”

Even though the distance was impossible to measure, his eyes narrow and slit with green irises, his sight strained farther than he had ever known it could. He couldn’t make out the second Expanse above, but he could still see farther than most.

That was when the panel appeared before his eyes. Floating text. A system screen. His expression twisted between fascination and irritation as he scrolled through it.

“Huh? A skill?” His brow furrowed. “Eyes of…”

Before he could finish, a message rang out across the entire Expanse. Every person present froze as the system’s voice filled their heads, explaining the world they now stood in.

“So… we’re not even on Earth anymore,” he muttered, lowering his screen. His eyes swept across the crowd, hundreds—no, thousands—of strangers all flinching, whispering, shouting in confusion.

The sight of so many people made his stomach twist. His hands buried themselves into his coat pockets as he exhaled sharply.

“Have to do this again, huh? Figures.” He chuckled under his breath, a hollow sound. “Seems like the only thing my life can ever amount to. Maybe… since we’re all stuck in this together, it won’t be as bad as last time.”

But even as he said it, his eyes hardened. Magical abilities. Aether. Forces. Worlds stacked like stairs. His hopes were already low.

He studied his stats in silence as the system droned on, lines of glowing text reflecting in his slit-like eyes. When his gaze fell on his potential rating, his lips twitched into a bitter smile.

“…Weak potential, huh?” he muttered.

His stats were pitiful, not even close to breaking into double digits. No strength, no speed, no talent. Just another reminder.

“Heh.” The laugh slipped out dry and hollow. “Even here, I’m destined to be not much.”

The weight of it pressed down on him, but he forced his expression into a faint smile anyway, as if mocking himself.

Then came the announcement that froze everyone.

“…Someone already died?”

The words slipped from his mouth as he scanned the shaken crowd. Some clutched at each other, some screamed, others tried to deny it. But the truth was right there in the notification.

His eyes flicked back to his panel. “Force progression? Is that tied to this?” He tapped the line glowing faintly.

[Force Alignment: Noxious Silk]

A sharp laugh slipped from him, though his face twisted like he’d been mocked. “Noxious Silk? Really? Even the world’s making fun of me already.”

Scratching through his dark, messy hair, he gave a half-smirk. “Well… at least it’s something.” He glanced toward a nearby group of strangers. “Guess I should try making friends. Numbers mean survival.”

He dusted himself off, tugged his coat lower, and started walking. The instant he got close, the scene he expected unfolded.

“My force alignment is Diamond Dust!” someone roared proudly. Glittering shards of dust flared into existence around him, tearing up the ground in a shallow wave. He puffed his chest out, basking in the gasps of the crowd. “Who dares mess with me?!”

Nox’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the faintest smile crept across his lips. He said nothing, watching, listening. Always watching.

As he observed, his ocular skill flared to life. His slit-like eyes glimmered faintly, the irises lighting up in a subtle glow.

“Fascinating,” he murmured without realizing, his voice carrying just enough to draw the attention of the Diamond Dust user.

Mistaking it for praise, the young man straightened with smug pride, his chest puffing out further. The glittering dust danced around him like a crown, feeding his arrogance.

It wasn’t admiration. Nox’s vision traced the cracks and weaknesses hidden within the skill — the unstable ripples of force that left openings even a novice could exploit.

“So,” the man smirked, tilting his chin upward, “do you want to be under my care?”

Nox sighed softly, the weariness of familiarity settling over him. I really have to go through this again…

But when he lifted his head, the expression was gone. In its place was an awkward, almost sheepish smile that softened his sharp features. He scratched the back of his head in a disarming gesture, letting out a light chuckle.

“This is a completely new world we’ve been thrown into,” he said warmly, his tone earnest yet gentle. “As you just showed, we’re capable of things we couldn’t even dream of before. But instead of fighting over who’s stronger, why don’t we work together? If we focus on helping one another, pooling our strengths, maybe—just maybe—we’ll find a way back to Earth.”

He extended his hand, open and inviting, as if the thought of cooperation was the most natural thing in the world.

The tension in the crowd softened. Murmurs rose as people nodded, their nerves easing. For a moment, even amidst fear and uncertainty, Nox’s words made them feel safer.

“Tch.” The Diamond Dust user slapped his hand away, scowling. “Just admit you’re a cowardly snake — it suits the way you look. You’re probably weak anyway.”

Nox’s smile didn’t falter. He only let out an awkward laugh, rubbing his knuckles as though embarrassed.

Of course… human nature followed us here too.

The Diamond Dust user strutted off to flaunt his strength, glittering shards trailing behind him like a comet as he loudly sought followers. Around them, some people sat in stunned silence, digesting the system announcements. Others were breaking down — panicked voices, trembling hands, tears streaking dusted faces.

Nox did what he always did best. He moved quietly between groups, smiling that warm, open smile that made people’s shoulders ease and their guards drop. He listened, asked small questions, and let them talk. His disarming demeanor drew out names, fears, and plans without them even realizing. A stark contrast to the bitterness hidden under his skin.

At least I don’t have to start at the bottom again — ignored, hungry, hated, he thought to himself, the faint curl of his lips never faltering. Not this time.

He glanced at his system panel recalling the previous notification. Increased Force Progression. Someone’s already died… so there are things out there that can kill us.

Curious, he fiddled with his stat points, sprinkling them into random attributes without thinking. A moment later, the reality hit. His face went blank, eyes narrowing slightly.

“That… was not one of my brighter moments.”

With a small sigh, he retrieved a Basic Beginner Sword from his inventory — the pitiful blade materializing in his hand like a cruel joke. Shoulders slumping, he walked toward the forest where others were already venturing, mapping the terrain.

The forest ahead was alive with chaos. Shouts rang out from every direction, names of skills echoing like incantations.

“Flame Fang Strike!”

“Razor Gale Spin!”

“Earthen Grasp!”

“Glacial Needles!”

A chorus of force clashed against snarling beasts. Goblins with jagged bone clubs leapt from the brush, only to be cut down by flashing blades. Packs of Chitter Monkeys swung from the trees, their screeches carrying as they pelted stones and darted between roots. A Fangcub prowled at the edge of the melee, its striped fur bristling as it lunged at the nearest fighter.

Force lit the battlefield in bursts — crimson fire arcing through the branches, jagged shards of ice spraying like knives, and a sudden storm of leaves cutting in spirals like a hundred blades. A low-level boar, its tusks glowing faintly with green aether, charged through a group before being ensnared by a net of vine whips.

“Thunderclap Dash!”

“Ironhide Skin!”

“Sunbeam Arrow!”

Nox stood at the edge, clutching the beginner’s sword in trembling hands. Every shout, every burst of light made his stomach knot tighter. Instinct pulled at him, and his vision shifted — his ocular skill activating on its own.

His pupils thinned and stretched, delicate lines fanning outward until his eyes resembled a spider’s web. Faint light shimmered across his irises, each strand of the web tightening as the battlefield unfolded before him.

To the others, the chaos was overwhelming — flames, ice, wind, and steel colliding in every direction. But to Nox, the madness was patterned. Every skill sent out ripples, vibrations against the invisible threads only he could perceive. The wild clash of goblins and beasts wasn’t noise; it was movement on a web.

And through that web, he saw openings. A goblin’s stance unraveling as its club overextended. A Chitter Monkey mid-leap, its throat exposed for a fraction of a second. Even the lumbering boar’s tusked charge had a rhythm, its momentum betraying the exact moment it could be cut down.

The world wasn’t chaos. It was a net of disturbances. And Nox, for the first time since arriving, realized he could read it.

If one were to take a close look at his pupils, they'd notice that every web in his pupils flickered, a moment of disturbance would followed shortly after

And yet, he didn’t move. The blade in his grip quivered as much as his hands.

“Maybe being invisible… like back then… isn’t so bad,” he muttered, lips pressed thin. “If I stay out of sight, I stay alive.”

That thought had barely settled when a shadow darted behind him. A goblin, its mottled green skin smeared with filth, rammed into him with a guttural hiss. The impact sent Nox sprawling to the dirt, his vision flashing as his HP bar dropped.

His eyes widened — as wide as his narrow, slit-like gaze could. “What?” Panic clawed at his throat as he scrambled, staring at his red digits ticking down. “Of course… I’m going to be the second one to die here.”

The goblin screeched, raising its crude bone dagger for the killing blow.

Suddenly, without a sound, the goblin’s head slid cleanly from its body. Its corpse toppled with a dull thud.

Behind Nox stood a young man calmly sheathing his blade, his expression firm but not unkind.

“Hey,” the man said evenly. “Don’t get too distracted out here. This is new to all of us, but one mistake could cost you your life. Hurry up.” He extended his hand.

“Huh… right. Thanks.” Nox took the hand and was hauled back to his feet.

“Get yourself ready. We need to figure out how to survive in this world, fast.” The man gave a small nod. “Name’s Kaito. Kaito Ren.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Nox.” He extended his hand in return, only for his slit-like eyes to flick past Kaito. Another goblin had crept up behind him.

Nox’s hand twitched, and before he fully realized it, threads of shimmering web shot from his palm. They wrapped the goblin’s torso, the strands hissing as its skin began to sizzle from the poison laced within. The creature screamed, thrashing helplessly until it collapsed in a twitching heap.

Kaito blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Your name’s Nox, and you’ve got poisonous webs? You’ve gotta admit, that’s kinda funny.” He clapped Nox on the shoulder, grinning. “Thanks for the save.”

Nox gave an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah… guess it fits, huh?”

Inside, though, he didn’t laugh at all. He could already feel the poison pulsing in his threads, his body humming strangely in response. Unlike the others, he wasn’t sure if that was a gift… or a curse.

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He stared down at his hand, fingers still faintly trembling, threads of poisonous silk dissolving into nothingness. The goblin’s corpse twitched one last time before going still, its flesh already pocked and blackened where the poison had eaten through.

Nox’s brow furrowed. Why was my posion so toxic?

He’d already seen others unleash their skills. Fire users scorching goblins, wind cultivators slicing through Chitter Monkeys, even another recruit whose alignment carried poison — yet none of them had this kind of effect. Their toxins weakened, slowed, or sickened, but his poison outright melted. It was as if his threads had been laced with concentrated corruption.

In his moment of wonder, Kaito had already dashed off, helping others in need. That new man he’d just met was already thriving, throwing himself into the chaos to protect strangers as readily as he had saved him.

The sight drew a gentle smile from Nox.

All around him, recruits were struggling, learning to wield their strange new powers against monsters that seemed torn from fantasy. The air buzzed with force techniques, shouts, and cries. For a moment, watching everyone stumble and fight together, Nox felt a fragile thought take root.

Since they were all experiencing this world for the first time… maybe human nature could be different here. Maybe people wouldn’t fall back into the same cruelty, the same hunger for power, the same betrayals he remembered.

“I just have to pretend a little longer,” he whispered, lips curling faintly. “Hopefully… maybe…”

His gaze drifted to the status screen. A title glimmered across it:

[Veil of Guile]

The mask you wear hides what lies beneath. You are charming enough for others to trust you, even as you bury the truth of yourself.

Effect: +25% Charisma Multiplier when concealing intentions or emotions.

“That’s a weird way to mock me, don’t you think?” Nox sighed. He couldn’t dispute it. The title was a mirror, whether he liked it or not.

His thoughts drifted—until something caught his eyes.

His vision sharpened, his ocular skill flaring. Threads of disturbance flickered faintly across his sight—clusters of people moving differently from the chaos around them.

They weren’t flailing. They weren’t scrambling in panic. Every step was measured, deliberate, angled toward certain individuals as though marking prey.

Nox squinted. “Already? Did they accept this new reality so quickly?”

At a glance, it looked like groups forming for survival. But the steadiness of their rhythm, the unspoken unity threading through their movements… it twisted something inside him.

“Or maybe…” His tone dipped lower, colder. “Maybe they were already prepared for all of this. But how?”

The faint smile lingered on his lips, but his eyes stayed cold—hunter’s eyes, watching the unseen web tighten around its victims.

Nox wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing ragged.

“Still need to figure out how to survive this place… that web attack drained way too much aether. Guess that’s the source of these abilities.”

He glanced at his panel again. One kill, a sliver of experience gained. Barely noticeable.

“Figures… who knows how many of these things I’ll have to kill just to level up. But forward’s the only way, right?”

Gripping the beginner’s sword like it weighed a hundred pounds, he pushed deeper into the forest.

The moment Nox moved away, one of the clustered groups stirred uneasily.

“Hey… did you guys feel that?”

“Feel what? A monster nearby?”

“No.” The man’s voice dropped, his eyes darting toward the treeline. “It was like we were being… watched. Like something sitting in the dark, waiting for us to stumble into its web.”

A few of the others shivered, glancing over their shoulders, but a sharper voice cut through their murmurs.

“Quit spooking everyone. We don’t have time for paranoia. Focus—we’ve got goals to accomplish in this trial.”

Still, the unease lingered until someone changed the subject.

“Has anyone seen Lisa?”

“Leave Lisa be,” the sharp voice said quickly. “If she doesn’t want to participate, that’s her choice. I’m not about to get on Grandma Moriyama’s bad side. She’s terrifying enough as it is. Once aether fully floods Earth, the last thing I want is to touch her reverse scale. If you lot had any sense, you’d leave Lisa alone too. Now move.”

Nox faced a trial of combat against a few creatures. The clumsy swings barely scratched the goblins and Chitter Monkeys he faced, and each mistake cost him chunks of HP as crude blades and claws carved into him. By the time he stumbled into a clearing, his health bar was already dangerously low.

That was when he heard the hiss.

A venomous snake slithered from the brush, fangs glistening with green aether. Nox raised his blade, but his reflexes weren’t fast enough. The serpent darted forward, sinking its fangs into his arm.

His face went pale. The pain was expected, but the rush of fear was worse. Expecting his HP to tick downward, and he shut his eyes, bracing for death.

Then—

[+2 HP]

Nox’s eyes snapped open. “Huh? My HP… went up?”

Confused, he tore the snake off, stared at the punctures in his arm, then at the bar floating above his vision. His mind spun. Slowly, almost experimentally, he let the snake bite him again.

[+1 HP]

“Less than last time…” His brow furrowed. “That’s… weird.”

The snake struck again. No change. Another bite. Nothing.

He kept trying, wincing at the pain but oddly fascinated, until a voice cut in.

“…Fun hobby you’ve got there, buddy.”

Nox froze, head snapping up to see Kaito Ren standing a few feet away, sword in hand, giving him a look halfway between concern and disbelief.

Nox blinked at him, then at the snake dangling from his arm, then back at Kaito. “…I can explain.”

“You don’t have to.” Kaito sighed, stepping forward. “You’re just abit unique.”

Nox looked at Kaito. Then at the snake. Then back at Kaito.

If Kei were here, he’d probably clap him on the back and say, “Good initiative, research assistant material.”

Without a shred of hesitation, Nox shoved the still-struggling snake toward Kaito and as the snake pressed its fangs into his arm.

“Wha—hey!” Kaito yelped as the serpent sank its teeth in. His eyes bulged, and within seconds he was running in circles, flailing like a madman. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Nox tilted his head thoughtfully, watching with quiet curiosity. “Interesting… so it doesn’t heal him like it does me. Huh.”

“You made a snake bite me, you lunatic!” Kaito finally ripped the reptile free, slammed it to the dirt, and cleaved it in half with his sword in a single furious motion.

He stood there, breathing hard, glaring daggers at Nox.

Nox, meanwhile, scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile. “In my defense… I was curious.”

Nox lingered a little longer where Kaito had left, watching the man’s back vanish into the trees. He didn’t blame him for keeping his distance. If their positions were reversed, he’d probably do the same.

With a grunt, he downed a basic healing potion, the bitter taste stinging his tongue. His HP ticked upward as warmth spread faintly through his body. He flexed his fingers, watching thin strands of silk play across his hands before dissolving into nothing.

“Poison that heals me, webs I barely understand… guess it’s tied to my force alignment,” he muttered.

Pushing forward, he trailed the edge of another skirmish. Kaito’s swordsmanship wasn’t bad. Among the flailing novices, he stood out. But what really unsettled Nox wasn’t Kaito. It was the way some of the other groups moved. Too disciplined. Too organized. While everyone else was stumbling like newborn deer, those clusters fought like trained squads.

The unease crawled under his skin.

He forced himself onward until he found a creature on its own.

Nox’s grip tightened around the chipped Beginner’s Sword as he squared up to the creature before him. It wasn’t a goblin this time, but a Hollow Tusk Hare Its red eyes locked onto him with a feral hunger, its legs tensing like coiled springs.

Remembering the way Kaito had fought earlier, Nox tried to mimic the stances he’d observed. Sword angled forward, knees bent, quick decisive steps — it looked so easy when Kaito did it.

But when the Hollow Tusk Hare lunged, Nox’s swing was clumsy and late. The blade grazed its fur but didn’t bite deep enough. The beast’s tusks slashed across his side, his HP dipping as a sharp sting flared through his ribs.

“Damn it—!” He staggered back, swinging again, trying to copy the clean arcs he’d memorized from Kaito. Another strike, another shallow wound — the hare was too fast, its movements erratic. One tusk jabbed into his forearm, nearly forcing him to drop his sword. His health ticked down again, the bar flashing red.

Panting, blood slicking his sleeve, Nox’s slit pupils widened, using the last bit if his aether, his ocular skill activated. His vision sharpened — every twitch of the hare’s muscles, every shift in its footing, appeared to him like vibrations in a web. The chaos slowed, and he saw the rhythm beneath its frenzy.

“Got you…” he whispered.

Dropping the act of imitation, he let instinct guide him. His free hand stretched out, threads of silk spilling from his fingers, shimmering faintly in the air. He pressed his palm against the hare’s face as it lunged again.

The webs latched, burning into its skin as venom seeped deep. The hare shrieked, thrashing violently before collapsing, its body convulsing until it went still.

[You have slain Hollow Tusk Hare.]

[EXP +12]

[Drop Acquired: Rustfang Longsword (Common Grade)]

Nox staggered back, gasping for air, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. His sword arm trembled, nearly giving out. He looked down at the fallen hare, then at the faint glimmer that appeared in its place.

On the ground lay a longsword, its blade rough but sturdier than the cracked beginner’s sword in his hand. A simple weapon, its edge faintly jagged as though eaten by rust, but it was solid, dependable.

“Rustfang Longsword, huh?” He muttered between shallow breaths, bending down to pick it up. The weight was comforting in his grip compared to the fragile blade he carried before.

A small, satisfied smile flickered across his lips. Finally, something.

But peace never lasted long.

“Well, well,” a mocking voice rang from behind him. “What do we have here? That’s a nice-looking sword.”

Nox froze. He turned, sweat-slick hair clinging to his face and shadowing his eyes, to see a group of recruits emerging from the trees. Their gazes raked over his ragged state — the cuts, the blood, the trembling hands.

Laughter broke out. “Look at you. Barely standing after killing a weak hare. Struggling that much, and you think you deserve that drop?”

Another stepped forward, sneering. “You should do the honorable thing and hand it over. Let people who can actually fight put it to good use. Think of it as your first — and probably only — contribution to humanity.”

Before Nox could answer, one of them was already reaching out, hand closing around the hilt of his new weapon.

All the newcomers saw was a weakened, injured person holding loot worth stealing.

All Nox felt was the same gnawing helplessness from his past — the memory of being a starving, homeless child who had any scrap of value ripped away, powerless to stop it.

After so many grueling fights, barely surviving in this world, his body aching and his supply of free beginner potions nearly exhausted, he still ended up here — helpless. Even in another world, even after clawing for survival, he was destined to be walked over the moment anything of worth surfaced in his life.

A hollow laugh escaped him.

“Hehehe… I guess my life only has meaning if I smile and posture for everyone.” He accepted it with a bitter sigh, watching as the thieves closed in to take his sword.

Then — a dull thud.

One of the would-be thieves crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Before Nox could process it, another figure was already moving. A heel snapped upward into a thief’s chin, launching him back. Then a blur of kicks followed, striking like a whirlwind. In the span of seconds, every thief lay unconscious on the dirt.

Nox blinked, staring at the sudden savior. “…Huh… thank you.” His voice was quiet, uncertain, but the man didn’t seem to hear him.

Instead, the stranger muttered to himself, his tone focused.

“Hm… shifting all my stats to Constitution makes my strikes hit heavier. If Kei was here, he’d study this better than me. Clairvoyance Force feels tricky to refine… I need to find him quickly. In a world like this, his mental problems could spiral fast. From the announcement earlier, he has Breeze Force, but even with that… he could still become a calamity. Jenny’s already working her angle. I have to hurry.”

Nox tilted his head, half-confused, half-intrigued.

The man finally noticed him, pausing. “Oh. Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah… I’m fine. Thank you. Um…” Nox lifted the sword weakly. “This weapon’s probably better off in your hands. Take it as thanks for saving me.”

The man shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. And I don’t need the sword. I’m a self-trained martial artist — I’ll manage for now. Use it. Get stronger. Survive.” He turned to leave, but not before adding, “I’m Jin Saito. Hope we meet again.”

Nox hesitated, then spoke up. “…I’m Nox.”

Jin glanced back, gave him a wave of acknowledgment, and walked on.

Nox watched him disappear into the trees, clutching the sword tighter. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“…That’s what strength looks like, huh?”

He studied the weapon in his hand. “Self-trained? Then maybe I don’t need to follow Kaito’s swordsmanship. I’ll be like Jin. I’ll train myself.”

For the first time, his eyes glimmered with something more than bitterness. A vow.

Taking a moment to recover his health and aether, Nox could not help wondering if this world worked like all those fictions everyone used to read.

“Can I circulate this aether stuff through my body with techniques? If so, there must be pathways for it. What were they called again? Meridians?”

While he rested, he kept testing the idea, letting his force flicker on and off, trying to sense any inner channels. He did it absentmindedly for minutes at a time. He had no idea the system counted this as training. Because of his title multiplier, the steady self regulation nudged his Charisma upward in tiny increments, and he would later learn why pairing that sort of quiet practice with physical work mattered.

Night fell. Hungry and scuffed from too many close calls, he dragged a hare back to the clearing where the others had decided to settle. It had been a tough kill, but oddly a little easier than his first fights, even with his HP and aether scraping bottom.

He expected chaos. Instead he found order. Piles of game lay gathered near cookfires while people argued cheerfully about seasoning and roasting times.

“Maybe I should not judge everyone here by the few bad ones,” he thought.

Someone spotted him and hurried him to a group of healers. Seeing his state, they patched him up without complaint.

He offered the hare for the cookfires. A team of actual chefs waved him over, already sketching a menu with foraged herbs and safe roots.

“Even cooks made it here,” he said, surprised.

“Yeah, lucky for us,” a healer joked. “Otherwise we would be gnawing raw meat.”

Another pointed out a ring of tables where people in stained shirts and glasses were arguing over flasks. “There are scientists too. They started reverse engineering the basic healing potion. If we do not know where to get more, a steady supply will matter.”

“Construction crews are marking ground for shelters,” someone else added. “Architects, surveyors, even a few civil engineers.”

Laughter rolled through the group, tired but genuine. “Plenty of trades here. Lucky for the unlucky.”

“Over there, weapons,” a healer said, nodding toward a forge glow. “Beginner blades are already wearing out. A blacksmith is repairing them and teaching volunteers the basics.”

Nox looked toward the anvil. His pupils thinned on instinct. Sight shifted. The world resolved into threads.

Hammer met steel. Each strike sent ripples through the blade that traced across his vision like lines on a web. Where a sword was cracked, disturbance flared bright. Where temper was even, the line ran smooth. He could see stress trapped along the spine of a dagger, a tiny flaw near the tang of a spearhead, and how a single off-center blow would spread that flaw like a tear through cloth.

“Blacksmithing, huh,” he murmured.

His ocular skill did not just read fights. It read tension. Anything that carried aether, heat, or strain drew lines across his sight. In metal, those lines mapped weakness and memory.

The apprentice to the smith pinned a blade wrong on the horn and lifted the hammer. Nox saw it before the blow fell. A thin thread of stress ran the wrong way. One hit there would push the fracture deeper.

He did not speak up. He tucked his hands in his coat and watched the sparks climb.

A thought formed anyway.

If I can see fault lines, I can learn where to strike and where to leave it be.

He let his breath out slowly and stepped back from the firelight, letting the cooks argue about glazes and the healers trade measurements. The camp had found a rhythm. For tonight, it was enough to stand inside it and learn.

With not much around to make bedding from, Nox eyed two trees side by side. With a snap of his fingers, strands of silk streamed out, weaving together in what was supposed to be a hammock. If someone squinted hard enough, maybe that was what it resembled.

Pleased with his sorry attempt, he climbed into it, wriggling around until he found what passed for comfort.

“Hey, can you make me one too?” Kaito called over, smiling.

Nox shot him a cheerful thumbs-up, already proud of his handiwork.

A second later, both trees groaned, their trunks darkening as if rotted from the inside. With a crack, they splintered and toppled straight onto Nox, burying him under a mess of branches.

Kaito stared, deadpan, at the scene of carnage. “...Never mind. Sleeping on the ground doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Ughhh…” Nox groaned from beneath the mess, dragging himself free. His hair was plastered to his face, leaves stuck to his coat. “So… I’m not affected by the poison in my webs. Great. But if they eat through trees, I really need to learn control. Just regular silk would’ve been fine.”

He sat cross-legged in the dirt, brushing twigs off himself with a sigh. “Forget comfort… I’ll be happy if I survive the week.”