Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 320: Accident & Repair

The tear that originated from the array paper surged outward, the jagged edges glimmered and fractured further like breaking glass as it consumed the surrounding air with an unnatural hiss.

The pull towards the opening intensified, rattling and shattering Lassim’s desk as papers, splinters, and the quill’s ink well were sucked into the void. The unnatural darkness beyond the void churned, growing as if feeding on his mistake, shattering the space further.

Lassim’s heart hammered in his chest as the weight of his error sank in with brutal clarity.

He braced himself against the relentless force, his feet digging into the cracked wooden floor as he activated his [Spatial Vision], his eyes glowing with swirling purple lightning spirals and darkness as the progenitor marks instantly spread up his neck and face to his eyes.

The world shifted into the familiar weave of threads, glowing faintly against the encroaching darkness. The distortion warped them violently, their lines snapping and twisting as the void hungrily devoured its tether to reality. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run, but there was no escaping this and he was responsible for it. He had created this disaster, and it was his job to fix it.

Lassim’s progenitor marks blazed to life, their light bathing the room in an eerie violet glow, as he circulated the fused mana within his body with. With his focus, additional void mana that floated within his inner heart world joined the fused mana whirlpool. He clenched his fists in front of him, forcing his mana to weave through the web of spatial threads, seeking purchase on the threads nearest to the tear.

It thrashed like a beast, resisting his control, but Lassim gritted his teeth and tightened his grip to try and snap the thread to separate the tear from this reality like he’d done the portals in the past. It was the only thing he could think to try in this moment.

The thread snapped with a deafening crack, and the tear flickered, its edges quivering under the strain. Relief was fleeting, replaced by the sickening realization that countless threads remained. Each one fed the distortion, anchoring it to the fragile fabric of space and to his sturdy [Solid Rune] and [Thread Rune] that now existed in this spatial dimension from the array paper just floating there at the tear’s entrance.

His mana surged again, wrapping around another thread, then another. Each severance was tough and an agonizing battle, the strain threatening to overwhelm his focus. He thought about using his halberd, but then the entire room would probably follow with the destruction and he couldn’t risk injuring others or causing further damage.

"Separate!" he barked, his voice cutting through the hissing cacophony. His hands trembled, his energy reserves of void energy through his inner heart world dwindling, but he couldn’t stop. With every thread he isolated and pulled apart, the void’s pull weakened slightly, though the strain on his mana and body mounted. His hands were now bleeding deeply as if cut to shreds by shards of glass. He had already activated [Lifestream Aegis] a few moments ago, but the sharpness of space was too much and would cut through the [Aegis]’s flowing barrier around his hands and body like a heated knife through a Fire Cow’s butter.

He continued, keeping the expansion of the tear reduced and preventing a massive expansion until finally, only a single thread remained. It was the thread from the array paper and the [Solid Rune] that pulsed and maintained the open connection to the the void. It was keeping it open with almost a relentless fury.

Lassim hesitated for a fraction of a second, not knowing the full danger of severing his creation. The void writhed violently, sensing its imminent collapse, and another section of the desk vanished into its depths.

He didn’t have time to consider the risks further. He latched onto the [Thread Rune] on the array sheet, now all torn to shreds except for the rune symbols, isolating it with painstaking precision. The thread twisted and held strong against his control, the [Solid Rune] that supported it keeping it well stabilized. Lassim’s vision blurred slightly, but he held firm.

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With a final, forceful pull and a roar from himself, the thread snapped.

The void quivered, its jagged edges shrinking as Lassim directed his mana into the tear, controlling it to fold it inward and repair itself. He compressed the tear further, forcing its edges together with sheer willpower and his remaining reserves of void mana. The room shuddered, like the slamming of a door shut in a closed off room, as the void collapsed inward, vanishing with a fizzle that left an oppressive silence in its wake.

Lassim staggered, his legs nearly giving out beneath him as he slumped against the shattered remains of his desk. His chest heaved with each labored breath, his body trembling from the effort of containing the disaster. The faint glow of his progenitor marks dimmed, receding as his mana reserves stabilized.

The room was a ruin. More than half the desk was gone, laying on its side with its edges splintered where the void had consumed it. Papers and broken wood littered the floor, and a corner of the wall was missing entirely, revealing the storm-swept night outside.

Sound seemed to return to Lassim’s ears at that moment as he caught sight of the rain of the Tempest Cradle’s storm drizzling through the opening, pooling on the floor in uneven puddles.

Lassim surveyed the destruction, his gaze lingering on the damaged wall and the cracked edges of the floor. Relief warred with frustration as he realized how narrowly he had avoided catastrophe. He himself would have potentially been sucked into that hole if he’d use even more [Solid Runes] or [Thread Runes] to increase their stability. This was the cost of his ambition and testing—another reminder, this time his own doing instead of Khaalseru’s, about the dangers that came with wielding the spatial element.

He gathered what was left of the Space Rune Alphabet sheets and sketches, and his notebook, inspecting them for damage. Thankfully, they were mostly untouched, only losing a few of the failed sketch designs being sucked into the void, while the rest were lucky in the way they fell from the table into a corner of the room. This shielded them from most of the chaos with only a few rips and tears on unimportant sheets. Carefully, he stored them in his magic pouch, ensuring their safety. These were irreplaceable, the foundation of his efforts to create a new rune language for his future Teleportation device.

The remains of his desk were beyond salvaging, and the missing section of the wall would be impossible to ignore. Lassim exhaled slowly.

"There’s no hiding this…" He said, as he took in the damage that was too extensive. His integrity wouldn’t allow him to avoid responsibility.

Straightening his posture, he wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his robes. There was no point delaying the inevitable. He had to report the incident to see if they could send someone to fix it.

The storm raged overhead as Lassim, with light amounts of rain falling, but none touching his clothes thanks to the natural spirit pressure he released as he made his way through Skybound Village. Despite it being night, the streets were fairly well illuminated by the faint glow of Lightning infused lanterns and the added glow from all of the Storm Leaf Trees.

He arrived at the Administration Hall, the same one that Remi had escorted him to upon his arrival, and pushed open the doors, stepping into the office’s interior.

There was a receptionist speaking with a Spirit Growth stage individual wearing Novice Ranked robes, the same light gray accented purple robes he’d worn before. She glanced up from their conversation towards his direction. Lassim was slightly surprised to see a different person than the Resource Manager he had met previously sitting at that desk.

"She must be the night shift replacement," He thought to himself. Her expression remained neutral as she gestured for him to wait as continued the conversation with the disciple that came first.

A few moments later, the novice disciple bowed lightly to the receptionist and turned to leave. Yet, he made sure to properly bow and give his best attempt at a martial salute towards Lassim as he passed by, admiring the gold accents on Lassim’s martial attire in the process before getting out of Lassim’s way.

The receptionist turned her attention to Lassim, "How can I assist you?"

Lassim stepped forward, inclining his head respectfully. "I need to speak with someone regarding repairs to my quarters. There was… an accident during an experiment I was conducting."

Her gaze flickered briefly, her sharp eyes scanning his face and gold accented robes for a moment before she responded. "An accident? Could you clarify the nature and extent of the damage that we need to fix?"

Lassim hesitated, careful to not overshare his spatial affinity. "The desk and part of the wall were damaged. It was a contained issue, but I take responsibility for it and wish to pay for the repairs."

The receptionist nodded, making a note on the slip of parchment in front of her. "Very well. It’s good that you’ve come to report this promptly. We will need further details about the extent of the damage before we determine a cost, but I appreciate you wanting to pay for it yourself instead of using the sect’s coffers. Follow me; I’ll direct you to someone who can handle this matter."

She rose from her seat with practiced and catlike grace, gesturing for him to follow her to a side room. Lassim fell into step behind her before being led through the door to this new room.

Inside was a man with an unusual figure, his robes were mismatched violets, like two different sets of uniforms, and slightly disheveled, giving him an air of oddity. His sharp eyes flashed with lightning for a moment as he looked up with curiosity while lounging haphazardly in a wide chair, much too big for himself; one leg draped lazily over the other.

"Mr. Sect Master’s Personal Disciple," the worker greeted with an edge of amusement in the tone. "Here at this hour? Couldn’t sleep, or is there something more interesting to discuss?"

Lassim inclined his head respectfully, "I need to report an incident. There was an accident in my quarters—an experiment that didn’t go quite as I planned. Part of the desk and wall were damaged."

The worker raised an eyebrow, "An experiment, you say? What kind of experiment were you attempting?"

"Ah, just simple mana manipulation for a personal project of mine," Lassim replied smoothly, choosing his words carefully. "I’ve been attempting to create my own attack style and was playing around—testing something—and yeah… My apologies."

The worker scrutinized him for a moment, then chuckled, his grin widening. "Experiments can be unpredictable, that much is certain. But you realize your assigned room isn’t built for those kinds of risks, don’t you? That’s why we have training halls available to all Sect Disciples. They’re even free! You just need to book the time slots in advance."

Lassim nodded, "I understand. It won’t happen again. I’d like to also cover the cost of repairs as well, please."

The worker leaned back in his chair, waving a hand dismissively. "Good, good. Don’t worry about the cost. Accidents happen, but let’s keep the explosions and experiments to designated spaces, shall we?"

"Sorry, but I insist. Please," Lassim handed over a small pouch of 5000 mid-grade ESS to the man. The worker accepted and measured its weight in his hand with a wide grin as he added, "Well, if you’re throwing this kind of money around, maybe you can continue experiments in your room!"

He belted out with laughter after he finished speaking, but the receptionist chimed in above his hysterics, "Please, stick to the training halls. He’ll send someone to work on the room right away and we’ll have it done by morning." To which Lassim nodded politely before bowing gently and leaving.

As Lassim left the Administration Hall, the storm’s intensity seemed to have lessened further, the rain now a light mist. Lassim followed the path through the lit streets of Skybound Village.

His mind churned about what he should do while the room was fixed. The training halls were indeed a safer option for his experiments—structured spaces designed to handle high-energy cultivation techniques and volatile mana bursts should be much more suited to random accidents. How had he overlooked such an obvious precaution? Though, his lack of experience of using any kind of indoor Training Hall might be to blame, he thought.

His feet seemed to carry him toward the library building he’d been shown before on Remi’s tour. It was an impulsive decision, driven by the nagging feeling that he was still missing something essential while aimlessly trying to create meanings out of the spatial element in his approach to creating the Alphabet. Inspiration rarely struck in isolation, and the library’s wealth of knowledge might provide the perspective he needed.