Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

Lucas knew without doubt that the feat he had just achieved was only possible because of two things, his knowledge of the future, and his relentless mind that could dissect, recall, and restructure information faster than most scholars. Every formula, every fragment of theory, every obscure treatise he had once read and tucked away in the recesses of his memory, now rose to the surface when he needed it most. He was not just surviving in this new life, he was thriving, wielding the accumulated wisdom of two timelines.

In his past life, he had been held back not by his determination but by circumstance. His family had not been wealthy, and no matter how sharp his mind was, the gates of the great academies had been closed to him, talent without resources was useless. Without the coin for enrollment, without the connections to be noticed, he had been forced to learn at the edges of knowledge, scavenging scraps of wisdom like a beggar picking through markets.

But now everything was different. Now, in this life, he carried the blood of the Alden family. He bore the name of Xavier, son of Elder Gideon, and through that name he had access to wealth, to resources, to libraries filled with texts, to medicinal gardens guarded by wards, to laboratories furnished with tools even though the tools were crude. And beyond the Aldens, there was the greater power of Valerion itself. The king's favor meant doors would open for him that had once been locked forever. No longer a beggar of knowledge, he now stood as its master.

As he knelt in the courtyard, the low hum of energy reverberating through the air, his gaze fixed once again on the phenomenon before him. The spatial tear still pulsed with a strange and violent rhythm, like the ragged wound of the world itself refusing to close. Its edges shimmered with pale light that bent unnaturally, warping the very air around it. The floor bore faint cracks where the energy had bled out, and fragments of dust rose and fell as if caught between unseen tides.

Lucas' heart pounded, but not with fear, with anticipation. He had already theorized about such tears, about the fractures between realms, about what could slip through them if left unchecked.

He slowly rose from his knees, brushing the dust from his robes, his sharp eyes never leaving the tear. "This… is not something I can waste," he murmured to himself, his voice quiet, almost reverent. He stepped closer, each pace measured, each breath controlled, as though he were approaching a wild beast that could strike at any moment. The air grew heavier the nearer he came, pressing against his skin like invisible hands. The faint scent of ozone stung his nose, mingled with something older, something that smelled like time itself unraveling.

Standing before it now, Lucas extended a hand, though he kept it just short of the flickering edge. He wanted to touch it, to plunge his fingers into its light and feel what lay beyond, but he restrained himself. Recklessness here could mean annihilation. He was no fool. Instead, he let his senses expand, channeling his Qi to sharpen his perception. He traced every ripple, every faint fluctuation, his mind racing to piece together what his eyes alone could not.

"This is no ordinary tear," he thought with grim fascination. "It is still unstable, but it has remained active far longer than it should. There is something sustaining it… something feeding it."

His pulse quickened, but his expression was calm, almost cold. Whatever truths hid within that crack in reality, he would uncover them.

He stepped closer still, the glow of the tear casting shifting shadows across his face. His eyes narrowed, sharp with determination. The time for theories was over. The next step was to study it in practice.

He reached forward, carefully extending his hand until his palm hovered inches from the shimmering edge. A wave of pressure immediately pulsed outward, brushing against his skin like a cold draft. Lucas withdrew slightly, narrowing his eyes. "The spatial fabric here is unstable," he murmured, half to himself. "Not a natural occurrence."

Closing his eyes, he began to circulate his Qi, guiding it toward his fingertips. A faint glow formed in his palm as he extended his energy into the anomaly. The reaction was immediate. The tear pulsed, resonating with the Qi, and distorted whispers echoed faintly in the air, as though voices from another place, or perhaps another time, were bleeding through. Lucas steadied his breathing, allowing his senses to sharpen, then focused deeper.

Within the tear, he felt not emptiness but layers. Like peeling back curtains, his spiritual sense traced through veils of existence. There was the familiar essence of the world he knew, but behind it, a strange resonance, a signature of Qi unlike anything he had encountered before.

He reached into his robes and drew out a small jade slip he often used to record his alchemical insights. Pressing it to his forehead, he etched the sensations and impressions directly into it, not wanting to rely solely on memory. Then, turning back to the tear, he began another test. From a storage ring, he withdrew a dull bronze coin and tossed it lightly toward the center of the rift. For a moment, the coin hovered on the threshold, trembling as though caught between two opposing forces. Then, with a faint ripple, it vanished completely, no sound, no trace.

Lucas frowned. "Swallowed. Not destroyed, but displaced. That means the other side is accessible… but where it leads is unknown."

He stepped closer again, this time channeling his Qi into a more refined technique. Forming a seal with his hands, he guided his spiritual sense into the tear in thin, careful strands, trying to 'map' the energies on the other side. What came back was chaotic. Fragments of landscapes blurred together in his mind's eye, a storm-swept plain, a field of stars, what seemed to be ruins of a great city overrun by shadows. The visions were fleeting, unstable, and Lucas had to pull back quickly before his consciousness was drawn in too far.

Panting slightly, he steadied himself, sweat beading his brow. "Too volatile. Prolonged exposure could tear a man's spirit apart."

It was one thing to tear space apart, but it was another to wield that ability with precision and purpose.

As he replayed the moment of rupture in his mind, he began to dissect the sensation. The tear had not simply appeared, it had responded to his will, his intent reaching beyond the visible world into something deeper, something vast. There had been resistance at first, like forcing his hand through layers of unseen barriers, but once the breakthrough came, the opening felt natural, almost like breathing air into a flame until it came alive. Yet, he realized, he had only achieved half of what he needed.

"If I do not know where it leads, then I am as blind as a man walking into the dark." He paused and straightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "I need to learn to guide it, to mark the other end, and to open it where I wish, not where it pleases."

He studied it...it was stable a bit but not enough... it's was only stable to remain opened, the jagged edges of the rift trembling as though the fabric of reality itself was protesting against his will. That instability could be dangerous. A misstep could mean being torn apart, lost in the void between spaces, or worse, dragging something unwanted through the tear along with him.

"Extreme stability must come first," he reasoned aloud. "If I can strengthen its edges, smooth its passage, then only afterward can I attempt distance. A blade is useless if it shatters the moment it strikes, so is a tear that cannot hold itself steady." His tone carried no trace of frustration, only measured resolve, like a scholar who had found a puzzle too complex to resist.

It was not merely a matter of brute force. It had responded to balance, to rhythm, to the harmony between his Qi and his intent. If he could improve that resonance, perhaps he could do more than just rip. Perhaps he could weave.

Lucas closed his eyes, sinking deeper into thought. He needed a way to map the destination, to imprint his will not just upon the point of origin but upon the endpoint as well, as if leaving a mark in the fabric of the world that only he could recognize. The closing and reopening of the tear had to be second nature, as natural as inhaling and exhaling. Until then, the power was too volatile, too raw to be trusted fully.

His lips curved into the faintest smile as a thought flickered across his mind. "It will take a little time," he admitted softly, almost to himself.

He exhaled slowly as the shimmer of the spatial tear flickered before his palm and finally sealed itself shut. The faint hum of spiritual energy that had filled the space moments before dissolved into silence, he stood still for a breath, ensuring no traces remained, before brushing the dust from his robe and heading toward the arched corridor that led back into the residence.

The palace was quiet at this hour, servants had long since retired, leaving only the patrolling guards. When he reached his chamber, he removed his robe and stretched his shoulders as he crossed the room and headed to his bed. He was finally going to rest, he was too weak and tired...he hadn't slept in over a week, he needed the rest badly. In a few days, Nyx would be given away to Rus Emperor if he didn't complete his project.

He sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair as he allowed his thoughts to settle. "One step at a time," he murmured quietly to himself.