Kaiser's steps fell almost noiselessly on the marble floor, and for a brief instant, it almost felt as though he moved through a world constructed for him alone. Syra's silhouette led the way, posture crisp, movements too precise to be merely the product of discipline. Servants, even the best of them, always bore that faint air of caution around him, as if his gaze might strip the lies from their souls. Syra was no different, though she masked it with courtesy.

She paused in front of a door familiar to Kaiser, opening it slowly. "This is your room for tonight, sir. Should you need anything, simply call for me. I'll be just outside."

Kaiser inclined his head. "Has Aria been looked after?"

Syra's mouth flickered into a rare smile. "Shortly after you left, Lady Aria woke. She was greatly relieved to hear you were unharmed. She did look a bit hurt when she learned you'd gone, but she agreed to retire to her room. Since it's so late, I'd suggest you meet her in the morning."

He nodded once, a gesture like the closing of a ledger. "Will I be called for in the morning for breakfast, or should I find my own way?"

That earned a faint sigh, the first crack in her mask. "Sama should have explained all that… Regardless, if you're hungry, you may help yourself to the kitchen. Otherwise, breakfast is served at sunrise, thus your meal should be ready as soon as you wake."

Kaiser withheld a smile. He doubted that. In all the places he'd walked, servants said such things as a matter of course, as though hospitality could be conjured from air by mere intent. "Very well. You're dismissed."

She bowed, sharp and deep, and vanished down the corridor with the quiet efficiency of one glad to be gone.

Kaiser entered his room, and closed the door behind him, silence enveloping him like a familiar cloak. He allowed himself a rare, genuine sigh of relief, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly unravel, if only slightly. He glanced around the lavish chamber, still feeling somewhat disoriented by its extravagant details. Such luxury still felt alien, even extravagant to him, despite the noble blood that once flowed through his veins in Nebrosa.

Kaiser then moved to the wardrobe, quickly changing out of his attire into something far more comfortable: a loose black shirt, soft and generous against his skin, and woolen pants that provided warmth and ease of movement.

Carefully folding his previous garments, he paused briefly, running his fingers along the fine fabrics. This world offered so much more than mere power, it presented itself with mysteries he had yet to unravel, technologies and magic intertwined in ways he had never imagined possible. It was tantalizing.

He deposited the carefully packed garments into the bag Syra had indicated, placing it neatly beside the doorway. There was a sense of domesticity in the simple action that felt strangely foreign. Kaiser had spent his life in barracks, battlefields, or plotting rooms; such ordinary routines had always seemed distant, even trivial. Now they felt oddly significant, like a reminder of the different life he was beginning to carve here.

'How rare,' he mused, 'To be truly alone. Not alone as a prisoner, nor as a general on the eve of battle, but as a man, who was simply unobserved.' He flexed his fingers absently, recalling the sensation of power that still tingled along his veins. Sol. A word, a force, a mystery. In this world, it seemed everything bent toward it.

Kaiser settled onto the plush bed, appreciating its undeniable comfort. He adjusted himself, leaning back against the headboard, and reached for the small pouch at his waist. Opening it, he smiled once again in genuine delight at its impossible nature, retrieving the slender volume titled 'The Basics of Sol.' Its simple, worn cover belied the wealth of knowledge it likely contained.

Power had always fascinated Kaiser, not just its acquisition, but its nature and its origins as well. He had already felt its potential in this strange new world, seen its effects in both subtle and spectacular forms. Yet he lacked a deeper understanding of what exactly Sol was, how it flowed, how it could be manipulated. He opened the book carefully, eyes narrowing slightly in anticipation.

As he began to read, Kaiser's mind started piecing together fragments of the knowledge he'd gathered through his recent experiences. He remembered clearly the light surrounding the figures he had encountered, the intense blue and gentle green, the vibrant orange that surrounded individuals of greater power. The realization struck him that Sol was far more than just a measure of strength or magical affinity. It was life force itself, tied intimately to every aspect of this world's existence.

He recalled vividly Lyra's surprise when she glimpsed his aura, and the brief but stark moment of fear and reverence that had crossed her features. Kaiser felt a pang of annoyance at himself for not controlling that more carefully. Tristan's ring, the artifact that could mask Sol, flashed in his memory, and Kaiser resolved immediately to procure one for himself. It was clear his Sol burned brighter than most, possibly brighter than was wise to openly display.

His eyes fell back to the pages, absorbing the detailed explanation that Sol was drawn from the essence of a person's very soul. The book described Sol as a living force, shaped by experiences, emotions, intentions… Every action and thought left its mark upon one's Sol. Fascinated, Kaiser read on about how certain individuals could even harness this power consciously, channeling it to enhance physical capabilities, perform miracles of healing, or unleash devastating attacks.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

He leaned back, contemplating deeply. His encounter with Margalod returned to mind. The grotesque giant had radiated a potent aura, but it had seemed unstable, almost chaotic. In contrast, Kaiser's own aura, was intense yet controlled, tightly bound around him. Was it a reflection of his disciplined mind? Could his very being have molded his Sol into something uniquely powerful?

Kaiser slowly turned a page, eyes catching on a particular passage: 'Sol reacts strongly to intent; clarity of purpose can amplify one's natural reserves exponentially.'

A faint, confident smile tugged at his lips. If true, this principle would play heavily into his favor. He was nothing if not clarity personified. Every move he made, every plan he enacted was guided by razor-sharp focus. His Sol, then, would surely reflect this intensity. It meant that in a world already ripe with opportunities for power, his potential was nearly limitless.

But power was nothing without control. The book's next pages stressed discipline, cautioning against the reckless usage of Sol. Many promising Liberators had succumbed, their bodies and minds overwhelmed by the very power they sought to wield. It was a warning Kaiser took seriously. Discipline had always been his closest ally, discipline, and the will to master any force he encountered.

Kaiser flipped to the next page, and immediately his gaze caught on a single word, set apart in the old ink: Emotion.

He frowned. The chapter title alone was enough to stir a rare irritation in his chest. Still, he read on, hungry for knowledge, even if it challenged his every instinct. The passage was blunt, almost clinical, but its implications were anything but:

"Sol is not merely the sum of one's will and intent, but also the pure, untamed tides of emotion that surge beneath the surface. In moments of overwhelming feeling—joy, rage, terror, despair—Sol can erupt in unpredictable ways. Some Liberators have seen their powers wax and wane with their hearts, and true breakthroughs, it is said, often arrive not by strategy, but by surrendering to the depth of feeling."

Kaiser's expression soured. The page continued, listing anecdotes and warnings—Liberators who had leapt tiers in the throes of agony or love, whose Sol swelled with grief, whose abilities shifted and mutated alongside the tempests of their moods.

'Ridiculous,' Kaiser thought, jaw clenching ever so slightly. The idea of power being subject to something as base and unreliable as emotion was anathema to everything he believed. He had built his life, his conquests, his very survival, on the foundation of discipline and the ruthless control of his own mind. Emotion was a tool at best, a liability at worst. It was for lesser men to be swept away by fits of passion or despair.

And yet, the evidence was everywhere in this world. The book gave examples: a once-mediocre Liberator who, in witnessing the death of her child, had exploded with a tidal wave of Sol so bright it left a scar on a mountain; a cold-hearted criminal who, cornered and convinced of his own doom, burst through the rank of a Hero in a storm of unyielding desperation, only to burn out moments later and die with his soul flickering like a spent candle.

Other cases were even stranger. There were records of men and women whose very powers changed as their hearts did, like a firebrand who could only summon flame in anger, a healer whose gifts grew tenfold when in love or in fear for another's life. Whole chapters were devoted to such phenomena, and a passage in bolder script caught his attention:

"Breakthroughs are often born not of calculation, but of surrender. Some say the path to the next rank opens at the edge of madness, where pain, joy, or sorrow overwhelm the mind, and the Sol within responds in kind."

Kaiser's eyes narrowed. The edge of madness… That, he thought grimly, was a perilous place to stand. He hated it—hated the idea that he might one day be forced to rely on anything as wild and unreliable as emotion to reach his full potential. Even the suggestion that power could slip beyond the grasp of reason felt like a betrayal of everything he'd ever valued.

He let out a slow breath, forcing his mind to steady. 'No. There must be a method, or a way to harness it without falling prey to it. There is always a way.' He would master this, as he mastered everything. If emotion was a spark, he would turn it into a tool, never a master.

He considered his own history for a moment, almost against his will. Hadn't there been moments of white-hot fury or bottomless despair, times when even he had felt himself transformed—stronger, faster, sharper? He dismissed the thought, but it lingered like a shadow.

He read on, making note of the emotions most commonly cited in breakthroughs. The book listed them almost like ingredients in a deadly alchemical brew: Despair. Longing. Love. Rage. Grief. Hope.

Despair—when all was lost, and a soul screamed for more. Longing—the desperate need for something out of reach. Love—the ultimate sacrifice, or the wildest joy. Rage—violence unleashed, boundaries shattered. Grief—a hole torn in the world, and the power to fill it, or be eaten by it. Hope—a light in the darkness, flaring just when all seemed lost.

Kaiser's lips pressed into a hard line. 'To think that the fate of lives, could rest on the trembling whim of a broken heart or a shattered dream…' It was almost laughable. Almost.

But he would not dismiss it. Not here, not now. Not after what he had already seen in this world. His own Sol, might yet betray him if he did not learn to master even this. He would study it, learn to provoke the right responses, perhaps even feign emotion if needed, whatever it took to ensure his rise.

Discipline, he reminded himself. Always discipline. Even if the world itself demanded madness.

He continued to read, eyes devouring each new detail, mind already spinning with strategies. Perhaps he could engineer such a breakthrough at will—push himself to the brink, but never over it. Or perhaps he would learn to provoke the same in others, to make allies or enemies burn through their own limits when it suited him.

It was an uncomfortable revelation, but not an unwelcome one. Knowledge was a weapon, and this world was arming him by the page. He would not waste the gift.

He would learn. He would adapt. And if the world demanded monsters or madmen to rise above the rest, then so be it—he would become whatever was required, and he would do it on his terms alone.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.