Chapter 21: Whispering Arrays and the Birth of Space-Time
The wind carried a silence that wasn't natural.
Tory pulled himself from the crumbled stone, ash swirling around him like mist. His breath was ragged, but his body felt... changed. The light was dim here—sunlight filtered through broken canopy and blackened mist—but something else illuminated the space around him. Not flame. Not lightning. A quiet, pale glow.
His reflection in a cracked piece of obsidian startled him. His hair, once a pale silver-white streaked with shadow, was now completely white, as if bleached by starlight.
The system buzzed faintly in his ear.
> [Creative Aspect of Reality: Advancing. Destructive Aspect: Temporarily Dormant. Physical Manifestation Detected. Hair Color Adjusted.]
He ran a hand through it, stunned, then narrowed his eyes. That meant the system was stabilizing a new evolution of his powers. The destructive force that had once torn through entire nests of beasts was dormant—hidden, confined, waiting.
But what had awakened in its place… felt bigger.
Tory rose, brushing dirt from his cloak. Around him, the twisted forest pressed in. This wasn't a separate zone—it was still the inner region of the World Space. But it was deeper, quieter, and far more ancient. The trees bore marks—runic scars. The soil hummed faintly, almost like breath.
He followed the pulse of energy underfoot. It felt familiar, like the spatial signatures he'd used before, but richer, intertwined with time distortion.
Ahead, between two broken statues of kneeling warriors, stood a shrine partially buried under moss. It looked untouched for centuries. Array glyphs shimmered on its surface, nearly invisible to the naked eye.
Tory stepped forward and the symbols flared, reacting to his presence.
> [Array Vault Detected — Classification: Temporal-Spatial Archive. Security Status: Dormant. Access: Restricted to Reality-Touched. Requirements Bypassed. Initiating Unlock.]
The stone cracked open, revealing a dark passage. He didn't hesitate.
Inside, dust coated every surface. Broken scrolls. Rusted weapons. Shattered fragments of jade tablets. But in the center of the room floated a single book, hovering over a pedestal of levitating stone.
He reached for it.
The book didn't burn or resist. Instead, it opened on its own.
The title shimmered in dual-colored ink: "Arrays of the Celestial Spiral: Space-Time Foundations."
Tory blinked. This wasn't a legacy meant for brute force cultivators. This was a craftsman's dream.
He sat cross-legged and the system hummed in acknowledgment.
> [Inheriting Foundational Matrix... Estimated Time: 17 Hours. Mental Fortitude Test: Active.]
Time slowed within the shrine as symbols danced before his eyes. They weren't just techniques. They were... philosophies. Ways of bending existence without violence. Constructing domains instead of destroying them. A delicate understanding of how time folds and space breathes.
At some point during the process, his mind drifted—he saw glimmers of the person who created the book: a woman with eyes like galaxies, carving arrays into the bones of mountains.
He saw the fall of empires.
The compression of time into a single breath.
The birth of artificial realms built purely from carved intention.
When Tory opened his eyes again, he wasn't the same.
His fingers moved instinctively, drawing an array in the dirt beside him. A minor one—barely stable—but the space above it bent. It shimmered with tension, then gently looped light back into itself.
A time anchor.
He exhaled slowly.
His system chimed again.
> [Array Talent Updated: Advanced Spatial Theory Unlocked. Basic Temporal Array Construct Acquired. Partial Synchronization with Reality Laws. Current Usage: Confined to 2.5%.]
Tory stood slowly.
The shrine behind him began to collapse. Its purpose fulfilled, its essence drained, it turned to dust and time.
He turned back to the forest.
The others were still out there. Jim, if he was alive, would be facing beasts or worse. And the Fang family's more arrogant sons wouldn't give up.
But for the first time since entering the World Space, Tory didn't feel like prey.
He vanished into the forest, light-footed and calm.
The trees didn't dare whisper anymore.