Meditation was Frank's first active skill. Yet, unlike the Drift skill—which required Breathing to unlock—Meditation behaved more like a passive skill despite being classified as active. It demanded no prerequisite to activate, and though it didn't function consistently like standard passive skills, it surfaced unpredictably, often triggered by Frank recalling his life on Earth. In many ways, it felt less like a skill and more like a sentient presence guiding him.
For all its quirks, Meditation was the one skill Frank could truly rely on in his current predicament. He needed a way to infiltrate the castle undetected—ideally invisible—to avoid being seen. Beyond that, he had to bypass the gateway's security systems without revealing the crude pickaxe he carried for protection. He hoped the diagnostic robots wouldn't scan him and expose his motives. If he managed to breach the first floor's defenses, he would then face the challenge of locating sensors and cameras on the upper levels leading to the vault. On top of that, he had to remain vigilant for traps, knowing that a single misstep could ensnare him.
The entire setup seemed designed to keep even the most notorious criminal from accessing the castle's advanced technology and precious energy resources. Yet, for Frank—armed with Meditation—it might just prove to be a walk in the park.
Frank had a subtle reminder concerning the first time he used the Meditation skill and unlocked the trance state, a state that allowed him to fracture a piece of his consciousness and send it forth as a silent observer. Entering that trance again would grant him the ability to spy on the castle without resistance, invisible and incorporeal, untouchable yet all-seeing. Though he could not interact with the physical world in that state, his eyes would pierce through illusions, traps, and dangers, committing every detail to memory for later use. It was the perfect reconnaissance tool, a skill that seemed to solve every problem laid before him. Yet, there was a catch.
Recently, slipping into meditation had become increasingly difficult, and the trance state felt like a distant dream. In the past, he had only managed to enter it when his mind was consumed by critical thought—when he wrestled with problems too heavy to ignore, or when he reflected on his life back on Earth. Those moments had one thing in common: he was feeding the skill intelligence, nourishing it with thought and insight. Now, however, he avoided deep thinking, wary of making the sentient skill smarter than it already was.
Frank remembered the first time the trance pulled him in, how the silence of his mind became a vast ocean, and how the skill seemed to drink from his thoughts like a parasite. He realized that the skill was not passive—it was alive, aware, and hungry. Each time he used it, it grew sharper, more cunning, as though it were learning alongside him. That frightened him. What if the skill became too intelligent, too independent? What if one day it refused to obey? Still, the temptation was strong. The castle loomed ahead, a fortress of unknown dangers, and without the trance, he would be walking blind. He needed to use the skill or else, it could be his death without acting, and going in blind was simply not going to work because he could not afford mistakes, if he made a mistake that could be the end. He weighed the risk: empower the skill and gain insight, or starve it and remain ignorant.
Frank weighed the pros and cons carefully and ultimately concluded that it would be proactive to use the skill now, if only to avoid costly mistakes during his eventual break‑in. The timing felt right—this was the best moment to scout the premises. With that decision made, he settled into a meditative stance, focusing his thoughts on the worst possible outcomes that could arise from wielding the skill. As his breathing slowed and his eyes drifted shut, he slipped into a state of deep meditation.
Almost immediately, Frank noticed a difference. His meditative state had sharpened since the first time he had attempted it. Though his eyes were closed, he perceived his surroundings with startling clarity. His awareness stretched outward, mapping the space around him in ways that surpassed ordinary sight. It was as if his perception had evolved, no longer bound to the limitations of vision.
Yet the truth remained: while he possessed heightened awareness, he lacked the training to move fluidly with it, as a trained blind man might. He could sense, but not act with confidence. He could perceive, but not maneuver. Still, the longer he kept his eyes closed, the stronger his perception grew, and with it came a subtle shift—his mind began to feed the Meditation skill with information.
Frank leaned into this process, deliberately directing his thoughts toward the castle. He envisioned its walls, its guards, its layered defenses. He imagined the security officials, the systems they relied upon, and the vault where the energy was stored. Each thought was a morsel of intelligence, offered to the skill in hopes of pushing himself deeper, into the trance state.
The more he focused, the more the skill stirred, as though responding to his intent. His awareness expanded, brushing against the edges of something greater, something incorporeal. He knew he was close. The castle, the guards, the vault—all of it became sharper in his mind's eye, a rehearsal of the infiltration yet to come.
Frank's form shimmered until it assumed a ghostly blue hue, and in an instant he appeared within the castle grounds, materializing several meters beyond the line of security devices. Even if he had manifested directly among them, it would not have mattered—his incorporeal and invisible state rendered him untouchable. Not even the most advanced AI could perceive or diagnose his presence, and the sensors scattered across the perimeter were useless against him, for he no longer possessed a body. He was nothing more than a fragment of himself, a spectral shard hovering silently within the castle walls. With a heavy sigh that echoed faintly in the incorporeal void, Frank drifted softly toward the inner quarters, his ghostly essence gliding past barriers and defenses as though they were illusions.