Some laws were simple, while others proved far more complex. Take Frank, for example: in order to drift, he had to manipulate the energy coursing within his body and channel it into direct contact with the ground. That contact triggered a volatile reaction, an unstable force that lifted him above the earth, allowing him to hover and glide through the air.
At first, drifting seemed impossibly difficult, a technique shrouded in mystery and failure. Yet once he discovered that all he truly needed was a reliable way to release energy outward, the art of drifting unfolded into clarity.
With practice, he quickly mastered it, combining the passive skill "Breathing" — which allowed him to expel energy from his body in a steady rhythm — with the active skill "Drift," a precise technique that transformed that released energy into controlled levitation. What once felt like chaos became a seamless dance, a law of motion he could summon at will, turning him into a figure that moved gracefully and smoothly, drifting around the city of New Darkovia with no obstructions.
Some processes were not that simple, yet their end products remained remarkably easy to control. In the same way, the creation of a chaos element demanded intricate effort, but once formed, the material was surprisingly manageable.
Because the element was born from the very energy coursing within the soul being, its wielder could bend and command it however they deemed worthy, while always respecting the inherent properties of the element itself.
Just as a chaos lich who mastered water could issue straightforward commands—ordering it to float upwards, splash, flow, freeze, steam, or cascade—they could not alter its fundamental nature.
Water could never grant flight like wind, nor ignite destruction like fire. This limitation underscored the delicate balance between mastery and respect, reminding every lich that true control lay not in changing essence, but in harmonizing with it, channeling its raw potential into purposeful, disciplined action.
They could not increase the mass of an already created element, but they could amplify its mass during the act of creation itself. Once the mass was heightened, the lich retained the freedom to command either a fragment or the entirety of the chaos element, a choice shaped by their unique fighting style and tactical instincts.
This approach offered a deceptively simple yet profoundly flexible method of elemental control, echoing the principles explained earlier. It highlighted the paradox of chaos: though its birth was complex, its manipulation was intuitive, allowing the lich to balance precision and raw force, adapting seamlessly to the demands of battle while respecting the immutable properties of the element.
However, what Sebastian was attempting was far beyond simply invoking a law to enable action or channeling his inner energy to forge a chaos element. Instead, he was striving to craft the very process of teleportation from the laws of space themselves—an audacious feat that required weaving one ability into the foundation of another.
Such an undertaking was exceedingly rare, demanding precision, insight, and a mastery of layered metaphysical principles. It was not easily achieved, for it meant bending the framework of reality into a new form of law, one born from another. And yet, Sebastian was attempting this monumental task while held hostage, his mind forced into clarity by desperation, his will sharpened by circumstance. The act itself was a testament to resilience, a daring gamble that blurred the line between survival and transcendence.
Sebastian clearly understood what needed to be done and why, yet he possessed only a faint outline of how to accomplish it. He was forced to rely on the limited pathways his ability afforded him, drawing strength from the presence he had already established within himself by using the world as a conduit to reconnect with his body.
Through this tenuous but powerful link, he gained the capacity to view his own form, to feel the subtle rhythms of his body, and to observe the intricate lattice of bones interlocking with one another.
Beyond the physical, he perceived ethereal currents and delicate pathways, threads of energy weaving through him like hidden rivers, offering both guidance and mystery. This ability was not merely perception—it was a profound communion with self and world, a fragile bridge between corporeal existence and the unseen architecture of spirit.
It was necessary for teleportation, yet it was not the actual method of teleportation itself. Even as Sebastian examined every detail of his interior and exterior being, gaining new insights into the architecture of his body, he remained uncertain about how to transform that knowledge into a functional path toward teleportation.
Awareness of the body and of oneself was profound, even empowering, but Sebastian felt it was ultimately irrelevant to the act of traversing space. To truly create a teleportation skill, he realized, he needed to understand the laws of space itself—the invisible framework that bound distance, direction, and dimension together. Without mastery of space, knowledge of the body was like holding a map without knowing the terrain; useful, but insufficient for the journey he sought to undertake.
Sebastian's reasoning was correct, and it aligned perfectly with the fundamental mechanics of teleportation. There were, in essence, two major pathways by which one could achieve such a feat.
The first involved creating a rift in space—opening a portal through direct manipulation of spatial laws or by harnessing mythical and unconventional means. This method was rare, often unstable, but capable of bridging vast distances in an instant.
The second relied on sheer velocity: moving so fast that one reached a threshold where physical speed began to manipulate the fabric of space itself. At that point, the momentum acted like a vacuum, forcing the surrounding space to separate and allowing the individual to blitz into any chosen destination. Both methods demanded extraordinary mastery, but each revealed a different philosophy of control—one bending space through law, the other overwhelming it through force.
Sebastian could explore either of the two primary methods if granted enough time or a conducive environment to practice. For the first, he would require a mystical object or mastery of unconventional techniques to open portals. The force of such a portal would then tear a rift in space, bending reality itself and allowing him to appear wherever he desired.
This approach demanded not only rare artifacts but also a deep understanding of spatial laws, for the portal's stability determined whether the journey was seamless or catastrophic. It was a path of precision and ritual, one that balanced danger with immense potential, offering Sebastian a chance to even traverse between worlds by reshaping the very fabric of existence-space.