CHAPTER 34: ORIGIN SCRIPTS
John and the others watched as the rest of the groups began to enter the training grounds. One after another, they spread out across the training field, each gathering around their own supervisor.
Voices rose from every direction as the supervisors immediately began giving orders, explaining things, and directing their squads into place. It was almost the same thing John's group had just gone through.
ONE's voice cut through the growing noise, pulling the squad's attention back.
"Focus."
The group immediately turned their attention to him, though John's gaze lingered for just a second longer on the newcomers before finally pulling away. Most of them were focused on their own mentors, listening closely, their expressions tense, curious, or overwhelmed.
But one person stood out the most: Daren.
John's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the Maltherion move with his group. He had expected the usual smug look, a mocking grin, maybe even a few words thrown his way just to provoke him.
But there was none of that.
Daren didn't even spare him a glance.
He simply walked past with the others calmly, his expression unreadable.
What unsettled John even more was the feeling coming from him. Daren's presence felt different now—heavier, sharper, more controlled. The arrogance was still there somewhere, John was sure of it, but it was buried beneath something colder.
ONE's voice rang out again, snapping John out of his reverie.
"Let's move on to the next stage."
The noise around the field was still loud, but every member of John's squad had their full focus on him. Even with the other groups now gathered and their own supervisors speaking nearby, there was something about ONE's presence that made it impossible to ignore him for long.
He stood with his hands behind his back, his sharp gaze sweeping across them one by one.
"Now your next step is to begin building the foundation of your power. And that foundation is your inner domain. You need to strengthen it using your energy. Now, how do you get that energy?"
A flick of his wrist later, several small black books appeared in the air before dropping neatly into a stack at his side.
ONE picked up one of the books and held it up.
"It is through an energy circulation art, commonly known as origin script." His eyes narrowed slightly.
His voice sharpened.
"Other factions like to hand their disciples polished paths, fixed systems, and rigid formulas. They teach them exactly what to do, how to circulate energy, how to shape power, how to fight, how to grow. And in doing so, they create strength… but also limitation."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment.
"We do not believe in being restricted."
"In the Obsidian Covenant, you are not simply meant to follow a laid-out path. You are meant to shape it. Make it yours."
He tapped the cover of the book in his hand.
"These are the most basic Origin Scripts. Think of them as primitive frameworks. In other places, they might be treated as beginner arts. Here, they are only starting points."
ONE began passing the books out, each of the squad members receiving one.
When John took his, he looked down at the dark cover. It was surprisingly plain, with only a single silver symbol etched into the front—something circular, layered with lines that felt unsettling.
ONE continued speaking.
"Your task is simple. You will take this base script and tailor it to yourselves."
Nico frowned. "Tailor it… How exactly?"
ONE's eyes shifted to him.
"Only you can answer that. But I'll explain the process in enough detail that you won't be completely blind."
He paused, then added with deliberate weight:
"Now these scripts have grades depending on their effectiveness and the quality of energy they can give you, as well as other factors. There are a total of seven ranks. For you to be able to pass, you need to change this script to that of a fourth-grade art made for you."
That immediately caused a stir.
"Fourth Rank?!" Thomas blurted out. "From this basic thing?"
Nyara's brows shot up. "That sounds insane."
"It is," ONE said flatly. "That is why it is your task."
A few of them grimaced.
John stayed silent, but his grip tightened slightly around the book.
So, this is basically a starter cultivation art… except they want us to evolve it ourselves.
Honestly… that is kind of insane.
And kind of cool.
ONE set his hands behind his back again.
"However, before you can begin altering an Origin Script, you first need to access your inner domain."
At those words, several faces changed. John immediately knew what ONE meant. He needed to get back to that strange space from the awakening.
ONE continued, his tone even and controlled.
"During your awakening, every one of you entered it, whether consciously or not. Some of you may remember fragments. Some may remember nothing. But that place is real. It is the inner landscape of your soul, your will, and existence."
He looked across them carefully.
"It is where your affinities settle. Where your domain takes shape. Where your future arts, techniques, and growth will all eventually connect."
He raised a hand.
"Close your eyes."
The squad obeyed.
"Sit. Breathe. Clear your thoughts. Reach inward. Find the same place you touched during your awakening."
Around them, the other squads had begun doing the same under their own supervisors. Across the wide training grounds, dozens upon dozens of kids sat down in silence, crossing their legs as the noise slowly faded into stillness.
The chaotic field transformed into something almost eerie.
John slowly sat down with the others, crossing his legs and resting the book in his lap. He closed his eyes, taking a slow breath.
John slowly let his breathing settle, shutting out the noise of the training grounds and the presence of everyone around him. The moment he turned his focus inward, the sensation came almost instantly.
That strange pull he had felt during his awakening returned, subtle at first, like a thread brushing against his mind. Then it deepened, wrapping around his consciousness and drawing him inward with a force that felt both gentle and absolute. It wasn't painful this time. If anything, it felt natural.
Like his mind already knew the path.
The deeper he sank, the more the outside world began to fade. The cold stone beneath him, the distant sounds of the other squads, even the faint pressure of his own breathing—all of it drifted farther away, becoming dull and weightless, as if it belonged to someone else.
In its place came that strange sensation again.
Like he was slipping through layers of himself, descending through darkness, through something vast and impossible to name. There was no fear this time. Only a strange, unsettling familiarity.
The feeling of that first awakening returned to him in fragments. The pressure. The stillness. His consciousness continued to sink with ease, passing through the threshold faster than it should have.
Before he could fully give in and let himself drop the rest of the way, Echo's voice cut sharply through his mind.
[Idiot. Slow down.]
John paused.
What?
[You're doing it too quickly again.] Echo sounded annoyed. [Everyone around you is struggling to find the entrance. If you drop into your Inner Domain instantly like some chosen monster, it will attract attention. Pretend to struggle.]
John resisted the urge to argue and instead forced himself to act like he hadn't entered yet. He stayed on the edge, letting his breathing remain calm while keeping his face carefully neutral.
From the outside, he probably looked like everyone else.
Or at least… he hoped he did.
Not far away, ONE stood in silence, observing them.
Most of the squad had already begun to show the usual signs—furrowed brows, uneven breathing, tension in the shoulders, subtle frustration. They were searching, feeling their way inward, trying to grasp something they had only touched once before.
But John…
ONE's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
There was no strain in his posture. No frustration. If anything, John looked… settled. ONE kept his face blank, but his thoughts sharpened.
What is he hiding?
His gaze lingered on John for another moment, as he considered whether to press further now or wait until later—
"Well, well… if it isn't my favorite partner."
The mocking voice cut across the training grounds like a blade dragged over stone.
ONE's expression darkened by the smallest fraction before he composed himself.
Walking toward him was another supervisor, his long dark coat swaying behind him with each step. His sharp features were twisted into a lazy smirk, and his eyes gleamed with open disdain.
Bill. He stopped a few paces away, folding his arms as his smirk widened.
"So, how is it going with this lot?" His gaze slid lazily over ONE's squad, lingering on them with obvious judgment.
ONE's voice came cold and flat.
"What do you want?"
Bill chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.
"Straight to the point. Charming as always." He tilted his head slightly, his tone dripping with fake casualness. "I was just curious. Wanted to see how the Covenant's best hound was handling his little pups."
ONE gazed at Bill coldly, "If you're done, return to your own squad. If not, stop wasting everyone's time."
Bill's smile thinned. For a brief moment, something uglier flashed across his face.
Bill took a slow step closer, lowering his voice just enough to make it.
"You always did love acting above everyone else." His eyes narrowed. "The favored prodigy. The Covenant's precious weapon. Always first in line for praise. Always handed the best assignments."
ONE's expression remained unchanged, but the temperature in the space between them seemed to drop.
"Jealousy is an ugly look on you, Bill."
Bill's jaw tightened for the briefest second before his smirk returned, thinner and meaner this time.
"Jealous?" he repeated with a short laugh. "Please. I just find it funny. They keep polishing the same blade and pretending it's special, while the rest of us do the real work."
ONE's tone became even colder.
"I am really not in the mood to listen to your whining right now."
ONE let out a slow sigh before saying," You know I don't get why you became like this… You used to be better."
That made Bill's smile falter for half a heartbeat.
Around them, the nearby supervisors had begun to notice. A few glances cast in their direction, but none stepped in. It was clear this wasn't new.
Bill exhaled through his nose and gave a slow, mocking clap.
"What? Are you going to lecture me now?" His eyes shifted briefly toward John, narrowing slightly as if he had noticed something irritating.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then his smirk returned, lazy and sharp.
"Relax," Bill said, lifting one hand in a false gesture of peace. "I only came over for pleasantries."
ONE stared at him, unimpressed. "I think that is enough, don't you?"
Bill chuckled softly, but his gaze drifted again—this time lingering on John just a little longer.
And for the briefest moment…
ONE's gaze flickered. It was a tiny, barely noticeable reaction.
But Bill caught it.
The smirk on his face deepened.
His eyes remained on John for another second before he looked back at ONE, amusement dancing in his expression now, though there was something colder beneath it.
"That is right, this much is enough," Bill said lightly, stepping back. He turned as if to leave, then paused just enough to glance over his shoulder.
"Just a little advice, old friend…"
His smile thinned.
"Don't get too attached."
The words settled between them, quiet and poisonous.
ONE's expression didn't change, but the air around him seemed to sharpen.
Bill only smiled wider.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward his own squad, his coat swaying behind him.
For a long moment, ONE said nothing.
His gaze rested on Bill's retreating figure, then slowly shifted back to John.
***
Holy shit.
That was all John could think as he stood inside his Inner Domain, the red core pulsing above him while the faint sounds of the outside world still echoed at the edge of his awareness.
That was intense, he muttered in his mind.
[An astute observation, minion.]
John frowned. That guy already hated me, now I am even more of a target just so he can piss off one.
[That sums up your situation. Now you have a guy leagues above you, trying to make your life miserable or maybe end it.]
John let out a slow breath. Great. That's so much better.
He glanced around at the endless void with purple threads spreading through it and then down into the abyss, still just as unsettling as before.
So… how long do I have to keep pretending?
[Long enough to make it believable.]
That's not the kind of answer I am looking for.
Echo sighed dramatically in John's mind.
[Just be patient. And you suck at acting, at least try to make it look like you are struggling.]
John stared blankly ahead.
You want me to fake struggling at something I am not struggling with.
[Yes. That is the essence of deception—to drape truth in such exquisite falsehood that lesser minds kneel before the lie and call it reality. A craft I, of course, have long since perfected. Were you even remotely gifted, minion, I might have considered teaching you. Sadly, nature has been unkind.]
John stared blankly into the void. You know, sometimes I genuinely can't tell if you're joking or if you're just that insufferable.
Echo was quick to fire back.
[I was not finished, minion. Now, where was I… ah, yes—your tragic and frankly offensive lack of talent.]
John let out a mental sigh, already regretting every decision that had led him here.
What a pain in the ass.