Leo lay on his back in the dark, the mattress cool beneath him, the weight of the day still pressing down on his chest like a slow, unrelenting hand. Sleep came slowly, dragging at the edges of his thoughts like a current he couldn't quite fight.
The cold food sat heavy in his stomach, fuel for the Primal Core that never stopped working. Every small shift of his body fed it—breath, heartbeat, the faint residual ache in his energy channels from the long evaluation drill that had pushed him through five consecutive matches without rest.
Then the new sense slipped in.
Not dreams. Something thinner. Half-aware. Like a veil lifting between his mind and the world just enough to let fragments through before the conscious part of him could catch up.
He perceived the echoes before he could name them.
