CHAPTER 9: The Ninth Fracture

“We stepped through.

The realm on the other side felt infinite.

The sky—clear, bright, just like home. The ground—lush green, endless grass with no buildings, no noise. Just open space. The perfect battlefield.

Zurvan and Zamaneh stood ahead, waiting like generals before the storm.

“We’ll start with you, Saaya,” Zurvan said, stepping forward. “Two focuses: close-quarters combat and spear training.”

Saaya blinked. “Why? I can already reverse cause and effect.”

Zurvan met her eyes with a serious tone.

“Because your power alone isn’t enough. If your instincts aren’t sharp, your ability won’t save you. You won’t get the chance to reverse anything if you’re already dead.”

He continued, voice firm but steady.

“The spear will be your anchor. A weapon to channel your intent when your power lags. And hand-to-hand will sharpen your reflexes, force your body to react under pressure. You’ve learned to undo fate, Saaya. Now it’s time to start shaping it.”

He turned to Zamaneh.

“She’ll train you. Once you master the basics, she’ll show you how to evolve your ability. She controls fate itself. You’re in the best hands.”

I couldn’t help myself.

“I KNEW IT!” I yelled.

Everyone turned to look.

“The moment we met—I knew she wasn’t normal. The way she looked at me—there was something more.”

Saaya raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Do you memorize every girl’s eyes?”

I turned my head away. “No…”

She giggled.

Zurvan refocused the energy.

“Saaya—three days of physical training. Then, three days pushing your ability. Zamaneh will guide both.”

Zamaneh approached with a serene authority.

“Let’s begin, Lady Saaya.”

Saaya turned to me, smiled, and gave a playful wave. “Byee~”

I blushed. “Bye…”

And just like that, she was gone.

Now, it was just me and Zurvan under the endless blue.

The sky was quiet.

But not for long.

Zurvan stood several meters away, arms behind his back, his coat rustling gently in the breeze.

“Alright, Sukara. Let’s begin.”

The ground split without warning.

A jagged spike of translucent energy erupted from below—aimed straight at my chest.

I didn’t think.

My hands flew up. My scalar field flared—raw and unstable. But it was enough. The spike shattered, fragments dispersing like shattered crystal.

My heart pounded.

“Good,” Zurvan said. “You didn’t overthink. You reacted. That’s scalar instinct—reality bending around will.”

A second attack came from above.

A slicing wave—compressed air, shaped like a scythe—fell toward me like judgment itself.

I reached out. Not just block. Redirect.

I want it to veer left.

My field pulsed. The ripple curved midair, missing by meters before detonating harmlessly behind me.

Zurvan nodded.

“Better. Scalar control isn’t about force. It’s not magic. It’s prediction. Recalculation. You overwrite the rules—before they finalize.”

More spikes launched—dozens this time. A wave of deadly geometry.

I extended my hand.

My field rippled outward like a dome. The spikes hit—but instead of piercing, they twisted. Their structure shifted midair—becoming vines. Harmless. They fell at my feet.

I dropped to a knee, sweat beading down my face.

“Why… does it hurt?”

Zurvan stepped forward.

“Because you’re fighting constants, Sukara. Every law you bend is one your mind once trusted. But you’re adapting—faster than most.”

I exhaled sharply.

Then, the air behind me shimmered.

A figure formed.

Humanoid. Tall. Black armor.

I tensed.

“Not him,” Zurvan said. “A training construct.”

It charged—fast and precise.

The first punch landed. My ribs flared with pain. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of me.

The construct rushed again.

I reached deep—focused on gravity. Invert beneath me.

A scalar pulse surged. I lifted into the air, flipping over the enemy’s attack. Landed behind it—unsteady, but grounded.

The enemy turned. I reacted.

I compressed mass into my palm—space folded around my hand. I struck.

Boom. A shockwave blasted the enemy back, skidding across the grass.

It recovered.

Another swing came.

I bent time inside my field—slowing my body’s perception. I ducked, countered with an elbow to the back.

Then: Invert impact direction.

The force reversed mid-contact. The construct buckled—armor cracking from inside out.

Scalar energy flared wild again—unstable.

Density. Inertia. Ground it.

I drove the excess into the earth. The field smoothed, hugging close like armor.

The construct charged one last time.

I didn’t hesitate.

I stepped into the strike. Overrode its kinetic force. Then reversed the direction of its momentum.

The construct launched backward like a puppet cut from strings—crashed to the ground. Still.

Only the wind moved now.

I stood alone, panting, energy crackling at my fingertips.

I didn’t just survive.

I controlled it.

Zurvan floated into the air.

He snapped his fingers.

Ten more constructs appeared instantly—encircling me.

I blinked. “Seriously, Zurvan?! Ten?!”

Zurvan’s voice echoed through the sky.

“This is how you’ll master scalar combat. Not just raw power—but subconscious control. I want a shield around you at all times. Defense and offense, synchronized. If you can maintain that… even the gods will fear your presence.”

I exhaled, cracked my neck, and let the energy rise again.

Then I smiled.

“Bring it on.”

The wind shifted.

The field, once peaceful, now trembled with tension.

Ten constructs stood in formation before me—each one identical to the Black Knight I’d fought before. Hollow bodies. Black armor. Cold, calculating movements.

Zurvan hovered above, arms crossed, his military coat snapping in the breeze.

“Remember what I said. Scalar shield—active. Maintain it while you fight. No exceptions. Also… time doesn’t exist here. We can train for days, and not a moment will pass in the real world.”

My field flickered to life. A pale shimmer wrapped around me—dense, controlled. It clung to my skin like armor, vibrating with raw equations.

The first construct moved.

Then the rest followed.

No hesitation.

They came all at once.

I launched upward, driving a gravitational spike beneath my feet. The grass cratered as I ascended—high, but not safe.

One construct leapt after me—too fast.

I twisted midair, arms sweeping. Reversed its inertia.

It shot sideways, colliding with another mid-leap. Two down—temporarily.

I landed hard. Rolled. Rose.

My shield wavered—but held. I bent space around my frame, thinned drag, accelerated my slide into a full stance.

Three came next—coordinated, brutal.

I compressed mass into my palm and slammed it into the ground.

A ripple of density burst outward.

The terrain cracked open beneath them, hurling their bodies like dolls in a storm.

My heart pounded—but I felt it now:

Control.

The next wave came faster.

I leapt, twisting.

Time slowed around me—my scalar field bending the local frame rate.

They moved like they were underwater.

I wasn’t.

I struck one across the jaw—spiked its weight into the earth.

Pivoted. Slid under a blade. My shield flared—one made contact.

It held. Just barely.

I reinforced it mid-motion. Spread the field into a rotating shell—living armor syncing with every twitch of muscle.

A sword came at me. I caught it barehanded—reduced its mass to zero.

It passed through the air like mist.

The construct staggered, confused.

I didn’t wait.

I clenched my fist, compressed the air, and launched it into the enemy’s chest.

Metal cracked. The body crumbled.

Another dropped behind me.

I didn’t turn.

I inverted gravity beneath my feet—fell backward—flipped midair.

The attacker flew past overhead.

I landed in a crouch, eyes sharp.

Four left.

I whispered, “More.”

They charged.

I raised my hands.

Mass. Speed. Force. All rewritten.

My shield pulsed out—spherical, shifting. It blocked blades, fists, kinetic energy.

I didn’t think anymore.

I commanded.

One construct slipped through.

Too close.

I drove my knee up—then inverted the impact vector.

The force folded back inward. Its chest crumpled and shattered.

Two circled.

I bent light behind me—scalar refraction.

Created an illusion. A mirage.

One took the bait.

It lunged—too late.

I was already in motion.

Time stretched.

I slipped into its blind spot.

One strike—then I altered the friction on its surface. It lost all balance.

My shield flared—slammed it into the ground with amplified feedback.

One left.

It stood still. Watching.

I stepped forward, breath steady. Raised my hand.

I didn’t need to move.

I reversed its motion.

Then canceled its mass.

It dissolved—torn apart by its own contradiction.

Silence.

My field dimmed, still holding. My body ached. My breath came in hard gasps.

But I stood.

Zurvan landed across from me, arms now lowered.

“You didn’t just survive,” he said. “You imposed your law. You’re beginning to command reality.”

I didn’t answer.

The pulse of power still hummed beneath my skin.

I wasn’t done.

Zurvan raised an eyebrow. “Ready for more?”

I looked up.

“Bring all of them.”

With a snap of his fingers—twenty constructs appeared, born from a flash of warping light.

The air tightened. The wind picked up again.

Zurvan murmured to himself as he drifted upward:

“I wonder how Saaya and Zamaneh are doing…”