## Chapter 23 – The Veil Watch 1
My eyes snapped open in the quiet darkness.
For a brief moment, I simply lay there, staring at the familiar ceiling above my bed. The room was silent. Outside the window, the city hadn't fully awakened yet. Dawn lingered just beyond the horizon, painting the edges of the curtains with a faint golden glow.
I slowly turned my head toward the digital clock resting on my nightstand. The red numbers read 4:59.
A small smile appeared on my face.
One second later, I reached over and switched off the alarm before it had the chance to make even the slightest sound. The room remained perfectly silent.
I lay there for another few seconds, enjoying the feeling. It had worked. Again.
A quiet sense of accomplishment spread through my chest. This wasn't luck, nor was it a coincidence. It was another successful experiment.
Last night, just before falling asleep, I had activated Perfect Control and given my own body a simple command. *"Wake me up at exactly five o'clock."*
Nothing more. No alarm. No reminder. Just a single instruction directed toward my own subconscious.
And just like every previous attempt, my body obeyed flawlessly. There was no violent ringing forcing my consciousness awake, no rush of adrenaline, and no momentary confusion.
I simply... woke up. It felt as though my body had naturally decided that my sleep was complete.
My breathing remained calm. My heartbeat stayed steady. Even my mind felt unusually clear, free from the sluggishness that usually followed waking up.
It was a strangely addictive feeling. Once you experienced waking up like this, it became difficult to tolerate alarm clocks again.
Years ago, I had stumbled across a medical paper discussing a similar phenomenon. According to the researchers, people who repeatedly told themselves before sleeping that they needed to wake up at a specific time often woke naturally a few minutes before their alarm.
The subconscious mind apparently monitored time even while the conscious mind slept. As the desired wake-up time approached, the brain gradually increased hormone production, preparing the body to awaken naturally.
At that time, I had found the paper fascinating. The scientists explained the phenomenon through hormones, circadian rhythms, and subconscious conditioning.
Many people dismissed it as coincidence. Others claimed it only worked occasionally.
Back then, I had tried the experiment several times. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time it didn't.
The results were inconsistent because the subconscious mind wasn't something people could consciously control. But now, Perfect Control completely changed the equation.
Instead of hoping my subconscious would listen, I simply gave my body an order. And my body obeyed.
The more I experimented with Perfect Control, the more I realized something. Most people thought superpowers existed to destroy enemies—fire, lightning, ice, telekinesis—abilities that looked impressive during battle.
Mine wasn't like that. Perfect Control didn't create explosions, and it didn't summon storms.
Instead, it quietly erased the countless small imperfections hidden inside the human body. It allowed me to access abilities that every human technically possessed but could never consciously control.
The more I studied biology and neuroscience, the more terrifying Perfect Control became. Not because it was destructive, but because it ignored the limitations evolution had placed upon humanity.
That thought alone sent a thrill through my body. I pushed the blanket aside and stood up.
The wooden floor felt pleasantly cool beneath my bare feet. I grabbed the water bottle beside the bed and drank slowly.
The cold water flowed down my throat, washing away the last traces of sleep. After emptying nearly half the bottle, I let out a satisfied breath.
Hydration first. That had become another habit Dad drilled into me years ago.
I placed the bottle back on the floor before walking toward the window. The heavy curtains slid apart with a soft rustle, and golden sunlight immediately poured into the room.
The warmth touched my face. Outside, the city was only beginning to wake.
Cars were still scarce on the roads, and a few cyclists passed through the streets below. Several birds perched on nearby rooftops, singing without the slightest concern for the troubles of mankind.
The world always looked different at this hour. Peaceful. Quiet. Honest.
For a few minutes, I simply stood there, enjoying the scenery. No phone. No training. No responsibilities. Just silence.
Eventually, I walked back to the center of my room and sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor. My hands rested naturally on my knees as my breathing slowed.
One deep breath. Another. Then another. All distracting thoughts gradually disappeared.
It was time for meditation.
The moment I closed my eyes, my awareness naturally shifted inward. Darkness surrounded my consciousness, and then, the familiar current appeared.
Prana. It flowed through my body like countless invisible streams, constantly moving through pathways hidden beneath flesh and bone.
I observed it quietly. I didn't interfere, and I didn't guide it. I simply watched.
Just as a scientist observes nature before forming conclusions. Or perhaps like a child staring into the night sky, trying to understand the stars.
The flow never truly stopped. Even while sleeping, even while walking, and even while speaking, Prana constantly circulated throughout the body.
Sometimes its movement became stronger, sometimes weaker. It responded to emotions, to breathing, and to physical activity. Even thoughts seemed capable of influencing it.
I focused entirely on observation. *Where does it come from?*
The question had haunted me for years. Was it generated inside every living cell, or did it originate somewhere deeper within the body? Or was the body constantly absorbing microscopic amounts from the surrounding environment?
Nobody could give me a definite answer.
Another question surfaced. *Where does Prana go after it is consumed?* Did it disappear completely, transform into another form of energy, or simply return to nature?
Every answer only created more questions.
Then another thought appeared. *Why does the body naturally circulate Prana at all?*
Blood carried oxygen, and the nervous system carried electrical signals. So what exactly did Prana carry? Vitality? Life itself? Or something even more fundamental?
Every morning, I asked myself these questions. Not because I expected immediate answers, but because every answer I discovered brought me one step closer to understanding Prana itself.
And somehow, I felt that true strength didn't come from accumulating more energy. It came from understanding it.
Time gradually lost its meaning. Each slow breath carried my awareness deeper into my own body.
The countless streams of Prana continued flowing through invisible pathways, weaving through every muscle, organ, and bone with perfect rhythm. The longer I observed them, the more I realized they weren't moving randomly.
There was a pattern hidden within the flow—a natural order that I still couldn't fully comprehend. I had been searching for that pattern since i awakened the prana.
Dad was the one who first encouraged me to do it. No, encouraged wasn't the right word. He forced me.
A faint smile appeared on my lips as an old memory surfaced.
I was seven years old. My legs hurt, my back hurt, everything hurt.
I sat cross-legged in the backyard with my eyes tightly shut, counting the seconds in my head. One... two... three...
Surely ten minutes had already passed. I secretly opened one eye.
Dad was still standing in front of me with his arms crossed. "The session isn't over."
I immediately shut my eye again. "...Yes, Dad."
Another minute passed. This time I started imagining superheroes fighting monsters. Then I wondered what I would eat for lunch, and then I counted ants crawling across the ground.
Anything was better than sitting still. Finally, unable to endure it anymore, I complained.
"My legs are numb."
"They'll recover."
"My back hurts."
"It'll stop."
"I'm bored."
"Good."
I frowned at his response. "How is being bored good?"
Dad smiled faintly. "When your body stops demanding entertainment, your mind finally becomes quiet."
At that age, I thought he was saying nonsense. Meditation felt like torture.
Every single morning, the same thing happened. Sit down. Stay still. Don't complain. Don't move.
Sometimes I even tried pretending to meditate while secretly planning how to escape as soon as Dad looked away. It never worked; he always noticed.
Looking back now, I couldn't remember a single day when he allowed me to skip meditation. Rain, winter, summer, even on holidays—there were no exceptions.
At the time, I resented him for it. Now, I couldn't thank him enough.
My thoughts returned to the present. The habit had become so deeply ingrained that meditation now felt as natural as breathing.
If I skipped it for even one day, something inside me felt incomplete. My thoughts became restless, and my concentration weakened.
It was as though my mind had become dependent on those moments of silence. That foundation made observing Prana much easier than it was for ordinary martial artists.
Most beginners struggled just to sense it. For me, sensing Prana wasn't the difficult part anymore; understanding it was.
Every day, I observed it from a different perspective. Sometimes I focused on its movement, sometimes on its density, sometimes on how it reacted when I inhaled slowly, or how emotions influenced its flow.
I never forced myself toward a conclusion. If understanding came naturally, I accepted it. If it didn't, I simply observed again tomorrow.
Dad once told me something that completely changed the way I approached cultivation. *"Never rush to understand Prana."*
At first, I didn't understand what he meant. Wasn't understanding the entire point?
Later, he explained. *"Imagine standing beside a river. You can measure its speed, you can calculate its depth, and you can analyze every drop of water flowing through it."*
He paused before asking me, *"But does any of that tell you where the river wants to go?"*
At the time, I couldn't answer. Dad continued.
*"Modern researchers treat Prana like a scientific formula. They measure it, they classify it, and they write books about it. Because of their work, countless useful techniques have been created."*
I nodded, because that much was true. Entire academies dedicated themselves to studying Prana scientifically.
Every year, new discoveries were published. New breathing methods, new enhancement techniques, and new recovery methods—science had undeniably advanced martial arts.
*"But..."* Dad raised one finger, his voice remaining calm. *"Science has limits."*
*"The strongest martial artists in history didn't become legends because they memorized books. They became legends because they discovered something no one else could. They developed their own understanding, their own path, and their own techniques."*
I finally understood what he was trying to teach me. Learning from others wasn't wrong, but blindly copying them was.
If I wanted to stand above everyone else, I couldn't simply walk someone else's road. I had to create my own.
That realization changed everything. Instead of trying to imitate famous martial artists, I started asking questions.
Questions that nobody around me could answer. Questions that even researchers still debated.
Every unanswered question became another direction worth exploring. Perhaps one day, those questions would lead me toward something entirely new.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The rhythmic sound pulled me back to reality. Without opening my eyes, I already knew who it was.
The knock itself gave him away. Three evenly spaced taps—never two, never four. Dad had always knocked like that.
The door opened quietly. Even without looking, I sensed his presence entering the room.
He didn't interrupt, and he didn't speak. A chair scraped softly across the floor, and then silence returned. Dad simply waited.
That alone told me he respected my meditation.
Ten more minutes passed before I slowly opened my eyes. Dad was sitting comfortably in the chair, watching me with a thoughtful expression.
"What is it, Dad?"
Instead of answering immediately, he observed me for another few seconds. "You seem to be in a good mood today."
"I am," I admitted.
He nodded slowly before clearing his throat. A rare expression of hesitation appeared on his face.
That alone surprised me, since Dad was usually decisive. Seeing him hesitate meant this conversation mattered.
"Your mother and I talked about your request."
I sat up straighter. His expression became serious.
"We've made our decision," he paused. "We won't stop you from entering the Dimension."
For a second, I couldn't process what I had heard. Then excitement exploded inside me.
"Really?!" I jumped to my feet without thinking, a grin spreading uncontrollably across my face.
I had expected another long argument and another lecture. Instead, they had actually agreed.
Seeing my reaction, Dad smiled. It wasn't a large smile, but it carried relief. Perhaps making this decision hadn't been easy for him either.
Then he spoke again. "But..."
The single word hit harder than a bucket of cold water. My excitement instantly disappeared, and I looked at him suspiciously.
He chuckled at my sudden shift. "I knew you'd react like that."
I crossed my arms. "What's the condition?"
His smile faded. "We've arranged for you to join an experienced exploration team."
I frowned immediately. "I already told you. I'm going alone."
Dad's expression hardened. "So did I. That isn't happening."
Dad's voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable firmness behind it. "This isn't a discussion, Rohan. It's a decision."
I frowned deeper. "I've prepared for this for years. I know my own strength. I'll be more flexible if I work alone."
Dad slowly shook his head. "Strength isn't the only thing that keeps people alive inside a Dimension."
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "You've fought monsters in simulations. You've trained against machines. You've studied combat theory. But none of that compares to a real Dimension."
His eyes met mine. "A real Dimension is unpredictable. One careless step can kill you."
His words weren't exaggerated; they were simply facts.
"The monsters aren't your only enemies," he continued. "The environment itself can become your greatest threat. Hidden traps, unstable terrain, poisonous plants, toxic air, beasts that hunt in packs, monsters that pretend to be dead..."
He paused before continuing. "You don't know what you don't know."
The room fell silent. I knew he wasn't trying to frighten me; he was reminding me of reality.
Still, I wasn't willing to give up so easily. "I'll be careful."
Dad sighed. "Every rookie says that."
"I'll retreat if things become dangerous."
"They all say that too."
"I know my limits."
His expression didn't change. "And that's the biggest misconception of all."
He stood and walked toward the window, looking out at the morning sunlight. "I've attended more funerals than I care to remember."
His quiet voice made me freeze.
"Some were stronger than you. Some were older. Some had awakened abilities far more powerful than yours. They all believed they knew their limits."
He turned back toward me. "But inside a Dimension... sometimes your limits don't matter. I don't want you to become another name carved onto a memorial wall."
There wasn't any anger in his voice. Only concern. Only the fear of a father who had seen too much.
I let out a slow breath. "I understand why you're worried. I really do. But I also need to become stronger. I can't stay protected forever."
I looked at him firmly. "If I hesitate now, I'll hesitate again in the future. If I want to stand at the top, I have to start taking risks."
Dad nodded. "I agree."
His answer surprised me.
"I've never intended to keep you sheltered forever," he said, folding his arms. "If I truly wanted that, I would've refused your request from the beginning. What I'm refusing isn't your determination. It's your recklessness. There is a difference."
I couldn't argue with that.
Seeing that I had finally calmed down, Dad continued. "I spent quite some time finding a suitable team. It wasn't easy."
"Experienced exploration teams rarely accept newcomers. To them, inexperienced members aren't assets. They're liabilities."
He stepped closer. "If one person makes a mistake, the entire team can die. So why would they risk accepting someone they don't know?"
I remained silent, absorbing the weight of his words.
"The only reason you received an opportunity... is because one of their members recently died."
His words carried a heavy weight. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Someone had lost their life, and because of that empty position, I had been given a chance.
"It isn't a replacement," Dad said quietly, as though reading my thoughts. "No one can replace a fallen teammate. They're simply trying to rebuild the team."
He looked directly into my eyes. "I recommended you. Not because you're my son, but because your Laser Eyes possess overwhelming offensive potential. They need firepower. You need experience. It's a fair exchange."
I slowly nodded. That made sense. Even if they accepted me, I would still have to prove I deserved to stay.
After a brief silence, I finally asked, "Who's the team leader?"
"A man I respect very much."
I blinked. That answer alone surprised me, because Dad almost never praised anyone.
"Is he very strong?"
Dad smiled faintly. "No. He's only a Rank Three Awakened."
That confused me even more.
"His name is Kael Mercer."
"If he's only Rank Three... why do you respect him so much?"
Dad's smile deepened. "You'll understand when you meet him."
That was all he said. Whatever the reason was, he clearly intended for me to discover it myself.
He glanced at his watch. "It's almost six. We're leaving at eleven. Use the remaining time wisely."
"Got it."
Dad walked toward the door. Just as he stepped into the hallway, he suddenly stopped.
"Oh," he turned back with an almost casual expression. "I nearly forgot. I've already prepared your Veil Watch. Come downstairs after you've freshened up."
For a moment, my brain completely stopped working. "...What?"
Dad smiled. "Your Veil Watch. It arrived yesterday. You can activate it after breakfast."
I stared at him with wide eyes. For years, I'd dreamed about owning one.
The first time I ever saw a Veil Watch, I was barely ten years old. Dad had returned from a mission and removed the sleek black watch from his wrist before placing it on the dining table.
I still remembered sneaking over to look at it—the smooth metallic finish, the crystal-clear holographic display that appeared out of thin air, and the countless functions that normal smartphones couldn't even dream of having.
At the time, I'd reached out to touch it, but Dad stopped me before my fingers could make contact. *"Not yet."*
Those two simple words had stayed with me ever since.
As I grew older, I learned what the Veil Watch truly represented. It wasn't merely an advanced smart device; it was proof that someone belonged to the Hidden World.
An identity. A communicator. A navigation system. A mission terminal. A secure database. A financial account. An emergency beacon.
For ordinary people, it was just another watch. For Awakened, it was practically a second life.
Every time I saw Dad using his Veil Watch, I imagined the day I'd receive one of my own. I just hadn't expected that day to come so soon.
"Seriously?" I asked, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
Dad laughed softly. "I've never seen you this excited over a piece of equipment."
"It's not just equipment."
He smiled knowingly. "I know. Go get cleaned up, and don't be late."
With that, he disappeared downstairs.
I remained standing in the middle of my room for several seconds. A grin slowly spread across my face.
Today, everything was changing. For the first time, the Hidden World wasn't just something I had heard stories about. Its doors were finally opening for me.