Jacob vanished into the shadows, leaving only the dead hunter at my feet. His departure was so seamless, as if he had never been there at all. I stood there, the cold wind biting at my face, a gnawing guilt settling in my chest. What I’d done—the way I’d lied to Leora—was completely out of character for me. She would never understand, and I hated myself for deceiving her.


    But what choice did I have?


    Leora was better equipped to protect Leon. She had the resources, the connections, and the strength. If something happened to me—if I died fighting this war—I didn’t want my son to witness it. No child should go through that trauma, especially not Leon. I couldn’t bear the thought of him watching me fall, powerless to help.


    I’d rather be a dead stranger to him than a dead father.


    I knelt beside the hunter’s lifeless body, flipping it over with one swift motion. His face was frozen in terror, and his limp form sagged as I grabbed his jaw and pulled his lower lip down. There it was, etched in the skin: serial numbers.


    “It’s definitely them,” I muttered under my breath.


    The Elsewhere Cult.


    They had finally made their move, sending one of their personal hunters to track Leon down. This wasn’t just a random group of zealots—these people were organized, relentless, and far more dangerous than any hunters this world had seen. Their influence stretched farther than most realized, and their methods were as brutal as they were effective. They weren’t going to stop until they had Leon.


    But I wasn’t going to let that happen.


    What exactly was the Elsewhere Cult?


    They weren’t just another power-hungry organization—no, they were something worse, something darker. These lunatics worshipped the Forbidden Regions, the places no sane person would ever want to go. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they offered human sacrifices to Outer Gods. Gods that shouldn’t exist in this world, gods that I regretted ever giving shape to in my writing.


    But their worst act? Their initiation ritual. They didn’t just recruit anyone. To become a member, you had to survive something horrifying—a trip to one of the nightmare realities they could access. These "isekai" realities were no fantasy adventure. They were twisted, cruel places where survival was nearly impossible. Those who made it out were forever changed, scarred, and broken. And those who didn’t… well, they weren’t even remembered.


    I couldn’t believe I had written these monsters into existence. What kind of messed-up part of me thought this would make a compelling story?


    And now they were after Leon.


    The reason was simple: prophecy. The cult had a Reader-type among them, someone capable of making eerily accurate predictions. This Reader had foretold that Leon, my son, would one day bring about their destruction. Every last one of them turned to ash, wiped from existence because of him. And so they hunted him, trying to erase that future before it could happen.


    I knelt over the dead hunter as I began rifling through his pockets and clothes. Anything I could use—money, identification, anything—was valuable. I found a small, encrypted device. Probably a communicator of sorts. I would need to crack it open later. There was also a folded piece of paper with coordinates on it. That was worrying. Did they have a base nearby? Were more of them coming?


    I stuffed everything into my jacket.


    I dashed through the streets, using the combined speed and life attributes I had borrowed from Leora and Leon. The world blurred around me as I pushed myself to move faster, my heart pounding in my chest. I had no time to waste—if the cult had managed to track Leon this far, they’d send more hunters soon. Even with my aura concealed, they had ways to sniff people out.


    Assassinating their prophet was the only real chance I had. The rest of the cult? Too vast and too powerful to take down completely, at least with the resources I had at the moment. But the prophet? Without them, the cult’s ability to track people would be severely crippled, buying Leon and Leora some much-needed time.


    Jacob had made quick work of their hunter earlier, but that was Jacob—an Occult Hunter at the top of his game. He specialized in taking down creatures and cultists like these. I wasn’t Jacob. I couldn’t rely on brute force or top-tier combat capabilities. I had to rely on cunning, on knowing how to use my aura and Soul Link in ways they wouldn’t expect.


    As I ran, I felt the borrowed aura begin to fade, the energy exhausting itself. I could sense the limits approaching, and just in time, I spotted the open doors of a train ahead. Perfect. I slowed down, careful not to draw attention as I slipped inside, blending into the crowd of early morning commuters. I took a seat near the back, keeping my head low. A few hours later—


    I stepped off the train.


    I found a quiet spot near the station—a bench tucked away in the corner, shaded by a few trees. I pulled out the piece of paper I had looted from the dead hunter, unfolding it carefully. My eyes scanned the address written in hasty, sharp handwriting. A location for their next meet-up, set for three days from now. Excellent.


    If I played this right, I could make them think I’d be there. But that was only half the plan. I couldn’t just let them regroup and continue hunting my family. I needed to hit them where it hurt. But first, I had to keep them distracted. Keep them chasing shadows.


    I hopped onto another train heading in a different direction. As the city blurred past me once again, I began formulating my next steps. I needed to create enough chaos to keep the cult on their toes, but not so much that they’d catch on to my real plan.


    My thoughts returned to the paper in my hand. This meet-up spot—likely another ritual site, where they’d plan their next move or perhaps induct new members. They loved to meet in secret, away from prying eyes, usually in abandoned buildings or places touched by the Forbidden Regions. If I could lead them into believing I was heading there, they’d send their hunters swarming like vultures.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A distraction wasn’t enough, though. I needed to go on the offensive, weaken their grip bit by bit.


    I made a few quick notes on my phone, marking possible locations to hit first—places where I knew they stored relics, gathered aura, or recruited followers. I had to make sure it looked like I was still on the run, but each of those strikes had to be surgical, precise.


    The train stopped again. I disembarked and slipped into the maze of alleys, making my way toward a safehouse I knew Leora used a few times before. It wasn’t much—just an old apartment building with a half-broken door—but it would do for now. I could lay low here for a while, plot my next moves.


    I sat on the creaky couch, pulling out my phone again. I stared at the address for the cult’s meet-up, committing it to memory. Three days. That was my window to strike. In that short period of time, I wondered how much preparation I could do.


    I sighed, leaning back. I wished I had a Seeker or a Reader on my side—someone with the ability to track or see beyond the present. It would’ve made this whole mess easier to navigate.


    I was confident I could keep up with other hunters who had years of experience over me. My trump card was my deep, theoretical knowledge about aura. After all, I had written about it in painstaking detail when this world was just a concept on paper. Now, with my special ability Soul Link, my theories could be directly applied as practical knowledge. Still, I wouldn’t dismiss the value of experience. In combat, a split second''s hesitation could be fatal, no matter how much you thought you knew.


    From here on out, I knew I’d be more exposed to enemies, especially while committing to the operations I had planned. The Elsewhere Cult wasn''t something I could handle casually. They were relentless, well-organized, and powerful in ways that defied the usual laws of this world. For the next few days, I contacted a few trusted people, cashing in favors I had accumulated over the years. I trained like a madman, pushing my body and aura control to their limits. My time spent in the mountains had honed my physical abilities, but my aura manipulation still needed refinement.


    One of the key steps in preparing for the battles ahead was figuring out my aura affinities. I had finally acquired a talisman for this purpose, a rare and expensive item that was monopolized by the Fu Clan. It hadn’t been easy to get my hands on one. The talisman was designed to reveal the user''s strongest aura affinity, helping hunters align their abilities with their natural talents.


    I held the talisman in my palm, feeling its warmth as I imbued it with my aura. The object began to glow, and then, with a faint hiss, it burned into the air, forming the character for "Dealer." As I expected, that was my strongest affinity.


    The fire continued to dance in the air, writing more characters in a certain order, each one fading slowly after appearing. By the end, I had a clear picture of my strengths:


    <ol>


    <li>Dealer — My primary affinity, focused on conditions, contracts, and aura exchanges.</li>


    <li>Seeker — A secondary affinity, likely tied to my ability to understand and predict aura flows.</li>


    <li>Reader — A tertiary affinity that enabled me to read emotional fluctuations when linked.</li>


    <li>Trickster — No surprise here, given my ability to blend in and manipulate perception.</li>


    <li>Caster — My theoretical knowledge gave me decent proficiency here, though it wasn’t my forte.</li>


    <li>Maker — I could create simple marks or temporary talismans and objects imbued with aura, but it was still underdeveloped.</li>


    <li>Fighter — My weakest affinity. Aura-based combat wasn’t my strong suit compared to hunters who specialized in this.</li>


    </ol>


    The result wasn’t unexpected, but it helped solidify where I needed to focus my training. I wasn’t a frontline fighter, but a strategist, someone who could control the battlefield with calculated moves rather than brute force. That’s where my advantage lay—using aura in unconventional ways, setting traps, creating distractions, and striking when the enemy least expected it.


    I tucked the now-useless talisman into my pocket. I didn’t need to be like the other hunters, the ones who relied on raw power or combat prowess. My strength was in outmaneuvering them, and I’d use that to my advantage.


    The grind continued relentlessly. Every second mattered. I pushed myself to the brink, knowing that understanding aura wasn’t just about raw strength but mastering its intricacies.


    Aura itself was a strange organ, divided into three layers that I had spent Sundays theorizing about and writing down when everything was just a novel to me. But knowing wasn’t enough—I had to feel it. I had to make it part of my very being.


    The Corona was the easiest to grasp, at least in concept. The outermost layer of aura was where the Seven States—Fighter, Seeker, Dealer, Trickster, Caster, Maker, and Reader—manifested. These States were often misinterpreted as processes or methods, but I knew better. They were states of being. When your aura reached the Corona, it began to influence the environment directly. Each of the Seven States was like a lens through which aura could be focused.


    Then there was the Ectoplasm, the middle layer, and where things got interesting. This layer was where Arcana Attributes manifested, giving unique qualities to the Seven States. These attributes—strength, speed, fire, water, etc.—were what made each individual’s aura distinct. But no matter how much I trained, I felt like my attributes were dormant, locked away, and unresponsive. It was frustrating.


    That left the Soul, the innermost layer, and the most complex. It was where aura was generated, where everything that made me me was bound together—my identity, my history, even the atoms that made up my body. The Soul was also where the mysterious Trinity Thoughts were hidden, the foundation of all aura abilities. They were more concept than technique, and I was still trying to wrap my head around them.


    Think Now. Think Not. Think New.


    The alliteration always struck me as a bit too poetic for something so serious. I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused by it. But the more I contemplated the Trinity Thoughts, the more I realized they were keys to unlocking something deeper within my soul.


    Think Now—the idea of being fully present, existing in the moment, with absolute awareness. Focus on the present. Feel the weight of the moment, the tension of each breath, the pulse of aura in my veins. There was power in the now, a force that let me channel my abilities with precision and purpose. If I could master it, I’d never hesitate, never falter in the middle of a fight.


    Think Not—the concept of letting go, of erasing unnecessary thoughts, creating a void where new possibilities could emerge. The art of rejection, of negation. It wasn’t just about denying what was in front of me; it was about erasing possibilities before they could even manifest. If an enemy moved, I could nullify their intent before they acted. It was the ultimate defense.


    And finally.


    Think New—the act of reshaping reality, of creating something entirely different by sheer force of will. Creation, innovation, breaking free from the constraints of what was known. This was where I could reshape my reality. If something didn’t exist in this world, I could bring it into being. This was how I’d written this world into existence in the first place, wasn’t it? I had to learn how to apply that same creative force to my aura.


    It all felt strangely abstract, yet familiar. As if the concepts had been inside me all along, waiting to be unlocked. The more I meditated on them, the more I realized how critical they were. Not just for aura control, but for surviving what was coming.


    As cool as the alliteration sounded, I couldn’t help but feel a little off. The Trinity Thoughts weren’t just techniques—they were a way of life. If I could fully integrate them, I’d be prepared for anything. But it would take time, discipline, and, above all, the courage to face whatever I had written into this world.


    There was no going back now.