The farther I traveled into the Everwell Sector, the less often I saw the rust wastes beneath me.
At first, roads merely cut across it.
Then buildings clustered around those roads.
Settlements expanded until their outer structures nearly touched those of the next.
Bridges crossed over entire streets.
Elevated platforms extended from what certainly looked like repurposed ancient metal ruins.
Pipes carrying water, waste, air, or substances I couldn't identify formed immense networks between, through, and under them, all entering my [Awareness].
Eventually, the rust itself disappeared beneath construction.
Stone streets.
Wooden walkways.
Glass-covered passages.
Pale ceramic walls.
Crystalline towers.
Masses of hardened organic material shaped into entire buildings.
Materials that could only have been extracted from the Everwell Realm appeared everywhere.
Not as rare ornaments or reserved resources.
As foundations.
Supports.
Doors.
Furniture.
Entire streets lined with dozens of ceiling-reaching towers had been built from substances Red Sand Rift City would have treated as priceless curiosities.
And the construction never truly ended.
I saw old structures being dismantled and observed new ones being built, some by hand, others through Aspect applications.
What looked like [Mana], employed to fuse entire massive blocks of stone together in real time, while [Anima] was utilized to systematically dismantle a whole tower through the mind of a single entity.
Pristine materials arrived, and refuse left.
Caravans crossed one another without pause, some hauling broken machinery, corroded metal, spoiled food, biological waste, and heaps of seemingly irredeemable debris deeper toward what could only be the Everwell Realm Rift.
Others returned carrying fresh construction materials, wood, stone, crystals, entire boxes of fruits, meat, ores, fibers, fluids, plants, and objects I couldn't begin to categorize.
At this point, having beheld so much, what I had read about the Everwell Realm consuming the useless to transform it into something useful could only be true.
And what a Civilization it had created, with the entire Sector appearing to breathe around that exchange...
I flew deeper still.
And as I did, I continued testing the first course of action I had devised back in Ophir, which now appeared to me as a rather poor settlement.
Finding someone within the Faith willing to help me enter the Prime Temple.
I spoke with another Archivist.
Then an actual Lorekeeper.
Then I even tried my luck with a Sentinel Guardian by presenting myself as a Sentinel.
They all had the decency and politeness to read Magister Eliott's letter of recommendation before rewording the same spiel about talent and potential simply not being enough.
I left every one of those meetings barely more advanced than when I entered them.
One spent nearly an hour explaining the differences between various organizations and the requirements for accessing them.
Another appeared genuinely interested in my formation of the [Purity] Aspect and the advancement of my [Harmony] Aspect during my journey.
But whenever I redirected the conversation toward the Prime Temple...
The result remained the same.
No one called it impossible.
No one explicitly refused to help.
They simply had no reason to assume I warranted the effort.
A recommendation from a Magister of the Red Sand Sector—a Sector they didn't know the name of until they looked for it—carried too little weight.
My age made my accomplishments unusual, but it also made committing significant resources to me appear premature.
My Aspects showed potential, with my [Cultivation] Aspect in particular raising some brows, but none proved sufficiently rare or advanced to compel immediate attention.
Even those willing to acknowledge my potential advised me to study, advance, establish a reputation, and wait.
The first Archivist had been overly dismissive of me, but as it turned out...
He had not been wrong.
So, of the three courses of action I had identified...
Unless I intended to join a Main Temple to scour through their still significant, if diminished compared to the Prime Temple, Seeker sanctuary, I had to rule out entering the Prime Temple for now.
Not permanently.
But the path was sufficiently obstructed that continuing to pursue it without first acquiring some greater distinction would only repeat the same result.
The second—journeying deeper and seeing what opportunities emerged—remained ongoing.
Which left the third.
The Pulse Of Eternity.
Over the last few days of continuing my journey deeper, I had repeatedly sighted its insignia—pulsing golden lines forming unbroken, overlapping circles around a pristine white seed—in various places.
In one corner or another of different towers.
On academy and delving-team recruitment notices.
On various wares sold by merchants.
And from everything I learned about it, the Pulse Of Eternity was exactly what I had read it to be.
The foremost organization dedicated to [Life], and as such, to the [Vitality] Aspect, then through [Vitality], to healing.
The deeper purpose of the organization ostensibly extended far beyond repairing wounds or curing illnesses.
Preservation.
Growth.
Longevity.
The countless means by which [Life] could thrive or decline.
And, ultimately, as addressed in its name...
[Eternity].
Such a focus made it an obvious source of advanced and relevant [Knowledge].
Unfortunately, everything else I learned about it made approaching it less straightforward than expected.
And from what I gathered, it was all because its senior members lived absurdly long lives, with many who had accumulated wealth, authority, obligations, rivalries, and research projects across centuries, and some who had occupied the same positions longer than entire settlements had existed or Sectors had been discovered.
Consequently, the Pulse moved slowly.
Decisions presumably passed through layers of review.
Rules established centuries ago remained in effect because no one could agree on how to alter them.
Applications could remain unresolved for years.
Interactions with outside organizations required contracts, precedents, guarantors, and approvals from individuals who might currently be meditating or researching for the next several years.
Inertia.
Rigidity.
Absurdly slow decision-making.
All consequences of an organization whose members were expected to remain alive long enough for delays and short-term benefits to become irrelevant.
Still...
It was my remaining lead.
So while journeying deeper, I also began asking for directions toward an actual branch of the Pulse Of Eternity.
A day or so later, I finally sighted one whose scale indubitably indicated that it possessed more than a mere handful of healers, so I altered course.
Like many other buildings by this point, the tower, whose pristine white material formed most of its exterior, intersected by radiant golden lines that rose in branching patterns from its base, extended from the constructed ground all the way to the ceiling of the Strata.
Those lines pulsed extremely softly, nearly invisible to inattentive eyes, resembling something alive.
Bridges connected several of its lower sections to neighboring buildings.
Symbols I presumed were associated with [Life], restoration, and [Vitality] covered its walls in patterns far more intricate than those used by the Faith.
I approached the largest entrance near ground level.
Then stopped some fifty meters away to take in the busy sight of people continuously entering and exiting.
Some walked.
Some were carried.
Some arrived upon wheeled frames.
Others were supported by companions.
One giant held an arm whose lower half was simply absent.
A scaled woman pressed both hands against a wound in her abdomen while dark blood flowed between her fingers.
Several individuals bore no visible injuries, though their movements or expressions suggested something was probably wrong.
Necessarily, it was loud.
Very loud.
People screamed and shouted.
Still, no one reacted beyond shifting aside whenever others rushed past while carrying unconscious bodies.
The moment I passed through the entrance, the familiarity of the sight truly struck a chord within me.
To my eyes, this was no different from the infirmary of the Prime Temple.
The injured, waiting for help.
The healers, triaging those truly at risk of imminent death from those who could afford to wait.
Several minutes of observation later, I even beheld a long-eared, orange-haired healer personally descending into the entrance hall to place both hands against the chest of someone who appeared to have just ceased breathing, causing their entire body to convulse as golden light flooded into them.
Meanwhile, off to the side, those who would otherwise have been healer apprentices carried containers, documents, tools, severed limbs, and substances whose purposes I couldn't identify.
The air smelled of blood.
Medicines.
Disinfectants.
Burned flesh.
Fluids I had never smelled before.
Eventually, as my [Insight] Aspect began generating questions faster than my [Harmony] could organize them, [Guided] reminded me why I had come.
I followed the flow of people toward a long reception area divided into dozens of stations.
Most had lines.
I selected the shortest one.
The person ahead of me continued coughing pieces of something dark into a container while the receptionist processed a stack of documents without looking disturbed.
When my turn arrived, I flew onto the counter and asked directly, "How do I join the Pulse Of Eternity?"
The receptionist stared at me.
Not dismissively.
Not curiously.
Merely long enough to interpret the question.
Then he reached beneath the counter, retrieved a thin booklet, and placed it before me without saying a word.
I looked down at its pristine white cover, where golden lettering formed its title.
"An Aspirant's Introduction to the Pulse Of Eternity."
Perfect.
I took the booklet, thanked the receptionist, and immediately ascended above the [Chaos] until I found a recessed alcove overlooking the hall.
I landed, removed my backpack, settled against the curved wall, and opened the booklet to its first page.
It began with a history section.
It told how the Pulse Of Eternity traced its origin to before the beginning of the Resurgence Era, when a collection of healers, scholars, and individuals pursuing [Life]-aligned Paths gathered within the Fields Of Gold Realm.
A Realm where all Essence not aligned with [Life] was suppressed.
According to the text, that suppression had initially been regarded as a limitation, and sometimes even a curse.
Then it turned into an opportunity.
Without unrelated Aspects and Essence phenomena interfering, the earliest members of what would become the Pulse had been forced to confront and study [Life] without barriers of any kind, be they moral, ethical, or practical.
How it persisted.
How it failed.
How it recovered.
How it could be prolonged.
Their discoveries accumulated.
Eventually, their methods became refined enough to survive the transition beyond the unique environment of the Fields Of Gold Realm.
From a minor foothold, the Pulse grew step by step as it survived the chaotic beginning of the Resurgence Era, expanded across the Nexus, absorbed countless healing traditions, and eventually assumed the form it maintained to this day, with seven ranks defining its entire hierarchy.
Aspirant.
Mender.
Restorer.
Lifewarden.
Undying.
Immortal.
Eternal.
Each rank was meant to symbolize one's growing mastery over [Life].
To this day, allegedly, three individuals had attained the rank of Immortal, whose threshold was forming an Aspect on the level of [Immortality].
The preceding rank, Undying, "merely" required forming an Aspect on the level of [Ageless].
As for the seventh rank of Eternal...
It had supposedly yet to be granted.
Not even honorarily.
For to become an Eternal was to attain [Eternity], a concept that apparently couldn't be described through ordinary written words and represented the utmost achievement toward which the entire organization had directed itself since its founding.
I read everything without judgment, treating this introductory segment the same way I treated the Faith's [Purpose] in the nurturing of powerhouses and the guidance of the masses.
Lofty, if impractical, endeavors once examined in more detail.
Still, the history made for adequate supplementary [Knowledge], so I memorized it in case it was asked of me later and read on as the booklet finally reached what mattered to me.
How to become a member of the Pulse Of Eternity.
That part started with a rigid rule telling me that everyone entering the Pulse had to begin as an Aspirant.
Possessing the [Vitality] Aspect didn't change that.
Neither did prior accomplishments, family, age, or recognition from another organization.
Then it went on to detail how the foremost quality sought in an Aspirant was the [Will] to endure the study of healing arts described as being as numerous and complex as the ways [Life] expressed itself.
That sounded extremely elitist.
But again...
It also sounded reasonable relative to their purportedly lofty objective.
Then came a collection of reminders I had long since assimilated.
Healing one species didn't imply being capable of healing another.
Healing a wound didn't imply understanding disease.
Understanding flesh didn't imply understanding biology.
Repairing damage didn't imply knowing whether it ought to be repaired, isolated, removed, allowed to progress, or transformed into something less dangerous.
The more I read, the stricter, more exhaustive, and more elaborate the reminders became, until they started resembling some manner of test of my [Knowledge] of [Life] itself.
By the time I reached the section detailing how one qualified as an Aspirant, if this truly had been a test of my eligibility, then while I wasn't yet disqualified...
I was certainly standing near the edge.
Because whether I wanted to admit it or not, my abilities as a healer all originated from what had been available within the Prime Temple of the Red Sand Sector, be it texts or mentors.
And they now appeared remarkably...
Basic.
General.
Lacking in depth.
I understood what every reminder referred to, but that was all.
Only [Guided] possibly retained more elaborate [Insight]s into what those reminders were truly about, with tangible examples to provide for them.
As for qualifying to undergo an Aspirant trial...
There were dozens of accepted roads.
Completing a dedicated course within a Pulse-sponsored academy.
Receiving a referral from a sufficiently senior member.
Demonstrating noteworthy achievements in healing.
Contributing valuable [Life] [Knowledge].
Being recruited through an associated organization...
The list continued.
Most options were of little immediate use to me.
I had no sponsor of any kind.
No locally recognized achievements.
No qualifications accepted within the Everwell Sector.
No intention of spending years joining an academy solely to gain entry into another organization.
Which ultimately left only one acceptable method.
Demonstration of ability.
Apparently, anyone sufficiently confident in their healing abilities could request a qualification trial.
Though passing such a trial wouldn't immediately make me a full Aspirant, it would at least prove that I possessed enough [Knowledge], ability, and potential to enter the supervised stage preceding formal recognition.
It sounded complicated at first, but once I equated it to becoming a healer apprentice, it clicked.
It was simply far more regulated and rigorous.
More important, however, was the fact that having formed [Vitality]—or an Aspect considered sufficiently similar—wasn't mandatory.
Unexpectedly, it was even written that it only became a requirement when an Aspirant sought advancement beyond Mender and into the rank of Restorer, where the expected scale and depth of one's ability to interact with [Life] rose too dramatically for ordinary methods—even extremely proficient [Will] healing—to remain adequate.
With all the relevant [Knowledge] extracted after three hours—according to the large device called a clock, divided into sixteen sections, each representing one hour above the rows of reception stations—I closed the booklet.
Now...
Leverage, opportunities, benefits, drawbacks, losses.
I needed to think it all up with [Clarity].
Becoming an Aspirant would grant me an identity recognized throughout the Everwell Sector.
It would provide opportunities to observe its institutions from within rather than remaining an irrelevant outsider asking questions at their entrances.
It would also expose me to the foremost authority on the [Vitality] Aspect and the healing and [Life] arts.
But would the Pulse possess the [Knowledge] I actually sought?
Something capable of resolving my continuous Essence overdevelopment?
The Pulse studied [Life].
My issue primarily involved Essence development.
The overlap wasn't negligible, but neither was it extensive.
My ignorance once again made determining the [Truth], or even an approximation of it, impossible.
So I had to examine the opportunity through the lens of my personal interests.
Obviously, practicing my healing abilities would directly further several Aspects of my Path.
My [Will] Aspect, to manifest my healing capabilities.
My [Awareness] Aspect, to assess patients' conditions.
My [Insight] Aspect, to continue learning with every healing session.
Potentially my [Harmony] and [Purity] Aspects, as their respective concepts could realistically be applied to healing.
And conceivably my [Ambition] Aspect, as I didn't intend to hide that, whenever necessary, I was capable of sustaining healing at a much higher intensity than I ordinarily could.
As for what it would cost me?
Time.
At least months.
Possibly years.
Time during which I might miss some unknown direct road leading to the Prime Temple and its Seeker sanctuary.
Or perhaps time during which I might otherwise have discovered an unknown road leading directly toward [Knowledge] I presently assumed existed only within the Prime Temple's Seeker sanctuary, due to how no one I asked, including a Seeker Lorekeeper, knew about Path-induced overdevelopment disorder.
Nevertheless, especially considering that becoming an Aspirant wouldn't prevent me from continuing to investigate the Everwell Sector...
The loss of efficiency was minimal.
Thus...
There truly wasn't any reason for me not to invest at least a couple of months into the endeavor, if only to discover where it might lead.
Decision reached, I reopened the booklet, found and reread the instructions corresponding to qualification trials, and jumped from my alcove.