The Primal Hunter Chapter 1219 - Gate

Jake stared at the First Sage for several moments, questioning the validity of his own sight. His clouded mind insisted this was the face of the First Sage, yet something about the figure felt fundamentally wrong.

The elder lacked any discernible aura; instead, he appeared to be nothing more than a flickering manifestation of Records and energy. This version was entirely different from the vision Jake had witnessed through the Path of the Heretic-Chosen.

As Jake pondered this, a fresh wave of fatigue hit him, nearly sending him face-first into the ground. He caught himself against the edge of the bench, causing the First Sage to shake his head in disapproval.

“I would really recommend sitting.”

Jake didn't protest, following the advice of the Malefic Viper’s mentor. With a grunt of effort, he maneuvered around the armrest and collapsed onto the seat. He leaned back, exhaling a heavy sigh of exhaustion as a fleeting sense of relief washed over him.

Sitting there, the crushing weight of this strange realm vanished. Even the erosion of his soul seemed to halt, with minor fractures beginning to knit themselves back together.

After nearly a minute of silence, Jake turned his gaze back to the old man, who had been waiting patiently for him to recover.

“How are you here?” Jake asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“That’s an interesting question, now isn’t it?” the First Sage replied. “Tell me, Jake, why do you think I’m here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,” Jake grumbled. “But if I had to guess… the Records from the book you gave me pulled you into existence. Either that, or you’re just a phantom constructed from those Records. Regardless, you’re doing a terrible job of convincing me you aren’t some part of the system, considering our current location.”

The First Sage let out a soft laugh. “You’ve overlooked another possibility. That I am not here at all. That you are the only one present in this place.”

Jake looked at him skeptically, clearly seeing the man before him. “I’m fairly certain you… wait, this is bizarre.”

Upon closer inspection, Jake realized the old man possessed no physical substance. He wasn't even truly resting on the bench. He was a specter—audible and visible, but lacking any actual existence.

“It seems you’ve figured it out,” the First Sage said with a smile. “Though you weren't entirely off the mark. I am a product of your own consciousness and the Records of the First Sage—an avatar of the wisdom you absorbed from my tome. I simply possess a bit more self-awareness than your average phantom of Records.”

Jake nodded slowly, turning his attention toward the colossal gate that sealed off the rest of this strange domain within his Truesoul. “I assume you’re here because of that.”

“Indeed,” the elder agreed. “You understand what it represents, don't you? Or perhaps, what it isn't?”

“It isn't a physical object… it’s a mental barrier I built to protect myself,” Jake muttered. “Because if I actually looked at what’s behind that gate…”

“You would perish instantly, your soul would shatter, and your very being would be wiped away,” the First Sage finished for him. “But that leaves the real mystery… what could possibly be back there to cause such a thing? And if that is what you’ve come looking for, was this whole trip a waste of time?”

“That’s the big question,” Jake sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands. “But I think I’ve found the answer.”

“Do tell,” the First Sage gestured for him to continue.

“For the longest time while studying your book, I wondered where Meditate was supposed to lead. I knew the skill involved deepening a connection to the system, but the specifics eluded me,” Jake explained, organizing his thoughts as he spoke.

“Boosting recovery was just the starting point. The next logical step was accelerating other forms of mending, like soul healing. Meditate doesn't create anything new; it just turns up the volume on what the system is already doing. Initially, I thought the ultimate goal was to harvest experience and Records simply by sitting still. Since the system technically tracks everything we do, I figured Meditate just sped up that accumulation until it became a tangible benefit.”

“And yet, you no longer believe that is what lies beyond the gate,” the First Sage noted.

“No, because gaining experience through meditation is too common. The Dao Sect has that built into their basic Path. The Sword Saint can do it too. Honestly, I think my own Meditate skill does it, but the effect is so tiny the system doesn't even bother listing it,” Jake said calmly.

“So, something much bigger has to be behind that door. Something so deep and complex that it required your personal guidance to reach.”

“Does it really?” the old man asked, arching an eyebrow.

“For a C-grade… probably. But for those at higher ranks? For gods?” Jake shook his head. “I started wondering why all the gods I know of spend time meditating. Why is it a universal practice among them?”

The First Sage remained quiet, listening intently.

Before his research, Jake hadn't realized how prevalent meditation was among the divine. He’d assumed someone like Valdemar wouldn't have the patience for it, but to his surprise, even the God of Steel practiced it. It wasn't always a lotus position, but the act was there.

Artemis had confirmed she didn't know a single deity who didn't meditate, yet she never explained why. Jake suspected it was either something he had to learn himself or, more likely, something she wasn't allowed to say. Every time he asked, even when questioning the Malefic Viper, he got the same vague answer: meditation is 'important.' It was a wall of silence that suggested one thing.

This was Forbidden Knowledge. It couldn't be taught; it had to be experienced.

“I thought maybe they were just killing time, fast-forwarding through eternity, but that didn't sit right. It has to be a core function shared by all gods—something the system keeps under wraps.”

“Chasing Forbidden Knowledge is dangerous,” the First Sage warned. “The system doesn't hide things without reason. Usually, it’s to prevent someone from learning something that would destroy them before they are ready.”

“I'm aware, and yet you’re the one who pointed me down this road,” Jake laughed. “Back to the gate—it has to be something gods find essential for their growth. But if it’s mandatory for them, how can Meditate be your specific Legacy skill?”

The First Sage offered no answer, letting Jake work through the logic.

“I realized that, in a way, it isn't. The Meditate skill mortals use is your Legacy, but what the gods use is something else entirely. What confirmed this for me was Minaga. As a Unique Lifeform with almost no access to standard skills, he still meditates. Why?”

“Perhaps it isn't a skill,” the First Sage suggested. “Could he not have taught himself?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Jake countered. “He can't teach himself how to give Blessings. Meditate is too deeply tied to the system. I don't think anyone could just 'figure out' that initial connection on their own. I believe he received the Meditate skill the moment he ascended to godhood, just like everyone else.”

“Isn't there a hole in your logic?” the First Sage asked. “If you can't imagine him forming that connection, how did I manage to turn it into a Legacy skill in the first place?”

“I’ve decided to stop trying to figure out how you do the impossible. You clearly have secrets that are beyond my current pay grade. Thinking about it is just a waste of time,” Jake said, shaking his head.

“I see,” the First Sage nodded. “But you still haven’t named what is behind the gate.”

“I’m getting there,” Jake waved him off, leaning back before continuing.

“If Meditate was originally a tool for gods, the mortal version is just a diluted copy. You don't seem like the type to give it the same name just to be confusing. I think they are two parts of the same whole.”

The First Sage watched him, silent.

“Which brings us to the 'why.' Why do gods need it? If it just gave experience or Records, it would be unbalanced. Records have to come from somewhere. I concluded that what they get from meditation is something they literally cannot live without. It’s what separates them from us—something with no ceiling, worthy of being pursued forever.”

“So, what is your final answer?” the First Sage asked.

“Concepts… or more specifically, the ability to perceive them.”

That was Jake’s conclusion. The true purpose of Meditate was to bridge the gap between the user and the system, allowing them to tap into the raw source of all concepts in the multiverse. It was a way to study the fundamental laws of reality in an endless hunt for enlightenment.

From his talks with Villy and Artemis, he knew how vital conceptual understanding was. As one grew stronger, it became everything. Concepts were simple yet infinitely deep, and the system supported nearly any interpretation that could be backed by power.

The issue was that concepts couldn't be explained. You couldn't just tell someone to 'understand fire better.' Yet, through meditation, one could grasp a deeper truth of 'fire,' making their flames hotter or impossible to put out. It made sense that the system provided a way to facilitate this, a central wellspring of understanding that all gods could tap into.

Jake was certain Villy was a better archer than he was, even without a bow, simply because Villy understood the *concept* of archery on a level Jake couldn't fathom. By meditating, gods could gain a baseline understanding of almost anything.

Deepening this understanding created Records. For Jake, hitting a certain level of comprehension meant a skill evolution. For gods, it was likely their primary form of progression when they hit a level cap. It was horizontal growth—making what you already have infinitely more powerful.

“You sound very certain,” the First Sage remarked.

“I am,” Jake nodded.

“But you don't know for a fact, do you?”

“Very few things are certain,” Jake laughed. “Coming here was a huge risk. I have to believe I'm right, or this was all for nothing.”

“If you are right, what’s the plan?” the old man asked, looking toward the gate. “We already agreed you can't handle what's inside.”

“We did. But isn't that why you're here?” Jake smiled.

“You know by now that I am just a conceptual shadow. A memory of the First Sage built from your mind and a book.”

“I know,” Jake agreed, acknowledging he was essentially talking to himself. “And I also know that the First Sage wanted me to strengthen my soul specifically so I could overcome his Records at this exact moment.”

Jake stood up, his resolve hardening. “I know what has to happen now.”

The First Sage looked up at him. “If your theory is wrong, you die.”

“Yeah… but I think I’m right,” Jake shrugged, extending a hand to the elder.

The First Sage smiled, and for a split second, his aura shifted, startling Jake. “Then let’s find out.”

Before Jake could react, the old man grasped his hand. The bench and the golden road vanished instantly. In their place, Jake found himself gripping a golden arrow forged from countless compressed pages. It hummed with a level of power and Records that made his head spin.

His bow was already in his other hand. For a moment, he wondered if that phantom of the First Sage had been more than just a memory, but he pushed the thought aside. There was no room for doubt.

With the protection of the road gone, the void began to press in again, trying to delete him. Jake took a deep breath and flared his aura, pouring every ounce of his remaining strength into his stance.

As the erasure closed in, a faint heartbeat thrummed within him. A pulse of energy rippled outward, shoving the oppressive force back. The final piece of the puzzle had arrived.

Jake nocked the golden arrow and leveled his bow at the gate. He knew that shattering it completely would be suicide, but he hadn't come this far to leave empty-handed.

Another heartbeat echoed through the void, and the gate became more solid, more real. He drew the string back, the power of the arrow vibrating against his fingers.

Jake closed his eyes. He didn't rely on logic or his previous conclusions. He let go of his thoughts and let pure instinct take the reins, allowing his subconscious to guide the shot.

When Jake finally opened his eyes, the string had already been released. He had no memory of the shot, yet he watched as the arrow soared toward its target.